The Janes at Ten

by Patrice Vecchione
Monterey Herald - November 18, 2024

In 2014, a group of six local photographers— Martha Casanave, Susan Hyde Greene, Jane Olin, Anna Rheim, Robin V. Robinson, and Robin Ward — came together to form the collective Salon Jane. Over the past decade they’ve met regularly, offering each other feedback and support for, as Olin says, “artistic risk-taking, inspiration and creative evolution.” The group’s motivation is in line with this from Joan Didion, “I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking, what I’m looking at and what it means. What I want and what I fear,” and you can see that level of intimacy, desire, and conviction in these pictures.

The work in their 10-year celebration, “Salon Jane: Photography Reimagined,” on view through the month at the Carl Cherry Center for the Arts in Carmel, is anything but straight-ahead, predictable photography. Robert Reese, executive director of the Center, calls the show, “A visual conversation. It pushes the medium, crossing the line between photography and painting.” Some of the pictures do give me the feeling of walking in on a story being told, while others capture a brief moment or the fragment of an object, bringing it close for viewers to see. Jane says, “(E)ach artist’s work transcends the ordinary while tapping into mystery.” Mystery — an aspect of life that’s both basic and revelatory, yet, sadly, often at a premium for many.

Being alone in the gallery before the show had opened to the public gave me the opportunity to be with the work, to slowly take it in. That led me into a feeling of reverie, a state of being many of us haven’t had access to since the recent election. It was uplifting to witness both the singularity of the artistic voices and simultaneously a clear sense of comradery, conversation and inspiration, a leaning into, between one artist’s work and another’s. Walking from one picture to the next, I noticed how, as when the first in a line of dominos is pushed and falls forward, causing the others in line to follow suit, one picture propelled me to the next, one artist to the next, from the literal to the abstract, and back again. Even the portraiture in this show is abundantly mysterious, holds one, so I kept looking, finding surprising connections — in subject matter, line, point of view. And, in retrospect, the photographs have continued to offer a sense of solace, expansiveness and possibility, ways of feeling and viewing the world that I sorely need right now.

By far, “Shadow of Margueritte,” by Carmel resident Anna Rheim, at 5-by-3 feet, is the largest picture in the exhibit. A compelling photograph of the artist’s mother when she was a young woman, it pays homage to her. Rheim’s mother is watching over not only the artist but, for the duration of the show, she overlooks the entire gallery and each of us who enters. The strength of the photograph prompted me to reach out to Rheim for a conversation. “In this image my mother looks glamorous, and my mother did not lead a glamorous life! She was the hardworking breadwinner for our family of eight. I loved this image of her as a young woman when the enduring beauty I saw in her was evident to the world.”

The process Rheim used to create the image was quite involved and experimental. First, she made a negative from the small print that she projected onto a wall where she’d suspended a large sheet of photo sensitive plastic (Litho film). She then processed the plastic photo in Litho developer which prints only the dense parts of a negative, resulting in a see-through photo. Because of its size, she had to dip the plastic sheet into large tubs of developing chemical, and then she hung it up to dry.

When working at her home studio, the portrait hangs in front of a window. “I love having her present with me at all times; she’s a guiding light. Though many women experience mother-daughter strife and often have difficult relationships, my experience was the exact opposite. My mother absolutely nurtured me every step of my life.” The closeness of their bond is evident in the piece Rheim’s created.

Kitty-corner to “The Shadow of Margueritte” is “Greta 2,” one of Jane Olin’s portraits, an intentionally blurred, framed, 27-by-24-inch black-and-white of a woman with one hand to her mouth. Her other hand grasps the wrist of the first hand. Is she lifting the muffling hand away or holding it there? I can’t tell, can only wonder. We are entering a time when women’s rights to basic health care will likely be even more restricted than they have been since the reversal of Roe. The new/old president has already stated his frightening plan: “Whether the women like it or not, I’m going to protect them.”

We’re going to need art, storytelling in all forms — the truths of women’s experiences created by women — very deeply in the years that are upon us. The pictures that comprise this exhibit have all been created by artists with plenty of living under their belts, and like women often do, they make room for viewers to enter, to gain deeper understanding of our own narratives. Anna Rheim says, “More than anything else, I’m a storyteller, telling the stories of the people I’ve known most intimately in my life, the people who made me who I am… By telling the stories of my family, I’m really telling my stories too.” Lean in and listen, won’t you?