Klara Källström and Thobias Fäldt

In conjunction with PAPERSAFE zine Don/Dean will be posting two interviews today that were commissioned for issue #3.  Link to the issue posted at the end of this interview.

Klara Källtröm and Thobias Fäldt have collaborated since 2005 and are based in Stockholm.

How does the night influence your work?

The night takes away a lot of distraction. Both mentally and visually. The blackness creates backdrops for the gaze.
What is the relative speed of taking a picture for you? How many photographs do you take of a subject before you feel you’ve got the right picture?
It’s a very quick thing. Small adjustments in the angle, maybe a frame or two.


How do you work together? Do you have a shared mentality of while photographing? Do you both have to be there to take a single picture?
One of us has the camera and sometimes the other one holds the flash. It’s a continuous negotiation about what the image should be. But no, both of us don’t have to be there to take the picture. The discussion goes on in the editing process as well as in the photo moment. We usually share the mentality while photographing but we don’t always share the same idea of a composition.
Can you talk about coolness?
Coolness as in cool color scale or coolness as in chilly climate? Or coolness as in keeping something a little distant? I guess all of that is present to some extent in our work.


How did the aesthetic of your work form?  

We use the camera as a way to create an image that has a similar feeling to it no matter under what condition it was taken.
This a way of democratizing the image. All images become equal in sense. 

How arbitrary are you subjects?

The subjects have of course changed over the years. We go in and out of ways of how to approach certain things.  What’s the most important method right now is to constantly try out different ones.

Ask yourself a question and respond.

I’m quoting question and answer through artist Lotta Antonsson, whom herself quotes artist László Moholy-Nagy:
What is the future of photography?
The future lays in the experiment.

Pauline Magnenat

In conjunction with PAPERSAFE zine Don/Dean will be posting two interviews today that were commissioned for issue #3.  Link to the issue posted at the end of this interview.

Pauline Magnenat is a photographer who graduated from Camberwell College of Arts and currently lives in Paris.


Do you think photographs can have a volume? What volume would your work be at?
I’m not sure what you mean by volume, but indeed every photograph is different in terms of size and how I want the viewer to see it. Obviously this is an almost impossible feeling to convey on the internet…
What do you think distance does when photographing a person far away?
I’m not sure as I rarely photograph people from far away. I tend to shoot landscape work or portraits and for the portraits, I like to photograph the subjects pretty closely. 


How do your photographs of monumental landscapes relate to your portraits? 
To me these works are quite different as the landscapes I’ve photographed are, most of the time, void of any presence. But I love shooting portraits as much as I love shooting landscapes and the project I’m working on is almost exclusively made of portraits. It’s a nice change.
In these places you travel, what cannot be captured in a photograph?
A lot of things.


How important are the details in relation to the expansiveness of the landscape?
They give the viewer a deeper understanding of the place. For the Shiprock images, once you get there you are far away from pretty much everything. This huge rock, which you cannot get really close to for various reasons, is standing there. But on the road leading to it you see a lot of things, mostly dead animals, which add to the eerily atmosphere of the place. It’s surreal.

Stacy Kranitz

Stacy Kranitz received her MFA from the University of California and is currently living and working in Los Angeles, California.




What did you learn from your study of post-pubescent boys? Do you think the learning experience is shared with the viewers of the work?

For me, The Study represents an awareness of the gaze that I place on my subjects. It is a reconciliation with the truth that as I make my work I am in fact “studying” my subjects. Ideally the title places the work in a space where young men act as signifiers of an unruly aggression. My gaze signifies a longing for a lost youthful abandon.

I want the viewer to question my romantic portrayal of these young men. I also hope the viewer can relate to my fantastical gaze I would like for them to have some connection to these men either through the transcendence of my desire or through their own personal experiences and histories coming of age.  



Can you talk about your flash? What does it illuminate with in your images and the individuals in them- and what drops off in the shadow?

The flash does two significant things. It makes colors pop so there is a heightened / hypereal sense of reality. It also produces a spotlight effect on the subject. I think this mimics the intensity of how I observe people in the world. I don’t lurk in the background. I interrupt, interfere, and pursue my way into the center of the action. It’s the only way I know how to work. The style emulates how I see and interact with the world in general.  



What kind of perspective are you giving your audience on teenage boys?

About three years into the project I realized that I was doing a real disservice to the young men I met and befriended at Skatopia. The intent of this project is to show a certain type of violent behavior as catharsis. All of the images are supercharged and heightened in away that forces the viewer into a certain space of contemplation. While this myopic view is intentional it is unfair to my subjects who are far more nuanced and complicated.

Instead of altering the way I shot the project, I decided to open up the “study” to encompass more projects with different points of view. I made a film and a series of drawings utilizing the same title. The film specifically addressed the intimacy of the relationships I built with several young men I met at Skatopia. I used the same camera I made the still images with. The film specifically addresses the complicatedness of the relationship between the documenter and her subject while also giving a very intimate view of what it means to reconcile with becoming an adult.  




How important is violence to these people?  These pictures? To you?

I think most people that come to Skatopia are connected by a desire to utilize violence as catharsis for different reasons. It is a central theme in the work I make. But the viewer should question the truth of my hypothesis and the idea that violence can function as catharsis.  For me there is something good in a certain type of violent behavior. This does not make it right or wrong. My personal interest in the subject stems from a violent childhood. It was one of the first thing I came to know and so I go back to it over and over again in my work.



How did you empathize with the teenage boys in the pictures?

The pictures don’t signify much in the way of empathy. That is not their intention. They are just moments captured for the viewer to experience. The companion film is about empathy, intimacy, connection, and disconnection in my role as documentarian, friend and confidant. I believe we are capable of empathizing with anyone if we allow ourselves. My work is the process of allowing empathy into my life at every turn.




Do you think your subjects performed for the camera? Do you think they held back because of the camera? Can you talk relationship created?

