Interview with William Zuback, BOOK PASSAGES

Our 2010 exhibition year is winding down, but going out with a bang.  BOOK PASSAGES photographer William Zuback shares with us his thoughts on inspiration, flexibility and Alice Cooper. 

1. You write in your artist statement that you want the images to leave the viewer "visually satisfied but emotionally curious" - that's a really striking phrase. Have you ever seen photographic work that had this affect on you? If so, please elaborate. If not, what was your jumping off point for your own work and style?

Thanks. Yes I see work all the time that has that kind of affect on me. I'm not much of an intellectual with my approach to art. All my work has a base idea/emotion behind it but not to the extent discussed by many academics. I say that only because my process is much more visceral for me and although I have a specific goal of what a body of work means to me It's less important to me than the reactions and response it has on others. Current artists who's work I really respond to are photographers Eliza French and Jeff Charbonneau, Maggie Taylor, Robert and Shana Parkeharisson. Painters Mark Ryden, Tabitha Vevers and Alexander Timofeev. Long time Cindy Sherman fan and love the work of Hans Bellmer.

The jumping off point for my work comes almost exclusively from music and not other photographers or fine artists. Concept albums were a huge influence in my development as a visual artist. From the album art to the lyrics and music to the theatrical stage performances, musical performance creates visual vignettes that has always fascinated me. Alice Cooper, “From the Inside”, Pink Floyd's, “The Wall”, The Who's “Tommy” are all good examples of music that left me visually satisfied but emotionally curious.

2. Some of these images are clearly the result of some intense digital manipulation, yet every image in this exhibit is printed at a standard sized black and white. What's the significance for you in having these modern digital pieces look like silver gelatin prints, and to look non- manipulated?

If you notice each image except for “Visual Haiku” and “Details” are full frame images from a DSLR. That just happens to be my equipment of choice right now. I tend to be very precise in my vision and my compositions for this series were all composed in camera starting with a base image. Digital manipulation is just another tool. Before digital I created a lot of manipulated images for commercial clients with film and pin registration. To me it's not meant as a gimmick. I consider myself a story teller and I will use what ever tools I feel best help me communicate that story. I started as a custom black and white printer. I love black and white and often see in black and white. It speaks to me more often than color. The significance to me is that I consider it all photography. I have spent my life since Jr. High School in photography. I pride myself on being a good steward of my craft. I feel to show a manipulated print not as non-manipluated would be a partial failure of my craft. I'm not trying to bring attention to the manipulated aspect of the work I'm using the manipulation to strengthen my message as a story teller. The art part of the process comes from the aesthetics of the conceptual.

3. You build jack-in-the-boxes in the woods, have nude models at the Pick and Save, and have men peering out of dirty windows at children passing by. Please tell us about your process, both regarding the emotional process wherein the piece is translated to visual imagery in your head, and the cerebral part of how you plan, build and direct your shoots.

I wish I had some great process I could impart to others such as it begins with a sketch, etc. It rarely does, for me, it begins in my head and stays in my head. Each concept started by reading the passage over and over. I would have it near me and read it before bed, during a commercial while watching television, while going to the bathroom. Idea's begin to formulate in my mind and I play it over and over in my mind until I know it like a well choreographed dance. It changes and is fine tuned through this mental sketchbook. By the time it gets to the shooting stage I feel I have done it so many times in my mind already that it often times flows like music and feels like a dance. Since this works for me and it changes in little ways right up to the shoot I feel that this process gives me great latitude for improvisation during the shoot because it feels so natural and free flowing. The intellectual part of planning, building and directing a shoot has developed out of many years as a commercial photographer. Many commercial shoots require the same criteria of hiring talent, building sets, choreographing all the elements to function as a whole and then it's show time. Nail the shot! It helps to be a very organized individual.

4. You are making work based on the submission and writing of others. How much of your own aesthetic style has to be flexible in order to create images that illustrate these passages, and how important is it to you to stay true to the feeling of the original written piece? Do you ever make a piece that fits the written word perfectly, but doesn't feel like yours?

The only flexibility that I feel I need to be concious of is my own need to be true to myself as an artist. I don't feel it was important for me, during this project, to stay true to the feeling of the original written piece. First, I only based my visual interpretation on the passage submitted. I was fortunate to have not read any of the books and had little knowledge of the original intent of the words.This gave me free reign as a visual artist to see and interpret the words based solely on my own experiences. It isn't much different than how family members can reflect on the same family experience with completely different perspectives because of their own biases and experiences. Each reflection of that memory is accurate to their own self and that is how I saw and would relate to the passages. In this body of work, no I did not make any visuals that fit the written word but not my own personal style. This was a very selfish project. It was a shared experience simply because the passages were donated and the feedback offered when I would post finished interpretationson my blog. The process of creating the work was done first and foremost to satisfy my own creative curiousity.

