The Ongoing Moment (Hardcover)

by Geoff Dyer (Author)

Editorial Reviews

From Publishers Weekly
Having already tackled jazz (But Beautiful) and D.H. Lawrence (Out of Sheer Rage), cultural critic Dyer now turns his intelligent and discriminating eye to photography. Essentially a fast-moving series of highly focused "close readings," his volume zeros in on the way "certain photographs serve as nodes, places where subjects initially considered distinct converge and merge." Thus Paul Strand's "Blind Woman, New York, 1916" leads Dyer not only to other photographs of the blind by Lewis Hine and Gary Winogrand, but also to a survey of different portraits of blind author Jorge Luis Borges and to a consideration of Walker Evans's SX-70 photographs. Like the great English critic John Berger (Ways of Seeing), whom Dyer wrote about in Ways of Telling, the author has a lively and dramatic sense of provocation. He declares, for instance, that William Eggleston's photographs look "like they were taken by a Martian who lost the ticket for his flight home and ended up working at a gun shop in a small town near Memphis." He also has a loose-limbed—and mostly surefooted—ability to balance a number of elements into a functioning whole. In an overcrowded field, Dyer's book is distinguished by an idiosyncratic and infectious enthusiasm. 8 pages color illus. not seen by PW. (Oct. 4)
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From The New Yorker
A self-styled "scholarly gatecrasher," Dyer has written with equal fervor about D. H. Lawrence, military history, and jazz. Here he turns to photography, with the caveat "I make no claim to being an expert in this or any other field." Indeed, he confesses, "I don't even own a camera." The resulting book is a curious encyclopedia, purposefully eclectic and incomplete. The images are taken mostly from the canon of American twentieth-century photography, but Dyer arranges them in unexpected clusters—blind accordionists here, vacant benches there. He imagines William Eggleston's pictures to be the work of a Martian, stranded in Middle America, who keeps looking for his lost ticket home, "with a haphazard thoroughness that confounds established methods of investigation." The Martian is an apt stand-in for Dyer, a flâneur in the world of photography, who bypasses the famous sights in favor of back alleys and side streets.
Copyright © 2006 The New Yorker

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Product Details

• Hardcover: 304 pages
• Publisher: Pantheon (October 11, 2005)
• Language: English
• ISBN-10: 0375422153
• ISBN-13: 978-0375422157
• Product Dimensions: 8.9 x 6.3 x 1.2 inches
• Shipping Weight: 1.4 pounds (View shipping rates and policies)
• Average Customer Review: 4.0 out of 5 stars See all reviews (9 customer reviews)
• Amazon.com Sales Rank: #273,555 in Books (See Bestsellers in Books)

Customer Reviews

Most Helpful Customer Reviews

36 of 38 people found the following review helpful:

4.0 out of 5 stars Discussions with a smart friend, January 14, 2006

By	Mike Windsor (Fort Worth, Texas United States) - See all my reviews (REAL NAME)

Lets say that you had a smart friend who had studied photography, and who had a good photograph collection. And lets say that you and that friend spent some time going through the photos and discussing them. And lets say that your friend wrote a series of narratives based upon your discussions. Now you have an idea of what The Ongoing Moment is going to be like.

Make no mistake, the book is not a transcript of conversations, but the segments have a more the feel of a talk with a friend than a lecture. This feeling may come from the somewhat random order of discussions. The book is not a history, and it is not arranged chronologically. There are no overly technical discussion in the book. Technical aspects are mentioned only to the extent that they are needed to discuss why an object is lighted in a particular way, or why an object is or is not in focus.

The emphasis of the book is on photography as art. Dorthea Lang, whose Depression-era photos are often considered photojournalism, is well-represented, but her photos are discussed more as art, rather than as news or current event reporting. The book focuses primarily on photographers who worked in the U.S. in the Twentieth Century. Ms. Lang, Alfred Stieglitz, Paul Strand, Edward Weston, Diane Arbus, Walker Evans, and Michael Ormerod figure prominently in the book.

Here is an example of how the sections can run. The first section starts with a photo of a blind beggar, then discusses other photos of blind beggars, then blind beggars with accordions, then accordionists who are not blind or beggars. Another section discusses the omnipresence of men in hats. During the Depression, the hats get shabbier. Much later in the book, we return to see Weston's "Dead Man, Colorado Desert," where the man is both dead and hatless.