I think we all perform for the camera and I would never pretend that as a photographer I have the skills to get beyond that. I think in some cases people are less aware or too immersed in what they are doing to notice the camera. But the people that I photograph at Skatopia have a real understanding of the media. We are far into the second decade of reality television controlling the airwaves of the television set. Most of the kids I meet have a sophisticated understanding of spectacle and they are choosing to portray themselves in a way that they are comfortable with.




Jenna Kuiper

 Jenna Kuiper is an artist who received degrees in Painting from The University of Montana and The University of New Mexico.  She currently lives and works in New Mexico, USA. 

What caused the shift from straight photography to photograms? What do photograms do for you that painting and photography can’t?
It wasn’t a conscious shift.  I had been working with middle schoolers for a summer art program and teaching a darkroom class.  It was a place of chaos.
I had never made a photogram before, but noticed that the students were getting a variety of different grays depending on the time they exposed the paper. My background is in drawing and painting, so I wanted to approach photographic materials with the intention of making a drawing.  The process opened up from there and I began to add different visual elements- screens, tape, cut out shapes and controlled timing.  I think of it as drawing in the dark.
Photograms have allowed me to stop fussing.  Once the piece is developed I cannot rework it.  This process has been really good for me because I tend to get stuck when I have a lot of options for change.    
All of my work, regardless of the medium, aims to create a context where ordinary things and objects transcend themselves.

Can you talk about the physical work behind creating a 3-dimensional world within a flat surface using only light and time?
I have boxes and boxes of shapes, textures and masking tools.  It is very magician-like. The physical work is in the planning— the  drawing and cutting of shapes and masks, the careful set-up of my “palette,”  and then testing exposure times.  
The difficult part is that it is mostly conjecture— there is no way to respond to the process through sight like I would in a drawing because I cannot see the effects of the actions until the paper is developed, and at that point the tones cannot be changed. It’s strange to work on a piece for 30 minutes and only have an idea of what is there.  In this sense, I think of the work as more mental than physical.  It is an exercise in memory and trust. I don’t write the steps down.  Inside the plan, I allow myself to act on impulse. The element of surprise is the best part about making photograms.

Do the still lives all exist with in the same realm of each other? Where is this place?
I think so.  I don’t see it as one specific place, but rather spaces where the unseen is acknowledged:  altars, places of ceremony and runes, temples.  The titles allude to this space as well:  Equinox, Vessel and Rune, Center of the Center.



What happened to the color in the shift to photograms?

The silver process.  I have tried painting on some of the photograms, but I like the monochrome in that it shows restraint. 


It’s easy to see art historical influence in the photograms, but can you talk about personal or emotional influence in them?
The process feels really metaphorical to me. Concentrated effort with unforeseen results.  Accepting mistakes and letting go.  
I’ve practiced yoga for over eight years, and am inspired by metaphysics and ways in which the physical is used to access the invisible.  
For me, the darkroom fits these ideas in that it is a space between light and dark, form and dissolution— a special processing space. 
 What do you think about when you are in the darkness of the darkroom?

It’s a really inward, meditative space for me.  

The best part is when I’m not thinking, just listening to really loud music and dropping into the process of making. I wait until I have the space to myself to work because I need to spread out all of my shapes and devices and focus without talking or interruption. Usually this is really really late at night.  I love it.  
When I get scared, I sing. 
Ask yourself a question and respond.
What objects are you looking at right now?
I’m at my friend Caroline’s house in Pueblo, Colorado.  On the shelf in front of me there is a vial of Ganges water from India, a small sculpture of Sagittarius, and an old Irish raffle ticket with faded blue ink.
I love the things people keep.  



Alexis Vasilikos

Alexis Vasilikos is a photographer who currently co-edites Phases Magazine.


Is your voice in a photograph or an edit of images? Would your photographs change if someone else created the edit?

When attention is on an image my voice is there so to speak and when attention is on editing my voice is there too, they are parts of the same process. At a deeper level I wouldn’t place myself in an image or in a series of images, because the image is a very elusive thing, specially the self image.
Coming to your second question: the photographs don’t have any inherent meaning or even existence in themselves, they exist in relation to an observer, so yes definitely they change according to who observes or edits them.



How do you know when a series is finished?

You just know it, it’s an intuitive knowing so I can’t tell you how exactly it happens, of course we need to keep in mind that something is finished for the time being, it doesn’t mean that it is not subject to change at another moment.


What does having a large amount of photographs in a series do to an individual photograph? Can you focus on one image or is your work designed to be taken in all at once?

Generally speaking a series of images creates an energetic field in which the single images are seen, a kind of context for an experience of seeing. In my view it’s not so important the quantity that a series contains as much as the quality and the feeling it creates, so what the series can do to the individual photograph depends on the quality of the editing , it is a question of subtlety.

Yes of course I focus on single images, in fact this is how images appear in the first place , they are manifestations of focused attention but when it comes to the question of presentation, a different kind of seeing is required, which is more panoramic, because you have to create passages from one image to the next and these passages create an inner rhythm and this inner rhythm creates a flow.

Like in music the different sounds create one musical composition and we can experience music both as individual sounds and as one piece depending on where we put the attention, we even have the possibility to hear the silence between the sounds, so even though the edits at my website have been made in this way it’s up to the viewer if he/she is going to perceive them as single images or as one flow of images.



What outside of your personal life informs your work the most?

The unknown.


Do you see or do you feel? Can they be done together?

Am I mutant, and not aware of it? (laughs)
Yes we see and feel at the same time and also we are observing the seeing and the feeling as it happens.


Does it ever feel fruitless? Like there is no end and no reward?

It feels fruitless when we are looking for a reward in what we do and maybe we are meant to taste this in order to cease looking for fulfillment in activities or objects. As a dear friend beautifully puts it: no appointments no disappointments.


Ask yourself a question and respond.

Do you believe in miracles?
I don’t have to believe, everywhere I look I see the miracle of existence.




Trey Wright

Trey Wright graduated from the University of North Texas and currently living and working in Dallas, Tx.
There are many layers to your photographs: there are the objects or products, the photographs of these products used for sale, the studio collaging or arrangement, and then a final re-photographing. Where do you fit in? How do you feel rephotographing a photograph?

