Big thanks to Mr. Hoogwaerts over at Mossless Magazine. He was kind enough to post an interview of my ramblings. Check it out. And then spend days going through the archives because Mossless is an incredible resource.
Michael George :: Jan.15.2010 :: Interviews, My Photography :: 2 Comments »
Throughout the world there are places where people go to let loose— leisure spots to relieve stress, to breathe. Some seek release in calming activities like fishing, biking, or sitting on a beach. Others seek the anticipation of freefalling into freezing cold water or driving at a breakneck speed where the world becomes nothing but an abstraction of forms and color. Thomas Prior photographs those with a thirst for adrenaline. A bit of a wanderer himself, Prior travels between locales, never making any deep connections. He observes quietly and leaves no traceable relations except for those between photographer and distant subject. His latest travels included stops in Bonneville, Utah, where the salt flats have become famous for the infinite terrain fit for high-speed drag racing, and in Salthill, Ireland, where Blackrock Tower reels in anyone looking to take an icy plunge.
Many photographers immerse themselves into subcultures for the experience, falling deep into the lifestyles of others and transforming their own character in order to more accurately reveal the culture from within. Prior discovers the magic in short-lived adventure where he chooses to remain an observer. His images are reactive, as if he photographs a dance without knowing the choreography. The work provides a raw, momentary view that combines the wonderment of a snapshot with the quality and vision of someone looking for something just a little bit more.
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MG: Tell me a bit about these projects.
TP: I guess it takes me a long time to change habits. I want to move into a more straight documentary area but have always concentrated on one-off single moments. Recently, I went to Utah and Ireland to practice looking at specific places and how people use them. Both of these places were chosen because I had been to them before and they both left a mark on me. I remember thinking, “I’m coming back here.” I want to do a few more of these types of projects (1-2 weeks… never getting involved deeply with the people) and develop them into a condensed portfolio. Later I want to do a project I’ve been thinking of that will take much longer and be more about individuals and places. I have one trip planned in January and one trip planned in February of 2010. Both are places I’ve never been, I want to see how I’ll approach them compared to a known place. I never want to convey a message or theorize too much. I just react and try not to think. I wasted a lot of time in my 20’s… living… and now have a new fire to explore and spend all my savings and shoot as much as I can and see if I can somehow eek a living out of it.
MG: Both locations you’ve chosen to document are gathering points for a specific activity. Both have to do with thrill-seeking and adventurous types. Is that one of the reasons you were attracted to the locations? Was there anything more specific that drew you back after your original visit?
TP: It was a mixture of the super dedicated people and beautiful open landscapes. I remembered the changing light and engine noise of Bonneville, Utah. Starting at about 4pm in summer the light changes by the minute all the way till dark after 10pm. Blackrock diving tower is such a cool structure, out there on that pier all by itself, and it’s so un-Americanly dangerous. The locations are simple yet not at all boring. They’re visually incredible but made more amazing by humans.
MG: When you say these people are dedicated do you mean they’re constant… Always there?
TP: I think more like personality. It takes a specific personality type to jump into freezing cold water when the weather is super shitty. It takes a specific personality type to risk death and drive super fast. It’s fun being around people that are passionate about what they do.
MG: What benefits are there to these short-term engagements? Some documentary photographers say you should live with your subject for a few weeks before you even take a photograph. What would you say to that?
TP: I shot most of the good photos in the first 3 or 4 days of each project. I wanted to get quick impressions of each location with fresh eyes, react to a situation, put interesting stuff on film, and then move on. Next year I want to start a long term project where the subject will be more important than the place, so in that scenario, it will help to slow down and study a little more. These projects are like fun little sketches, a kind of warm up.
MG: Perhaps it is the opposite then, there’s more charm in the innocence before you really know a person or a place. Do you think your long-term project will replace these sketches?
TP: I plan on doing short projects for a long time. I’ll probably take the best of the best and combine it all later. I have no idea how my long-term project is going to turn out. There’s tons of variables I have yet to work on so I don’t know how that’s gonna go.
MG: Your images show the elderly in both locations doing things we might normally associate with youth. You also mentioned you feel like you wasted a lot of time and are trying to change that way of living. Is this attraction an appreciation for others who continue to “live” even after they’ve reached a certain age?
TP: The elderly thing is mostly coincidence. The drivers happened to be old guys who are retired drag racers and ex-fighter pilots. Little kids use the diving tower in Ireland and then the same bunch of old guys come every day. The water is freezing cold, and the wind is brutal, so you don’t see many teens or middle-aged people. Maybe subconsciously I was attracted to these old dudes living it up, but it was also just cool to see a crusty old timer go 400 mph. Maybe “waste time” was the wrong way to put it… I waited around for stuff to happen, and now that I’m getting older, the itch to move forward is so much stronger.