The knock against the book is the photos. The book includes some nice color plates. The black and whites, however, are too small to view the details that are sometimes discussed (keep a magnifying glass handy). Most photographs that are the subject of lengthy discussion are represented in the book. But, there are comparisions to, and some brief discussions of photos that are not in the book. That problem becomes maddening at times. The book loses a star, not for anything Mr. Dyer did or didn't write, but for the lack of these photos. (I know its a cost and size issue, but this is a photography book.)

I liked the book. You don't have to read it all in one sitting. Indeed, it invites reading a section, thinking about it, and coming back to it. It also demonstrates how different photographers, likely not coincidently, keep photographing the same things. So, if you want to just photograph your city outside your window, gas station, roadway, fence, bench, or pedestrians, go right ahead; you are in good company. The measure of the book may be that I bought three more Geoff Dyer books, bought about $300 in photo books (to see some of the photos that were not in this book), and dragged out my 35mm and started taking pictures again.

8 of 8 people found the following review helpful:

4.0 out of 5 stars A Meditation on the Meaning of Photographs, March 20, 2006

By	A Classic Pair (Detroit, MI) - See all my reviews

An informal streaming flow of conversation about photography, is how I would summarize this book. A lack of chapters but a mostly connected stream of ideas, floating like a leaf down a gentle stream, is what it is like to read this book.

Dyer, who does not even own a camera himself, discusses forty-two well known photographers, just about all of whom you would expect to be found on the shelves of a well-stocked used bookstore, names like Talbot, Paul Strand, Stieglitz, Robert Frank, Walker Evans, Dorthea Lange, Diane Arbus, Gary Winogrand, Thomas Eggleston, etc. And some not as well known names, too.

The loose structure of the book suits the subject matter well. At times Dyer compares how different photographers approach the same subject matter (the book opens with the famous 1916 Paul Strand photo, "Blind Woman New York" and proceeds to show and discuss similar photos by Lewis Hine, Gary Winogrand, Walker Evans, Ben Shahn, Andre Kertesz, Philip-Lorca DiCorcia, and Bruce Davidson. Not all themes are so lavishly represented by examples in the book, which includes 93 B&W photos, 12 color plates. At times, Dyer examines the photos, and at other times the photographers, including a most interesting complex relationship between Strand and Stieglitz, different stages of their relationship demonstrated in portraits they took of one another. (this particular section includes explicit photos and discussions with strong sexual content.) Subjects/themes discussed include hands, hats, park benches, drive-in movies, stairs and fences, barber shops, doors, and others. Dyer includes many interesting tid bits about these photographers (how Walker Evans camouflaged his camera so he could secretly take photos on the NY subways (and described of himself as "a penitent spy and apologetic voyeur" whereas Bruce Davidson, approaching the same subject, usually asked permission of his subjects, but in no way concealing his activities.) He discusses the philosophy of photography by photographers including Arbus, Lange, W. Eugene Smith, Walker Evans, Robert Frank and his seminal monograph, "The Americans,"and discusses the birth of color photography as an art form in the 1970s (Eggleston, Meyerowitz, Shore), touching upon a plethora of other topics, themes, tidbits, etc.

As an obsessive amateur photographer myself , this book totally appealed to me and my obsessions and was the perfect book at that moment, one of those moments where I could not find a book that held my attention. I did have a few issues with the book, one spot where the subject transition was not smooth due to unexplained references. One photographer, Roy DeCarava, was discussed and mentioned often but without the inclusion of a single photo, and when I searched for his work, discovered all was out-of-print. (However, I was able to locate a few photos online, enough to know I want to seek out DeCarava's work.) Dyer describes some photos in words (like an abandoned gas station near Sante Fe, NM, shot by Robert Frank) and I would much prefer seeing them myself without turning it all into a massive research project, tracking down key photos.

Without these problems, I would easily have given this book a full five star rating. With them, I would still give this a solid four-and-a-half stars. The lack of technical discussions made this a most enjoyable read. This is a delightful book.

6 of 7 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars superb look at photography, June 15, 2006

By	Paul Bennett "P. Bennett" - See all my reviews (REAL NAME)

This book is not a history of photography--nor is it meant to be--though it does look at photography over a large span of time and so is by default a history of sorts. But the book is really one writer's meditation on photography. As such, much is left out, but the omissions in no way mar the book; being comprehensive is not the point. One reviewer above calls the book cynical, like cocktail chatter (not sure what the two have in common or how Dyer could in any way be construed as cynical), which seems preposterous. Simply put, Dyer writes as a person fascinated with and under the spell of photography (an approach he took to his book on jazz), and in doing so offers keen insights--the likes of which are not to be found in other books on the subject. His viewpoint as an outsider is actually a benefit. Beautifully written, this book is a classic, something a reader will return to again and again.