I’ve always held a fascination for photography but coming from a background in design I think my initial relationship to the medium has been that of reference material, a foundation to build from, and photography being a tool alongside other elements. I’ve worked so long not being the author of the photographs I’ve been working with that I think it no longer registers to me as something I shouldn’t be doing or moving away from—though I have take images where I am behind the camera.

When I take a picture of another photograph, I feel like I am a witness to something. I would rather arrange things that are around me to photograph, but there is a lot of work that goes into that arranging—sorting through imagery, construction before the final photograph.

I see myself being an arranger, I arrange photography to illustrate ideas I have about the world around me.


What is your favorite color?  Why?

If I had to pick one it would be red because it relates to physical desire.



Is there a line between advertisement photography and art photography?  Are there two such opposing forces or should there even be a  distinction?

There are a lot of similarities between the two. Both use compositional tricks to hold a viewers attention, both communicate some kind of message and they both will meet a similar kind of demise. The questions do become much richer when working on a personal project, questions that cannot always have a place within a commercial assignment. I’m less interested in answering questions in my fine art practice.


Is your work funny?  If so, what does that do for the artwork?

I think that the work is funny. Placing a nipple next to an arm, next a fly, next to a jewel creates a fun juxtaposition and irony in some cases. The cutting out of an image can also exaggerate a subject beyond what the original image was capable of and I think there is something funny in that. Humor helps me to get the viewer to linger on an image longer.

I’m not always interested in creating a very dark statement about images shuffling around on the internet and losing their context. I would rather see the humor in that.


How does your commissioned work relate to your video work, your video  work to your studio work, your studio work to your portraits? Do they  enhance each other?

Most of my studio work has come about because of commissioned work. Sometimes I’ve really needed that push to get myself to start working on studio work again. I will use the commissioned work to test out different ideas. I started working on my series Totem because I was left with all these cut out accessories and that got me interested in setting up these shrines to them, figuring out how they would function as works of art.

The portraits I’ve taken so far have been exercises in composition. I want to retain that sense of playfulness, simplicity and color in the portraits but I view most of them as affirmations that I have a command over my medium and that my true voice voice lies in constructed imagery. Though, I think what is interesting about most of the portraits I’m drawn to that I’ve taken is that there was something about them that I had no control over. That also makes them a respite from having so much control over the subject.

I’ve been wanting to do a video for sometime and I was given the opportunity with a commissioned assignment to start testing that out, figuring out how I would exactly got about approaching the making of a video. I’m still figuring ways to utilize video in my fine art practice but it has opened up an entirely different type of output for my work. My video work so far has been influenced by my photographic work, the idea of layering and how that relates to the larger idea of how we experience images.

The Eye from trey wright on Vimeo.

Is your work social or political in nature?

The work features a lot of sourced images, so to evade the implications of that I think
would be impossible. 

My work takes the images, warps them and represents them in these kind memorials to something that is passing. I’ve used for the most part one specific type imagery to illustrate this—advertising imagery.

I like this subject matter because it flip flops between being something that is permanent and impermanent, beautiful and garish, personal and impersonal. I see a strong correlations between this type of subject and photography. 


Ask yourself a question and respond.

What is a piece of advise you have been given over the years?

I’m not sure exactly what the best advise has been but I do know the strangest. The strangest piece of advise was from a professor at the end of my first semester. The advise came stapled to the grading sheet of our final semester project, it was on a ratty piece of notebook paper and scrawled in black ink. The writing was nearly unreadable and had to re-read several times to make out what the words were—You can’t fake freedom.
It felt rather cryptic and I could never really figure out what he meant by it.



Louis Heilbronn

Louis Heilbronn received his BA from Bard College and currently lives and works in New York.




Tell us about one of the most important moments of your life.

When I transferred colleges. Going to Bard ended up being a very important part of my life. Being surrounded by students with similar interests as well as having great professors was very different than my previous college experience. It really influenced where I am now.




Do you place rules on your practice?

Generally no… But that being said I am very strict with myself. I will never force a picture if I do not feel it. I also still shoot with film so I only allow myself to make 1 to 2 frames each time I make a photograph.




What is important about Paris, Texas?

Paris, Texas 2013 is a series I presented last year at Paris Photo. A majority of these photographs were literally taken between Paris and Texas. I was in Paris in early 2013 and from there I went to Texas for a month, stopping only briefly in New York. The work tracks my odd and mismatched journey. There is no beginning or end; a few pictures included in the series were even made several years before these trips.

The editing process was the most important aspect of Paris, Texas 2013. I developed a new method that was much looser and less restricted by time and place. Hence, why the project included such different geography and chronology.




What governs how you feel about photography?

I work in a way that comes naturally to me. I do not force anything upon myself and rather allow my life experiences to influence my work. I hope that as my interests change and grow, my vision will evolve over time.




Can you talk about the blonde woman in your work? Does she embody something?

Louise. Louise is an important part of my work as she is a source of inspiration as well as my best friend. When I photograph her I am always exploring new visual ideas. I have begun to see the photographs of her as a collaboration. She understands these ideas and intentions, which influences her presence in my work. She is one of several subjects that will continue to be woven in and out of my work over time.




You’ve said you ‘work with out limits’, is there really such a space to exist in while taking photographs? Can you describe it?

What I was trying to say is that I never limit myself to a certain subject matter. When I am out photographing anything goes. Anytime I see something that I am interested I will make the picture, regardless of whether it fits with what I am currently working on. It may appear in a body of work 5 years later, who knows. The editing always happens after and it is only then that things begin to fall into place.





Ask yourself a question and respond?

Where are you now?

Northern Wisconsin



Sadie Wechsler

Sadie Wechsler is a photographer who received her MFA from Yale in 2013.


Your work has changed dramatically in the last couple of years.  Can you discuss what brought this on and how the new and old work relate to each other?

