Joshua White

Megan Mett
Rebecca Drolen
Jonathan Pozniak
Heather Evans Smith
Robert Alexander Williams
Christopher Cappozellio

Issue 2
Spring 2014

Don't Take Pictures

Issue 2 Sping 2014

Culture of Hair
Rebecca Drolens Hair Pieces
Robert Alexander Williams
A Studio Visit
The Cinematic Storyteller
The Photographs of Heather Evans Smith
Expired
Fictitious Expiration Dates and
the Pressure to Produce Art

2
Shane Godfrey
8
Shannon Mohrman
14
Aline Smithson
22
Kat Kiernan

Icebergs and the End of Efforting

The Photographs of Jonathan Pozniak

24
Roger Thomson

A Photographic Survey of the American Yard

A Conversation with Joshua White

32
Christa Bowden

Book Review: The Distance Between Us

Christopher Capozziello
Looking Up and Looking In
Megan Mett

36
Amanda Hite
40
Eliza Lamb

Forging Relationships
Finding a Career

46
Jennifer Shwartz

Founder/Editor-in-Chief
Senior Editor
Designer

Kat Kiernan
Roger Thompson
Union Jack Creative

Publisher: The Kiernan Gallery, 23B W. Washington St., Lexington, VA 24450

elcome to Issue 2 of Dont

Take Pictures. As with any
new venture, Dont Take Pictures continues to grow and
evolve. These past six months have witnessed
some substantial changes for this magazine.
Whether you are reading this on a screen or in
print, we will continue to bring you great work
by photographers who are on the rise. After the
launch of Issue 1 and the tremendously positive
response we received, requests came streaming
in for more writing on topics and ideas that were
too time-sensitive for our biannual publication
schedule to handle. You spoke, we listened, and
have expanded our discussion of emerging photographers and the photographic industry.

the goings-on in the photography world with

thoughtful writing and wonderfully curated images. Our serial columns highlight photographic
trends, the relationship between design and photography, and artists who value a hands-on approach. As our audience grows, we know that
people will be interested in discovering the work
of artists from past issues. Our redesigned website puts the featured artists work online for a
full six months, and the limited edition prints will
remain available for four issues, or until they sell
out. Staying true to our mission, the full dollar
amount of each print sold will continue to go to
the artist. We believe in the power of affordable
art, and we believe in helping artists sustain their
careers.

The past six months have been full of exciting

exhibitions, art fairs, portfolio reviews, lectures,
and great books. In January we re-launched our
website to include more regular content for these
timely events in the photographic community.
While I write this letter from our main office in
Virginia, our contributing writers bring you their
thoughts and experiences from all regions of the
States, allowing for area-specific reviews and discovery of new artists that reflect the geographic
diversity of our readers.

Issue 2 takes us on a journey from sparse interiors, to the arctic oceans, to a backyard full of
natural wonders. It shows that antiquarian methods are alive and well, and celebrates women
who defy conformity through self-portraiture. As
always, some words of advice for business and
artistic practices from industry experts are sprinkled throughout, and we review the release of a
new independently-published monograph.

Publishing multiple times each weak online, we

strive to encourage dialogue about the photographs presented, the state of the industry, and

I hope that the second issue of Dont Take Pictures

introduces you to new artists and ideas, and inspires your creative endeavors.
Kat Kiernan

SPRING 2014

Rebecca Drolen's Culture of Hair

Shane Godfrey

DONT TAKE PICTURES

Haircut
2011

SPRING 2014

Left

Ear Hair
2011
Near Right

Extra Volume
2012

Spiral
2012

Tweezings
2012

Chest Hair
2012
Bottom Right

Escape Attempt #5
2009

ebecca Drolens work has allure.

Her minimalist palette, subtle humor, and surrealist approach help
invite viewers into a world that
could only be created by her camera. In
her series Particular Histories, a project she
created while acquiring her masters degree
at Indiana University, Drolen approaches
the subject of the extraordinary, landing somewhere between photographers
such as Cig Harvey and Robert & Shauna
ParkeHarrison in their fantastical elements
and approach to image making (although
she doesnt cite these artists as her inspiration). The fantastical is brought to the
forefront as Drolen presents tears in reality
to explore narrative, allowing the viewer to
bring his/her own experience to the work.
In Drolens latest series, Hair Pieces, she explores a similar fantastical approach when
thinking about human hair, examining hu-

DONT TAKE PICTURES

mans relationship to hair and the trappings

of grooming. In our society of cleanliness
and neatness, where does the line between
beauty and disgust lie? Drolen sets out to
discover where precisely that line between
disgust and repulsion is drawn: In my
work, Hair Pieces, I am interested in exploring the fickle relationship most have with
their body hair. We consider some hair very
desirable and grow and groom it with care,
while we treat other hair as shameful and
cover or remove it. Once hair has become
disconnected from our bodies, we treat it
with disgust, yet it has an archival, lasting
presence that outlives the body and defies
death and decay.
Drolen continues a long-standing tradition
of self-portraiture, figuring herself as the
protagonist throughout the series. While
she is mostly tackling the feminine side of

hair care, Drolen does delve into the idea

of male sexuality with pieces such as Hair
Tie, in which she takes her own freshly cut
hair and braids it in such a way that it resembles a tie. It calls into question several
things about the subject. Is she cutting off
her hair to fit in with her male counterparts
and to be more like a man? Or is she mocking men for their forced adornments which
society requires them to wear? This particular photograph also speaks to the humor
and playfulness of the series. The exaggeration helps make the concept clear, and with
humor and play working in virtually all the
images, she explores the many possibilities
on the discourse of hair and femininity, expertly handling the line between the beautiful and the grotesque.
Drolens photographs are well-manicured
and styled, calling into question how she
intends her audience to interpret them.
These images could easily be picked up by
an ad agency and used to sell a product in a
certain time, suggesting that Drolen, to further drive home the juxtaposition between
the beautiful and the grotesque, is tapping
into a slicker visual language tied with commercial photography. Her minimalistic style
and flat palette add to the strangeness of
her work, and the drama of each image
does not come from the presence of light,
but the absurdities of her fictions. Admittedly, most of the work is made in Drolens
house, usually against a grey wall. The absence of other human life or an environmental context takes the viewer out of the
cameras typical subject matter within the
real world and into a place where physical fact is questioned. What the viewer is
left with is a residual psychological effect.
The work seems to ebb and flow from a
strange, otherworldly occurrence to a wellarranged, scientific view of a concept.