5. This work is about relationships. Relationships between the digital process and the traditional aesthetic, between the photographer and the writer, between the viewer and the work, between the image and the text, but primarily between you and the people you collaborate with. Can you talk to us about that process of trust, how you know when to trust your collaborators and their submissions, and how you know when to edit something out and go with your gut? Any submissions that you didn't have a real sense for at first but as you worked through the piece it grew on you?

I think it was the other way around. Each of the collaborators seemed to know me in some capacity. That's just how it turned out. I felt that they had a huge amount of trust in me to send in a passage. That trust could have been in knowing I was up for a challenge, liking my creative process and style and trusting I would do their passage justice or their trust of the complete unknown and excitement of discovery. I don't think I made trust a requirement of the process from my end. I understood the challenge I created for myself and made my own rule that I would take the passages in the order they were submitted so that I faced each as a challenge weather it was easy or difficult. I wouldn't just toss it aside because it stumped me conceptually. That challenge came early in the process when I was presented with the passage from Scott Huler's “Defining the Wind”. The passage was the Beaufort Scale. Not even a passage but the actual scale used to measure wind. I think this one was the third passage I interpreted. I relished those challenges. I did have two passages that became incredibly difficult and I had to move on to keep the process going while I came up with visual interpretations for these others. The passage from William Faulkner's “The Sound and the Fury” and the passage from George Eliot's “Middlemarch” both were incredibly difficult for me but as part of the process I refused to let a passage defeat me and I saw it as a larger challenge. I feel those visual interpretations became some of the strongest images in the series. 

The whole process truly tested me as an artist from concept to completion. It was a formative year for me as an artist and shared by the many who followed the entire process.

Come by the closing reception on Saturday, January 8th 2011 from 1-3 to meet Bill and find some inspiration of your own.  Thanks, Bill and all of our 2010 artists, for a great year!

Interview with photographer Patricia Delker, AND STILL THERE ARE SECRETS

Our newest exhibit marks the return of a past exhibit curator, Patricia Delker.  This time, she's showing her new work, a series of intimate black and white portraits.  Always one for a great conversation, this time she's got you thinking that while she's telling you a secret, you may actually end up telling her one.  

1. There's currently a memoir revival in literature, and writers like Jeanette Walls and Mary Karr are changing the scope of autobiography by exorcising their family histories in unflinchingly direct language. Do you think all art starts as autobiography, and how do you think a personal series translates to viewers?

I think people...both artists and viewers...would probably be surprised at how much art is autobiographical, if they really delved into it. Well, artists might not be quite as surprised as viewers, but I do think what we select to make art about certainly originates in the intellect, the experiences and personal history of the maker. One photographer is drawn to make landscape photographs, another is not...that decision stems from what makes up the individual. I think it might be sort of an artistic DNA. I feel a bit sad for the "artist" who spends years trying to make work that looks like someone else's that they may admire. Being influenced by others is great, copying what they do is not making art in my opinion. As to whether a personal series translates to a viewer, I think the personal often is the universal. Though we often think we are so different from others, at the core we are probably more similar than different, and it's the core similarities that translate even when the work stems from one's personal life. In the case of "And Still There Are Secrets", I believe everyone carries around their own secrets, whether they are traumatic or humorous or even mundane...everyone has a secret.

2. You photograph the intangible. Can you tell us about that intangible - is it memory, emotion, or something different - and how do you pre-visualize it? What's your process?

The intangible can't be touched, but it's there. Yes, memory and emotion are intangibles, but so is faith/the spiritual...so is history/time...and thought/inspiration. It's like we are brought up to believe the three-dimensional tangible world is dominant and most important, but it really seems to me we are beings dominated by our intangible worlds as much or more than the tangible one. It seems like the tangible world put limits on us and intangible world is limitless. There is certain subject matter and objects that I have been drawn to from the beginning, and I began to see that and delve into why, and that thought process lead to the discovery that it wasn't so much about the subject matter itself, but what the subject matter meant. The subject was a symbol for something far larger...an intangible. I don't want to shortchange that inner journey or thought process because I think it's very important to an artist to understand certain things about themselves and their work, and it did take some time to understand why I was doing what I did when I was making photographs of my subjects. So...my process is thought first, image second. I try to steer away from making other people's pictures and stay in touch with the power of symbolism.

3. Your model Heather Solomon is a virtual chameleon in this series, and she seems to physically change from image to image - as a viewer, I had to remind myself that this was the same woman. Was this a collaborative effort that allowed Heather to bring her own emotion to the image, or was she fully directed? Would you share tips on working with and selecting models?

