Edward Burtynsky: The Great Acceleration at the International Center of Photography

Salt River Pima and Maricopa Indian Community / Suburb, Scottsdale, Arizona, USA 2011  © Edward Burtynsky, courtesy Howard Greenberg Gallery, New York 

By INGRID DINTER September 23, 2025

Who knew that going to hell could look so pretty … 

It was a hot day in June, an early heatwave, I joined a group of AIPAD (Association of International Photography Art Dealers) VIPs for a curator walkthrough of the exhibition of new and old work by Canadian photographer Edward Burtynsky, at the International Center of Photography.  An added bonus: the artist was present. 

Until then I had just a passing familiarity with Burtynsky’s largescale color photographs.  I had seen some here and there over the years, registering the birds eye view of distant goings on,  They seemed to be telling me something, but it never quite broke through to my consciousness.  So, I thought, why not—a cold museum on a hot and muggy afternoon, a first visit to the downtown ICP, and a curator walkthrough—what could be more inviting …

We were ushered into the elevator and taken upstairs where we entered the exhibition space.  Being in a group of people one has to look past the bodies to get a sense of what is on the wall; likewise, to focus on the speaker and what they are talking about.  David Campany started us off, and then he and Edward Burtynsky traded talking back and forth for the rest of the tour.

Edward Burtynsky at ICP, photo: Ingrid Dinter

At first glance, what struck me most of all was the complete absence of female presence in the work.  Not just the subject matter, but the essence—a whiff, a hint, an awareness.  As we went through the show, and also looking at early work on the next floor mezzanine, this absence didn’t change.  We were looking at a man’s world, through a man’s eye.  

There are many layers of perception here.  There is the fact of the subject matter, which often has to do with mining—a manly undertaking.  Burtynsky explained that in his early days he worked in mining and therefore was familiar with all aspects of it.  I learned a new word: tailings.  This is the residue leftover from mining ore.  Which of course has to go somewhere, so we see these “rivers” or “pools” where the waste flows or is kept.  Burtynsky goes to great lengths to get permission to photograph these scenarios, as the perpetrators would rather that they remain hidden.  He does us that favor, to reveal the atrocities capitalism leaves in its wake, specifically its devastating effects on our environment.  

Nickel Tailings #34, Sudbury, Ontario, Canada 1996. © Edward Burtynsky, courtesy Howard Greenberg Gallery, New York  

The first work we look at is a diptych of a rather forlorn grayish landscape with a bright blood red stream winding towards us.  This effect is doubled by a variation in the other panel.  The story is about mining and tailings, but the immediate visual effect is overwhelmingly aesthetic—the rather flat gray background against the imposing red.  So, the confusion begins, at least for this viewer.   

One looks around, and there is photograph after photograph of impeccable and transcendent beauty.  It is not immediately apparent that what we see is a straight on capture of a real, and generally horrific, situation taking place in a “natural setting”.  One sees forms and colors, compositions, abstractions that turn out not to be abstract at all.  One’s eye bounces back and forth, between the reality of the recorded fact that we are gazing at and the almost sublime beauty of the image.  One’s preference is to surrender to the overwhelming aesthetic, the beauty of the colors, forms, and compositions, rather than confront and interact with the hard and ugly facts.  Yes, it is hard to simultaneously absorb what is actually being depicted.  Is there a message here?

Pivot Irrigation #8, High Plains, Texas Panhandle, USA 2012. © Edward Burtynsky, courtesy Howard Greenberg Gallery, New York 

Before we can catch our breath, we are led into the next space, with its ca. 30 foot-high ceiling, and confronted with a massive photograph taken from on high looking straight down on a view of some agricultural acreage—such as seen from an airplane en route between the coasts.  It stands tall and wide like a mural, a massive wall, some 28 x 28 feet.  One feels dwarfed standing near it.  Then feels drawn to inspecting it up close—no, I couldn’t see the seams.  It is of course printed on vinyl, as with so many billboards and wall size museum installations.  Again, it shows us how man marks the environment, in this case the massive agricultural industry in the mid-west.  The irrigation circles are familiar to those of us who prefer the window seats when flying coast to coast, as we gaze down on the passing landscape from our miles high perch.  And if we sit and ponder beyond what we’re looking at we begin to think about how much water is being used, and how the aquifers are drying up, and all for what, and how, and why. 

Despite our attention being drawn to the atrocities aggressively being perpetrated on our shared and finite natural surroundings, and the degradation it incurrs, over and over again we are presented with extreme beauty.  How is this reconciled?  It’s confusing to me what the photographer is trying to tell us.  

Uralkali Potash Mine #4, Berezniki, Russia 2017. © Edward Burtynsky, courtesy Howard Greenberg Gallery, New York

Another aspect is just plain photography—the techniques, the equipment, technology.  Things used to be pretty simple – a camera, film, and paper, and hoofing it around on foot.  And size too was a constraint.  Now it’s about digital printing, and the machines which produce large scale images.  Even having the space to create these works is imperative.  Everything big.  Bigger.  Biggest.  Or, how big can we go?  Even the photographer no longer needs to be physically present to release the shutter —he can be miles away, directing a drone, following and composing, and choosing the decisive moment on a computer screen.  

Many of the photographs in this show are diptychs.  Is this in order to maximize size?  True, some works benefit from the additional panel, and in that case, why not go three, or four, more panels, vertically or horizontally …  Maybe that question is partially answered with the vinyl covered massive wall with the agricultural image.  Everything seems to be growing exponentially, into infinity.  Perhaps that is the real momentum behind the great acceleration.

Feng Jie #3, Yangtze River, China 2002   © Edward Burtynsky, courtesy Howard Greenberg Gallery, New York  

Looking around, over and over again, I am taken by the sheer monumental beauty of the photographs.  Then I am stopped in my tracks by remembering that, in fact, we are witnessing the great destruction of our natural world that our messenger, the photographer, has gone to great lengths to point out to us.  But the impact of that degradation is dulled by all this beauty seeming to get in the way.  Are we supposed to have it both ways?  

As the walkthrough was winding down, I ventured “Who knew that going to hell could look so pretty” …  The group chuckled. WM