photography

Weaknesses: Andy Pham

December 13, 2020 in interview

Weaknesses : Andy Pham

Andrew D. McClees (ADM): For those who are not familiar, could you introduce yourself and your work?

Andy Pham (AP): I’m a photographer and writer. I’ve spent most of my life in the New Orleans area, but also lived in Europe (Czech Republic) for three years, which was a really formative experience for me and kind of changed my life in many ways. I’ve been back in America for the past few years, and have been making work that on one hand, is constantly changing, perhaps stylistically, but on the other, is more or less rooted in the same general themes, personal emotions and instincts.

ADM: We're talking about your series in progress, “Weaknesses” - which, per your description on your webpage is a "long-term, ongoing work in progress examines human weakness and fragility, particularly in the form of mental illness, and the various ways in which it can be represented through the perception of our surroundings." Could you share what the inspiration was for the project, and what the end goal for it would be?

AP: The project “Weaknesses” is the most personal work I’ve been making. It’s mainly a response to my own experience with mental illness, as well as that of some of the people close to me. It’s been a years-long endeavor, in part because as I learn more about my own mental and psychological conditions and attempt to piece together who I am, who I’ve been, who I want to be, etc. and to process my own journey through mental illnesses, I find that the photography I make changes subtly as well.

The end goal would likely be a print publication of some kind, but I don’t have a set timeline in mind. I think it depends on finding the right time and opportunity whenever I’d feel like the work feels like a final product, or at least at a natural stopping point, to work on making and releasing something in print.

ADM: Print is fascinating - Do you think there's a specific character or value that print or a photobook would imbue or enhance "Weaknesses" with - and can you speak on how that format would work with the photographs, or the narrative around “Weaknesses?”

AP: I’ve always seen print/books as the end game for photographs and specifically series of photos or larger projects. As mentioned before, I just really enjoy the tangibility and tactility of these physical objects as opposed to looking at something on a screen. Also I think editing/sequencing and just having the final product in print form adds to the element of spending (more) time with the images in a book versus the more fast paced consumption of images that I think many people are used to with digital consumption.

ADM: So, from that - what final form do you have in mind for “Weaknesses”? a book, or zine - or perhaps an installation of a print series? Are there any particular considerations that you've taken into account while making the images for the project?

AP: I don’t want to tie myself to anything super concrete, as anything can happen really. At this point I’d like to keep it open, but I definitely think something in print and substantial feeling would be a final product I can be proud of.

ADM: Depression and mental illness look different to everyone - what are you looking for when you make your photographs on the topic for this project? Are there any motifs that you find are particularly idiosyncratic to you?

AP: Sure, I respect and certainly understand that mental illness assumes different forms in each unique individual; no two minds are the same. For example, I’ve tried psychotherapy but realized it just wasn’t for me. I tend to work through things more independently, and photography helps me to do that in almost therapeutic ways. You can say that photography is one of my forms of self-therapy. As far as subjects or motifs, I don’t think that I tend to look for specific things that reflect my psychological states. It’s more so the other way around; how I’m feeling or what I’m trying to sort out at any particular moment might dictate or affect what I end up photographing. Sometimes this means that I don’t photograph at all, given the nature of mental illness and how it can really be paralyzing to one’s ability to do anything at all.

I guess if anything, I tend to be drawn more to photograph in places that are perhaps more desolate, or that don’t include a lot of people or any people at all. I don’t ever make portraits at all. I find that the subjects I am drawn to are usually objects or scenes. I probably do have one repeating motif in particular: discarded objects that are left on the ground by people. I find that there is so much mystery in these things that are left behind by someone you’ll probably never know or meet.

ADM: That Definitely tracks with me, and my own experiences. Did you have any particular influence to or on your photographic approach for the project - both on the portrayal of mental illness and your own imagemaking process? These influences can be non-photographic, if that broadens the question for you?

AP: No particular influences really. I think more generally speaking I am probably influenced by photographers who have a very keen eye for detail – smaller, minute things that would go completely unnoticed to the average eye. One photographer in particular who embodies this for me is Phoebe Kiely, whose work was a major influence on me in shifting to primarily black and white, as well as just inspiring me to continue to train my eye to look for those things.

ADM: In addition to your photography, you're also a writer. Do you find there's a natural connection between writing, or words, and photography? If so, how, and if not, why not?

AP: Definitely. At least for me personally, I think there is a connection. I keep multiple notebooks at any given time where I’m constantly writing things down, usually nothing serious or long form, but just kind of a way to keep my mind organized and compartmentalize different things and ideas on paper. The tactility of writing with a pen and paper is always something I’ve enjoyed and even find comfort in. I find the same tactility exists in having a camera in your hands, looking through a viewfinder, pressing the shutter, etc.

Also, I’ve realized that the way I photograph is very instinctive in that I’m almost never having a premeditated idea of what kind of pictures I want to make. When I see a subject I want to capture or a photo that I feel I “need” to make, it’s usually instinctive and instant. With my writing, I think I also write very instinctively and then take a lot more time to edit the text afterward. Having an opportunity to write about photography and photobooks and contribute to a platform (C4 Journal) is great because it’s something I am passionate about anyway, which makes the ideas and words come out a lot more easily.

ADM: When analyzing or writing on photobooks, you mention an instinctual approach - what do you find yourself drawn to writing on in the book format, and does it mirror your approach or focus in the images themselves? Or, do you find that as a writer or critic your concerns are much different than your focuses are in your photographs?

AP: There is definitely an overlap, at least for me. I’ve found that the books I write about, or work that I am interested in writing about, often deal with human emotions in some way. In this sense I feel like my interests naturally gravitate more to that general area. I’m interested in work that is influenced by or speaks on the emotional, psychological, and sociological aspects of existence, I suppose.

ADM: In "Weaknesses" - is there a particular image or sequence within the project that you'd present alone to explain it to someone else? Why that specific image - I know you've mentioned the discarded random items and abandoned places - but is there anything hyperspecific?