Heather is a close friend, and as my artist's statement says, I don't think this series would have been made without her collaboration. I appreciate that, and her, immensely. A photo session usually started by my preparing a list of secrets I wanted to explore, finding the objects that suitably represented them and had meaning to me personally or I thought was symbolic of the secret in some way. I then sketched out an idea of my first visions. All these things, plus camera/film, I brought to the session. Two thirds of the time I probably shared the particular secret with Heather, but even when I didn't, as friends we had already covered a lot of personal history which I think served the sessions. The sessions were only about an hour, hour and a half...we covered maybe six or so secrets a session, over a roughly two year period. (There are actually probably close to 40 "secrets" that we photographed, but I edited that work to the 21 that are in the exhibit.) I didn't want to waste Heather's time; after all, she was doing me a favor. Anyway, we started with the sketches, some explanation, and then would see where that might take us. Heather has a great ability to "get it", and also she came to work. Modeling is work. At some point, I often said, "well, what do you feel like doing with this...what works for you?" This was actually my first time to work at length with a model and I suspect I might now be very spoiled. But I think working with any model requires that you know what you want, you don't waste their time, you take what they do seriously with the expectation that they will take what you are doing seriously and you treat them and the process with respect. I think the thing I most value about Heather's involvement with this project is her ability to look at the work, or an individual picture, not as a picture of herself, but to be able to embrace the concept that it was a symbol for something else; it wasn't about her, it was about the project, and then evaluate the results with that perspective.

4. You shoot film and make silver gelatin prints! How do you feel about the future of the wet darkroom, and what do you think your traditional process adds to your work that a digital process might not?

The wet darkroom is just magic to me (Another intangible perhaps?). Shut yourself up in a dark room, listen to the right music, pour magic chemicals, while manipulating/creating the picture you envisioned and then watching it come to life in front of you, slowly appearing in the tray. You feel like an ancient alchemist! I don't feel any magic in front of a computer. But that's just me. The important thing in this day and age is that you have all of photo history, and all the current/past/alternative processes to select from to make the image that you envision. You select the one that works for who you are, and how you can use it to make the image you want. Ultimately, it's not about how you make the picture; it's about the journey in making it and the final product of the journey.

5. When one stands to look closely at this work, her own image as viewer is reflected back from the great black spaces in your prints - as the viewer can't help but insert herself, it suddenly becomes her secret. Is it more important to you that people access this work in their own personal way, or that your experience remains yours? How do you feel if people make up their own stories over your personal history?

Wow, to be honest, I never thought of that specifically. It certainly seems appropriate, given that while the work is based in my secrets, it seeks to acknowledge and address the individual secrets we all carry with us. It's very important to me that people look at the work this way; it's one of the reasons I don't have individual titles for the pieces in the exhibit. I think titles are ideally provided to give the audience a clue to the significant thing about the picture, to assist the viewer into the picture. In this instance, it's really not about guessing the secret being represented, it's about what the image may trigger unconsciously in the viewer about themselves. So, I think it's great when people come up and say, "you know what that says/means to me" and then tell me their story. We sharing a secret...doesn't matter whether it's mine or theirs. What matters is that we recognize the role they play in our lives.

After the Reign

Interview by Madison Magazine associate editor Katie Vaughn, posted at Madison Magazine's blog on July 8 2010. When one thinks of a beauty queen, specific images come to mind: glittery gowns, coiffed hair, poise and a sparkling crown. Growing up in Louisiana, Jessie Eisner-Kleyle witnessed these and other mainstays of pageant life.But hearing a story about a queen who both embodied and defied these norms—a girl who not only wore a crown but was also a champion skinner of nutria, a large, semi-aquatic rodent—piqued the photographer’s interest in the women who participate in pageants.

Armed with her camera and an interest in gender roles, Eisner-Kleyle set out to photograph former beauty queens to explore their post-reign lives and the other, perhaps less obvious, ways they express femininity.

The series of photographs became Nutria Queens, an exhibition that’s on display through July 30 at the Steenbock Gallery. Recently, Eisner-Kleyle took some time to explain how the project came about—and what’s it’s meant to her.

How did you get the idea for Nutria Queens?

The Lake Charles American Press published an article in 1996 about a girl who was queen of the Cameron Fur and Wildlife Festival and was also a nutria skinner from a long line of skinners. Right after the parade she was in the skinning contest, and they wrote in the article about how she had to run and change out of her gown into her jeans to make it from the parade to the contest. The men in her family were the skinners, and were so proud of her, and so impressed with her talent. During my graduate studies in Wisconsin, and in my own research into gender and society, I found myself thinking more and more about that woman—wondering what she was doing these days and how she’d balanced such an extreme feminine activity as pageantry with something so decidedly un-feminine as nutria skinning. We see portraits of these queens in the paper when they’re crowned, in festival histories and Mardi Gras museums, and it’s always the same shot—a sparkly gown, huge crown, scepter and satin sash. I became more and more interested in the reality of these women.

What interested you in these former pageant contestants?