MG: The Long Course images have a rugged masculinity (smoking, cars, motorcycles, the subject’s intensely aged faces). But you also have these men caught in awkward moments.
TP: That kind of awkwardness is what I naturally react to. I like people awkward and landscapes ordered. This style runs through all of my photos and it’s how I’ve always made pictures.
MG: A lot of contemporary photographers are attracted to that awkwardness. It feels the most like a moment.
TP: Yeah I agree.
MG: Do you ever form deeper relationships with your subjects? Are your interactions as short lived as your experience in documenting?
TP: The only deep photographic relationships I’ve had in the past have been with my Dad and brother. My interactions were short for a reason. With this project I was looking for good representatives…a broad view of the types of people using each landscape… the individual, and my relationship to them, wasn’t as important. I was trying to get the gist of a place in just a few portraits. I have a few more trips planned to similar bizarre recreational spots, where I will do the same types of investigations, and later on down the road, I’ll edit them into a book.
MG: Do you go on these ventures alone?
TP: Yes I go alone. There’s no real significance to going alone… I like being alone… I can’t think when other people are around. I have mind-numbing patience and move at my own pace, spending as little, or as long as I like in a certain place.
MG: Other than all of these future projects do you plan/want to break away from the fashion scene you’ve assisted on for quite sometime and focus on personal work/a commercial portfolio?
TP: I have no idea what I’m gonna do in the future. I’m leaving all my doors open…I just want to keep taking pictures.
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This interview will be published in the Fall 2009 issue of ISO Magazine. The issue is set to be released in just a few weeks. Since the time of this interview Prior has updated his website with a series from Japan. Check it out!
Michael George :: Jan.09.2010 :: Interviews, Photographers :: No Comments »
Ian, July 2009
I’m happy to note that I was featured as the cover photographer for the Open Letters Monthly Arts & Literature Review. In addition, they featured an interview and a portfolio of my recent 8 x 10 black and white portrait work. All can be seen by clicking here– The article is the 4th one down. Check it out and let me know what you think!
Special thanks to Sam Sacks for seeking me out for this little project.
Michael George :: Sep.07.2009 :: Interviews, My Photography :: No Comments »
#3235 from the series Roaming, 2005
*note: this interview was recently published in the Spring 2009 issue of ISO magazine
The road embodies ideas of travel, exploration, and discovery— elements that make up the soul of a curious photographer. From Stephen Shore to Ryan McGinley, road trips have long been a tradition in the photographic process. Roads bring photographers out into the American landscape where they become free to explore the quirks and detritus littered throughout. Though many have used it as a path to their subject, Todd Hido sees the road as a subject all its own. A Road Divided is a series of images shot through the windshield of a car. Some details are sharp while others melt into abstract fluid forms. This visible separation distances the viewer from the specificities of the landscape, exemplifying the universality of the subject.
As a teenager driving across the flat and endless landscape that is Florida, I relished in those moments of solitude when the road felt infinite. I would peer to the left at the travelers moving in the opposite direction. I was always heading toward others’ destinations, and they were always heading toward my starting place. For me, being on the road was a search for meaning, traveling through space and looking for answers, a promising destination. What we don’t see is that the endless search for peace, home, and a common experience is realized in the very search itself.
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MG: I’d like to start with something a little basic. How did the series begin?
TH: I remember clearly I was scouting around for places that I was going to go back to and photograph at night. I was looking around, stopped at a stop sign, and all of a sudden this water kind of rushed in front of my window off my roof. I remember thinking, “Wow, that is really amazing. I should take a picture.” So I got my camera, which was sitting on the front seat, and took a photograph.
The picture sat on my contact sheet for quite some time because I was focused on my night shots at that point – shooting mostly what became my House Hunting series. But then every so often, I would go through my contact sheets, and I remember finding this image and thinking, “This is something very interesting,” and printing it. That’s how a lot of my series begin. Something just sort of happens, and it leads to many others.
MG: The series is titled A Road Divided. Why?
TH: I feel that the first thoughts of this work were about when things come apart—about what divides people—but in the end there are always two ways you can take. It is up to you how you look at it.