AP: It might be, as of now, one particular image which was a result of a lot of manipulation, both accidental and intentional. It started with a color film photograph that I messed up the processing for and couldn’t get the colors right with, so I made it black & white and then through some printing errors, the image became sort of split and cropped; in the end I ended up with a final image that I really like. I think the balance of mishaps and intention are a good reflection of mental and emotional states, where as humans we’re always in this state of flux between our past, present and future selves, and trying to figure out how to deal with trauma, triggers, etc. There is some symbolic imagery within the picture itself as well: the shape of a cross, a sign with the inside missing, a hanging wire, which can be interpreted by the viewer in different or more personal ways.

(Ed Note: The second image presented in the article)

ADM: As someone who writes about, and likely thinks a lot about photobooks - what do you think the key, defining features are of the medium or art object, and do you find yourself seeking them out in your work?

AP: I think editing and sequencing is crucial. Having an edit and sequence that fits whatever you’re trying to communicate with the pictures. This might not be explicit or obvious to anyone viewing the book, but it should at least make sense and feel right to the maker, I’ve definitely tried forcing pictures together into a sequence in the past that just didn’t feel right (to me), and that’s when I knew I had to scrap the work or at least come back to it much later. Also, design is important in that many books nowadays have a very copy and paste kind of aesthetic – essentially just pictures in the middle of paper with white space around them. I like books that feel special in some kind of way I guess. Finally, I think the work should be thought provoking and lead the viewer to think about, question, or at least spend some more time outside of simply looking at the pictures; the best photobooks to me catalyze some form of questioning of perspectives or a wider discussion of a topic, viewpoint, etc.

ADM: What advice would you give to someone working on a project about mental health or mental illness? Is there anything that you've learned while working or continuing to work on "Weakness" that you'd like to share?

AP: I guess I’d say that one’s personal mental health always comes first, and shouldn’t be compromised for the sake of creative work or output. Like I mentioned before, some days are just brutal and the last thing I feel able to do is pick up a camera or think about anything related to photography. I think it’s healthy to just listen to your mind and body first and foremost, and don’t force anything.

ADM: From Erin Cross: If there is a single photo story that you can work on in your lifetime, what would that be and how would you create your images for it?

AP: This is a tough one, I’ve never really thought about it before. I think maybe I’d like to document Vietnam, where my parents are from, in a way that is unique or meaningful to me, whatever that might be. I’ve only been there once when younger and didn’t have a full fledged interest in photography, so I’d probably like to go back and spend time photographing there.

ADM: What question do you have for the next photographer? (You can answer it yourself if you'd like.)

AP: Do you think there is any value in the “hierarchy” of the photo world, or art world in general, in terms of the division between “gallery artists”, big publishers, etc. and the rest of us trying to just make work that means something personally? In other words, do you think there are pros and cons to both, or do you think there is anything lacking on either side of this divide?

ADM: Thanks so much for the interview! Where can we see more of your work? both photographic and written. Do you have any other parting words or notes?

AP: Thank you for having me! My work can be viewed on my website: subtropicaltrash.biz, or Instagram: @subtropical_trash. Some of my recent writing can be found on c4journal.com with more to come, or follow them @c4journal on Instagram.

Take care of yourselves and others and just do the best you can; it’s all any of us can strive for.

“Film Photography” - a critical misnomer.

November 21, 2020 in Thinkpiece

“Film Photography” - a critical misnomer.

Andrew D. McClees, Edited by Maxime Lester and Billy Gomberg

“Film Photography” - a critical misnomer.

PC: Andrew D. McClees (2015) Typical Casual Formalist work.

Film or Analogue photography has enjoyed a bit of a renaissance over the last five to ten years. Kodak was reporting steady growth each year, over a three year period back in 2019. This growth can largely attributed to the growing niche or subculture of The Film Community on platforms like Flickr, and Instagram. The medium (rather than the subculture itself) hit a new level of notoriety in the modern era through support from and from celebrities like Kylie Jenner, Jason Momoa, and Jeff Bridges. For those not aware, the Film Community is a nebulous subculture within photography, mostly based entirely around shooting film as a hobby, largely in opposition to digital photography - a distinction largely pushed by companies including, but not limited to: The Darkroom, Film Photography Project, and Lomographic Corp - as a method of identity or lifestyle branding.

The Film Community has generated miniature social media (read +/- 100k followers, but no real presence outside social) celebrities (EX: Matt Day, Willem Verbeek, and Corey Wolfenberger) within it, notable for working on film and/or making content about analogue photography. These photographers of note, alongside their many disciples and imitators have dubbed themselves “film photographers.” At first glance, the term “film photographer” is applicable, it describes the medium that the practitioners work off of. However “Film Photographer” has largely come to denote an additional set of shared aesthetic criteria or commonalities which has very little to do with the fact that the work is shot on film - making the label at best colloquial, and at worst invalid. The term “Film Photography” has become a failure as a literal descriptor, and is primarily a colloquialism for a specific kind of formalist photography that happens to be shot on film while not commenting on film as a medium, and is secondarily used to denote a hobbyist who shoots film with no particular focus.

PC: Andrew D. McClees (2017) Casual Formalist Photography - with growing intent.

Every genre of photography can be defined by a set of criteria based on how the photograph is used (“Fine-Art” being a qualifier, rather than a genre or subgenre unto itself) and the subject matter contained in it. To pose some quick and simple examples: Landscape photography is about nature and the shape of the land, Portrait photography is about taking portrait photographs of people, Fashion is about showcasing different articles of clothing; the list goes on. So that poses the question: “What is “film photography” about?” Are the practitioners of so-called “film photography” doing photographic artwork about the film that they shoot on? Is the subject matter of their art directly relevant to the fact that they’re using film? Most often not. While there are artists who work in lens based mediums, alternative processes, and in photo-chemistry making art about the material that they use, they rarely call themselves “Film Photographers.”

