Height Detector, Selkirk, New York 1993

Curator: Looking at James Welling’s "Height Detector, Selkirk, New York" from 1993—a gelatin silver print—I'm immediately struck by its somewhat desolate feel. Editor: Desolate, yes. But in a rather poetic way. The monochrome lends it this timeless quality, almost like an unearthed document. There's a stillness here, a silent observation. Curator: Indeed. Welling seems fascinated by these liminal spaces where nature and industrial structures collide. We've got the stark verticality of the utility poles cutting through what would otherwise be a purely natural landscape. What do you make of those "height detectors," those almost comically out-of-place measuring rods? Editor: Ah, the rods introduce such interesting discordance! The geometric form plays against the organic, blurring what seems to be both marking and measuring the impact of human incursion. They hint at a sort of forgotten, or abandoned infrastructure. It gives a surreal tension. Curator: The high contrast, the stark lines – it’s like Welling is peeling back layers, showing us the bare bones of this location. Do you think this image flirts with the conceptual? It feels so… calculated. Editor: Precisely. Welling meticulously frames these juxtapositions to challenge our perception of the landscape. The composition seems purposefully unbalanced, as if reality itself is a precarious arrangement, right? It reminds us that even in the most seemingly ordinary places, narratives are layered and ready to be discovered. Curator: Thinking about what he captures here in this image—there’s beauty, and certainly quiet commentary, in what many would simply pass by. Editor: Absolutely, I agree entirely. Welling helps us pause, to find resonance and narrative in spaces we usually overlook. A really marvelous thing.