contrast. Its refreshing to engage in pushing

the frame and medium without the embellishment of color or digital manipulation,
without reducing photography to photo
collage.
Even so, Drolens examination of hair extends beyond traditional photography. A
three channel video piece presses her ideas
further. The top frame of the three videos
presents the back of a head, presumably
Drolens, and from it hair slowly starts to
grow and fall, extending downward to
the lowest frame, where it continues to
lengthen as it bunches on a surface. The
piece challenges the viewers patience by
showing a surrealist story of disembodied
growtha faceless womans hair gradually descending through the frames. This
brings Rapunzel to mind not only in this
work, but throughout the series. Haircut is
a horizontal triptych where Drolen, on the
left-most panel, holds an archaic pair of gardening shears to the stem of a long ponytail
which stretches across the neighboring two
frames. The furthest frame shows a set of
hands pulling at the opposite end of the ponytail. This being the only piece with panels,
it visually represents in panorama the physical and metaphorical length of time it takes
to grow hair.
Where the work stands out the most is in
the depth of the project and in the exploration of the concept throughout all the
images. Not only are there twelve photo-

The black and white medium situates the

images in some sense of time and helps
place these scenes in Drolens fictional
world. There are no Photoshop tricks here:
all of Drolens images are shot on film with
no digital manipulation past exposure and

SPRING 2014

graphs and the video, but it also includes

Mourning Jewelry which descend from
jewelry craft made popular by Queen Victoria, who publicly mourned her husband
for years. Mourning Jewelry often held a
photo of a loved one and a locket of hair
in remembrance of the deceased. Drolens
Mourning Jewelry, of course, are not traditional; instead, they play with how hair can
be presented within the small space inside a
locket. Each locket is displayed in a scientific
manner and resembles a specimen rather
than a piece of art. The juxtaposition of
the photograph with the piece of hair is a
device from the invention of photography.
Here, Drolen plays with this idea, often
placing objects around the photographs to
further inform the concept. Some standouts include Chest Hair, Tweezings,
and Extra Volume.
All of the Mourning Jewelry takes the idea
of the locket and pushes it beyond its basic form by questioning social concern
around hair. Each also speaks more to the
core ideas of disgust and archival-ness that
Drolen highlights throughout the project.
She states, The lockets are found objects
that I have inserted both the hair and the
imagery into. With them, I hope to tell stories of mourning hair that is lost and may
otherwise have been seen as objectionable,
possibly pointing towards how we value
some hair as very beautiful and other hair
as disgusting. Can we have the same kind
of affection enough to create a sentimental
object for this kind of hair? The project has
a scientific approach based off of real conventions, but it is exaggerated in a fantastical
manner, and the idea of the scientist/artist
comes to the foreground. Science requires
extremely technical practice, but artistry
lies within the nuance of arrangement and
execution. Many photographers, including Drolen, seem to approach their work
similarly to the scientific method: they have
a concept and begin testing different ways
of making work within parameters of the
method, working both visually and conceptually in a clinical, detailed, and meticulous
way. Still, Drolen moves beyond that, press-

DONT TAKE PICTURES

Left

The Wet Look

2011

Hair Tie
2011
Right

Longer Lashes
2011

ing viewers to challenge their own conceptions of the body even while she masters
some semblance of science.
Drolen displays the work in a way that mirrors her process. The photographs and the
Mourning Jewelry are often displayed together, each locket informing the scene in
the photographs they are closest to. This
exploration into not only photographs, but
objects, suggests an objective presentation
aimed at challenging our habits regarding
our appearance. In pieces such as Longer
Lashes, Ear Hair, and The Wet Look,
Drolen points at the absurdity of our obsession with how we groom our hair and
the power that our outward appearance
has over each of us.
While Drolen tackles primarily feminine
tropes, the work might challenge viewers
further if it included a cross section of both
male and female appearance issues. Further,

the work focuses primarily on hair found on

the head, excluding the Mourning Jewelry,
and photographs of leg, pubic, and armpit
hair would significantly broaden her messagesurely using hair from the top of the
head limits the amount of repulsion she can
create. Her work, however, aims less for
visceral reaction and more for cerebral engagement, hoping for an effect that lingers
after initial exposure. These are not criticisms of the work, as it is indeed challenging
and compelling, but as Drolen pursues her
project, it has room to grow. As Drolens
first body of work after Particular Histories,
she is establishing herself as an artist who
will elucidate and challenge some of our
most profound, if virtually invisible, sociological trappings. The truth is, we only stand
to gain by her doing so.
Shane Godfrey is a photographer based in Boston, MA.

SPRING 2014

A Studio Visit With

Robert Alexander Williams
Shannon Mohrman

DONT TAKE PICTURES

Each image
exemplifies
the quiet
spirit of the
countryside
and the
looming
presence
of Jump
Mountain.

s small-town Virginia slowly transitions to rural countryside, the

paved roads and modern cars are
the only things keeping my journey grounded in the 21st-century. Robert Alexander Williams works in wet-plate collodion, a 19th-century photographic process, and
the journey to his secluded home and studio
feels like a trip into the past. Soon the pavement gives way to a bumpy, one-lane dirt road
surrounded by pastureland and pristine forest.
Having met Williams before only briefly, I was
not entirely sure what to expect. The sky was
a depressing flat grey, and the usually majestic
faade of Jump Mountain that watches over
this corner of the Shenandoah Valley was
completely hidden behind low-hanging clouds.
Though the temperature was surprisingly
chilly, Williams greeted me wearing only a tee
shirt, comfortably worn jeans, and well-loved
Converse sneakers with no socks. Here was
the photographer whose work had drawn me
into the countryside.
Williams interest in photography started in
a medically-oriented graduate program in
Michigan where he took case photographs for
autopsies. Growing weary of this subject, he
decided to move on, soon enrolling in a series of photography classes at a nearby community college. These classes allowed him to
explore different cameras and styles, from
35mm to large format studio work. His interests initially veered toward the modern and
contemporary: I hated older photography. I
had no interest in older photography.

Left

Black Walnut and Jump

2012
Right

Robert Alexander Williams

in his Darkroom
Kat Kiernan

Wet-plate photography, ambrotypes and tintypes, are different than most photographic
processes in that the black glass plate or piece
of aluminum that will eventually bear the image is coated with collodion and silver nitrate
before being loaded into the camera and exposed to light. When put through the developing process, the image appears directly on
the glass or metal, resulting a one-of-a-kind
photograph (or negative, if you continue
the development process with clear glass).
Because the process shortens the amount
of time between releasing the shutter and
the final product, this type of photography
became popular after it was invented in the
19th century.
The process is experiencing a revival in alternative process circles partially due to its portability. By eliminating the need to print from
a negative, many steps requiring a darkroom
are eliminated, thus making the whole wetplate process something that a skilled artist
can do in any space big enough to develop
the plate behind a few blackout curtains. This
portability is one of the reasons that Williams
began to work with this method. Eventually,
he made a small studio for himself in the back
of his Honda Element.