I felt my work needed to change, previously I felt I was practicing, mimicking things I had seen before, studying the past. I wanted to find a form of expression that was authentic to my personal experience and what I want to say. I wanted and still am searching to find a place where the form of the images speak to the content they carry.  This is why I went to graduate school, I felt suck and had no idea how or what this change would look like only that I need to move past everything I took for grated and find a new form of expression.  The themes and motivation to make the work have not changed, only the way it is expressed and the form it takes. I have always found it unavoidable to speak to our world as a malleable and finite material, and our bodies as small but influential actors in its manifestation.


Discuss one very specific emotion present in your work and how it relates to your own life.

I don’t know how to differentiate the work from my personal life. The photographs, while not obviously personal, are products of my desired experiences and their success or failure.  At my best the works acts as a refuge, a place where censorship is absent and where I bring a raw perspective.



Are your photographic experiences different from your life experiences at all? Do you live through your artwork? Is this harmful?

Yes my work and personal life are inextricably connected, but the work does not reflect the entirety of my life, instead embodies expressions which cannot be realized in other ways.


Why do you think photography is best suited for your experience?  Can you talk about when you break out of traditional photographs, (for example, heavy digital manipulation or rephotographing collages)?

Photography is a way of representing the world.  It works with framing out more than inclusion, it has to do with a place where mechanics meet the hand and eyes gesture.  Photography is a grounding for my work it adds tangibility to ideas, and for this reason it is indispensable. Art making though must be tied to expression and all of the moves or interventions to “traditional photographs” are all to will a life or message into a work that otherwise would be undirected and thus is necessary to the work.



What is your work searching for? Do time and space exist with in the search? Do the photographs relate or are you the common link?

I am searching for a concise form of communication where time and space are redefined. All of the photographs relate because they are all in search for the same form of expression.


Tell us about one thing that you feel more strongly about than anything else in the world. 

Photography is a medium of depths of forms and types of articulations which must be probed to create work that helps people expand the way they see.
image image

imageAsk yourself a question and respond.

What meal do you wan the most right now?

Wow, that is hard question because I am quite hungry. I think I would have to go with super cheesy pizza pies with lots of vegetables and sausage with a beer or two.



Anderson Scott

Anderson Scott is a photographer who holds an MFA from Yale University.



What comes from repeating the past? What role do you play in the repetition?

Let’s make a distinction: There’s repeating the past, which might have legitimate celebratory or educational value.  But then there’s repeating and celebrating the bad past, which is what some of the reenactors did.  Extolling Confederate General Nathan Bedford Forrest, slave trader and KKK co-founder?  Please.

As for my role:  I was just there to photograph.  They did their thing, I did mine.  I was not a participant in any reenactments.



Do you think you are photographing the individuals as themselves or as the characters they are portraying?

These guys (and they are mostly guys) aren’t actors.  They are not slipping into a different character for the duration of a performance, after which they’ll go back to being their “real” selves.  In many cases, I don’t think you can draw a clean line between reenactors in regular life and them in Civil War costumes.  I suspect that for many reenactors, their Civil War persona is an expression of what they wish they were – instead of having, say, a boring job in a chain store, they can pretend to be  a soldier on the eve of a momentous battle.



Can you talk about the timelessness of the gestures in your photographs? Do you think we’ll always feel the same way throughout history?
Not sure what you are asking here.

How much “truth” is contained in your photographs compared to actual photographs of the civil war?

I hope my pictures have aesthetic or intellectual value.  That’s a kind of truth.  However, I think what you are asking is whether my pictures have any documentary value.  They probably have very little of that sort of “truth.”    Photographs inherently are fictions — choices of framing, focus etc., construct a meaning where none existed in real life.  The reenactments are, obviously, themselves fictions – a bunch of comfortable modern people pretending to be starving 19th Century soldiers.  Combine the fictional nature of photographs with the fictional nature of reenactments, and you wind up a long, long, long way from whatever the “truth” of the actual Civil War was.
As an aside – even the contemporary photographs of the Civil War are suspect.   For example, Alexander Gardner’s famous photograph of a dead Confederate sharpshooter at Gettysburg may have been staged.  I understand that researchers have spotted the same dead young man in other pictures taken elsewhere on the battlefield.  Gardner may have found a good-looking corpse that he hauled around and posed.




As a photographer, what is your role in these reenactments?  How do you interact with the people?  How do they view you?

The reenactments are public events.  There are a lot of on-lookers.  To the extent possible, I try to blend in with the crowd.



Tell us something you have learned from attending these reenactments.

I learned that there is a sizable contingent of people out there who think times were better before the Civil War.  That’s astounding if you think about it.

Ask yourself a question and respond.

What’s my sign?  “Dip in road.”





Chelsea Welsh

Chelsea Welsh is a photographer who recently received her MFA from Massachusetts College of Art and Design




How are the things that flora tell us different from the things people tell us in pictures?

I wonder if pictures can really “tell?”  That might be more of the viewer’s role. I think a picture can really only tell us what something looks like, and based on that description the viewer can try to conjure meaning based on what’s there.  As far as the difference between flora and humans,  I think it all depends on the photograph, and probably also the person viewing it. It’s hard to say very generally how these things can be different.  I guess if I use my own work as an example, when photographing my family I was thinking a lot about family dynamics, relationships between people versus their relationships with animals, body language and what that can suggest, this in-between moment that my family was going through at the time.  I was thinking of my family more as characters to try and hint at something larger and beyond ourselves.  Lately I’ve been more interested in what ‘s inside people’s heads, and maybe that is why I’ve been drawn more to flora recently because I tend to think of  everything  more metaphorically and psychologically.  I also think about flora as characters, but in the most general sense I think about the personal relationships humans can have with place/objects/nature.

I think this question depends largely on the pictures, but I also believe that perhaps sometimes they both could be two different ways of saying a similar thing.



What kind of things do you think about when you walk about photographing nature?