The majority of the subject matter in “Film Photography” has nothing to do with the fact that it was shot on film. While much of the base aesthetic criteria associated with “film photography” is attributable to the medium and not the content; Grain, and Tonality being the most commonly cited positive features of film. Urban landscapes and diaristic slices of life are common topics and subjects in “Film Photography” but have little if anything to do with the fact that it was shot on film, and the tone and grain of film might add to the photo but they’re ultimately superficial features. There’s nothing about the subject matter that has to do with film — one could shoot the same photo on a digital camera and add all those touches (grain, tones, etc.) and for the most part nobody would know the difference unless you made them aware of it.

To invoke the bête noire of the film community: when was the last time a photographer who uses digital gear described themselves as a “digital photographer?” They don’t because it doesn’t actually matter to their work. If you want to describe yourself as someone who shoots or uses analog processes, that’s fine, but just as a use of language, consider using the term “film shooter” or at the very least if you’d consider adding a tag of “analog” or “film-based” onto your self description — ie “analog landscape photographer” that way I know you’re (rhetorical) a landscape photographer who shoots film. To offer up another angle there’s also the debate about hybrid vs. totally analogue processes, and the fact that every “film” or “analogue” image you see on the net had to be digitized in some format to get it on to the standard platforms of digital consumption. On top of that most of these images that are consumed via social media platforms were and are digitally edited - making it a debate on how “analogue” most of these images ultimately are.

Andrew D. McClees — Outtake From “DUSK” 2019 (Formalism as Expressionism)

“Film Photographer” in broad strokes has come to denote a casual or hobbyist photographer who takes snaps on film, usually in a moody style. That expression doesn’t adequately describe what the photographers in question are taking photos of - making the term colloquial at best. If one takes photos of one’s friends and family, why not call oneself a social photographer or a portrait photographer, or even a documentary photographer (personal gripes aside about passing off otherwise unremarkable family/friend photos off as art). If you shoot mostly to document your daily life, why not call yourself a documentary photographer, or a diaristic photographer, or something that speaks to what you do? There’s nothing wrong about being descriptive and specific about what you do or what you photograph. The term “Film Photographer” has created a ghettoized environment separate from the rest of photography. I’m not saying that we should abolish the film community or the tags associated with them, merely to point out that “film photographer” is meaningless and often has little to do with the medium itself, and fails to adequately describe most work under its umbrella.

So, now that I’ve gone to great length to describe why I think “Film Photography” has become bad terminology, let me offer up a potential academic term for it and an explanation of where I believe the movement’s artistic lineage stems from:

Casual Formalist Photography or “Casual Formalism.”

On its surface to the layman - Casual Formalism might sound like cognitive dissonance - it’s not so let me break down formalism first (in a broad definition), then I’ll circle back to the casual:

Formalism (in photography) is the part of photography that focuses on images that center on the “formal” elements - elements deriving from the “form” - Lighting, Composition, Tonality, and Medium (Film V. Digital etc). As opposed to realism (pure documentation - no perspective or decisions made) or expressionism (pure emotiveness or expression.) You can find a quick cheat sheet here.

Casual, at least in the manner I’m using it - refers to the broad assumption that most of the photographers doing this kind of work (ie Photos of conventionally attractive women, abandoned houses, “quirky suburbs,” old cars, or general nostalgia based photography) are not doing this as a serious artistic practice, nor are they aiming for a deeper purpose or commentary in their art. However, the photos being made are intentionally artistic enough to escape the label “vernacular” (going off of MOMA’s definition) in that they are created to be art, rather than truly commercial or documentary in nature.

I would offer up that most “film photographers” (or from here out “casual formalists,”) work very much in this formal scope - they aim to take aesthetically pleasing pictures that may or may not have some emotional or documentary (ie actively documenting a place or phenomena) perspective but tend to dwell mostly at surface level; e.g. a picture of a landscape or abandoned house that’s well lit and #shotonfilm might evoke a strong emotion, but ultimately it typically ends up being mostly about that composition and the lighting that gives it emotion - with a tertiary concern (from an outside perspective) being that it was shot on film - largely nothing about the photo actually matters that it was shot on the film except for the insider community knowledge.

Likewise, these photos rarely push the bounds of composition or structure in the formal sphere. The photos are often well composed, but they rarely push beyond standard practice enough to be notable for their composition, or a commentary on composition. On the topic of film itself, most of the photographers rarely actively consider or comment on the medium upon which their work is made, except for the superficial “Film is nostalgic, therefore this nostalgia based image (old cars, abandoned houses, vintage dress), is nostalgic,” making the fact that most of the images in the “film community” are shot on film almost entirely irrelevant to the images they shoot on that film. However, for whatever reason (perhaps it is that one singular superficial point, of film nostalgia) a lot of similar minded work ends up getting done on film, even though there’s absolutely nothing about it that necessitates being done on film.

“I hope those last four generations don’t look too far down on me” - Andrew D. McClees, 2019 from HARDLY LOCAL. (Documentary Photography with strong Formalist Elements as Expressionism)

This sort of lack of depth either in formalist concerns, or using those formal elements to pursue a deeper truth via expressionism or through documentarian studies is why I’ve deemed “casual” most of the art being made is by hobbyists - not professionals, or career artists. There’s largely nothing wrong with that - getting out and making art for personal fulfilment, as a hobby is a great thing in fact and largely beneficial to most who pursue it. My misgivings about it stem from a subset of photographers and creators riding their way to social media fame while offering up nothing in terms of critical or philosophical depth in their work.