After moving to Virginia, Williams spent long

hours in Washington & Lee Universitys expansive photography collection, pouring over
its images. Despite his previous distaste for
older photography, he took a deep interest in 19th-century expeditionary photography. He acquired a large format camera and
began making landscapes. Encouraged by his
progress, Williams began taking workshops
from Mark and France Sully Osterman, two of
the foremost experts in wet-plate collodion
photography. He soon found himself working
primarily in the wet-plate processes.

SPRING 2014

The Element was the start of my tour. He

had purchased it soon after he began to
work with the wet-plate process and says
that he bought it with photography in
mind. Parked slightly askance with the back
doors flung open, the Element looked like it
was being featured in commercial. In fact, the
jaunty angle at which Williams had randomly
placed it against the line of trees was so visually striking that Im not sure an ad agency
could replicate it, much less do better.
Williams has removed the back seats and
replaced them with a built-in wooden frame
with a small shelf across the front. A bit of
carpeting stretches across the floor, and a
small collapsible plastic table, on which he

10

DONT TAKE PICTURES

organizes his chemicals, is squeezed into

the cabin. Williams also keeps a batterypowered fan to circulate the air when he is
crouched in the back coating plates with the
curtains drawn. Red Plexiglas has replaced
the back windows to provide Williams with
light without exposing the coated plates,
and a light-blocking curtain hangs across the
back. He is pleased with the current outfit,
declaring, I really do like the red Plexiglas. If
Im in there, when Im out in a cow field, or if
Im climbing a fence into a cow field, I can see
where the camera tripod is, and if the cows
are getting too curious I can run out there,
or if Im in a city and someone is stealing the
camera. Not really a concern in Rockbridge
County.

After showing me the Honda Element, we

moved to his portrait studio with his invitation: Do you have time to sit for a portrait?
Intrigued to see the actual wet plate process,
Williams led me through his manicured garden, to the basement studio in his customdesigned house. Williams had had a studio
opening a few weeks prior, and several of his
pieces still hung on the walls of the staircase.
At the bottom, a small, well-lit hallway leads
to the darkroom and his studio space. The
wall is draped with white backdrop, flanked
on both sides by bookshelves and worktables. Williams had set up a giant strobe light
in the middle of the room, with his 12x12
view camera next to it, both facing a wooden
stool.

Left

Thistles
2013
Right

Before the Derecho

2012

Dogwood in the Mist

2012

SPRING 2014

11

I sat on the stool, and Williams explains a thin

metal contraption behind me was essentially
a homemade 21st-century version of a 19thcentury device used to help a subject hold still
during the long exposures required for the
process. Even with modern strobes, it is tremendously helpful for portraiture, because if
youre making the focus and putting the film
holder in the camera, the person can move
just a little bit and ruin the entire image.
As he adjusts the focus of his camera to prepared for the shot, I study the camera itself,
which was a foot or two away from my face.
The camera is from the 1970s, but the lens is

12

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from the 1860s. Im kind of surprised, he

comments, for a 19th-century lens, it has
a very 20th-century feel. The strobe, only
inches from my face, dwarfs me. Knowing
what such a light is capable of, I have a brief,
irrational moment of apprehension, fearing
for my retinas.
Williams works quickly, and once the focus is
set, he leads me into the darkroom where he
begins to coat the plate. As with most experienced artists, he makes the process look easy,
effortlessly rolling the collodion around the
plate and testing its viscosity with his thumb.
We chat idly about his landscape work versus

Opposite

Receding Fog, Jump Mountain Road

2012
Bottom

Behind the Scenes in

Robert Alexander Williams Studio
Kat Kiernan

Shannon Mohrman
2013

his portraiture, which is still somewhat new

to him. Its a fun new challenge, he tells me.
Its useful as a break from landscapes, though
he doesnt have a preference between the
two: Im ready to either get out and cover
some ground or find some new space with
the landscapes. He nonetheless views the
portraits evolving into their own interesting
body of work. Though must of his current
portraits are commissioned, he hopes to
make his portraiture more personal. I really
want to do some portraits for my own projects, where its for me.

plate turns white when bathed in developer,

but the image quickly emerges after a rinse
and an immersion in fixer.

Williams places the plate in a light-tight box

with silver nitrate and sets a timer. He takes
me back into the studio, and I resume my
place on the stool while he makes some last
minute adjustments. This time I remain posed
as the timer calls him back to the darkroom.
He powers the strobe and minimizes the ambient light, blanketing the room in darkness.
He asks me if I am ready, and then, gently,
Close your eyes.

Now the whiter areas on the sides, its a

thicker collodion. Thats where youll get the
blue if you dont rinse it off well enough. Its
like a cyanotype. Similar process, Williams
explains. I can see why he fell in love with
this process. Its fun to watch, and his passion
pours out of him as he discusses his work.
My plate still needs to be varnished to protect it once its dry, so Williams leads me back
upstairs. I linger over his landscapes images.
Each is a perfect marriage of process and
subject, with textures and flaws in the chemistry meshing with the misty fields and earthy
terrain in his images. Eerie and still, Williams
ambrotypes contain both the solitude of his
surroundings and his familiarity with each shift
in the land. Although the compositions often
lack a formal subject, each image exemplifies
the quiet spirit of the countryside and the
looming presence of Jump Mountain.

I could hear him carefully load the plate, which

was housed in a film carrier, into his camera.
When he says okay, I open my eyes to a
brilliant flash of white light. Williams closes
the film carrier, and we immediately head into
the darkroom to develop my portrait. The

Shannon Mohrman is a freelance writer from

Houston, Texas. Her writings have been included
in various publications. She is also a classically
trained operatic soprano and an avid knitter.

SPRING 2014

13

Heather
Evans
Smith

The Cinematic Storyteller

Aline Smithson

14

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Rooted
2012

SPRING 2014

15

xploring the photographs of Heather Evans Smith feels as if I am at a

banquet of visual riches, standing in
front of a groaning table filled with
images that are at once beautiful, compelling, and full of storytelling, pathos, and
whimsy. Its hard to take a seat at that bountiful table, as the greedy visual consumer in
me wants to look at more and more before
I settle on a specific image. But once I fill
my plate and settle down, I begin to see the
complexity and layers in Heathers work,
not only because of her technical prowess,
but because of the thought and emotion
behind her projects.

demand my attention. Her cinematic and

surreal photographs have their own language, personal to her, yet universal to the
rest of us. Though much of her work is preconceived, some of it emerges on its own,
and whether created from the conscious or
the subconscious, it examines the psychological world of womanhood. When I saw
You and Me, I knew immediately what
she was saying. The frilly green underpants
signal a lace-waving statement of Yes, Im
a mother, and isnt my baby cute, but Im
still here too, lookin fine. I appreciate her
irreverence and her use of a playful wit to
make a statement.