#6097 from the series A Road Divided, 2008
MG: The images are, sometimes noticeably and sometimes not, shot through the windshield of a car. Many times, the windshield is smattered with water droplets and sheets of ice. The effect reminds me of old techniques like rubbing Vaseline on the camera lens to create a tilt-shift blur. Do you find yourself using the windshield as a canvas – constructing these layers onto the painterly image? Or is it all a natural effect, completely dependent on the weather and conditions?
TH: It’s a little bit of both. Initially, it starts with just the weather and conditions, and I’m just driving around, and it’s raining, and stuff happens on the window, and I just try and shoot that. I think, over the years, I’ve been able to get control over my technique, and in that particular sense, it would seem like a canvas. I’m definitely able to figure out where I want things and how I want them. I’m shooting with a handheld Pentax 6×7, and all of the pictures are made when I’m stopped. I let the rain accumulate on the windshield and continue shooting as it adds up. Then I’ll clear it and start over again. That’s pretty much the process. Like any photography there’s a humungous amount of luck involved in it. I think, as a photographer, because chance is such a key element of photography, it’s your job to make chance work for you. I’ll shoot many different pictures, and I know which images to pick. That’s really what it comes down to—you shoot and then you edit down, and you curate it into something you really like.
MG: The series, like many of your images, has an explorative and introspective mood. When you venture out on these journeys is there anything you’re looking for either in the image or in yourself? In that same sense, what attracts you to these desolate roads?
TH: I think that absolutely, there’s an introspective feeling to my pictures. I feel like that comes from when I get to just go out and look around, check things out. I really enjoy that process because there’s a real freedom to picture making, and when I’m looking for subjects, whether it’s a house, a landscape, or even a portrait, I’m always looking for something that feels familiar to me. Something from my past or something that I know a little bit in some way or when I see something that I recognize as a place from my history. There’s a certain quality of memory and familiarity to the places that I take pictures of and in the feeling that my photographs evoke.
#7557 from the series A Road Divided, 2008
MG: The weather is a prominent subject throughout the series. Does this bear any special significance? Is it simply to control the emotional weight of the image?
TH: There’s something about the mood that a cloudy day (and nighttime and in my earlier work) that evokes something that I’m really interested in. I would say yes, definitely the weather has significance. I rarely ever go out and photograph on a sunny day. I’ll do portraits on that kind of a day because that just means brighter light on the inside, but I won’t go out and shoot in the blue sky. That kind of thing is just not what I’m interested in. There’s a mood to a blue sky as well, but it’s not the mood I’m currently looking for. The weather does definitely infer an emotional weight in an image, and there’s something about a rainy day that you just can’t beat in some way.
MG: The murky results from shooting through the windshield give an antiquated coating to the images. They feel like the nostalgic memories of a seasoned traveler. What are your thoughts on this? Do you feel like the images speak to the past?
TH: I guess there’s a sense of longing and loss to my work, and there’s something people just kind of recognize from their own history in it. One of the things about my pictures that I think works and sometimes sets it apart from other people’s work that we see these days is that there’s a real emotion to my work. I think my work is psychologically driven instead of being driven conceptually. I certainly don’t sit down in my studio and think of an idea and then go out and photograph it. I’m the kind of photographer that prefers to respond to what I’m seeing and that’s how I work. That is how I have always worked.
MG: What do you hope, if anything, people take from experiencing the emotional responses that your images evoke? I know you said your series are not driven conceptually, but do you have any specific goals for this series?
TH: My goal is to express myself and to connect with others. This is a statement I wrote in graduate school—I think it still fits:
As an artist I have always felt that my task is not to create meaning, but to charge the air so that meaning can occur.
#6426 untitled 2007
MG: In one of the more recent images, you include a human presence. This contrasts with the feeling of isolation of the rest of the images. What was your intention with this portrait? Was it also reliant on chance? Do you feel that it adds to the rhythm of the series?
TH: No, this person was not there by chance. I had her stand there. That is usually how I direct my portraits. I say “just stand here” or “try leaning here,” and I just let gestures and expressions naturally occur. I think much of my work has always had a “human presence” in it. All my images of places are somehow to me about people. Yes, they are often empty, but they are about things that have happened there. Not literally of course. But in a roundabout way.
MG: When you set out on a journey to take photographs do you have any sort of trajectory or is it more of a meditative exploration? Have you ever gotten yourself lost?
TH: You unfortunately can’t get lost these days. I have tried. A road always leads somewhere—and they mostly are all connected.
MG: Music is a big player in affecting a person’s emotional outlook. When encapsulated in a car, it’s usually just you and whatever is vibrating from your speakers. While driving do you listen to music? If so, what?
TH: I actually always listen to talk radio when I am driving and shooting. I like the conversations I hear.