In terms of stylistic origins I’d give equal credit to the Instagram algorithm (the propensity for the website’s algorithm to show people work or images that is relatively alike in nature), Stephen Shore, William Eggleston (along with Christenberry) and Todd Hido (though I’d argue all four are expressionist or documentary photographers who have strong understanding of formal elements). I realize there’s a whole subset of portrait and fashion photographers in The Film Community, but at the risk of getting meanspirited, most of them don’t have a whole lot of artistic lineage beyond “make a reasonable portrait of an attractive person,” though on the fashion tip there can be some legitimate artistic direction. There are many street photographers who still shoot film, but (in my experience) they tend to nest themselves more within the street photography community rather than say the film community even if there is some crossover.

Moving the scope in part I’ve derived the term from the trend of “zombie formalism” in painting. Though as a fellow photographer who started my current artistic career (not that on the whole I’d call it any great shakes as of now) in much the same spot, I don’t particularly hold the level of disdain for the movement the way Saltz seems to hold for it. Zombie Formalism lines up well with Casual Formalism in that both are superficial and relatively bland movements, but the comparison ends there - Zombie Formalism is a fine art movement and is typically only used to refer to a particular kind of abstract oil or mixed media painting, where Casual Formalism is a popular movement or practitioner base - though both have served as significant stumbling blocks for many practitioners in both movements, in that they can’t seem to move beyond or individuate themselves from the movement.

If you feel okay using “film photographer” after all this as a colloquium - that’s cool, as long as you’re aware. Likewise, please keep photographing, and keep shooting film. As long as you’re creating art, and getting something out of it, that’s the most important part. However as an actual definition of the whole artistic movement or the phenomena, or art itself, I believe it should be called Casual Formalism from here out - rather than “Film Photography.

Songs About Being Forgotten: Kyle J. Kohner

October 25, 2020 in interview

Songs About Being Forgotten: Kyle J. Kohner

Andrew D. McClees (ADM): For those not familiar with you or your work, can you introduce yourself, and give us a brief introduction to your work?

Kyle J. Kohner (KJK): My name is Kyle Kohner; I am a 24-year-old street photographer from the LA area (La Mirada, Calif), but was born and raised in San Bernardino, CA. I picked up photography in my sophomore year in college, was hooked, and with the help of a couple of my professors and photography friends, I never looked back. I mainly do film photography, black and white 35mm to be exact. However, if I am on assignment for work, I will shoot digital. During my final semester as an undergrad, I took a darkroom photography class, and from the course came the genesis of my first body of work, a zine I've titled "Songs About Being Forgotten."

ADM: We're talking about "Songs About Being Forgotten" - where did the concept come from, and can you speak on the title?

KJK: I like to think of "Songs About Being Forgotten" as a not-yet reckoning of fear. This project's title and concept was birthed from fear and uncertainty that I've always felt but could never gauge through words alone. A fear of finality, death, and not being remembered was especially palpable during my final year of college, where years of mental illness peaked. The initial form/draft, which was created during my last semester, was a reactionary pushback to this fear. Still, I'm trying to push back against this fear, and this zine is the vehicle. I call the photos within this project "songs," mainly because music and photography meet at this very magical intersection for me. Combining the two seemed like the perfect way for me to convey this fear of being "forgotten.

ADM: Are there particular aesthetic considerations that you took into account while creating the project - I know the whole thing is in black and white - but is there a particular purpose behind it, and the tonality you used - I know the collage nature of the book is a nod to Phil Elverum (below).

KJK: The reasoning for doing black and white was pretty straightforward—it helps convey the impermanence of decay and things forgotten. Many of the photos are high in contrast, which renders the ephemeral themes dark and drab. As you mentioned, I wanted to give off a collage nature to the book, akin to not just Elverum, but inner sleeves and liner notes of physical music in general. With the very first iteration of this zine, the class project, I did not know much about design or sequencing. In fact, I boringly constructed it out in a simple pattern: page with lyrics, then page with photo, page with lyrics, etc. After a year or so of looking at more photo books and zines, I was able to better understand the importance of sequencing and design, which now, this version of the book compels more in comparison to my first-ever copy.

ADM: Is there a particular narrative form you used for the zine? - I noticed throughout you used some repetition and photocollages - alongside consistent written excerpts.

KJK: I love the concept of an album cover, yet the pressure of picking an image to capture the music inside is daunting. As mentioned a bit earlier, photography and music have always had this fascinating intersect, and the photos inside, again, are these visual songs—album covers even. The book is square, slightly bigger than a CD, and smaller than an LP or EP. Inside, I paired the images with lyrics from songs that have at some point in my life devastated me as I struggle through the concepts of finality and the high likelihood that what I say or create now won't matter 70 years from now. The visual layout, in fact, was largely influenced by the visual work of singer-songwriter Phil Elverum, aka The Microphones, aka Mount Eerie. I love how Elverum designs and incorporates his photography with his music. If you check out his latest album (which is just one long song) on YouTube, you'll see that it's just Phil laying down photos he's taken over the years, one-by-one, to reflect his journey as a musical artist over the past two decades. But he's also thoughtful when designing the album art for his LP's and CD's, inside and out. With most of his projects, he sprawls handwritten lyrics across a collage of photos. His design for The Microphones 2001 album "The Glow Pt. 2" particularly sparked that of my collection of photographs. I'd love to explain the sequencing and narrative, but I'm also a believer that we can create our own stories from photos within a body of work, separate from the artist's intentions, by merely perceiving them. So I'd rather have viewers of the zine to figure it out for themselves.

ADM: From that - what would you say the most essential images are to understanding the project are - what songs did you pair them with, and why?