Each time I come across her images, her

photographs arrest me. The quality of her
light, the metaphors she articulates so well,
the color of her palette, and her sensibilities that represent so many of our stories

We have to start at the beginning to understand where this work comes from. Heather was born in Kinston, North Carolina. As
an only child, she lived in a rural area that, as
she states, had nothing going on. Its my

16

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Above

The Heart and the Heavy

2011
Right

The Unraveling
2012

belief that creativity blossoms from boredom, and in her desire to create a world
other than that of her hometown, she
found herself exploring different art forms.
The seeds of her conceptual approach to
photography were born when she dressed
her cats in costumes and photographed
them.
Those creative childhood leanings led her
to attend Peace College in Raleigh, NC,
where she studied Visual Communications,
a program of study that included graphic
design, drawing, painting, and photography.
After college, Heather worked as a graphic
designer for over a decade, and during that
period she returned to her first love of
photography. Her postings on Flickr were
an immediate sensation, and she decided to
take the leap into fine art photography full
time.

That decision has allowed her to begin creating her remarkable work. Each photograph
is a short story, reflecting the emotions of
being a woman, wife, mother, or simply just
being human. Her images are a form of selfportraiture, whether she appears in them
or not. I started out exclusively shooting
self-portraits. It was the most efficient way
for me to shoot my images. I was always
available to model when a creative moment
hit me. During my recent series, The Heart
and The Heavy, certain images proved too
difficult to model. Walking back and forth
with a heavy rope dress or submerged in
water was not practical. I began using others and found gratification from seeing the
story play out in front of my eyes. However,
I cant see myself completely moving away
from being in front of the camera. Those
images are the most personal for me.

SPRING 2014

17

Let My Machine Talk to Me

2012

Heather spends a significant amount of

time imagining the work before she shoots
it. Her process is deliberate, and she knows
the stories she wants to tell. That preparation allows her to create specific images,
but it also allows her room for experimentation. The majority of my images and
their meanings are planned out in advance. I
usually know exactly what I want to shoot.
I have a limited time to shoot so I use my
time wisely, leaving room for play after the
initial idea has been shot. Interesting things
can come out of that experimental period,
sometimes better than what was planned.
Heathers early work was a personal take
on domestic life, created with a sense of
humor, whimsy, and a strong sense of color
that speaks to the universal emotions of being a woman. The work is interior, created
in kitchens, bathrooms, and bedrooms,
grounding the images in what is familiar.

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Daily routines of living are examined with

irreverent tableaus of emotional housekeeping.
Heathers latest project, The Heart and The
Heavy, examines her foray into motherhood. The psychological transformation of
self, which occurs not only with a womans
physique, but also with the recognition that
being a parent carries a weight of responsibility and commitment. In turn, life as she
knew it was forever altered. The constriction of time, the diminishment of freedom
combined with the aching joy of having a
child, are all addressed in the visual stew of
her images. As she states, My life is beautiful and complicated and bittersweet and
hard. Exploring the terrain of parenthood
shifted Heathers perspective: The first image in the series The Heart and The Heavy
expressed the conflict between burden and
love. I wanted it to create a dialogue with

Opposite

Stranger on the Earth

2013
Right

An Apple a Day (doesnt always cut it)

2008

You and Me
2010

the audience about the ups and downs of

motherhood. Many viewers expressed relief to see this played out in an image, and
I felt relief that I was not alone. Shooting
these images made me realize just how different I have become since motherhood. I
look at the world differently. My personal
time is limited, but these constraints have
actually made for a more creative and driven life.
Because of her gift of story telling, Heathers
work was selected for Project Imaginat10n,
the brainchild of director Ron Howard,
where images inspire film. In the fall of 2013,
her photograph was selected by actor Jamie
Foxx for his short film and brought to life in
another short film, Chucked, by director Jared Nelson. The experience was heady and
surprising and taught her about expectations and ideas of success. It also reinforced
the idea that her photographs are like film
stills, in which the viewer is left wanting to
know what happens next.

images, and this time the photographs will

include her daughter. I have no doubt that
this talented photographer will have a long
legacy of storytelling with spectacular visual interpretations that will transport and
transform the way we see ourselves.

Aline Smithson is the Editor and Founder of

Lenscratch, an online resource for photography. She lives in Los Angeles where she works
as a photographer and educator.

Heather has already begun creating her

next series, sketching out ideas for new

SPRING 2014

21

rtworks must have been completed within the last two

years. This sentence arises
amidst other requirements
for exhibition proposals, juried competitions, publications, and other venues
for showing ones art. It seems harmless
enough, maybe even helpful, encouraging
artists to continue producing work during
their busy lives. And yet I have recently
begun to view this requirement as one
piece in a larger problem: an expiration
date on art. While generating new work is
unquestionably important, the implication
is that older work, work that is over two
years old, has expired and is no longer of
interest to these particular venues. In an
effort to stay relevant, artists are pressured to release new work on a swifter
timetable.

waiting in the wings for when the dust begins to settle on the first. After completing
a portfolio there should be time to enjoy
the work, to reflect on it, and to nurture it
through promotion and exhibition.
The internet is perhaps the most harmful proponent of constant production.
There are weeks when I will see a particular body of work appear regularly across
the blogosphere. Exposure is generally
good for artists, and the broad audience
that the internet provides undoubtedly
has its benefits. Unfortunately, the
frenetic pace of the digital
world often means that
last weeks feature
of an artists
new project
m u s t
be

The two-year requirement pushes artists

to produce new work with more frequency rather than better quality.
It perpetuates the idea that
photographers need to
have a body of work
out in the world
and another

u
o
i
it

x
E
s

ct
i
F
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n
o
i
t
a
r
pi

te
a
D

n
a
s

he
t
d

e
r
P

Too often, the resulting body of work is

pushed out of the nest before it is ready.
Portfolios that are not fully resolved are
published on the artists websites and
submitted to contests, publications, and
galleries. In order to develop mature
concepts, write a great statement,
and give a portfolio the attention
it deserves, each new project
must be allowed to have its
own evolution before being
released into the world. This
evolution is all too often rushed
and incomplete as artists release
new projects in an attempt to retain the limelight.

r
P
o
t
e

ce
u
od

t
r
A

pushed
aside
for
this weeks next
big thing. A body of
work that may have taken
years to complete is set aside all
too soon. Artists spending time on
the internet are aware of this phenomenon and feel pressured to churn out work
at a rapid pace. Artists fear that if presented
years after its internet blitz, some critics will
dub their work old hat out of disinterest
for a series they have seen before.

r
u
s
es

The pressure to turn out work can come at

the expense of artistic growth. Exhibition
deadlines can deter an artist from embarking on new directions and newly minted
portfolios and books can come off as extensions of existing work. Exploration
not just in ideas, but in techniques and
materialscan come with a steep learning
curve, requiring time for trial and error.