Every woman in this series, with the exception of the original queen from the article, was brought to me through friends and family; in fact, some of them are friends and family. The project had been in me for so long that when I started moving forward on it I sent emails to friends and family back home telling them what I was wanting to do and asking if they knew any former queens. I wanted to test the waters and see if there was anything there. As it turns out, everyone knows a queen! My mom worked with several queens, and my husband’s parents were part of a Mardi Gras Krewe and opened up their directory and mailed letters about my project to every queen they knew. One of my bridesmaids had worked with one of the queens at The Gap years before, and still knew how to get in touch with her and passed it on. My sister in-law’s twin is one of the queens, and her daughter is another.

Every queen that participated heard about the project secondhand and contacted me with her interest. The only queen I actively pursued was the queen from the 1996 article. I would have moved ahead with the series without her, but I don’t know how happy I would have been about it. Luckily I didn’t have to find out!

What was it like photographing these women? 

In every way this phrase can be turned, it felt like going home. Of course, I got to stay with my family and use my dad’s truck to drive around and meet these queens for sessions. But to walk in to the home of a complete stranger and be welcomed, entertained, sometimes fed (though ALWAYS hugged) is something that I’ve never found outside of southwest Louisiana, and something that I miss. That sense of welcoming familiarity was all encompassing, even in the women who had sort of missed the fact that I was originally from there and would introduce me as “the lady from Wisconsin.”

These were talkative and easygoing photo sessions. Some women met me after work and school with just their kids around, and others had houses full of family and friends curious about the project and about me. Some would sit with me for quite some time, showing me scrapbooks, driving me around their town and talking about their time as queen, before we started. Others would give me a tour of their home and we’d start shooting right away while we talked. Some made a day of it, and those shoots included airboat rides, alligator hatching, driving out to oil rigs or visiting with neighbors at the dock to see what they’d caught that day; I would shoot the entire time. I pushed each sitter to design her own session and allow me to follow behind, documenting what she would have been doing anyway, and I think that’s a big part of making each sitter comfortable and each portrait something more than those sterile queen portraits I’d seen my entire life.

What surprised you most about meeting the pageant queens and seeing what their lives were like?

I guess there’s a fine line between being surprised by something for the first time, and being reminded of something you’ve always known.

How easy these women were in front of a camera, talking to a total stranger about their life and their work, their history and their plans for the future was a constant shock, though that may be something I’ve forgotten by being out of the South. While some were decked out and completely made up for the camera, others wore jeans and T-shirts and just rolled with it. That casual attitude surprised me, especially coming from women who were, essentially, in this project based on their ability to plan and prep.

The funniest thing was that when I picked up a camera, regardless of if she’d reigned one or twenty years before, these women still knew how to turn it on for a camera. It was a constant struggle to get them to ignore me!

Did being involved in pageants still have an impact on the women?

There were some who knew each other, not personally, but from being in the pageant world. Several were curious about the other queens and wanted to know what I did for the shoots with other subjects. Sometimes they were a little critical about what I’d done with other queens; is that quickness to rate and judge left over from pageants? I don’t know.

One woman, when she spoke to me about her time as queen, consistently said “bride” instead of “queen.” She’d gotten married decades before in a suit at City Hall, so her dress for the Krewe was the most formal dress she’d ever owned and was, in fact, a redesigned and dyed wedding dress. Her portrait from her 1980s crowning still hung above the mantel in her living room, so I’d say she was impacted daily by her time as queen. Keep in mind, though, that for each queen who kept her regalia at arm’s length, there was another who had delivered 10,000 babies in her career, had a hospital wing named after her and couldn’t have cared less about her time as queen.

The one trait that each queen shared with the next was her gracious manner, her ability to talk about her life and open herself up to a stranger and, like I mentioned earlier, to be completely at ease in front of a camera, or at least look like she was. I have to think that grace under pressure is a great side effect of pageant life.

How significant is it that these women are from Louisiana? In what ways does the setting shape this project?

In the trajectory that the project has taken, it’s vital. This project would never have been seeded had I not read that article. Louisiana is a strange and fascinating place, and the rules that govern our behavior are bizarre, so without that upbringing would I have been so attuned to the oddities of societal norms once I left? Seven years after leaving, I still qualify some of my behaviors by telling a story about how we do it down home.

Once the project was going, would I have found a population so quick to spread the project by word of mouth, so eager to let me back in, and so proud of their lives that they could stand unflinchingly in front of a camera and tell that story? I can’t say no definitely, but I doubt it. My Midwestern portrait projects often found me trying to calm wary and anxious women who were suspicious of what I was doing with these portraits, and I encourage that—I would never let a stranger photograph my children or me without subjecting them to extensive interviews and background checks!! But every one of these queens opened their doors to me and shrugged me off as I told them about my release forms. They trusted me from the get go and that encouraged the project every step of the way.

Every background tells a story. The coastal landscape is identifiable to anyone who’s ever walked a shoreline made of broken concrete. The sky during that rainy week was perfect, not only for lighting photographs but for setting a scene, and the color of grass or water or sky in Louisiana is a huge part of what visually defines that place. That color and density is something that I’ve missed in my years in the Midwestern prairie. Even the interior shots tell stories, and every woman gave me a tour of her new rooms that had been rebuilt after [Hurricane] Rita.

