Newcastle’s silent echoes: a photographer’s search for joy amidst decline

The exhibition ‘Close to Home’ at the Baltic in Newcastle isn’t a chronological survey of two remarkable photographers, Tish Murtha and Kuba Ryniewicz. It’s a collision – a deliberate, almost restless pairing – that forces a reckoning with the enduring, often contradictory, spirit of a city grappling with decades of social and economic upheaval.

A tale of two visions

Murtha’s stark, unflinching photographs from the 1970s and 80s document the brutal realities of Newcastle’s industrial decline – unemployment, poverty, and the quiet desperation etched onto the faces of its youth. Her work isn’t sentimental; it’s a visceral indictment of systemic failure. Images like ‘Elswick Kids’ – girls skipping down cobbled streets, a child swinging from a burned-out car – are simultaneously heartbreaking and defiant.

These aren’t simply pictures of hardship; they’re portraits of resilience.

Ryniewicz, arriving in Newcastle in 2004, offers a strikingly different perspective. His Polaroids and prints, a riot of colour and detail, capture the everyday, the seemingly mundane. He finds beauty in weeds, buses, and the casual encounters of city life – a sunbathing man glistening on mottled grass, a cow contemplating an office block. His ‘Good Eggs’ series is a joyful, almost absurd, celebration of the ordinary.

Bridging the gap

The exhibition’s strength lies in this juxtaposition. Murtha’s heavy, historical narratives, presented in carefully arranged collections, are countered by Ryniewicz’s scattered, almost impulsive, approach. His photographs are glued directly to the wall, a deliberate rejection of the traditional gallery setting – a visual assertion of immediacy. It’s a conversation, albeit a complex one, about how we define ‘home’ and how we represent it through our art. The inclusion of Paul Sng’s documentary footage of Murtha, revealing her passionate critique of government policy, adds a crucial layer of context, grounding her work in a specific time and place.

But the exhibition falters slightly. The inherent tension between Murtha’s deeply rooted historical context and Ryniewicz’s contemporary perspective creates a sense of unease, a feeling that they’re speaking different languages. There’s a noticeable lack of connective tissue, a difficulty in weaving a cohesive narrative from these disparate voices.

A fleeting moment of connection

Despite this, ‘Close to Home’ succeeds in highlighting the shared human impulse – the desperate need for connection, for joy, for comfort. Both photographers, through their distinct approaches, capture the soul of Newcastle, revealing a city that is simultaneously scarred by its past and brimming with a quiet, stubborn optimism. It’s a powerful, if occasionally unsettling, testament to the enduring human spirit.