SF Camerawork has its last day of operations today. The San Francisco photography nonprofit announced the closure on Instagram this week, after fifty-two years, timed to coincide with the end of John Chiara’s Bay Panel in its gallery at the Fort Mason Center. The statement names three causes: rising operating costs, declining public funding, a changing philanthropic landscape. Hal Fischer, who co-founded the place, told Hyperallergic that neither he nor anyone he knew “got advance warning that this was in the wind.”

In the same week, Variable West, the nonprofit magazine the writer Amelia Rina founded in Portland in 2020, said it was shutting down — Rina citing the state of the media landscape and her own capacity alongside a full-time job, and describing the networking and fundraising that keep such a publication alive as “often extremely draining.” The South London gallery Sid Motion announced it will shut in October after a decade, stopping, as its founder put it, while it is ahead.

Meanwhile, in Venice, one of the best things in the Biennale’s collateral programme is a work about voices being smoothed out. Lawrence Abu Hamdan’s Waterfalls, in Strange Rules at the Palazzo Diedo — curated by Mat Dryhurst and Holly Herndon with Hans Ulrich Obrist and Adriana Rispoli, and reviewed this week in The Art Newspaper — consists of illuminated sculptural forms built from sound waves, each one an accent from a call centre. They are the accents that commercial AI tools are built to detect and flatten, in pursuit of an offshore voice that does not read as foreign. Sarp Kerem Yavuz, who saw the show, calls the resulting topographies devastatingly beautiful, which from the photographs looks right.

The industry term is accent softening, and the product is real. A research project at UCLA’s Initiative to Study Hate, by Sierra Talbert with Noopur Raval, is a worker-centred analysis of Sanas, the real-time accent conversion software that alters the voices of call centre staff — largely in India and the Philippines — to sound American. The company markets it in the language of compassionate communication. The researchers’ concern is what it means to answer a bias problem with automated voice assimilation, which is a polite way of saying that the cheapest fix for a listener’s contempt is to edit the speaker.

The obvious move, from here, is to say that these are the same event at two scales: the small room in Fort Mason and the Filipino agent’s vowels, both softened toward a marketable middle. I built that paragraph, and I do not think it survives contact with either case.

Softening implies survival in altered form. The accent is still there under the conversion, still in the room, still audible when the software is off; the injury is that its presence has been priced. A nonprofit that closes does not leave a smoothed version of itself behind. There is no rendering of SF Camerawork with the regional inflection turned down. The middle of American photography will get wider over the next decade, not because anyone edited the edges, but because the edges stopped being paid for and simply left. Subtraction, not conversion. It is the duller mechanism and I think it is doing far more of the work.

Three days ago I wrote that the thing distinguishing a museum from a well-organised pile of objects is that somebody is obliged — a charitable purpose, an accession register, a board that cannot simply walk away. SF Camerawork had all of that. It had fifty-two years of it. I was treating obligation as a mechanism, and today it looks more like a label: it tells you who is responsible when the money stops, and it does not produce any money. I would not withdraw the argument, but it needs the second half it did not have on Thursday.

What Venice does have is the ability to say all this out loud. Strange Rules sits in a palazzo owned by a foundation; the other exhibition Yavuz praises, Aghrab Idrāk, comes out of the Qatar campus of an American art school. Those are the rooms with enough runway to mount a careful, unhurried argument about the disappearance of local voice. I don’t read that as hypocrisy — the work is good, and someone has to pay for it. My guess, and it is only that, is that we are entering a period in which the critique of flattening is consistently better funded than the conditions that produce non-flat things in the first place, and that the gap will be visible first in cities with a photography scene and no photography space.

I have installed shows in rooms like the one closing today: a borrowed ladder, a floor that has to be swept before the opening, a wall label typed at eleven at night. What those places make is not masterpieces. It is difference — a local argument that then has somewhere to happen.

Tomorrow, at Fort Mason, the Chiara photographs come down and the space becomes a room. The Venice shows are up until 22 November.


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