#4155-A from the series Between the Two, 2007
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To view more of Todd Hido’s work please visit his website by clicking here
all photographs courtesy Bruce Silverstein Gallery
Michael George :: May.20.2009 :: Interviews, Photographers :: No Comments »
Bugout shaving on a Monday morning © Robert Sukrachand
*note: this interview was published in the first issue of the aforementioned ISO magazine
As with many things, it was a product of chance that initiated Robert Sukrachand’s interaction with the locals of 74th and Roosevelt Avenue in Jackson Heights, Queens. In December 2006, as he emerged from the Subway, he was greeted by a man named Tommy who yelled, “Yo, Mafioso, want to take my picture?” To this day Sukrachand, who has since graduated from the Tisch Department of Photography & Imaging, continues his documentation of the crew he happened upon almost two years ago. The cinematic feeling that emanates from the images serves to recognize Sukrachand’s honest relationship that has formed over time. Rather than develop this relationship on my own terms, I instead invite you to read through our conversation and discover for yourself the lessons to be learned from “the corner.”
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MG: There are various differences between you and the residents of 74th and Roosevelt. After all, you began this series as a student. In what ways would you say you currently (or already did) relate to them?
RS: For a long time, I would just go to the corner whenever I could, not really thinking about why. Something kept drawing me back, and there was a point when I realized it wasn’t just the photography, but there was genuine friendship there, and my interactions with these people provided something that interactions with the rest of NYC did not. A certain honesty and straightforwardness, a group of people who weren’t afraid to tell me what they thought of me, the world around them, and the state of their lives. In the beginning it was subconscious, but I have always felt a kinship with these people. We share a disillusionment with the world and a homesickness. They teach me things – but not really about themselves, more about myself and the world around me. We are all wanderers in today’s world, homeless in some way.
MG: You say we are all “homeless in some way.” Is this the result of our break into adulthood? In some ways, it’s impossible to describe home. How would you?
RS: Well, I think that home is a place where we don’t feel alienated or anxious. A place that feels naturally comfortable. This is hard to find today when we live in a world that is so diffused culturally, racially, religiously, and geographically. I don’t think we are yet at the point where society has broadly been able to accept the fact that this new, globalized world can still be a home. Instead I think many people often cling to orthodoxy, ideology, and things that give them a concrete picture of home. In today’s world, unless you’re born in some rural village and never leave that place, you are likely to feel alienated and homeless in someway because the world you interact with is so complex, so modern and diffused.
© Robert Sukrachand
MG: Was the photographic element a consequence of your relationship or does your relationship with the group exist as a photographer?
RS: The relationship is complex and varies from person to person. For a while I was known as a photographer to those I was not close to but I often go to the corner with or without a camera. In either case I’m just Bobby. Marianne sees me and says “Bobby!” and comes and gives me a hug. I find myself doing things like driving people to detox centers or visiting them at hospitals almost more than I’m photographing now. The photos began out of the conversation I had with Tommy one random day, and they all developed out of my relationships. They can’t be separated. My being who I am, I could not have photographed these people without the relationship I’ve had with them.
MG: For your senior thesis show, you printed the images on postcards and accompanied them with personal stories from the people of the corner. I presume this was to open up a dialogue between students, others, and those portrayed. What do you feel is the importance of this dialogue?
RS: The point of the postcards was that it was an easy way to put the stories of these people in direct interaction with the photos and also an easy way to send these stories out. That’s the most important part, some bit of agency for the subject… But also, it is meant to follow the theme of being a wanderer – because what do you when you’re homesick? Send out a postcard home. It is also perhaps a way to describe the adventures you are currently experiencing so that it’s not a negative form of communication. I liked its open-endedness. The dialogue you point to is very important, but I don’t think it’s feasible, honestly. The average NYU student or person who sees my work is not going to get up and go to Jackson Heights and start hanging out with these people. Nor is it likely that they’ll consciously think about my photos in the future. What I hope is that subconsciously the photos and stories may have fostered some small bit of mutual understanding and help the viewer initiate an internal dialogue about their own lives and/or the communities that immediately surround them.
MG: Your more recent images appear to extend outside the microcosm of the corner. What is your intent in this extension? Is the series becoming more about the people and less about the place?