KJK: This one is hard to answer as I tried not to pin the weight of this project on one photo because I try not to shoot with a mindset of capturing the best singular image or that "decisive moment." But if any, I believe the images of charred buildings speak to me and the project the loudest. These two photos were the genesis behind this project, and I was able to pair it with a song that I felt best captured to the idea of "being forgotten." The track that particularly called out to me—and I hesitate to mention it—was "Carissa" by Sun Kil Moon (Mark Kozelek). On the track, he sings of his second cousin Carissa who died in an improbable housefire. She was a regular blue-collar individual living in the midwest, and Mark barely knew her. And yet, despite how menial her life seemingly was, he wanted to impress meaning upon her life, long passed her death, with this song. I find this most beautiful and admirable. After including this song in my book (paired with these two photos), it came to light that Kozelek is a fucking creep and an abuser. I almost expunged the track from my zine, but then the final product would have been unauthentic and merely reactionary to what had happened. Though I have since removed his music from my life, I cannot deny the impact this song had on me. I would probably point to the image of shoes hanging from the telephone wire as my favorite. It's a bit cliche, but I love how the shoes are still emphasized even when crowded by the bushy textures beneath.

ADM: What do you think the biggest advancements you made were over the course of the project? in terms of sequencing, and also shooting?

KJK: As someone who studied journalism in college, I once held to this idea that I MUST be clear as possible for the sake of my audience. Heck, this level of transparency is and should be applied for a lot of photojournalistic work because vagueness is a sign of an untrustworthy author. But with this project, especially regarding the sequencing, I had to reorient my learned approach to create something more personal and trusting of my audience, instead. I've always feared being misunderstood and not being clear, yet the way I've sequenced and even shot the photos for this zine was a way for me to give that fear up. So I'd say the most significant advancement I experienced through this project was the willingness to trust my audience and trust that the photos would convey more words than I could.

ADM: What was your collaborative process like? Prior to the interview you'd mentioned working with Max Heilman and Brooks Ginnan.

KJK: This project is much more than the zine itself. In fact, I paired it with a split single—two original songs. One track titled "Stream Of Silhouettes" is a super atmospheric piece of post-rock, written and performed by Maxwell Heilman and his band Anhelar. The other is a raw, emotively lo-fi cut titled "The Devil Inside of Me," written and performed by Brooks Ginnan. Aside from being a musician, Brooks also happens to be an up-and-coming model featured in films, music videos, and even in Vogue Italia. Though the songs are two entirely different worlds—one brooding, layered, and room-filling and the other stripped-down, haunting, and intimate—they share the same desperate spirit that yearns through affliction. I've known both Brooks and Max for six years. Because I've stayed connected with them longer than any other friends, they are sort of this antithesis to the idea of being forgotten. They represent laughter, love, and long-lasting memories—things that push back against the danger of being forgotten. Because of this friendship, I had to include them within this project. To best capture the zine's essence, I sent PDF copies to the two of them, and they provided me music they felt best reflected what they viewed. "Songs About Being Forgotten" is the fruit of this collaboration.

ADM: Was there a specific turning point that pushed you to print the zine up and put it out there, publicly?

I think like many people who have created and released some artwork lately, the pandemic really pushed me to buckle down and say hey," let's get this done finally." If there ever was a time to release something into the world, now was the time. It was an opportunity to take what has been a disadvantageous moment in history for everyone, make something beautiful out of it, and collaborate with other brilliant minds. No, I wouldn't call this my "COVID Zine/book," as this photo project has been in the making for almost two years. However, I'm sure we will be seeing a saturation of COVID-related projects from photographers within the next year, haha.

ADM: You've talked about musical influences (though feel free to add more if you'd like) but are there any other visual or photographic influences on the zine?

KJK: Studying journalism in college, I took a few photojournalism courses. The professor who taught all of them wanted us, students, to learn from the greats, sequentially. I loved this approach because it allowed our photographically naive eyes to appreciate the trailblazers of street photography. That said, one of my earliest inspirations was Elliot Erwitt. People point to him and notice the humor and irony in his work (which I always try to draw from), but he inspires me because his pictures are emotion(s) rather than reflective of emotion(s). (Which in fact, he is quoted saying, "I want pictures that are emotion.") I picked the photos I did for this zine for the same reason—I wanted to curate images that are what they feel like. I can also pinpoint three current favorites of mine—some more known than others. As of recent, Charalampos Kydonakis, aka Dirty Harry, is the first that comes to mind. His photos literally jump at you with an uncanny energy. He has an unparalleled ability to capture the oddities of life in all of its mundanity, so beautifully. His work is so surreal and is so incredibly impressive because of it. The second photographer is Dylan Hausthor. Though his photos are clearly tethered to a specific place that my own photography is not familiar with, his work has a spiritual and mythical quality that I aspire to channel with my own (though my attempts do not hold a flame to the magic Dylan captures). His use of light is also unlike anything I've seen from another photographer, especially when illuminating the organic textures a place [like] Maine lends itself to. There are many more photographers and their work I enjoy right now, and I'd love to mention them all.

ADM: What advice do you have for someone taking a pre-existing project (like the one you made in class) and refining it or repurposing it like you did (ie turning it into a collaboration, and a multimedia project)?

KJK: My advice to someone who wants to take a pre-existing project and refining it/repurposing it, is to simply be honest with yourself. I think one of the most horrible yet beautiful things about creating art is looking back at the things you DID. Almost always, for me at least, I writhe in disgust over photos I took even as early as three months ago. But being able to look at your older material and critique it with honesty will allow you to tap into what you truly want to create. For this project, I carried over about half the material from the very first version because I hated everything else in it—though I thought it was the best damn thing when I first put the zine together, haha. But my advice is best served as a double-edged sword. I think that though one needs to be honest with themself, they also need to trust their work and build up the courage to publish that zine, book, series of prints, or whatever they are working on. There comes a point where if you keep waiting, you'll never be satisfied with what you create. Thankfully, I just missed that exit and was able to just say, "Fuck it." For me, that point came with the desire to bring in people I love and cherish into the fold to make it a gratifying experience.

ADM: From Stefan Byrom: Which photographers/artists out there do you admire other than the more well known ones?

KJK: I want to mention Justin Yun. Though he happens to be one of my best friends, I, along with many others in the photo community, would agree he possesses a rare talent for his age. Unfortunately, he tends to keep to himself and remains reserved when putting his work out there. There are countless photographers out there who try to explore the concept of dreams and memories. But no one is as in-touch with these ideas and how to artfully reflect them than Justin. The way he can tap into these dreams and memories has helped inform my ability to go into my own subconscious to take photos that, again, "are emotion."