This may sound odd, but when I photograph I feel like I am in a very strange state of mind, almost like a trance. It’s sort of like having a very vivid dream that you forget upon waking up. All that’s left is a sense of disquiet, and maybe a few fragments of images. It’s also probably not too dissimilar from a meditative state, trying to be aware of all that is happening in the present moment before the light disappears. At the end I’m so exhausted, the whole thing becomes a blur.

There’s usually a sense of anxiety and calm happening within me at the same time while walking. In graduate school, nature started to enter my work more and turned into a little obsession. After I graduated, I surrendered to it and let it completely take over with the arboretum pictures, which is what I am still working through now and currently in the middle of. I think a lot about how wild and strangely alive it is, as if it’s silently taking over despite our best efforts to control and maintain it. I think about the plants as characters, their gestures, labyrinths, romance in the conifer garden, dead ends and “rabbit holes” that are dark, yet seductive, etc.  I also think a lot about light and color, and trying to create a psychology of a place. It’s a strange romantic relationship I have with nature. I’m afraid I’ve let myself be seduced.



Do you think there are things hidden;  Is there a mystery?  Your pictures seem to suggest so.

Things feel very mysterious to me, and I try to create that sense in the pictures.  I think a photograph can accentuate a sense of mystery because so much is taken out of context.  In my head I think about deliberate silences, or secrets. I am always curious about what is left out and what that might mean.

Do you think your photographs rely on what the viewer brings to the image? Or is that the nature of photographing plants?

I think as a photographer you have to surrender a bit to what a viewer might bring to an image. Although, when making an image I try to have an understanding of the possible meanings of the subject matter, and also how light and color can create a psychology around that. Everything in the image affects how it could be interpreted, and I do make specific and intentional choices while making pictures to try and create some boundary of meaning, so it’s not just about “everything.”  I try to find a balance between what I bring to an image, and how to make an image that could evoke something in the viewer.  

There are also people that just see things as they are. A plant is just a plant. I try to keep this in mind when making pictures, at once reminding myself that a plant just may be a plant, yet also trying to find a way to hint at a deeper meaning.  

One of my professors in grad school told me once that my images were like a Rorschach test. I’ve always been fascinated with the way people interpret images. It can be very telling.




Your photographs tend to point at discoveries found in your own personal expeditions, do you consider them to be discoveries if you lead the viewer to them? Do they transform after being photographed?

I like to think that the viewer is coming along with me on a journey, and hopefully somehow they could make their own kind of discovery, and maybe it is something that happens after looking at the images.

When creating images, I think of the transformation of the world into a fiction, with a body of work forming its own sort of “world.” I read a lot of literature and I think of my work functioning like something told from a specific character’s point of view. I’ve always enjoyed in stories, or poems, access into another person’s reality. It constantly opens up my own world a little, and the more I read, the more I see things I may not have otherwise noticed. I guess with my own work, the ultimate hope would be that there’s a very small possibility to open up the viewer’s world after looking at them, even in the slightest. I know this is a lot to hope for. My favorite artists/ writers/teachers have done this for me and I think it’s a very powerful thing. Sometimes I think it’s only fair that I use what I’ve learned and try to become a better artist, and hopefully one day be able to pay it forward. At the very least I hope the viewer might share a simple and serious pleasure in looking at things.



What do you bring to the plants you photograph? What already exists? Where do these two things meet?

I would hope that I bring a sense of imagination. I think this comes from time spent alone when I was younger, trying to find ways to entertain myself in my immediate surroundings. It all took place in my head: everyday objects became characters, and everything was part of a story. I think this is still very much a part of me and my work. Of course, the plants already exist and everything in the photographs. I usually get a vivid image in my head of something I see, and I try to do my best to make a photograph that reflects that. Sometimes the act of photographing becomes a way of testing my reality, to see if it actually looked like that. I guess where these two things meet is when there is a delicate synchronicity between what is imagined and what is there. My favorite part is those moments when the photograph surprises me and somehow ends up better than both.




Ask yourself a question and respond:

What is it about a picture?

This was a question asked to me by a homeless man on the street who I had met and had a long conversation with.  When he found out I was a photographer he stole a newspaper and asked me to interpret every single image in the newspaper.  In between images, he asked me over and over again, “What is it about a picture?” He was passionately aggressive while asking this question, and the way he asked it seemed like he had some profound secret. The whole encounter had caught me off guard, and I also didn’t have an answer to his question. I didn’t believe in a cut off, definite answer, and that is why I loved the question so much:  that there will always be a mysterious something about pictures.  I like that this question continues to haunt me.




Dan Boardman

Dan Boardman is a visual artist living in Somerville Massachusetts, he received his MFA from Massachusetts College of Art and Design in 2012.


Why are the protagonist in your photographs mostly men?

Great Question. I know why for some bodies of work. For example in The Citizen I was specifically building a population of people. It started with a photograph I took of a young boy with a home cut mohawk. It’s a strange thing but with that photograph I felt I knew something about that kid. What I knew about him didn’t come from speaking with him, but came later when looking at the image. Of course I was projecting my own experiences into him. He became a vessel for people and places I hadn’t thought about in years. That experience wasn’t happening in my other photographs, and it made me interested in making portraits for awhile. 

Why Men specifically? When I was photographing the images that became The Citizen I was completely saturating myself with science fiction. On some level it was affecting my choices when making images. I was thinking about a group of people that would be left on earth, or would be too stubborn to leave it. Not at the time but later on in editing I was thinking of Dick Proenneke and his survivalist impulses, and the photographer Esko Männikkö who is interested in a certain self imposed male isolation. I did and do photograph women, but in this body of work (which has spilled over into two other projects) I was trying to create a population that could be in it’s last generation.

What is at the very center of the world in your photographs? Where do you go from there?

I think even back to the first images I made I was rooted in a type of fiction, and I’m certainly interested in the narrative potential in photographs. More importantly though I feel propelled forward by the human experience. A nebulous topic for sure. I think about how we perceive the human experience as one that extends not only from our own birth to death, but must have existed before us, and all signs say it will still be going after us. This idea manifests itself in different ways in my work. The Citizen is a sort of prophecy. The Family of Man looks at a single point perspective of the universe. Witness and 72 Second Window deal with the present moment and photographic-time.