RS: First, the pictures were always about the people and the place. The place is what brings this community together, and only to that extent does it have any significance. I would have no interest in it otherwise. I should just say broadly that I no longer have any intentions, and I think that premeditation and a plan when photographing something like this is dangerous because your vision as a photographer can impose on and overwhelm the reality. I just try to be open. I follow the people and the story and my relationships with them wherever they take me, and I photograph that. Over the summer, being able to spend days at a time with these people, I found them bringing me into their personal spaces – the van where Willy sleeps at night, the hut where Marianne and Dougie live. These are intimate areas, like our own bedrooms, the places we can perhaps relate to and see the similarities we have with these people. Unfortunately, these can also be destructive habitats— the places where drugs are used as seen in some of my photos. But they are safe, communal, intimate, and warm. Some of the most peaceful photos that I have taken happened there, and it is often right at the second when the crack pipe lights up. Contrary to the image we have of people smoking crack, that is when the tension is released and things become more calm.
Willie, beneath the highway; Marianne shows her wound in Elmhurst Hospital. Two weeks prior she was run over by a car while crossing Queens Boulevard and broke her leg. © Robert Sukrachand
MG: It seems important to you that the series is not labeled as “concerned photography.” In what ways, while shooting and editing, have you been able to steer away from this?
RS: I don’t really like labels including photojournalism, social documentary, fine art, etc. However, to the extent that I am concerned and I am a photographer, this is concerned photography. Even the kind of progressive genre of concerned photography can end up having its own set of conventions and rules that pigeonhole the content. What I hate far worse, however, than what someone might say the genre of my work is, is the oversimplification done to the subject matter. For example, the other day at Thanksgiving dinner a second cousin of mine comes up to me and says, “How are you, Bob? Your photography going well? Your mom told me you’ve been working on this project about the homeless?” and I got so angry inside because this work for me has never been about the homeless. Some of the people pictured are homeless, but that’s not what it is about. This happens all the time when people try to describe my work because people search for these generalities to make sense of things. We like the idea of ‘homeless,’ ‘down-and-out,’ or ‘addicted’ because they completely cut through the complexity of these people’s lives as though the fact that someone is homeless explains away everything else that is important in their life. If I was going to do a story about you, the reader, would I call it a story about someone who has a home? No, it would be a story about you being the unique individual that you are. I do my best, only sometimes successfully, to present this work in a way where it is not so explicitly about a social ill. In terms of my practice while shooting and editing, these things just internalize, and you try not to fall prey to the photographic conventions that connote victimization, pity, down-and-outness, etc. Often, this happens in the editing process. There are some strong pictures I have taken, which I don’t show sometimes. I try to do justice to the fullness of these people’s lives as much as I can from a photographic standpoint, but this has been my biggest struggle as I am still growing as a photographer and my pictures are too often straightforward, repetitive, predictable, or formally conventional. What I love about shooting is how difficult it is to bring in some kind of unison between how complex these people’s lives are and how I frame their lives photographically. This is really hard, and why I still have so much learning and growing to do as a photographer.
Michael, Fay, and Natasha on a typical summer afternoon on the corner © Robert Sukrachand
MG: Up to this point, what have you learned from the corner?
RS: We all have anxieties, insecurities, problems, and to the extent that they linger in us, even if subconsciously, we find ways to numb them. You and I, Joe the plumber, whoever that mythical ‘normal person’ is supposed to be, we have our own opiates: the pursuit of wealth, the cult of celebrity, sex, ideology, aspirations to get the best job, buy a new house, car, various worldly possessions – the so-called “American dream.” We tell ourselves that we can’t live without such things; well, my photos prove that some people can. Those pictured by me have their own problems, and their method of forgetting is an opaque one, often erosive – alcohol, crack cocaine, and other hard drugs. It’s devastating to witness, but we cannot pity them or patronize them. In a sense they are just being more honest than the rest of us about their problems. It’s like ‘fuck you, I don’t have to hide. I have issues, and I have trouble dealing with them.’ I think these photos and stories are successful only to the extent that we see ourselves and the foolishness of our own lives in them. I would hope that people might begin to understand the lives of others through my photos and to allow that understanding to trigger their consciousness about what’s important in life in their own immediate environments. I’ve learned not to expect anyone to want to go to 74th and Roosevelt and help Tommy or Fay or Marianne, but if they did, I would be delighted and surprised.