In truth, not many people have had the opportunity to experience the old work.
In an era in which we are inundated with
images, it takes time to sift through the
abundance of photographs and discover something great. We make art to be
timeless, to be bigger than the moment in
which it was created. Thousands of museumgoers pay admission to view works
by photographic legends. These artists
are not making any new work. The photographs on view have been seen and
studied, discussed and critiqued for decades. Yet we continue to enjoy them and
find them relevant. These photographers
prove that artwork does not expire. Bodies of work that have been carefully cultivated and fleshed out are worth the time
it takes to produce them.
I whole-heartedly support artists who
strive to create and who push their own
boundaries, but I also believe that most
fully realized portfolios take time. The
idea behind the two-year time limit is to
ensure that exhibitions and contests are
showing art that is fresh. There are other
exhibition restrictions that some venues

impose which better reflect this mission.

Some exclude work that has been previously published or exhibited at the venue,
or artists who have had a solo museum
exhibition. Under such restrictions, photographers can submit their strongest images regardless of when they were made
or what blog they have been featured on.
Endeavoring to continuously produce art
is admirable. It is equally important for an
artist to take some time away from producing and to focus on other elements of
their career. Promotion and exhibition,
or taking time to recharge and put some
distance between the most recent series
and the next, are important parts of the
creative process. If the new series takes
the academic 14-week calendar to complete, then full steam ahead. But if it takes
14 months or 14 years, that is okay too.
Photographers, unlike many other artists,
work in a unique medium that allows for
reproduction. Printing in editions makes it
feasible to have a series shown consecutively in multiple venues. Photographers
can and should continue to exhibit their
works until the edition sells out. This calls
for an end to the two-year sentence that
so many photographers face. While new
work is being created, older work should
be promoted and exhibited to both introduce new viewers to the art and because
good photographs will not become irrelevant as time goes on. Unless the photographer in question is well known, chances
are that their earlier work has yet to be
experienced by most of the world. If the
work was good when it was new, then it
will continue to be good three, five, or
fifty years down the line.
Kat Kiernan is the Owner and Director of
The Kiernan Gallery in Lexington, Virginia.

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Jonathan Pozniak
Icebergs and the End of Efforting
Roger Thompson

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Iceberg #9K
2013

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25

thirty-foot sea is the price you

pay for photographing icebergs.
One of them, anyway. Theres
also the accompanying seasickness, the cramped quarters, and the sense
of isolation that, at times seems liberating
and at other times seems crushing. The interminable thin line between the horizon
and the sea, between the boundless sky
and the unfathomable depths, somehow
presses inward and highlights the color of
heart. It forces something of the inner landscape of the soul to surface by emphasizing contrasts, complementary if also clearly
demarcated.
One gets the sense viewing Jonathan Pozniaks series, Icebergs, that his journey to
frozen seas and ancient glaciers is as much
an exploration of inner demarcations as it
is of the external environment. The images

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glow with life, and the ice, in all of its frozen blue, illuminates the landscape around
it. The contrasts in many of the images between the dark sea or the neutral sky and
the luminescence of the ice suggest that
Pozniaks arctic and Antarctic icebergs are
the vision of a mind that sees life where
others see desolation.
Pozniak is explicit in his belief that the world
around us has energy. The isolation and silence in extreme landscapes provides him
with an opportunity to see and hear the
world and the self in new ways. Being
remote in nature, he says speaking of his
trips to the polar regions, was where my
mind could be still and I could listen. I could
listen to my intuition, I could listen to nature, and I could be open to what it was telling me and what it was showing me. That
openness has guided his recent work, and it

Above

Iceberg #A404
2011
Opposite

Iceberg #G354
2012

has emphasized what has surely become a

kind of philosophy for him: the end of efforting.
Pozniak has devoted himself to the law of
least effort, a worldview that should not be
equated with less work. Indeed, he works
incessantly on both his art and himself, and
he has dedicated himself to the idea that
when one has a clear sense of who one
is, the world opens with opportunities. A
sense of meaning animates ones life, and
work transforms into purpose. By contrast,
forcing a path for exploration, whether professionally or personally, is pushing against
an internal compass that is attempting to
point the way. It is efforting, and for Pozniak, that leads to not only lost opportunity,
but a lost sense of self.
This sense of being open to possibilities

emerges even in his every day shoots. Instead of framing an image in advance or instead of attempting to control a subject or
scene without experiencing it, Pozniak leans
instead into instinct, the first response to a
scene, and he lets that guide not only his images, but his personal journeys. This is not
to say that he does not prepare. He is careful in his planning, thoughtful in his selection
of images, and meticulous in his finishing.
His work illustrates a studious devotion to
the art of photography, and his career demonstrates a remarkable work ethic.
From early on, Pozniak wanted to be a fashion photographer, and he has found success
in that world with clients around the globe.
He began as a studio assistant for Martha
Stewart after a stint at the Art Institute of
Boston, and he traveled to Paris to launch
his career. Now shooting commercially

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27

Iceberg #G548
2012

for what he calls the beauty industry, he

maintains a considerable client list, including Este Lauder, Maybelline, and Kiehls. His
contracts extend internationally, as well,
from the UKs Luxx Magazine, to Southeast
Asias equivalent to GQ, August Man Magazine, to Sony Music-France and U.S. heavy
weights Random House and Real Simple.
Pozniaks commercial photography has
provided him with a foundation on which
to build new bodies of work. Indeed, he
insists that commercial and fine art in the
scope of ones career as a whole need to
talk to each other, they need to help each
other out, and they need to learn from each
other. Balance is central to his vision personally and professionally, and that balance
appears in subtle ways throughout his series
on icebergs, most notably in his diptychs
and triptychs.
The breaking apart of an image into two
or three images is fitting for an exploration
of ice; the fractured nature of the diptych
reflects the severing of giant icebergs from
glaciers. The heart of the diptych, however,
is its ability to unite the separate pieces, and
to do that, Pozniak relies not on metaphor
or imagery in the way a medieval altar piece
might, but instead on line and light. If the
images are fragmented physically, they are
connected by an illuminated bridge of white
and blue. In Iceberg #9K, the pure frozen