ADM: What question do you have for the next photographer? - you can answer it yourself if you'd like.

KJK: Outside of other photographers and photobooks, where do you find inspiration for your own photography?

ADM: Thanks again for doing the interview! Any parting words or advice? Where can we pick up a copy of the zine?

KJK: Bring your camera with you at ALL times. If you don't like carrying one around, get a point-and-shoot for casual outings and errands. Support your photography friends. Love one another as yourself; you'll be a lot happier than you could be, I promise. Always be fighting injustice in the world. No matter how small or big the gesture—it adds up—not toward points, but a better world around for those who are disadvantaged. Listen to new music—always. The world needs escaping sometimes, and music is the perfect way to flee.

If you find yourself interested, you can purchase my zine at kylekohner.com/shop and can check out more of my work there as well.

Pure Nature, Accept no Less: Brendon Holt on Landscape Photography

February 02, 2020 in interview

Pure Nature, Accept no Less: Brendon Holt on Landscape Photography

Andrew D. McClees (ADM): Welcome back to Frozenwaste.land Brendon! We’re here talking about Landscape in 2020 this week:

As of right now, how do you define "landscape" and "landscape photography?"

What do they mean to you, and what is your baseline approach and philosophy behind your photography practice?

Brendon Holt (BH): Well, lemme work my way to an answer by telling you what I think landscape photography isn't.

I don't think that cityscapes are landscape photographs, they're just that, cityscapes. Let's just get that out of the way. I have always found that angle to be a gross perversion of the term. I also do not really consider a lot of new-topographics stuff to be landscape photography. While some of it does deal either implicitly or explicitly with the land á la Robert Adams, I don't consider it to constitute landscape work in the stricter sense, as important as that work is.

I suppose this makes me something of a purist or a stubborn nineteenth century romanticist holdout or something but it leaves me with an understanding of the true subject of landscape photography to be the land itself. Not the landscape as modified or influenced by human activity, and most certainly not urban/cityscape work.

So, landscapes and landscape photography, to me, deals with "the inhuman," a term I will borrow from the American poet Robinson Jeffers which refers simply to the vast realm of non-human nature. It is non-human nature itself considered as the subject of photography.

Furthermore as a medium I understand landscape photography as a channel for me to try and express, in the photographic form, the spiritual or existential depths of these kinds of transcendent experiences of the world beyond our modern humanistic self obsession. This component really constitutes the raison d'être of my work, to be honest. Photography in general is just a means to an end for me, and that end is turning our eyes from the dark abyss of human subjectivity to the vast glory outside ourselves. I could care less about photography as some abstract end in itself. That entire approach strikes me as absolutely vapid. Photography for what? The sake of photography? Images for the sake of images. That's an absolutely vacuous approach. My philosophical and spiritual proselytizing is intimately wedded to my photographic work. Photography, and landscape photography specifically, is just the visual megaphone I use most.

ADM: I guess in that sense, you view Urban Landscape, etc, as really more about anthropology and architecture at the end of the day - rather than nature, or nature in true fashion?

Following that up, I've found, in my own landscape practice -- or at least within the confines of the modern/postmodern art/instagram landscape that landscape has slowly come to mean, colloquially, a very specific aesthetic - this sort of superficially epic, highly saturated, glossy, and frequently strangely tinted view of nature.

While I’m aware there’s definitely other takes on landscape - this is for sure the most popular take right now, outside of the “fine art” bubble. I think this is a huge impediment to landscape as a topic of discussion, and furthering and deepening the dialogue around it.

I’d be curious to get your perspective on that aesthetic, what it’s origins are, why it continues to be so prevalent, and what it means for your own practice, and other artists working in landscape right now?

BH: Yeah, I can get mostly on board with that characterization of cityscapes, new topographics, et al. Per the landscape aesthetic, I definitely agree with your characterizations. I think the term we could use to encapsulate the aesthetic and all the features that you've pointed out is "hyperrealism." It all feels a bit like taking the world and cranking it up to 11 so that we're left with this "strangely tinted" presentation of nature, as you said (If anyone is unfamiliar with what we're talking about just take a trip over to 500px or something and search for the most popular work in the landscape category, it abounds there).

And as you also said, its entrenchment as the standard for landscape photography is deeply problematic for anyone trying to engage with the subject/genre in ways beyond that very limited aesthetic. Work trying to deal with the subject/genre of the landscape in ways outside that aesthetic is quite commonly ghettoized for not toeing the line of that codified understanding of "good landscape photography." Maybe the saving grace of the fine art bubble is that it can still serve as a refuge for work that's been ostracized from the popular canons, even if it harbors a bunch of bullshit too.

My personal relationship with the whole aesthetic and the genre of contemporary landscape work in general is, well, contentious. I find the aesthetic formulaic to the point of sterility and ubiquitous to the point of exhausting. The same light, the same subjects, the same compositional choices, the same basic formulaic images repeated over, and over, and over. It has been repeated ad nauseam in landscape circles since it was popularized by the dissemination of photographs from the likes of Galen Rowell, which is where I personally see its origins. To be fair there was color landscape work before Rowell, such as Eliot Porter and Philip Hyde's work (which I think is all beautiful), but Rowell's work begins to take landscape photography in an entirely different direction that tends toward the kind of hyperrealism that is so prevalent today (and digital photographic technologies have only made that move toward hyperrealism easier).