Tell us about what you think beauty is, and why it matters.

I think beauty comes from openness, and knowledge. It’s very easy to dismiss. Thankfully I think we are coming out of a generation of irony and negativity disguised as skepticism. I’m reminded of this essay from Richard Feynman’s autobiography; Feynman describes looking at a flower with a friend and his friend can appreciate all the aesthetic qualities of the flower, where as Dr. Feynman because of his knowledge of physics and natural sciences can imagine what is happening that the eye can not see. Perhaps then he can squeeze even more beauty and wonder from the flower. I think this is really about knowledge and beyond simply knowing some basic science. I think having more knowledge does make the world a more exciting and interesting place. On top of that though I think you need to allow it to be wonderful. 

What keeps you going? What are you trying to find out?

I’m still enjoying it. I think that’s what keeps me going. Actually I’m finding it easier and easier in some ways. More of the world is interesting to me now than it was ten years ago or so when I started making pictures.


Tell us about your childhood and what effect it has on you artwork.

I was born in Southern California, but really grew up in Central New York. My father worked for a trade magazine that reviewed networking software and equipment on the large scale. He tested equipment and programs that companies might buy. As a result we had computers in the house for as long as I can remember. Typically though things were in pieces. Computers were put together when need be, and without noticed would be dismantled, reassembled or disappear. When moving from Southern California my parents decided to move into a fixer-upper. The house we all moved into (three sisters and I) was constantly being torn apart. In fact most of my young life was spent in rooms with no walls or make shift walls. Constantly rooms would morph into new spaces and entire sections of the house would be demolished. The fixing the house project extends out until today with some small pieces left to finish. All of this is taking place a way out in the country side. In this setting I lived with my sisters and parents and always a handful of friends. I love my family and the place I grew up.

Does it have an impact on my photographs? I think it has shaped my point of view on the world for sure.

You’ve said your photography tends to focus on questions, which comes first, the questions or the photographs?

Photographs. I’ve tried to work the other way around. It makes me realize that “questions” might not be what I’m after in the literal pursuit of images. I think questions (big ones) appear when I step back from my images and look at my work as a whole. Maybe a better way to put it would be that I embedded myself with some influence. For me that has been literature mostly. Although other photographers, music, movies etc get mixed in for sure. Sometimes those influences appear in images. Other times it’s not as serendipitous. I’ll set a rule that I see appearing in my images and try to abide by it (only men, no buildings, failing light). Just to see what happens when a mass of some type of image builds. Lastly and most importantly for me is the associations that come to life on the editing table, and not behind the camera. Those two things sometimes feel very separate, but work in tandem. Recently I’ve been deliberately trying to break from these techniques to see what happens.

Ask yourself a question and respond.
If you could not photograph what would you do creatively? / Please plug something shamelessly.

Thank you for asking. I think i’d try to learn how to be creative musically. I can play some instruments, and I’ve been in bands, but I would love to be more free musically. If anyone is the Boston area and wants to play some metal get in touch!!

Plugs: Glad you asked.

houseboatpress.com - the finest photobook publisher in the Somerville area. Lots of great stuff happening over here.

Sarp Kerem Yavuz

Sarp Kerem Yavuz is a photographer pursuing his MFA at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago.


How important is it that you yourself are a man?

Fairly important. I like that I am a man - that I am at peace with my gender identity, if only on a chromosomal level (the rest, as the work suggests, I am still trying to decipher). It was vital to my process that I understand liking men did not require that I be a woman. There are elements of male camaraderie that I feel not only activate my photo shoots but also that I enjoy. I like having a penis, I like having a beard, I like having a deep voice. I like that my relationship with my models, particularly in terms of control, becomes complicated because both the subjects and myself have penises… there is a pleasant tension that I feel would be very different had I subscribed to a different gender identity.


How important is the “truth” of the model’s sexuality in life when presented with the “truth” of their sexuality in the photographs?

The truth, if there is one, is actually completely arbitrary. Although I enjoy the joke of “In The Closet” being that the models identify as heterosexual, the ultimate goal is to offer constructions and draw attention to the fact that nothing you see may represent reality. So the crux lies in the construction, not in whether or not that construction represents any truth. I don’t know if my models still identify as straight - I don’t need to know, and neither does the viewer. But it is important they know these men who pose for me are, in one way or another, “jocks.” And it is important that they know I am a gay man, engaging with these jocks on such a level.

Is it OK to find your work erotic?

It is perfectly OK to find my works erotic. I forwarded them to a new friend the other day, and he thought I was sending him gay porn. Although subtlety has never been my forté, it is important for me that my work be seen as implicit, rather than explicit.

Can you talk about the shapes the men in your photograph make when they are in groups?

I love shooting them in groups. I often ask several men (or am approached by several men) from the same team to do a shoot, and while I set up I ask that they “just chill” or do what they usually do in the location. Photographs such as Relaxed, straight and Hnnngh! came about as a result of mostly spontaneous goofing on my models’ part, with me fine tuning some gestures here and there. There is a great deal of physical contact that occurs between men who have been playing sports together and have gotten accustomed to each other’s bodies. I just try to get an angle that showcases that link - some kind of visual pattern my eyes can follow. Sometimes I think that the scenes only become homoerotic because I am looking.




When there is no eye connection between the subject and the viewer, what other connection comes to the forefront? Why is contact necessary or not necessary?

Sometimes the refusal to return the gaze is the whole point of the photographs. I am intrigued by establishing connections between the subjects or the subject and some mysterious, off-screen entity. The viewer is meant to be intruding, but through a one-way mirror. So while I want you to feel self-conscious, or even blush, the beautiful man you are looking at doesn’t care about you - he’s too busy looking at the other guy (or me, or my hand, or a reflector). The viewer is meant to feel like an outsider and question their own attraction to the indifferent subject, who is not interested in challenging the viewer at all. If that results in the viewer trying to create a very one-sided, futile relationship with the subject, then I am a happy camper.