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water of the iceberg contrasts starkly with

a background of dark land and ominous
clouds, and the curve of the ice as it reaches out over water seems virtually unbroken
despite the separation of the two parts of
the diptych. In another series, the splitting
of the iceberg is unsettlingly prescient of
the future crumbling of the ice. The clean
diptych break that Pozniak creates runs
nearly perfectly perpendicular to the flat
top surface of the iceberg, as though an
earthquake has cracked a mesa in two. Yet,
it holds together for the viewer, floating as
one image that gestures toward impermanence, if not also immanence. In Iceberg
#1A, a great table of ice has collapsed
from another berg, and the split image of
the diptych parallels the fissure and the fate
of the drifting ice. Higher on an outcropping
is a second crack, a great mass threatening
to fall and tilt and turn into the sea.
Many of the diptychs and triptychs take as
their subject the entirety of a free-floating
iceberg, but Pozniak shows remarkable
control of light and energy in some of his
more detailed studies of the ice. The scale
of Iceberg #A404 is nearly impossible to
discern, but it glows with hues of impossible blue. Ripples in the ice make it appear as
though a heaving wave was frozen in place,
blending a light blue amethyst with deep lapis lazuli. The image radiates a soft, but cer-

tain, energy, and one gets the sense that the

ice is a kind of life itself.
To say the images have life is not to say
that they are warm. Instead, Pozniak accomplishes a powerful inversion, somehow
making the desolate cold of the polar landscape come alive with light. Those used to
traveling the hinterlands will undoubtedly
recognize the contrasts and the odd glow
of the sky and water, but those who have
not will find in the images a gem-like quality
that derives not so much from the ice itself,
but from the iridescence that Pozniak highlights in his photographs. He sees the life in
the shoot, and he attempts, without alteration, to bring that life to the viewer. Avoiding the use of Photoshop or other digital
tools to manipulate his vision, he instead
aims to act as a kind of medium, conveying to the viewer as purely and cleanly as
possible a journey he has taken and feels
compelled to share. He lets the image, as
taken, speak, and he helps us to understand
that the rippled dark lines of the sea have
meaning only against the crystalline light of
ice.

Roger Thompson is an art critic and Professor

at Stony Brook University in Long Island, New
York.

Above

Iceberg #A143
2011
Opposite

Iceberg #1A
2011

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A photographic
Survey of the
American yard

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A conversation with Joshua white

by christa bowden

All images are from 2012-2013 and titled numerically in the order they were made

SPRING 2014

33

t the heart of the construction of a still life photograph exists the ability of the artist to isolate a subject from its original environment. By this method, the photographer is able to control the perspective and context in which the viewer observes the
subject. Joshua White employs this method with an elegant minimalism in his project A Photographic Survey of the American Yard.
Each natural object, carefully chosen, is isolated on a light-toned background, with a centralized composition and large surrounding area in the frame, bringing uncontested attention to the subject itself. The project reads as a survey of specimens, with the connection
between the objects being immediately drawn from the project title. The monochromatic specimens are rich with texture and tone, and it
might come as a surprise to the viewer that these images are all photographed with the artists iPhone. However, this seems an appropriate
connection to the immediacy and intimacy of a photographic survey collected from ones own immediate surroundings.
The work is presented online as an ongoing blog (joshuawhitephotography.tumblr.com), as a grid of specimens. The presentation of the
images, all with a similar background, compositional arrangement, and square format, begins to allow the viewer to observe the small details
of each individual subject. The warm-toned specimens hover, as if suspended in space and time, above a non-contextualized surface of offwhite with no notion of horizon or ground. A vignette further emphasizes each subject, giving the feeling that one is examining it through a
lens or perhaps even a microscope. Organized by month, one begins to observe the blog in a seasonal way, pondering the types of specimens
that the artist might collect in the summer versus the winter, spring versus fall. This ongoing life/death cycle seemingly connects back to the
artists rumination on mortality, a theme that runs consistently through his work. With these observations in mind, I had the opportunity to
ask Joshua White some questions about the project and to elaborate further on his process and intentions.

In your artist statement, you describe

a connection between this project
and childhood memories. Can you
please elaborate on this, and how you
seek a connection between a tangible
visual subject and the intangible idea
of memory?
Memory is the subject of much of my work
and a topic that I find endlessly fascinating.
When I first started working on this series, I
didnt see that connection at all, but as I continued, I realized these objects are some of
my strongest memories of being a kid, along
with a feeling a fascination with the natural
world around me. We would play in the
cornfields around our house in southeastern
Indiana, catching caterpillars and grasshoppers, filling our little blue plastic swimming

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pool with painted turtles from the nearby

gravel pit. Somehow I got separated from
that love of nature in the intervening years,
but never from my love of science and exploration. This series has become a way for
me to revisit those memories while at the
same time formally explore my rediscovered
love of all those complex natural forms. I
want the series to be as much a catalyst for
people to access those kinds of memories as
it is a formal study.
How do you go about selecting the
objects that you photograph? Is it
more about how the subject appears
visually, or what the thing actually is,
and that connection to memory?
I approach it from both angles. I have sort of

a mental list of things I want to photograph

because of their connection to my past. I still
need to find some turtles to photograph, for
instance, as well as ground hornets. I was so
happy to finally find a praying mantis; that
was a big one I wanted to photograph. A
lot of the objects I find will trigger memories that have been dormant for a long time.
And then there are specimens that are just
formally intriguing to me, especially weeds.
Thistle and milkweed and Queen Annes
Lace are just beautiful, amazing little things
to turn over in your handsto look at all
the different parts, thinking of how and why
they have evolved that way over time.
Do you work entirely from your own
yard or also the yards of others? If you
collect from the yards of others, is

it important to you where the object

came from? Are the yards that you
collect from somehow significant to
you personally?
The project started in my yard, but it has
expanded from there. Sometimes stricter
rules are a great way to get a project started,
but as soon as I feel the rule restricting me
in a negative way, I break it. I started finding
really amazing objects while we were walking the dog, or playing in the park, or at a
friends house, and I just couldnt leave them
alone. I do try to find things that are growing
where I am; I dont have friends send me exotic plants from the desert, or order things
from a greenhouse. I think there are plenty
of things left for me to find without branching into orchids or plants and bugs found in
the rainforest. Its not important to me that
the yards are personally significant, although
a vast majority of the subjects are found in
my yard or the yards of family members.
You use an iPhone to photograph and
edit this project, start to finish. As a
formally trained photographer, what
led you to choose this working method for this project? Can you describe
your process? How does this way of
working differ from the other methods of photography that you use?
I started this whole project by accident.
I saw a picture of tree helicopters on a
friends Instagram and thought, wow, thats
a nice form. The next day, I saw some of
the same helicopters on our trashcan. As
soon as I made that first image, I fell in love
with the simplicity of the process and the
aesthetic. Our trash can was purple, and
when I converted to black and white I was
able to turn that hue into pure white, which
made the seeds just float and removed any
distraction from the form. The process is a
little more complicated now, but still very
straightforward. I collect things until I have
a small pile and then head to either my front
porch or back porch, depending on where
the shade falls at that time of day. I use white
foam core, into which I insert either a sew-

