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PHOTOGRAPHY REVIEW

At the Griffin Museum, the jury is in; distressed photographs; fun with photo books

The museum’s 30th annual Members’ Juried Exhibition includes work from 61 photographers

Paul Adams, "Fire Hydrant & Tourist, Monument Valley," 2023.© Paul Adams

WINCHESTER — A juried exhibition comprises individual works from numerous artists. Those works (usually) are not united by theme or format or any other element beyond the preference of the juror. Among the pleasures such shows have to offer is discovering recurring motifs, presumably unintended — though maybe not? In the words of that noted photographic expert Fats Waller — and what a juror he would have made — one never knows, do one?

The Griffin Museum of Photography’s 30th annual Members’ Juried Exhibition includes work from 61 photographers, all artist members of the museum. It’s been curated by Mazie Harris, assistant curator of photographs at the Getty Museum. She selected those 61 from more than 1,300 submissions.

Alina Saranti, "Far From #5," 2023.© Alina Saranti

The show runs through July 28. There’s also a slideshow, curated by Griffin executive director Crista Dix, of 60 other submitted photographs.

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As regards motifs, consider the color red. Sometimes the color is emphasized, as in Alina Saranti’s quite-striking “Far From #5,” with its stitchings of red thread over a black-and-white landscape of the desert Southwest. Sometimes the color is both there and not there, as in Paul Adams’s “Fire Hydrant & Tourist, Monument Valley” (speaking of the desert Southwest). Red is there because of the coloration of the sandstone. It’s not there because that hydrant, which you certainly wouldn’t expect to see in such a setting, is yellow rather than the carmine color customarily associated with that item.

Jo Ann Chaus, "Daisy's Grill," 2020.Jo Ann Chaus

There’s a lot more evidence of red elsewhere: on the woman barely visible at the bottom of a waterfall, in Jen Bilodeau’s “Perspective”; the T-shirt worn in Mariette Pathy Allen’s “Sam, at the Asheville Graveyard”; the burgundy-colored banquette (that’s what it is, isn’t it) from which a woman’s head emerges, in Jo Ann Chaus’s “Daisy’s Grill”; about a third of the blossoms in Carol Eisenberg’s “FLOWERS IV 17″; some, though not all, of the painted nails in Maura Conron’s “Mareshia’s family, four generations”; the shirt worn by the child in the background of Anastasia Sierra’s arresting “Crossroads.” You get the idea.

In chromatic contrast, Hunter O’Hanian’s “Ode to Patrick Angus” could bear the alternate title “How Blue Can You Get?” Amy Durocher’s “Armor,” Sally Chapman’s “Wave,” and Katherine Richmond’s “Quarry Swimmers XV” are big on blue, too.

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Katherine Richmond, "Quarry Swimmers XV," 2023.© Katherine Richmond

Motifs can be conceptual or thematic as well as visual. Consider spookiness. Fran Forman’s “A Woman’s Shadow” (which has a splash of red in it) is very different from Margaret Lampert’s “Bend” which is no less different from Linda Plaisted’s “Stellaluna” or Karin Rosenthal’s “Reflected Head 2022″ but in their various ways all look kind of, well, spooky.

Margaret Lampert, "Bend," 2023.© Margaret Lampert

There’s also spooky adjacent. Allison Plass’s surreal “Reflection” qualifies, as does Sharon Draghi’s “The Beginning of Today (g),” suffused as it is with a sense of low-key mystery.

Eric Kunsman’s “415.388.9904 — Muir Woods, California” isn’t red or blue or spooky or spooky adjacent, but it is very funny and, for those of us who cherish the memory of pay phones, quite cherishable. As for Monique Fischer’s “Teahouse, Nakasendo Trail,” it, too, does not fall under any of those headings. Yet, it, too, is a marvelous image, as well as seeming to have Jan Groover’s still lifes somewhere deep within its photographic DNA.

Eric Kunsman, "415.388.9904- Muir Woods, California," 2020.© Eric Kunsman

Both Suzanne Theodora White’s “Dry Stone No Sound of Water” and Lynne Breitfeller’s “After the Fire: Water Damaged” deal in very different ways with distressed images. The constructions White has assembled and then photographs harken back to 17th-century Dutch still lifes. In addition to natural elements one might expect to find in them (wood, stones, roots), there are also photographs White has taken, now crumpled or torn or otherwise battered.

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Suzanne Theodora White, "Against These Ruins," 2023.© Suzanne Theodora White

With Breitfeller, the photographic distress was not intentional. A fire occurred above her studio. Putting out the flames resulted in water damage to much of her archive. She later reworked many of the damaged images, so that with their altered appearance they become statements — or questions? — about memory, meaning, impermanence.

Lynne Breitfeller, "After the Fire, Water Damaged, Greg 2," 2021.Lynne Breitfeller

In the same gallery as the Breitfeller show is a selection of more than 50 photo books from Griffin members. It’s like coming across a cool and eclectic little bookstore. Browsing isn’t just suggested. It’s well nigh irresistible.

30th ANNUAL MEMBERS’ JURIED EXHIBITION

SUZANNE THEODORA WHITE: Dry Stone No Sound of Water

LYNNE BREITFELLER — After the Fire: Water Damaged

14th ANNUAL PHOTOBOOK EXHIBITION

At Griffin Museum of Photography, 67 Shore Road, Winchester, through Sept. 1 (except “Juried Exhibition,” July 28). 781-729-1158, www.griffinmuseum.org


Mark Feeney can be reached at mark.feeney@globe.com.