Where do you find yourself in these images? Could you photograph yourself?

I am present in the scene as the photographer - sometimes the clear use of a hand-held flash and some times the off-screen gaze is meant to highlight my presence. It is meant to strengthen the constructed nature of these images. I am currently working on a project where I do photograph myself, but is much more about my challenging my own notions of masculine self-representation, and it is also semi-autobiographical because I am including elements of my personal sense of displacement, of the East vs. West conflict that occurs in my head when I am attracted to a man, etc.



Ask yourself a question and respond.image

How was the work received in Turkey?

I received this email from a man last July, shortly after I had begun exhibiting both Substitutes for My Father and several images from In the Closet in two separate exhibitions in Istanbul. It was from a man who said that he is a devout Muslim who prays every day, goes to the mosque 5 times a week, and he wrote that he had cried in front of one of Substitutes because for the first time in his life he was able to acknowledge his own homosexuality. I received some similar emails afterwards, but that first one I keep for rainy days when I doubt myself and my work. It is easy to consider yourself selfish when there is political turmoil in your country and you choose to make art - to go to art school and get beautiful men to take their clothes off for you. But if I can contribute to a shift in conservative Middle Eastern mentality on gender identity and sexuality, I have no regrets.

Elizabeth Moran

Elizabeth Moran is an artist based out of San Francisco who recently received her MFA from the California College of the Arts.



Are you trying to photograph spirits? Is there much of a difference in you when your purpose or motivation, as a photographer, is to capture a spirit?

I am not motivated by a need for visual evidence of the paranormal like the paranormal investigators I have been working with. Instead I am investigating how time creates layers in space.


How does your series ‘Record of Cherry Road’ relate to or inform your series ‘Night, Light’?

You talk about having to feel with your camera, can you go into a deeper description of what that is like?

Record of Cherry Road emerged out of Night, Light. When I was in Berlin during the summer of 2012, I was overwhelmed by the feeling of recent histories and very distant pasts simultaneously teeming under the surface of everything. I found photographing the space or place (in the style of my previous Work Space series) completely unsatisfying. So I began to flash light into these historically charged spaces allowing the light of the camera move and feel through space and time. This was when I first began to think about “feeling” with my camera where the recording of light presents both a single slice of space and a single moment in time.

As I continued working in this way, I found myself drawn to what paranormal investigators calls orbs—often out-of-focus specks of dust or tiny water droplets in fog. I starting considering how these places felt haunted. Not in the ghost busters sense, but in the continuation of time sense. By this time, I was back in San Francisco, and I decided to reach out to my family (who began investigating the paranormal after retiring in 2011) to see if they would be interested in investigating the house on Cherry Road. With their help, I have learned several tool and tricks of the trade all of which involve feeling with energy (light, heat, sound, etc.)


Were you ever afraid of the dark?

Only when alone. I am much more scared of coming upon another living person sitting alone in a dark room.

Have you encountered a ghost or spirit while investigating the home?

I grew up with my mother and uncle’s stories of the house. My mother has felt and seen presences in several other places since. But my family’s sensitivity to unseen presences seems to have skipped a generation, for I have never felt or seen a presence in this way. Instead I am forced to use tools like my camera as prosthesis to scratch at the topmost surface of time. But I do wonder, do we simply see what we believe or do we believe what we see? As an agnostic, I would be thrilled to find evidence of life after death. But for now, I remain a hopeful skeptic.


How does photography lend itself to things like darkness, spirits, flora, or investigation?

And the use of photography as a tool to reveal an invisible world (of energies) is as old as the medium itself. Photography at its foundation is the materialization of light (energies), which on a quantum-level is highly related to time and space. Paranormal investigators look to quantum mechanics as a way to understand the bending of time and space through which the past remains present. I find this conceptual overlap fascinating.


Ask yourself a question and respond.

How does text function in your work?

An underlying thread throughout all of my works is this dichotomy of the missing but ever-present. For example, the accompanying text for the photographs in Cherry Road is very important for the project. In my family, we rotate through only a few select names, and I am interested in this continuing presence of a name despite the change in time. In this project, I am focusing on George and Cary. These two names represent many members of my family (my second first name is Cary), but they are also the names of two people who used to work for my family (the gardner and nanny). I am interested in this doubling and confusion through names and time. We see George standing for his portrait, but we also see his grave.

I also like to use text in my work to (literally) give a present voice to the missing. My forthcoming book, Correspondence 1, presents a dialogue between myself as an analyst of possible paranormal photographs and those who submitted the images. (For a short time in preparation for Record of Cherry Road, I collaborated with a leading paranormal investigator in New York and worked as his photo analyst.) Without the images themselves, the text alone speaks to both ends of the spectrum of what we expect from photographs and photographic evidence of the unseeable.



Jonathan Chacon

Jonathan Chacon is a photographer who is based out of Chicago and recently received his BFA from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago.




Do you care who your subjects are?
Yes. My subjects always have something I do not have, but wish I could.

What is the most singular emotion you are looking for in your photographs?
I’m looking for vulnerability.



Can you discuss heat?  How important is setting in your photographs?
Heat is the intensity of a feeling.
The setting is very important. It creates a mood for the photograph, without mood there is no feeling. No heat.



Do your photographs compare your adolescent subjects with your elder subjects? Is there some sort of connection between subjects or are they a juxtaposition?
Yes, and they are both connected and juxtaposed. The connection between the adolescent subjects and elder subjects is that they’re both unaware of their future. Death hovers over both of their lives.
I hope to make adolescent subjects look strong and self-sufficient, while making my elder subjects weak and dependent. My interest in showing adolescent subjects and elder subjects in this way stems from a frustrated and confused childhood.




Can you talk about the lighting in your photographs? What about the shadows?
I use a speedlite to highlight my subjects and their gestures. The shadows are a formal element that push and pull the viewer, while creating depth between the subject and the background. In other words, I use whatever light is available and if I have to I use a flash in order to create an affect or depth, then I’ll use it.