ing needle or a knitting needle to elevate the

subject off of the background, removing all
shadows. I take several images of each object, changing angles, removing stray leaves,
etc. And hair; I dont know why, but theres
always a hair on everything. I have also recently taken to dissecting the objects, with
some really stunning results. I love being
able to get multiple, distinct images from the
same subject. After I have made the images,
I take them into iPhoto on the iPhone and
decide which to work with. I use the crop
tool to remove all the excess background
and then export to Snapseed to convert to
black and white and adjust sharpness and
contrast. Then I open the image in iPhoto
again to dodge, making the background pure
white. I export to Squaready to add white
space around the object and then finally into
Instagram, where I apply the Earlybird filter
and share the image. It is a really formulaic,
simple process that allows me to get repeatable results. This process stands in pretty
stark contrast to the rest of my work, which
involves a great deal of experimentation and
very little repetition. The constraints allow a
kind of freedom from trying to hang to much
concept on it, and allow me to just focus on
making work.
How are these images formalized for
exhibition? What is the ideal way for
your audience to view this work? Is
the blog the finished presentation, or
is there something beyond this?
I like the idea of having multiple different
ways to view the series. Because of the nature of the process, I think that showing it
on the blog is a very strong component and
a logical step in the progression from the
capture method to presentation. I have several plans for showing the work in galleries,
which I have not done as a series. The images are printed 4 square; I have tried lots of
sizes and that one just feels right. I am torn
between the desire to show them in a very
traditional manner, matted and framed in a
straight line on the wall, or as a kind of installation. The installation would have all the
images about a foot off the ground on long

shelves, with grass on the gallery floor and all

the prints unframed so that viewers can hold
and rearrange them, reflecting the process
of discovery and the playfulness I feel from
the series. I can also see groups of images
as the series continues; I sometimes photograph many of the same kinds of objects,
like money plants and milkweeds. I think it
could be interesting to break up the more
traditional, linear presentation with smaller
typological grids.
Many of your photographic projects
have connecting themes of mortality and the fragility of life. Do you approach this concept in a direct way, or
is it something that emerges fluidly as
your projects develop? How does the
Survey of the American Yard connect to these themes in the scope of
your larger body of work?
I think what you said about cycles at the
beginning was very beautiful and something
that had not fully occurred to me until you
said it. I love to allow the ideas to develop
fluidly, but sometimes it is like driving a car
with no steering wheel. I just have to trust
that what led me to this type of image making has something to do with what has led
me in the past, and that they are somehow
connected. I also wonder a lot if that connection is necessary for successful work, but
I think that is mostly fear that they dont connect, rather than disillusionment with whether or not they need to. When I first started
the series I thought it had nothing at all to do
with the other workthat it was just a short
diversion from what I was working onand
I would get back to the stuff dealing with life
and death later. But it all comes from the
same place, and learning to trust that part of
the process has been one the hardest challenges for me.

Christa Bowden is an Associate Professor of Art

at Washington & Lee University in Lexington,
Virginia. Her own work explores the use of a
flatbed scanner as a camera, and encaustics in
photography. www.christabowden.com

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35

s in any unspeakably difficult situation, one begins to question

lifes fairness. Cerebral palsy, as
portrayed in the photographs by
Christopher Capozziello, takes hold of the
body in ways that are simply unjust. It leaves
the person directly affected by the disease
contorted, exhausted, and practically lifeless, both literally and figuratively. And for
Capozziello, the question for why this has
happened is followed by why it has not happened to him. Thirteen years ago Christopher Capozziello began photographing Nick,
his twin brother who suffers from cerebral
palsy, as a way to explore his feelings of guilt
as the healthy twin, using photography as a
type of therapy. What began as private photographs for personal viewing, later became
a moving documentary series. The Distance
Between Us, a 200+ page hardcover book,
shares the Capozziellos personal battle with
this disease, one that afflicts so many others.
The beginning of the book deals with the
jolt from normalcy one second to the debilitating cramps and seizures that plague
the next. The grainy black and white film
enhances the stark reality of the struggle
that Nick endures physically and mentally.
What makes this book stand out is that
there are two protagonists; it is the photographers struggle as well as Nicks. Christo-

pher explains that these pictures, for him,

began merely as an outlet in which he could
bring to light the issues he had with faith,
fate, and equality. He explores the sadness
of the medical emergencies, surgeries, doctor appointments, and treatments that his
brother has to endure. At the same time,
his photographs bring hope for a cure, hope
for the future, and hope to one day bypass
the hardships that occur from this illness.
Although Nick suffers from the symptoms
daily, Christopher somehow finds ways to
show the peaceful and playful side of his
brother. Nicks outer shell is tragically torn
by disease, but the Nick inside finds some
path toward growth. He even ventures to
say that without this disease he would not
be who he is today, and for that he is, incredibly, grateful.
As the book progresses, Christopher finds
answers to his own questions, and he realizes that his appreciation for life is a direct
result of his brothers disease. In the final
pages of the book, the two brothers journey across the United States, both making
pictures, both finding adventure along the
way, and both undergoing their own emotional journeys. Color photographs are introduced, and fittingly the mood lightens.
It becomes a story less about the physical
struggles of cerebral palsy and more about

the love that two brothers share regardless

of the ruthlessness disease.
Accompanying the photographs, the text
of the book contains stories by the author
about past events and memories, which coincide with the narrative. As the pages turn,
the readers mind joins with the voice of the
author, forcing the reader to share in Christophers most intimate questions about why
Nicks life is a struggle: Is it fate or is it
chance or is it just bad luck?
The Distance Between Us is an eye-opening
look at the private struggle that comes with
a lifelong illness. As the title suggests, it
documents how these twin brothers come
to close the distance between them as they
both unflinchingly face Nicks cerebral palsy
and confront Christophers emotional struggle with why he was born healthy. The true
beauty of this book and with the life it encourages is both its fearless look at living the
struggle and with its leaning into hope.
The Distance Between Us is published by
Edition Lammerhuber and is available from
ChrisCappy.com.
Amanda Hite is a freelance photographer and
writer, and an intern at The Kiernan Gallery.
She is fluent in Spanish and travels the world.

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37

megan mett:
Looking Up and Looking in
Eliza Lamb

Emptiness.
Quiet. Solitude.
The mind wanders.
Weve all had that moment, lying on our
beds, couches or floors staring at the ceilinga ceiling we know, a ceiling we seldom
visit, or a ceiling that is all together new to
us. No matter our surroundings, it seems
our greatest consistency may be above
our heads. We use this blank slate to let
our mind wander: to travel to new places,
create stories, and imagine ourselves in different realities. As a child having little say
over our environments or schedules, we
are blessed and plagued with time to fill and
limited resources to fill them. We search
for avenues of escape and control to alter
or expand on the reality we are handed.
This is a human phenomenon that is never
more true than in the experience of childhood, before our life scripts are really our
own, when the histories we write must be
created from the ingredients we are handed from others.

