Jeff Topham, “Polar Plunge, Deception Island, Antarctica,” 2016, 24” x 36” (courtesy the artist)
Had Russia not invaded Ukraine, we might have paid more notice to how much has been happening in Antarctica recently. Another ice shelf has collapsed. Ernest Shackleton’s ship has been found, perfectly preserved, after a century on the ocean floor. And an astonishing heat wave – almost 40 degrees Celsius warmer than normal over the south pole – offered grim prospects for the world’s future.
Jeff Topham’s exhibition, Southern Exposure, on until April 30 at Vancouver’s Mónica Reyes Gallery as part of the Capture Photography Festival, attempts to remedy our fleeting focus on the white continent. Topham is primarily a photojournalist and this show consists of images he shot while working as photographer-in-residence with a Canadian expedition tour operation.
This raises immediate questions. How to create engaging and critical views of the Antarctic landscape as it faces accelerating pressures from humanity while serving a client that brings tourists to its fragile ecosystems? And how to “expose a fresh angle” – as the show’s statement promises – while essentially embedded as part of that operation? I’d imagine it’s a tricky task to include those along for the ride as part of a critique, or even an oblique commentary, on the human presence there.
Jeff Topham, “Museo, Gonzales Videla Base, Paradise Bay, Antarctica,” 2018, C-print mounted aluminum, 16” x 24 (courtesy the artist)
Southern Exposure does feature some gorgeous images. As you’d expect, there are penguins. Lots of penguins. There are also rocky outcrops, sea lions lounging on the ice, and colour-and-texture studies that feature abandoned buildings and rusting oil tanks, as well as a museum with the requisite signpost noting the distances to various points on the globe. But fresh angles are tougher to find.
There are a couple of real standout images, though. Polar Plunge, Deception Island, Antarctica moves towards social documentary. Two women, one in a stars-and-stripes bathing suit, stand calf-deep in icy water. One, her arm around the other, seems to be offering solace. A man enters, frame right with his hand covering his mouth in a possible gesture of shock from the cold or some sudden realization. Behind them looms a ship, perhaps the one that brought them to this outpost. It’s a disquieting moment and the image is ambiguous in a way that allows multiple readings. I wish there were more such photographs, but perhaps that was difficult given the constraints Topham was facing.
Jeff Topham, “Elephant Seal, Jason Harbour, South Georgia,” 2017, C-print mounted aluminum, 16” x 24” (courtesy the artist)
In Elephant Seal, Jason Harbour, South Georgia, the camera compresses the distance between a group of visitors, clad in red tour jackets, cameras at the ready, and an elephant seal roaring, perhaps out of annoyance or distress. The environs are grassy with a dun, earthen hill in the background. Should there normally be snow here? I have no idea.
This image struck me as I was given an almost identical red jacket some years ago by someone who had been on just such a tour with Robert Bateman, who trades in idealized images of the natural world. Here, thankfully, we get an obverse view, of the shepherded human shooting galleries that yield an endless stream of similar images from the same vantage points. It makes me wonder if Antarctic fauna do an eyeroll whenever they see a new group of red-jacketed bipeds approaching.
Jeff Topham, “Pink Hut, Jason Harbour, South Georgia,” 2017, C-print mounted aluminum, 24” x 36” (courtesy the artist)
Antarctica has been probed by researchers and explorers for over a century and detritus is piling up. Bases rot in place, their textures and colours offering striking contrasts with the icy landscape. Some 75,000 people visited Antarctica in 2019 and the tourist trade will likely continue to grow. But relative to the enormity of the continent, this human footprint remains marginal.
Jeff Topham, “King Penguin Line-up, Salisbury Plain, South Georgia,” 2017, C-print mounted aluminum, 16” x 24” (courtesy the artist)
That’s less the case on a global scale. Our microplastics are there. And forest fires accelerated by human-driven climate change are melting the polar ice. Clearly, we need to see ourselves and understand our impact on the world as never before. That means notching up the usual documentary approach to break fresh ground. Southern Exposure is a lovely show but lacks a consistent through line. Ultimately, it feels more like a travelogue than an incisive commentary that might spur deeper reflection – or collective action. ■
Jeff Topham, Southern Exposure, at the Mónica Reyes Gallery in Vancouver from April 2 to April 30, 2022.
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