I'm not sure why the whole aesthetic has become so firmly rooted in the collective consciousness of landscape photography, personally. Obviously it's just a truism that aesthetic trends happen but trying to work out the processes and mechanisms by which any aesthetic trend happens is a gigantic can of worms that could probably encompass its own essay. Regardless of how or why this aesthetic has become so entrenched, it's an issue that anyone working in the genre today has to confront. As a general rule my advice to anyone working within any genre of photography is to forego the easier path of ready-made aesthetics and focus all their efforts on their own vision. Speaking personally, when I first started making images I turned to that culturally established norm of landscape images as a guide for how I made images. I knew I loved the landscape but as a new photographer I didn't really know how to go about translating my experiences into a photograph so the popular aesthetic became my guide as I learned photography. Ultimately, however, if you have any modicum of individual vision that approach can't but begin to feel hollow and empty and you have to set off on the harder but more meaningful path of catering to your own vision. I had to take that step, and reflect on what it was I myself wanted to say and show with my images and choose to follow that path rather than the path set for me by the dominant approach to the genre. I think this is the path that anyone working in landscape photography today has to take unless color-by-number photography is all they're looking to do.

AM: That’s a really great insight into working practice or an insight into where to go when starting landscape. Your work and your philosophy, both as you’ve stated and as it reads in your images is deeply rooted spiritualism of nature and the land; but what other topics would you like to see discussed in the genre, or adjacent to the genre as you’ve defined it? I’d be curious to know if there are any aesthetics, non-mainstream (or non-mainstream within the fine-art bubble) that you think are under utilised or that could be better explored?

BH: Well, my engagement with landscape work is admittedly pretty single-minded, maybe to the point of parochialism, haha. So outside of rekindling the spiritual dimensions of our experience of nature I haven't really given the other thematic avenues of the genre too much thought.

Off the cuff issues of ecology, conservation, the philosophy of nature (ontological reflections about the "being" of nature), etc. come to mind. I'm not naively parochial, I do think there is a wealth of other themes that could be dealt with in the context of landscape photography, even in the narrower sense that I've defined it. I just haven't really spent too much time following those avenues because so much of my focus is honed in to the spiritual/religious/existential angles of our engagement with the land.

As to the question of aesthetics, I must also admit that my aforementioned parochialism means I'm not super familiar with aesthetic trends, especially not the obscure ones of the fine art world. But as to what I'd like to see explored I think I could offer a vague gesture toward those aesthetics that eschew those codified formulas of the popular landscape aesthetic in order to break open new avenues for rethinking our artistic engagement with the land.

One example of that comes to mind is landscape work that trades the "Iconic Landscape" approach of Ansel Adams and Co for a more down-to-earth, intimate approach. Less the iconized nature of Yosemite National Park and more intimate reflections on the smaller, quaint landscapes around us. We might also think of the work of someone like Eliot Porter as an example of work that sidesteps a lot of the dominant aesthetic cues. In Eliot Porter we find less of the clean and formalized nature of the dominant aesthetic and more of an honest encounter with the real chaos and complexity of nature that exists beyond the formalizing attempts that exist only within the fabricated frame of the photographer's vision.

I know this answer is kind of vague, but I hope the examples at least help to clarify what I have in mind when I say something like "aesthetics that eschew those codified formulas of the popular landscape aesthetic in order to break open new avenues for rethinking our artistic engagement with the land."

ADM: You're usually fairly prolific in one environment at a time (formerly PNW, now Montana) and have expressed a preference to shoot or look at only one area at a time - is there a particular reason or meaning behind that?

BH: Yeah, I definitely prefer to dedicate my time to revisiting a limited number of places over and over rather than constantly seeking out new environments. I find the practice of constantly photographing the next hitherto unvisited location kind of empty. It's the photographic equivalent of a never ending string of one night stands with various landscapes that never really gives you the chance to get to know and connect with any specific place. And given that so much of my work is about trying to rebuild those connections and that rootedness to place that we've lost in the wasteland of modernity, the whole idea of that kind of cosmopolitanism in landscape work has never suited me. Maybe it makes for a dazzling portfolio but if it's all empty what's the point?

And I guess that deeper spiritual urge behind my work is how I came to practice that single minded focus as well. My photographic practice has never really been separate from my own philosophico-spiritual practice and because that reflection on the spiritual importance of the landscape is such an integral part of my own spiritual practice, my photo work has always reflected that.

ADM: (A little redundant -- we’ve gotten into it a bit here) but for someone looking to refine their practice and focus it tightly as you have, what advice can you give, or how did you get there?

BH: My advice for people looking to do the same isn't so much going to be photographic advice but advice for the soul, I guess. It's about making that experience and connection to a place primary and the photographic work a kind of secondary outgrowth of those deeply meaningful connections and experiences with a place. And how you find and connect with a place is going to be different for every individual but that the connection comes first is the best I can say. Find some place that speaks to your soul, however that happens for you. Then give your heart to it and let the work come from there.

ADM: Where can we see more of your work, and do you have any projects on the horizon?

BH: You can find my work on Instagram, @bmholt_ and at my website, www.brendonholt.com. I am currently working on assembling two books, Pathways and Cascadia: A Retrospective, both of which can be read about in the "Projects" section of my website. Thank you for the chance to air some of my thoughts with you!

Landscapes of Nostalgia, and Beyond: Karl Bailey

January 08, 2020 in interview

Landscapes of Nostalgia, and beyond: Karl Bailey on nostalgia, travel, and the zine.

Andrew D. McClees (ADM): Hi Karl, thanks for doing this interview. For those who aren't familiar with you and your work can you please introduce yourself, and describe your work a little bit?

Karl Bailey (KB): Hi, my name’s Karl Bailey, I'm 28 and live in Portsmouth which is a sea city on the south coast of the UK.

A lot of my work is about looking backwards. Many of the locations I've shot at have been inspired by or even from, my own childhood. I'm also keen to preserve and document history and the many changes that we observe over our lifetimes. Ultimately I wouldn't say I aim to have a specific style of work or shoot with a style in mind but I'm always told my work evokes nostalgia.

ADM: I'm curious, when did you pick up photography? Mining a little deeper in, do you think it's linked to your focus on nostalgia? and following that up, what specifically about nostalgia do you find so compelling, both individually, and culturally?