Are your subjects trapped? Caught up in the same circle of life? Stuck on this impossibly yellow flytrap?
My human subjects are not trapped, but they are caught in a complex family cycle; one I am actively trying to break. Photography is the perfect medium to critically separate myself from my family’s cycle.
In the fall of 2013, I arrived to Mexico and chose to live with my father for two weeks. When I arrived to his house he told me to settle in and he would be back in a few minutes. I nodded and he left. My plan was to shower and then go for a walk around the community, but little did I know that his front doors needed a key to get out. So, for the next 5 hours I paced around my father’s house annoyed and frustrated that he locked me in. He has not changed since I last saw him four years ago. He is still a liar. The photograph of the flytrap was taken the next day when I arrived to his farm.
The thing I like about the flytrap is that the flies are attracted to the trap because they think it’s a big yellow flower. The flies have an expectation that they will get pollen, but the reality is that they are just flying into a trap.




Ask yourself a question and respond.

Any Spanish phrases you’d like to share?
“Caras vemos, corazones no sabemos.”- My Mother
Translation: We can see faces, but we do not know the hearts.




Sarah Wilson

Sarah Wilson is an editorial photographer based out of Austin, Texas.



Did you have a personal goal in mind when photographing the Blind Prom?

I began photographing Blind Prom in 2006 while working as a stills photographer on a documentary film that followed four blind teenagers for one academic year at the Texas School for the Blind and Visually Impaired.  When it came time for prom that Spring, I offered to be the school’s photographer.  I had seen some of the snapshots the teachers had taken with their point-and-shoot cameras in years past, and decided to help them out..  I brought an assistant with me, and some studio lighting, and we covered the event.

Very quickly I discovered that the students really enjoyed posing for pictures in their formal wear – they were having so much fun and so was I.  My heart was filled joy throughout the night. I have loved this experience so much, and at this point I feel like I’ve become a fixture at prom- this year will be my eighth year as the prom photographer.




Who are these photographs for?

At the very moment I push the shutter button, the act of photographing is for the students.  They’ve been eagerly waiting in a long line to have their formal portraits made.  When it’s their turn, we spend 3-5 minutes together- my assistant and I fawn over how awesome they look- we adjust lighting, arrange dresses, straighten ties, and encourage them to pose any way they feel.  During that shared time, it’s not about the end result of the photograph, but about honoring the students and affirming that this exciting moment in their lives is worth capturing.

The students at the Texas School for the Blind come from all over the state to attend, and they live in dorms on campus, away from their families.  When the 4x6 prints are sent home, the photographs are for the parents, so they can see that their kids looked beautiful and were having a great time at their high school prom.

As a personal project posted on a photography blog, or hung on a gallery wall, these photographs take on a different role.  Viewers may have no connection to these particular students, or this particular disability, but, they can all tap into their own teenage memories, getting dressed up for their own prom.  That coming of age, that’s universal. This universality becomes a medium for understanding. 




Is seeing believing?

Seeing with your eyes is not the only way to see.  A student once told me, “You don’t have to have sight, to have vision.” The vast majority of these teens have lost their sight over time, so they had sight and then lost it. And many are still in that process, where their vision is changing still. They rely on their visual memory, but also their sense of touch smell, hearing, and whatever usable sight they may still have, to interpret the world around them.

I remember the first time I met Amanda, a deaf-blind student at the school.  Her sign language interpreter signed the letters of my name into her hand.  She then signed for Amanda to sit up straight and smile ahead towards the camera.   When my flash went off, she started to scream with joy and a big smile crept across her face.  She knew when I was photographing her because she could see the flash.  With the help of her interpreter, Amanda is very aware of her surroundings.  Her presence is loud, joyful and colorful — and I wasn’t surprised to find out that Amanda was a cheerleader on the school’s pep squad.




Can you talk about the distortion that happens to the edges of a few of your photographs when using a wide-angle lens? Does it relate to your subject’s eyesight or possible view?

The project alternates between formal portraiture and more active, reportage style shooting. There are definitely times when my images are distorted, mostly when I’m on the dance floor with one hundred gyrating kids.  It’s hard for me to get back far enough to use a longer lens without running into someone behind me.  There are times when I think the distortion works to help illustrate the wild teenage energy of the night, and the overwhelming rollercoaster of emotions that I sense when I’m there.




Do you think the backdrops at the prom add to the understanding of the subjects you photograph or actually are the subjects in your photographs? How do they relate the prom attendees?

Before I started shooting prom, the teachers would create their own creative backdrop appropriate to the prom theme.  When I started shooting, I took on that responsibility and I have just made the backdrops larger and more elaborate. In the weeks leading up to Prom, I make the backdrops myself, which is something I’d never really done before. It gives me a chance to start thinking about the students and their big night, and it gives me a way to help differentiate each year from the last. The backdrops are always inspired by the themes that the school has chosen. The students may or may not be able to see the backdrop they’re being photographed in front of, but they know that there’s a professional photographer each year, and that she’s taken extra steps to make the photographs special. And I get to flex some different creative muscles in the backdrop preparation. 




What is it like to photograph someone that knows you are there, and that they are being photographed but can’t actually see you? Is it freeing as a photographer?

Most of the time, I make the students aware that I’m photographing them.  However, there are moments, especially on the dance floor, when I can move fast and capture more candid expressions because I am not stopping each person to ask if I can take their photo.  It is freeing to be able to photograph a tender moment without the subject becoming self-conscious or posturing like a sighted teenager might do





Ask yourself a question and respond.

What is your favorite part of the night?

The significance of the evening really starts to sink in during the crowning.  In any other school, these students might not have the opportunity to be crowned Prom King or Queen, or even attend prom at all.  Amongst other visually impaired teens, there is greater opportunity for a fulfilling social life.  Looking at the crowning pictures, you can see the emotion on their faces.  What you can’t see is the smile on my face and maybe a joyful tear or two.