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To read personal stories and learn more about the corner, please visit www.74thandroosevelt.com
Michael George :: Dec.26.2008 :: Interviews, Photographers :: 1 Comment »
Radio Flyer © Keith Carter
*note: this interview was published in the first issue of the aforementioned ISO magazine
I have discovered a place where dreams are alive, where dancing bears and checkered walls are found among wizards and floating boys. In this literal blur of my imagination, there is a force that twists the literal into something completely obscure and exciting. This place, too alluring for reality, is found within the mystic pages of A Certain Alchemy. Welcome to the world of Keith Carter. In his tenth book, Carter continues the proliferation of a place all his own. To describe this work as beautiful vastly oversimplifies these images, which transcend meaning beyond any silly string of written words. A Certain Alchemy has a poignancy of emotion that can reignite the creative corners of even the most analytical personality. In speaking with Carter, I found that our conversation worked to support the notion that Carter holds within his spirit a child’s eye with an elder sensibility. This combination of youthful imagination and clever composition resonates throughout, forming a coherency between a myriad of subjects. If there is any downside to the potential adventures within A Certain Alchemy, it is that, like all dreams, their end is as imminent as their existence is magical.
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MG: A Certain Alchemy is bookended by two sections that not only bring a new tone to your photographs but also a new way of looking. The first of the two sections is reminiscent of taxonomy; a physical description of animals, plants, and objects. Was this your intention, and what has inspired this new facet of your work?
KC: I’ve always loved those small fragments of paper that Fox-Talbot used in his early experiments making his “shadow pictures” – what we call photograms. Where I live, near the Big Thicket in East Texas, everything either flies, slithers, buzzes, or stings, hence some of my subject matter. Mostly, I was just trying to replicate the beautiful mottled tonality of some of photography’s pre-history images.
Daydream © Keith Carter
MG: Images like Crossed Fingers, appear scientific but the action of the object is consistent with the mystical nature of your work. How do you think these attributes play with one another?
KC: I don’t think science is necessarily incompatible with mystical or spiritual sensibilities. I often weigh them equally in my thinking, which sometimes finds itself into the work. Crossed Fingers was intended as a dialogue between hope and mortality. I should have titled it Good Luck.
MG: In the main body of work, you continue the style that is so prominent in your previous books. I find it’s like visual poetry, an exploration of the ethereality only the photograph can accurately capture. Do you find yourself inspired by romantic literature or any particular poets?
KC: Like Joseph Cornell or Ralph Meatyard, I’ve been inspired by both romantic and surrealist literature. In my earlier days, I used to run both through the “southern gothic” realm also – which got a little weird. I don’t much care for images that illustrate poems, but I read and have been heavily influenced by the non-linear aspect of poetry. I like what Wallace Stevens said: “Poetry must almost successfully resist intelligence.” I just change the word “poetry” to “my photographs.”
Dancing Bear © Keith Carter
MG: How much searching do you do? Are the images conjured in your mind and then brought to fruition, or are they products of exploration?
KC: The answer is both. I like to work in the real world, so I do a lot of searching or just simple looking. But I’m not above tweaking reality and making something up. I don’t think there are any rules in art. It’s not so much what you see as it is the significance you, the artist, see in it.
MG: Many photographers find themselves attracted to animals for various reasons. What’s yours?
KC: There are lots of them around where I live, and I grew up around animals. They move me in ways I am unable to articulate. My idea of heaven on earth would be to have been present with a camera when Noah was loading the animals two by two.
MG: You place a certain emphasis on the physicality of traditional processes. If this magic comes from the alchemy of the medium, what value is there in digital photography?
KC: I love digital photography and Photoshop. I think it’s the future. However, for me there’s no romance in pixels. I came of age when the camera, film, and the darkroom were the heart of photography. I enjoy the physical process of it all. I think the smart students will learn both traditional and digital platforms. I love the history of photography and one process has always replaced another. However, very, very few have disappeared.
MG: The repetition of children, animals, and dreamlike sequences creates a feeling of an imaginative world. I believe our imaginations allow us to see beauty in things we would otherwise dismiss. Is there always something more to see?
KC: I would refer you back to the earlier Wallace Stevens quote.
Crossed Fingers © Keith Carter
MG: In compositional terms the single point of focus tells the viewer where to look. Do you believe this guidance is important?
KC: For me it is. When I started using the extreme short depth of field and single point of focus, I was trying to replicate my changing eyesight. We have binocular vision; one eye perceives space from the other. I don’t experience a scene visually at F32. It’s more like F1.4.
MG: Have you ever prescribed narratives to your images or are you fond of their inherent shroud of mystery?
KC: I’m fond of implied narratives, oblique angles, and leaving a little room for the viewer to finish a picture.
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If you are interested in purchasing A Certain Alchemy you can visit this link or hop on over to your favorite book store. For more information on Keith Carter please visit his website.