How did your interest in fairy tales come into play in working on this series of photographs?  My interest in fairy tales came from the stories I was told in Louisiana. That eventually formed my interest in gender roles as taught through childhood literature. While I didn’t start this series to be based equally on portraits and interviews, like I have in some of my other portrait series, I definitely interviewed these women during the process. Our fairy tales were passed down orally by women who knew that those stories would teach values to the next generations and were eventually collected and written down by men who knew that their culture would be fortified by these tales. Those stories of the people were entrusted with the continuation of a culture. When you have to rebuild so often, your stories and your culture become your home, and the place you can return to. When your heirlooms are carried away by wind, you replace those objects with stories. When the home you grew up in washes away, you hold your history tighter. As we all migrate from home and start our own families, we find ourselves grounded and refreshed by our personal mythologies. The culture of Louisiana is rooted in migration, rebuilding and finding home wherever you can. I’ve learned that in this series, the viewer appreciates the imagery, but WANTS the stories. Though I didn’t at the time of the shoots, I absolutely see a correlation between reinforcing the values of your past while protecting your future in the stories you pass down, and I see it in both current day Louisiana and seventeenth-century Germany.

What questions do you hope this exhibition raises in viewers’ minds? What do you hope they get from seeing your work?

Of course, I want there to be a constant concern for the Gulf Coast and its residents as we become increasingly careless with our planet. I want you to look at these images, at the people that thrive there and connect your own life with those in Louisiana. Then write to your politicians, and protect what’s precious.

But this wasn’t intended to be a public service announcement, nor was it intended to raise pity for the people of my home. This work was made in celebration, not of the beauty of these women or of how lovely they look in an evening gown, but of their strength, and of how smart and resilient they are. Every single one of them is an expert at something that may surprise you. Each of these women is, yes, a former beauty queen, but that was one year of her life. Every day in and outside of that year she is a mother, a daughter, a sister, a doctor, a teacher, an advocate, a rodeo champion, a builder, a hunter, an entrepreneur and, of course, an extremely fast nutria skinner. Her time as queen was a major life event, but it didn’t define her life.

I want people, from seeing any of my work, to question the way society has taught them to react to gender. Is there something you do just because it’s expected of your gender? Some way that you behave? Some value you place on yourself based on nothing more than your gender? What about in how you look at the people around you?

Coincidentally, one of the queens moved to France last week. She had emailed, during a prior visit, that she loved France because she didn’t have to wear makeup every day. I reminded her that there was no American law that required a woman to wear makeup and she should absolutely do what made her happy, especially with her face! We’re limited by ourselves and by what we think we’re supposed to do, but I do think we’d be a lot happier if we more often did what felt right, and not always what society and our gender tell us we have to.

Nutria Queens runs through July 30 at Steenbock Gallery, 1922 University Ave.  For more information, visit wisconsinacademy.org.

Photos courtesy of Jessie Eisner-Kleyle. 

An associate editor at Madison Magazine, I'm also an unabashed arts enthusiast. Paintings, plays, music, movies—I'm intrigued by all forms of creative expression. I enjoy talking with artists and sharing their insights, challenges and inspirations.

Interview with photographer Ellen Pizer, DRIVEN TO ABSTRACTION

Our new exhibit features fascinating, playful, colorful and surprising abstract photographs by Milwaukee photographer Ellen Pizer, who, as it turns out, is as surprised as the rest of us, but will let you in on the secret if you ask nicely...


1.  The work in this exhibit just runs away with peoples' imaginations, and there's great and constant conversation about of what the image is, of what it reminds someone, and how it makes the viewer feel. Conversely, I saw a lot of different people throw their hands up at you and say "what IS it?"  With such emotional images, that are so personal to each person who views them, how do you feel when people ask you for the answer - do you like to let them in on the secret of the abstraction, or do you worry it may change how they interact with the piece?

The first time I exhibited my abstract photographs I was actually surprised that people were so curious about them.  If I’m asked, I have no problem telling people what they’re looking at, although there have been a few times where I’ve had to go back to try to figure it out for myself.   I’ve learned to take at least one wide angle shot of the area before I leave to give myself some point of reference.

I guess there are different ways of viewing my photos.  First is the immediate impact; the design, colors or whatever causes a viewer to stop and take a look.  But I think there is something within us that needs to know what we are looking at.  When it’s a painting, we feel free to see what we want whether or not it’s what the artist was trying to convey.  But when we know it’s a photograph, I think we want to understand what it is or where it was taken. We need to place the image in some context of its surroundings.

 

I actually enjoy listening to people try to figure out what they're looking at, and I think they have fun with this process as well.  Years ago I actually had a contest offering an 11"x14" print to anyone who could correctly figure out what "Looks Like Something Growing" was a picture of.  No answer even came close.

