Inceptive Notions

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 »

'Rooftop' 2006

*note: this article was published in the first issue of the aforementioned ISO magazine

You might find it worrisome to learn that there are more than 20,000 college students graduating each year with degrees in photography. Based on the ever-looming laws of natural selection, you may feel as if one place your work will rarely, if ever, land is on a gallery wall — unless it is a virtual one. In many ways the Internet has tremendously expanded the photographer’s ability to connect with other artists and the general population. Your work can be thrust under anyone’s nose through the use of blogs, portfolios, and forums. UGallery.com is no exception.

This website was created with the goal to provide art students a market for their work. Branded as a place to find affordable artwork, you won’t be selling for outrageous prices, but you will be getting your work out to the public. And in this economic climate, more and more collectors and casual buyers are turning towards the Internet to find better deals on quality art.

So how does it work? To begin, you apply with a sample portfolio and fill out a questionnaire with an artist statement. While their acceptance rate rests right around 25%, there are most notably a large number of submissions of amateur work. Once contacted and accepted, you may begin posting images to your profile. Each image is reviewed by the UGallery staff and then made available for purchase. The minimum size for prints is set at 12” x 18.” It is also important to note that, like most galleries, they receive 50% of the profit. One of the more formal aspects of submitting to UGallery is the upkeep required for their 48-hour guarantee, as the website promises their customers that the image will be printed and shipped off within 48 hours of purchase. This means if you are out of town or unavailable to print and ship the image, you must post a note ahead of time. Although the staff is helpful and understanding of the busy college schedule, they expect a professional relationship when handling sales.

'Pine Island' 2006

Additionally, the website is somewhat hindered by the plethora of artworks exhibited. There are a few ways they attempt to remedy this, most extensively through the use of filters. Using these search options, you can sift through artwork based on anything from color to school to genre. Perhaps the most interesting aspect of the purchasing process is the “virtual wall” – this little widget allows the customer to view and arrange the artwork on an imaginary wall rendered in your browser. You can change the colors of the wall and floor to match your own while resizing the work and positioning the furniture. Although the virtual wall is a rather disappointing replacement for a gallery wall in Chelsea, it’s better than shoving your prints into a box and leaving them under your bed.

Over the past few years UGallery has grown from a fledgling business into a solid presence, receiving constant and increasing press. Fortunately, as they grow in popularity and recognition, so does the potential for your work. Throughout the year the gallery participates in art and design fairs across the country. Last year, at the ART NOW Fair in Manhattan, UGallery held a room amongst gallery spaces from New York to Sweden. If you are one of the top sellers, there is a good chance the site will exhibit your work in these venues, transforming from virtual into real space. In the end there is nothing to lose by joining with UGallery, so don’t hesitate to jump into cyberspace and pull ahead of your 20,000 competitors.

Michael George :: Dec.26.2008 :: Art, Miscellaneous, My Photography :: No Comments »

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 »

ISO Fall 2008

I am exhausted. This past week I’ve watched the sunrise on three separate days (and then continued without any sleep). However, the first issue of ISO magazine is finally published.

74th + Roosevelt

This Summer I was thinking about the Department of Photography & Imaging and how there is so much good work shown in classes and critiques, but rarely does any of it leave the 8th floor of the Tisch Building. I noticed in the lobby that the Cinema Studies’ classes had a publication called the “Tisch Film Review,” the film students had a campus-wide screening every semester, and the drama students, of course, were constantly putting on productions. The photography department, however, had no vessel to showcase work to the other students on campus. When the Fall semester arrived I submitted a proposal for a new student club and the “Tisch Photography Magazine Club” (now ISO) was formed.

Featured Artist: Collin Lafleche

After electing officers, building a website ( http://www.isozine.com ), advertising, designing, many months and a million sleepless nights, our first issue is out. It features articles by students and staff, interviews with student and professional photographers, as well as a curated gallery of images from students and alumni. Our shipment is set to arrive on Thursday and I think I’m going to explode when I see the stack of copies. Hopefully, by the end of the week, the .pdf will be available for viewing online. Until then, I will be posting my articles onto this blog.

Michael George :: Dec.06.2008 :: Publications :: 2 Comments »