Michael George :: Dec.08.2008 :: Interviews, Photographers, Publications :: 1 Comment »
© Michal Chelbin
A few weeks ago I went gallery hopping with one of my professors and some friends of mine. We sought out the photography shows and slipped into Michal Chelbin‘s exhibit of photographs from her “Strangely Familiar” series. Thanks to the crowded atmosphere I found myself face to face with large prints of these gorgeous square-format portraits. Despite having just returned from traveling, Chelbin was more than grateful to answer some questions regarding the series.
…And it just so happens she was named as one of PDN’s emerging 30 of 2008!
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- I noticed in the series that you focus on a myriad of different people but the central figures tend to be children. I also noticed that, despite there being groups of older people in the book, none of these were exhibited in the show. What purpose does this selection serve?
When installing a show, many factors have to be taken into consideration, like to the size and shape of the space, how many works can fit in, what photographs work best together, etc. I agree that I photograph a range of ages, not just children, but in the end, that selection felt the right one.
© Michal Chelbin
- You say that you “search for people who have a legendary quality in them; a mix between odd and ordinary.” Your subjects are acrobats, contortionists, and mostly have bodily talents. Do you find this legendary quality manifests itself best in those with refined physical abilities? (as opposed to skills such as musicians, etc.)
Sometimes yes, but not necessarily. Usually the first thing I look for is the face and the eyes, so it is not necessary a matter of body. But definitely people who have bodily skills, can bring an extra layer to the final image. Sometimes it is because the body and the face (or more accurately, the gaze), are in contrast to one another.
- Can you elaborate on your preference for square format?
I like the Hasselblad very much. It is easy to handle and the lenses are superb. I also like it because I often try to address troubling issues and the use of this balanced / symmetrical format causes the form and the content to conflict, which is something I like.
© Michal Chelbin
- Would you mind discussing the technical aspects? The colors in the prints are extremely vivid which adds to the mystical quality. Do you have a favored film choice?
I almost always shoot with available light, which means sometimes shooting in poor light conditions. Therefore I shoot with high speed films, Kodak or Fuji for the color and Ilford for the b&w.
The color I print on Kodak paper, which I believe adds to the richness of the colors.
*The following questions were submitted by my friend Sasha Arutyunova
who also attended the show
- Do you think the struggle of the performers you photograph is often overlooked? What did you initially hope to find when exploring the tensions within that struggle?
In the Narrative, most of the people in this book are some kind of performer. Many of them kids, who, for example, have to put on seductive costumes when they are on stage. They mature very quickly. The glamour which is often associated with performers, is not evident in their every day life.
But I have to say that my interest is not topical or social. For example, In most of the images I think it is hard to tell what are the technical skills of the person in the image. Therefore, although the people in the images are very specific, my aim is to address universal themes such as the desire for fame, puberty, family issues. I find that these people and these settings allow me to do so.
© Michal Chelbin
- Most of the photographs were taken in Russia and in the Ukraine. What drew you to these cultures and what do you think their history lent to the project as a whole?
When I started to work on my personal projects in Israel, the majority of people I photographed were immigrants who came to Israel from the former Soviet Union. It was only natural for me to start going and shooting there. I am drawn to people from that region because they are full of contradictions- tough on the outside but very warm and friendly when you get to know them. And I also like their faces, especially of the girls, which remind me of a dark northern fairy tail. The countries are also intriguing – a strange mix of old and new, odd and ordinary. Again, I have to note that I don’t feel this work is a cultural essay. The location is hinted and supports the subject.
- What was your relationship like with the various young girls in the photographs? How did they react to your desire to photograph them, and in turn how were you personally affected by their stories? Did your project change as time went on?
I spend a lot of time with the people I photograph, usually several weeks, and I got to know them and their struggles. Girls usually like the attention of the camera and most of them enjoyed being photographed. Once we spent time together, they began to trust me.
Some of them had a difficult life, like broken families or even living in an orphanage, and joining a small acrobat group was their hope of a better future. I could sense their determination. Some of them really touched my heart and it was very difficult to say goodbye.
___
For more of Michal’s work please see her website or visit the Andrea Meislin gallery in Chelsea. The show closes October 18th.
Michael George :: Oct.02.2008 :: Interviews, Photographers :: No Comments »
Running, 2006 © Charlotte Dumas
Last year I took a visit to Printed Matter, a little bookshop on 10th avenue that specializes in Artist’s publications. While perusing the shelves I stumbled upon a series entitled “Reverie” by Charlotte Dumas. I was stricken by the intimacy she managed to imply while photographing this series of, mostly individual, wolf portraits. The series left me thinking, and also fell close to my heart because I grew up with an Alaskan Malamute (who was almost as big as I was). Dumas was kind enough to answer my questions and provide some tremendous insight into her working process.