I usually do not worry about people changing the way they interact with my work.  I just want them to enjoy it.  It doesn't matter if they like it upside down or sideways.  The fact that they're curious enough about it to ask is quite a complement in itself.  I hope my work reflects the fun I’m having.  Sharing my photos with others feels kind of like a little kid excitedly saying, “Look what I found!” 

The only time I have ever hesitated about revealing a photo’s origin was when the shape on a maroon dumpster consisted of bird poop.  I'm not sure that information would have had a positive impact - although the shape was actually very sensual and the piece was titled "Come on Over and See Me Sometime."

  2. You have work in this exhibit that is printed and framed in a straightforward manner, as well as some pieces printed on canvas and stretched, and others printed on satin and hung.  Would you talk about the different substrates you're working on, and about how you pair imagery with surface?

I started printing on canvas several years ago at the request of a gallery owner who is also a painter.  She felt that some of my photos inspired some of her paintings and wanted to see what my work would look like printed on canvas for a show at her gallery.  I have over time learned that there are some images that lend themselves more to canvas than others – usually it is the more abstract and heavily textured images that I think can be enhanced by the texture of the canvas.  I am not a painter, however, and try not to pretend that I am.

Trying out satin began when an artist wanted to know if we could print on material that he could use to refurbish an old decorative screen he had found.  He still hasn’t finished creating his image for that screen, but since the satin was lying around I thought I’d try it out.  Because one side of the satin is coated so that the inks will adhere to the material, the shiny side is actually the back. At first I was disappointed because it wasn’t what I had anticipated. 

I printed one image on matte paper, semi-matte paper and satin.  I laid them next to each other on a table.  At first glance the satin print appeared more muted than the other two.  I left the images there for several weeks and for some reason the satin image kept drawing me back.  I finally realized that the image printed on satin was more “fluid”.  That’s the only word I can use to describe it – it has movement and when light shines through it from behind, it actually glows.  I therefore look for an image that is simple and can be enhanced by movement or something where colors blend into each other without hard edges or textures.  

3. I heard, through the chattering crowd, something great at the opening.  You were talking to a guest and you said that when you're out exploring to make these images, you approach that "hunt" with more intensity than you do anything else in your life.  Would you elaborate on your process for shooting this work, and maybe even talk about how that's different from the rest of your life?

I tend to be pretty intense about everything in my life.  When I first started back into photography my mother was in her nineties and both of my sons were teenagers.  I had a lot on my mind to say the least.  But when I was out with my camera, even for just a short time, I noticed that my mind was so completely absorbed in the “treasure hunt” that I didn’t think about anything else.  I did not worry, I didn’t think about what time I had to be somewhere, or whether my kids had finished their homework.  I did not think about anything else except what existed within the viewfinder of my camera.  It brought me such peace, a reprieve from the stresses of everyday life. 

Sometimes it takes me awhile to get into that zone, to find something that excites me.  Usually I will force myself to keep looking, to keep walking, to turn around until something catches my eye.  When I find a colorful rusted dumpster or a graffiti covered railroad car, I feel like a kid at an amusement park.  There is an excitement that is hard to describe.  What is funny is that I may have passed that site many times without ever paying attention, but at that moment I am seeing it as if for the first time. 

4.  Stylistically, you've got some amazing different abstractions going on.  A piece like "Towering Facade" has a very crisp and geometric feel of color blocks, line and shape and calls to mind the work of Mondrian, while a piece like "Hearts and Flowers" has an extremely Pollock-y expressive feel to it.  These styles can be considered to be fairly diametric, so what is it about each of these styles that calls to you so strongly?

I think it’s the magic of the viewfinder.  A building is a building is a building; some beautiful, others not; some unique, others commonplace. But the viewfinder forces me to look at the parts of the whole.  Shapes appear, shadows define, angles are enhanced and I just begin shooting, getting closer, backing up, moving around.  Each piece becomes a whole.  Some juxtaposition of shadows and light, color or textures, just begins to jump out at me.  I really don’t think about composition.  It just feels right or it doesn’t, although it often takes time and a number of shots until I get there. Although I kind of went kicking and screaming into the digital age, I’m thankful that I can shoot as much as I want without thinking about the cost of film or processing.

When it comes to the more painterly abstractions, it once again begins with the power of the viewfinder.  When I find a colorful dumpster with lots of spills and splatters and scrapes it feels as though I am entering a fine art gallery but without any definitive framed pieces.  It’s all just a haphazard jumble of color and texture.  But when I put the camera up to my eye, the viewfinder begins to frame the chaos.  And as I move around and close in or move back, any number of possible images begin to appear. 

In a way both the graphic and the painterly images are discovered through a similar process…closing out the visual chaos and zeroing in on what I find are the essential elements.

5. Are you ever surprised at how the image comes together or when you shoot it do you know how one image will stretch on canvas and look like a painting, while another will flutter in the breeze on satin and look like a tapestry?   Are you ever surprised by your own work?

