“Marco Polo describes a bridge, stone by stone.
‘But which is the stone that supports the bridge?’ Kublai Khan asks.
‘The bridge is not supported by one stone or another,’ Marco answers, ‘but by the line of the arch that they form.’
Kublai Khan remains silent, reflecting. Then he adds: ‘Why do you speak to me of the stones? It is only the arch that matters to me.’
Polo answers: ‘Without stones there is no arch.”
― Italo Calvino, Invisible Cities
***
I should have known better and visited The Unknown City group exhibition at PLACE earlier. Now there are only a few days left for you local readers to decide if you agree or disagree with my assessment that the show is well worth exploring. Three days, to be precise, it closes this Friday afternoon, June 12th, with a reception. A quick shout-out then (not a formal review), to lure you into action!
The concept, developed by organizer and curator Horatio Law, is an interesting one. Take some 40 or so local photographers (split into two randomly assigned groups), all over 60 years of age, allot them a 3-6 ft wall space and ask them to display work that relates to the theme of subjective visions of Portland, OR. I had seen the work of the first group, some 4 weeks ago, on line. Decided I could not write about it since I am friends with several of the participants, friendly with others, not entirely objective. Looks like nobody else did either, maybe we are all too chicken to step on toes in a closely knit community?
On this rainy Monday, however, a dear friend, who had recently returned to Portland after a 7 year absence, and I decided it would be fun to look at captures of her former home turf. For this second group as well, I knew about 50% of the contributors, some closely. Others were completely new to me, despite the small local community. I threw caution into the wind because this show really deserves some attention.
PDX yard vistas by Barbara Gilson
The rules were simple: fit into the given space and pin prints to the wall. Artist decides how many, in what format or size, colored or black&white, carefully printed, or close to photocopies or postcards. The enormous variability along many dimensions can either be fun, or distracting. As it turns out, the curation worked well visually, without becoming too busy.
As is always true in group shows, some work draws your attention, some leaves you cold, some is a real discovery, some entices (or bores) with familiarity. My reactions to the displays were mainly driven by two perspectives: did I like the photographs in and of themselves (yes, in many, many instances.) Did I think they sufficiently connected to the claimed inspiration for this exhibition, Italo Calvino’s book Invisible Cities? Here the pool got much smaller. From the introduction of the exhibition:
Calvino’s novel puts the explorer Marco Polo and the isolated Kublai Khan into a room, with the former telling stories to the latter, who is starved to learn about the world. Many cities are evoked, Anastasia, Despina, Diomera, Dorothea, Fedora, Isidora, and Zora – all in reality describing Polo’s beloved hometown Venice. The conversations are structured in a complicated interactive pattern related to memory and desire, allowing the author to delve into the psychology of how these two functions shape each other and are intertwined in our understanding and depiction of the world.
The chapters contain overall place and object – specific descriptions for each of these imaginary cities. The person(s) involved were predominantly the traveler, the observer, in his particular relation to what he saw.
Ken Hochfeld with a caption for his Leaning series: “At sunrise everything is luminous but not clear.” -Norman Maclean
I had expected to see place-specific photographs, then, something that was identifiably related to Portland, or could have been, although not necessarily prototypical landmarks. How did objects or, more predominantly, portraits of persons that could have come from anywhere, unless identifiable local favorites, fit the bill? Some of those were among the strongest photographic work, as it turns out, and so unsurprisingly offered for display. But the link was missing for me.
Then again, I could go back and be reminded of Marco Polo’s admonishment contained in the Calvino quote at the beginning of this column:
“The bridge is not supported by one stone or another,’ Marco answers, ‘but by the line of the arch that they form.’
Kublai Khan remains silent, reflecting. Then he adds: ‘Why do you speak to me of the stones? It is only the arch that matters to me.’
Polo answers: ‘Without stones there is no arch.”
Brian Foulkes – one of the longtime chroniclers of the city, whose work I’ve known for over 30 years and admire for its hints of melancholy and humor, often within the same piece.
The work on the walls at PLACE does form an arch, an accumulation of many stones projecting diversity of both, the city itself and the perspectives taken by these many astute and sensitive observers. And they certainly depict change and growth, in this regard echoing something Calvino or his mouthpiece Polo strongly value. In another chapter (4) on cities and memory, the town Zora is introduced, a town that cannot be forgotten because it stays static for memorization. Polo concludes:
“But in vain I set out to visit the city: forced to remain motionless and always the same, in order to be more easily remembered, Zora has languished, disintegrated, disappeared. The earth has forgotten her.“
No such fate in store for our Portland, and no mandate for memorization either, given that we can rely on so many photographers preserving the reality, quirks and evolution of the city.
Obviously I am just showing a few samples – looking at the whole bodies of work (and in full sizes) is much more revelatory. Recommended! You have until Friday…
PLACE: 735 NW 18th Ave Portland 97209
Closing reception June 12th, 2026 4-7 pm.