- I’m interested in the cover image (see above) you chose for Reverie. It’s one of the
only times we see one of your subjects in motion, was there a particular
reason you chose this image?
It’s rare for me to show motion in my photography, I found that adding
this single image of action to the still portraits creates a better
balance in series altogether.
It’s often difficult to keep the tension in a series (especially with
photography). To prevent a series from being repetitive every image should
have it’s own individual value and be irreplaceable in context to the
other images in the series.
Therefore, in each of my series I usually use one or two images that give
a little more information concerning the subject matter, either by using
a different visual language for the image or by means of stepping back,
literally by taking more distance from my subject to show more of their
surroundings, this is the case with this particular image from the Reverie
series. In the Tiger Tiger series these images are ‘At Joe’s’ and ‘Tabby’ for example.
- You previously mentioned that most of the animals you photograph are in
captivity, either sanctuaries or parks, and yet there are very little
hints of that in the images. Even the landscapes do not look contrived as
is accustomed in places like zoos. Were you meaning to portray them as if
they were wild?
It was never my intention to portray them as if they were wild, however
when I started out photographing wolves, the locations I visited were
often spacious and I was still concentrating mostly on making portraits at
close range. On the large format photograph, as the one mentioned above, you
can see the fencing subtly in the back. It also addresses the way we want
(as viewers and humans) to see such animals, free and roaming or at least
the suggestion of it. The framing of photography is the excellent
manipulative tool to show only that.
In the Tiger Tiger series the confinements of the animals habitat are much
more dominantly present which to me was something I had to get used to
myself before I understood and saw the importance of these backdrops as
the context of my subject and their situation.
The challenge for me is to keep making portraits that in their
composition, appearance and concentration overrule the documentary
character of the subject in it’s artificial environment.
Untitled (Atka), 2006 © Charlotte Dumas
- How do you approach the assignment? e.g… Are the owners of the
sanctuaries apprehensive of your presence? How long do you stick with
each group of animals?
It usually takes quite some time and patience to get the contacts needed
before I’m able to make the travels to visit these places. The
‘human-animal world” as I’ve known it so far tends to be suspicious
towards outsiders. The Tiger Tiger project really became a project because
of that. In Texas and Indiana I found some great co-operation and
feedback. I later returned to these locations again to continue shooting
without the novelty of just having been able to portray them at close
distance.
There are plenty of locations and parks where you can photograph for a fee
via restricted guiding tours but I’m not interested in this commercial
side of these animal parks even though I’m not criticizing it in
principal. Some of the parks offer these tours and possibilities in order
to continue to take care of there animals.
I prefer working with the people of smaller facilities and building up
relationships and trust. I want to invest in spending time with my
subjects to study and observe in order to get a grip on it; that can’t be
achieved in an afternoon shoot. Usually it’s the places that are not
looking for commercial attention and away from the general public that I
end up with. In the end it’s just as well this relationship these people
have with the animals that interests me as the features of the animals
themselves, the whole phenomena of wild life being held captive or
preserved.
- I was amazed to find that you “produce between six to nine images a
year.” Are you very particular when shooting or do you have an exorbitant
amount of images from which you edit down?
I’d say it’s something in between. I don’t shoot a lot but after four to
six different travels it still adds up to quite a number of films so most
of the selecting is done by editing.
Untitled (B), 2006 © Charlotte Dumas
- Would you mind revealing some of the technical aspects of your process? I read that you are not using a telephoto lens and are shooting film. Any particular type of film that you
can’t live without?
I use a Mamiya 645 and have been inseparable from Fuji 400 H; a very
flexible film to work with. But I’m open to try new ones, for my current
series I ‘m working both with Fuji and a 400 Kodak film. The 645 gives a
large enough negative to blow up the photographs to the sizes I use to
exhibit but is still a light and sturdy enough camera to run around with.
- Thus far you have documented horses, wolves, and tigers. Is there any
connection? And where do you see yourself proceeding from here?
All the animals of my choice so far are animals extensively interpreted
and used either in symbolic or practical manners by mankind. They’re
charged with our projections. It’s this somehow one-sided relationship
between man and animal that interests me most.
At the moment I’m working on a series and book about the stray dogs of
Palermo. This book will be released coming October.
As for November I’ll be in NYC for most of the time, I’ll let you know
when the book is available there as well.
Please click here to see more from the “Reverie” series.
Michael George :: Aug.24.2008 :: Interviews, Photographers :: No Comments »