I am sometimes disappointed to find that what I found so exciting while I was out shooting, just doesn’t translate into a photograph, but I would not trade the experience of finding that image for anything.  Even when an outing yields nothing worth printing, the experience itself is rewarding.  I’ll often see little pieces in what I’ve photographed that look interesting and go back to the site to get a different view.  Then there are the times when I didn’t think I got anything good and there amongst the boring will be an unexpected gem or two.

I don't really think of how an image may be printed when I'm out shooting.  Actually I don't "think" at all when I'm shooting.  I don't really previsualize very well so printing is often just experimentation. Sometimes I’ll proof on canvas, satin and several papers and then look at them over a period of time before deciding which I like best.

What has been most surprising even to me, is how small an area I’ve actually photographed.   Because I get so lost in the viewfinder I often have no idea how close I am or what a small piece of the whole I am looking at.  The image “Beauty Comes with Age” is a perfect example of that.  The first print I made for a show was 40"x60". It was sitting in my studio waiting for the gallery to pick it up.  A friend asked what it was and I took him out to the metal dumpster behind the studio and pointed to an area on this huge dumpster which was maybe 6" in diameter.  I was as shocked as anyone.

Interview with photographer Claire Ruzicka, FACES OF OAXACA

We were lucky to catch the lovely Claire Ruzicka at home, and chatted with her about Mary Ellen Mark, hanging the same image two ways, and leaving room for the mystery... 
¡Gracias, Claire! 

1. These portraits were made during a trip you took to Oaxaca in July 2009, and you say that you went there specifically with the idea of making these environmental portraits. Can you tell us about that community and what drew you to it - in short, why Oaxaca? 
 I was drawn to Oaxaca to attend a workshop taught by Mary Ellen Mark. I have admired Mark’s talent for photographing people and wanted to study with her in developing my own documentary style. She has held workshops in Oaxaca for 15 years so I viewed this as a fantastic opportunity to learn from a master in a place that had a rich culture including the arts. In addition, I was excited to visit Mexico for the first time and use my Spanish language skills in connecting with the people there.

2. If you went to Oaxaca not knowing anyone, how did you introduce yourself into this society? If you did know someone, how did you gain access to strangers’ homes and lives for these photographs? Do you currently have any plans to revisit and reshoot in the future? If not Oaxaca, then somewhere else?
The workshop setting provided the access and motivation to meet people in their homes as well as in the villages. Mary Ellen Mark and her assistants in Oaxaca were instrumental in introducing me to the people who I photographed in their homes. Other images were taken spontaneously, without introductions, in the villages. I traveled to both the homes and villages on my own, sometimes making conversation in Spanish and other times communicating through body language; smiles, gestures and the camera. All of the people I met and photographed were gracious and warm in allowing me to work with them. I do hope to return to Oaxaca or to another region of Mexico sometime in the future. This is really the start of a new direction in photography for me and I’m considering how I can build on this and use it as a foundation for creating a long term project in my own community.

3. You have one image in particular in the exhibit that is printed in both color and black and white, and it takes some work to realize it’s the same image. Would you talk about that curatorial decision to hang the same image twice, but printed differently?

This was a surprise and fun decision I made midway through the printing of the 20 images chosen for the exhibit. My intention while I was shooting the images in Oaxaca was to work in black and white, I like the abstraction that is inherent in b&w. I made the photos with a digital camera and had the files in both color and b&w. When I saw this specific image in color, I had the idea to print it larger than the others and use it as the centerpiece on the title wall of the exhibit. The color version emphasize the beauty of the textiles made in the weaving village of Teotitlan del Valle. It is effective in recreating the sense of being in Oaxaca that I wanted people to experience upon entering the exhibition space.


4. Your portraits of horses have the feeling of relaxation and the compositional beauty that your portraits of human subjects have. Can you talk about your process, as a photographer and an equestrian, making portraits of people and animals? Consequently, can you talk about your transition between landscape/nature and portrait photographer? 

 There is a bit of a mystery to this since a lot happens on a conscious and subconscious level when I’m making images as well as when I’m riding horses. Photography and dressage are passions of mine, both have a technical component combined with an artistry, a creative component that relates to the dynamic between me and the person or me and the horse. There is an unpredictability to the interaction and a necessity to establish a collaborative connection with the other in order to succeed. When I photograph I am “moved” by the beauty in expressions and responses…it’s very spontaneous and intuitive. I take liberty in shooting multiple frames in working with a 35mm digital format. This allows for a certain amount of “warming up” and “getting in the groove” which allows both me and the subject to connect. Another important part of the process is moving around to shoot from different perspectives and paying close attention to what’s in the frame, eliminating the clutter that may impose on the graphic integrity of an image. I think that’s the best I can do in explaining and still leave room for the mystery.
In regards to the landscape/nature and portrait question….. my first significant photograph is one I made in 1989. It’s of people on a beach in a small fishing village in Jamaica early in the morning. It is both a landscape and social documentary photograph of the people in their environment. I think all of my work since has been influenced by this photograph. When I photograph landscapes or nature it is a quiet, reflective process, more inward focused. As a portrait photographer my interactions are more dynamic and interactive, I feel much more of a collaborative nature in this type of work and enjoy the energy that is generated between me and the subject.