KB: My dad took a lot of photos and video and even had his own darkroom at one point, I was always carrying a little point and shoot on family outings, so I think that's how it was picked up/passed on. I got really into it when I was about 15 and studied Media and Photography in college where I got to use the darkroom and shoot video. From that point on I was part of a local video group that made an amateur sci-fi series for small local TV channels, Then I started picking up photo and video work professionally and ended up shooting all sorts, weddings, corporate, promotional etc but it burned me out and I didn't touch a camera for years. When I finally did in 2018 I realised it was the natural thing that was missing from my life. There is definitely a link somewhere down the line, I love the idea of archiving and not letting any part of history slip away, for no one to remember it; the thought that something or someplace has created so many memories for people and could be knocked down with little thought makes me quite sad even if I'm not personally connected.

ADM: What got you into the zine or photobook format?

KB: I love creating and making things, this stemmed from a diy record label I owned with my friend about 10 years ago. We would release music on CD's, Tapes and Vinyl and I was always pushing myself to create interesting and appealing packaging. It just feels natural to carry on that physical aspect in what I do now. Having something to hold and enjoy is really important even more so for photography, printed work is so much better than looking at it on a screen.

ADM: What does a typical shoot day look like for you?

KB: Some days I will carry one camera, and others I will end up carrying too much. Ultimately it's about exploring new places or turning down roads I've never been down before and seeing what will crop up, usually I will walk miles on end as this is the best way to explore. I always carry a camera on me wherever I am so technically everyday could be a shoot day!

ADM: How do you conceptualize your projects, and what's your selection process like?

KB: I've yet to shoot with a project in mind, although this is something I have started exploring just this month. A lot of my projects (then zines) are born from a moment in time that I've been shooting in. Themes and ideas usually come to me once I have the photos and I can tie them in that way. The selection process goes from contact sheets, narrowed down to printed A6 photos and then I lay them out or pin them up, I'll leave them for weeks and slowly look at them every now and then, make notes and finally pick the ones for a project/book... assembly I'll try to find connecting themes and elements depending on how I lay out the book initially.

ADM: Having read All of a Sudden I Miss Everyone, and also having seen work from Greece and End of Summer on your Instagram, it seems like a lot of your work has to do with both travel, resort towns, and decay. What about those subjects do you find so compelling, or what drives you to make projects with those themes?

KB: To most people these things are just ignored, they see the beauty in the shiniest and newest things and not the character that I see when taking these photos, Again it comes down to history and not wanting these things to just be gone one day and for no one to care or see them. Greece was a nostalgia piece for me, I went there as a child and I remembered so much of what it was once and instantly felt the need to document the remnants that were left.

ADM: I know you were living/working in China recently -- do you have an upcoming project with work from there?

KB: This has been my biggest project to date, sifting through 1300 photos to try and get a reasonable number of photos for a project was extremely challenging and daunting.

I currently have 300 A6 photos that I will start laying out for the book and I'll probably end up cutting back at the same time. The project will be one-half of China photos and the other half Hong Kong photos, the China half will be titled 'I don't know why the caged bird sings' which is a social commentary piece on the joy and happiness that I experienced from the populace, despite them living a somewhat oppressed lifestyle under the rule of communism without even really knowing about it. The book will be appearing on Kickstarter in the first quarter of the year and I will be holding a gallery show in my hometown in August.

ADM: Off the some of your other responses you've given, you found your hypothesis for the book after going out and shooting and documenting a lot. Can you speak on what some of the big moments or images you captured were that led you to focus your book on The Joy of the people of Hong Kong and China despite the oppressive nature of their government?

KB: Living in China was such an eye-opener, I strived to understand and talk to as many people as possible about history, culture, family life, politics and the future, I think at the end of it and having experienced some of the more dangerous sides of China It was an almost natural conclusion. Walking around the apartment complexes, going to the food markets and living in the poorer area of the city gave me a real glimpse at the people, sometimes they would come and talk to me, or sometimes we would just communicate solely with body language but most experiences I had were that people seemed happier, more open, more willing to help... it was a lot different to living in England where everyone is so cagey and polite. For Hong Kong it's very different, the city is naturally a mix match of cultures (British/Chinese) and it's totally and utterly unique because of that, it's an amazing and beautiful city with photographic moments to be had around every corner.

AM: For those considering getting into photography -- film or otherwise -- what would advice would you give? Also, for those who might be interested in making a zine, but don't know where to start, do you have any tips?

KB: Just go out and do it! Visit galleries, buy books, find photographers you enjoy, expand your knowledge... don't get hung up on buying gear, don't get hung up on Instagram likes/follows... more importantly, just have fun and use it as a creative outlet... something I think has been somewhat lost in this modern generation. I think understanding design/layout is really important, study from the greats, find your subject or theme for your book, be critical and ask for opinions. Be somewhat sure of yourself and your work, make a zine worthy of owning and not just for the sake of making a zine.

AM: Have you found any particular photobooks or photographers that have strongly influenced your work? If so, who, and can you talk a little bit about why, and what books or work of theirs you'd recommend?

KB: So many photographers, I'm always excited to see old or new work and I love collecting books...

Modern Color by Herzog stood out to me a lot this year which I think is apparent in my 'End of Summer' zine I've also been enjoying books by McCullin, Parr, Laura Wilsons 'That Day' and the Magnum Contact Sheets book. I can't stress how valuable these are to a photographer!

AM: Those are great recommendations. Thanks again for doing this interview! Where can people find and buy your work, either your zines or your prints right now? Do you have any other parting words ? Can we expect you back to talk about "I don't know why the caged bird sings" when it's closer to completion?

KB: www.karlbailey.co.uk for all zines, occasional prints but I tend to put them up as one offs on IG stories (@karlbailey). Thanks for having me on to do this, it's been really fun! I would love to come back when the time comes!