Interview with photographer Bill Pielsticker, NUMEN LUMEN REDUX

The creator of our current exhibition NUMEN LUMEN REDUX, Bill Pielsticker, spent some time inside this weekend, answering questions about his process, the nature of Wisconsin's frozen lakes, and what the day after Christmas might hold for a professional photographer...

1. How did this project get started, how did you discover this? How did you know what you’d find in the ice, or did you?

Actually, each new opportunity to shoot on the ice brings new surprises. My first effort took me onto the frozen lake looking to make interesting images of plates of ice that formed in windy conditions as the lake froze. The plates were packed together and on end, and didn't look nearly as interesting in the camera as I expected. Discouraged, I meandered around for a while and came across a small patch of black ice, an underwater log, and frozen bubbles. This became my first Black Ice photograph, later rechristened Inner Space #1. Foreshadowing the eventual trajectory of the project, I also came upon what I first called "Ice Geometry" which I recently re-titled Patterns #1. These changed my whole concept of winter photography.

2. You became a professional photographer in 1998, but this exhibit hints at a past life that contained science, fractals, meteorology or even ophthalmology! So, Bill, what’d you do for a living before you became a professional photographer, and how did it mold the Inner Space and Patterns series?

Ahmm. I think my life would have been easier had I recognized my inner artist earlier. I have a BA in English, then returned to scool for a BS in Agriculture. After two years of losing money farming, I had a job as a cost accountant and a stint with a corporate training firm. I returned to school and completed an MA in American Politics. I quit work on my PhD. dissertation to follow my muse. All this time, my wife cultivated a career in natural resource conservation...thank goodness!

Much of what I know about ice and patterns I've learned after the fact. When I make landscape photographs, I research the area to provide information for the commentary I supply with each. The same happened with the ice images - my natural curiosity about what I was seeing in the ice drove me to learn about ice, crystals, etc..

3. You say in your bio that you’ve been a “serious” photographer since 1984. Would you tell us about your photographic history prior to 1984?

As a child I had a Brownie box camera, took a lot of photos and mailed them to a lab, which returned the snapshots with a new roll of film. In high school I had a Polaroid Swinger, allowing me the instant gratification we now have with digital cameras. After my Swinger was stolen, I retained little interest in photography.

About when I was 30, I purchased a Canon AE-1 and began tyring to make photographs. That is, I began to try to capture a scene in a way that would convey the feelings I had when viewing it. We would vacation in Colorado every summer, and I would go through 4 to 6 rolls of film a day, pick them up, and quickly sort between the good and the not so good. Reviewing what worked and what didn't, and why, is something I continue to practice.

4. There are some of the works in this exhibition that look like a negative print, with a dark mass on a white background. Specifically, in Pattern10a and Pattern10b, is this a negative print, or is that the way the light and ice behaved that day?

Ha! That's a fun one. I didn't have time to combine the two iterations in a single frame for the exhibit, but I've attached the diptych here.

I spent a few days following Christmas converting several of my Patterns images to black and white, which was relatively straightforward and, to me, strengthened their presentation. On Dec. 30, five days before hanging the exhibit, I returned to an image I rather like, but wasn't compelling to others. What I liked about Patterns #17  was the pattern, so I converted it to black and white, and liked what I saw. I then inverted the image and, after a bit of review, decided the straight black and white worked. Clearly for Patterns #10 I preferred the inverted/negative image paired with a rotated and flipped image.I spent the next five days reviewing "failed" Inner Space images and converting them to black and white, with or without inverting the result. With Patterns #10, I liked the result, but couldn't decide which orientation to use. Tracy Madison suggested using both, so I did. The question now is, just what is it you see?

5. You shoot a lot of quickly fleeting moments like ice and light, wildlife, and the reflections and ripples in running water. How does the ephemeral nature of what you seek and shoot inspire your own photographic practice?

The short-lived or fleeting nature of my subjects inspires me to put aside whatever I planned to do and pursue an opportunity that may not last, or that I may not get again. As a full-time photographer I have the ability to drop what I was doing to take advantage of weather conditions and lighting.

This has meant enduring single digit temperatures and biting wind the day after Christmas on the ice. It also has meant getting that one day when conditions are right to capture some new images, just before they are obscured by snow. Finally, it means I spend less time evaluating and more time shooting - serious previsioning is a luxury I can't afford in these conditions. Even so, I do take the time to consider framing alternatives, angle of light, etc.. Finally, it means that not every image works. And I learn from that.