Untitled
2011

Photographer Megan Mett captures these

unspoken moments in her most recent
series [ ]. As a timid child who suffered
from bouts of anxiety, Mett found she
didnt spend much of her time or energy
interacting with others. Instead, she turned
inward to escape, and what better place
than the refuge of the ever-present empty
canvas above her. She writes in her artist
statement, I remember walking on ceilings when I was a kid. Id lie down on my
mothers cream, tightly-woven twill cushion, stretch my freckled legs in the air, and
squint. Id imagine being teleported into
someone elses household. In this new
house, everything was white and clean and
glistened with all the colors of the sun.

These were her moments of refuge from a

reality that seemed far from perfect.
Mett remembers cherishing the ideal
families and environments she created in
her mind, even though she found they only
made reentry into reality that much colder.
She writes, In these images of houses, I
find myself returning to a childs world of
endless possibilities, but I come with the
understanding that even in dreaming, we
cant escape our past. It seemed the emptiness of her reality was always stronger
than her imagination could be. The darkness she felt would eventually be projected
into any environment she entered, no matter how much she wished otherwise. Her
own personal sadness had become both
toxic and portable.
Mett takes inspiration from this emotional
cycle and strives to create work that is both
beautiful and uncomfortable. She walks a
line between the ideal worlds of her imagination and the darkness that always awaited her in reality.
These abstractions rely heavily on the experience of disorientation. As the viewer,
we find ourselves looking out, up, and in all
at once. The first moments are spent trying to get our bearings and make sense of
the shapes that we see. There is a shift in
perspective that removes us from what we
think we know and provides us with what
Mett describes as a feeling of discomfort
and strangeness. Minimal compositions
provoke questioning from the viewer. The
lack of information seems to make each

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41

element that is present all the more important, and the placement of shadows,
details, and textures of walls creates a palpable tension.
Her images are filled with vibrant colors,
often drawing from monotone or limited
color palettes. Kandinsky often remarked
on the power of color to evoke a spiritual
experience, and Mett seems to be putting
this concept into action. Inspired by great
painters like Mark Rothko, Mett believes
deeply in the power of color to stir the
soul. In fact, she remarks that sometimes
the color is too much, and she has to walk
away from her own large prints before being swept into an emotional whirlwind.

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The work evokes the quiet impression

of solitude. Although we feel that we are
alone, in many pieces we still find traces of
life. A string dangling, an unrepaired crack,
peeling wallpaper, uneven spackle, and
many lifetimes of paint convey a layered
and complicated story of what has come
before. They are indications of environments that have been forgotten, damages
that have gone unseen, and half-hearted attempts to fix or mask what has long been
broken.
Metts interest in architecture and architectural history are recognizable in these
images. Her own extensive study of the
American dream and what a home repre-

Above

Untitled
2011
Right

Untitled
2011

SPRING 2014

43

sents to an American family inform her images. The intentions and hopes in new construction can stand in harsh contrast with
the true experiences that they may eventually contain. The physical space of a home
holds both great expectations and harsh
realities for Mett, and in her work we see
that the same space can provide both escape and confinement simultaneously.
In these images, Mett is able to provide
us with a body of work that is quiet and
introspective. She takes her very personal
experience and presents it in a way that is
accessible to almost any viewer for interpretation. Her title, [ ], asks the viewer
to be a participant in the work, to fill in the
story based on his or her own background
or experience. It remarks on the need for

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context in understanding something outside of ourselvescontext that we are often denied.

Above Left

Untitled
2011

After viewing this work, I am left with a

longing to reconnect to a time when I could
sit with my own thoughts. For me these images serve as quiet reminders of the power
of our own imaginations and the ability to
exist completely in a time and space without the luxury or distraction of choice. No
matter what may await us on the other side,
in that time we are just as we want to be,
and in that space great things can blossom.
Rarely has emptiness felt so full.
Eliza Lamb is a photographer, curator and
educator based in New York City.

Above Right

Untitled
2011
Right

Untitled
2012

SPRING 2014

45

Forging
relationships,
Finding a
career
Jennifer Schwartz

46

DONT TAKE PICTURES

he art world has been turned on its

head, and no one quite knows what
to do about it. Long-time gallerists
tell stories of mythic proportions
about the days when they could not keep art on
the walls. With more and more people buying
art online and in alternative venues, many traditional galleries cannot keep their doors open.
Career photographers talk about the days when
career photographers existedwhen a person
could support him/herself on his/her art and a
photographer valued his/her work and would
not dare give it away for the glory of a photo
credit.
Up-and-coming photographers lament the digital era where everyone with an SLR (or better
yet, an iPhone) calls themselves a photographer
and layers and filters can turn the dullest images
into something special.
Nostalgia is easier than change. Routine is more
comfortable than innovation.
And yet, the truth is that we have the tools to
take this upside-down art world and own it. The
internet has leveled the playing field for everyone and may the best photographers and galleries win. We can take things into our own hands,
and we can create our careers. Gone are the
days of sending slides to galleries and waiting for
the call that would signal the start of something.
Anyone with talent, creativity and ambition can
start their own fire, from the bottom up.

We have
the tools to
take this
upsidedown art
world and
own it.

So rise up. Take your career by the reigns and

thoughtfully and purposefully develop a plan
to get you where you want to go. Tighten your
work, develop your brand, strategically launch
your project, and identify and attract your target
collectors.
Make your mark on the world.

but many of us have a very difficult time communicating those thoughts to others.
As an artist you need to be able to talk about
your work. You are the best advocate for your
photography, so make sure you do the images
justice. The process of writing a statement, while
considered painful by most photographers, is a
great exercise in organizing your thoughts and
making sure the ideas you are trying to express
are actually represented in the work. Being able
to confidently and succinctly write and speak
about your work is no easy feat, but it is as important as having strong images. If you cannot
sell yourself and your work to a gallerist, how is
that gallerist going to sell it to a collector? People
want to feel your passion and hear your thoughtfulness. They want to be moved.
Practice as much as you possibly can, and then
practice more. Speak out loud about your
workto yourself, to your peers, to anyone
who will listen. You must be comfortable talking about your work, and you must be able to
explain it in a compelling way.
Most peoples photography is so close to their
hearts and minds that it is incredibly difficult to
step back and explain it to fresh eyes. It is deeply
personal, and just showing the images can make
a photographer feel vulnerable and exposed.
Still, you have to be able to sell it. Practice. It is
the only way.
Once you can succinctly tell someone what your
work is about, use that information to develop
your brand. Creating consistent branding across
your website, social media, and marketing materials raises your level of professionalism and
sends a strong message that you are thoughtful
and dedicated about your work. In this field, as
in all things in life, the way you present yourself
both in person and otherwise impacts whether
or not people want to work with you and to
what extent.

defining your work

After you have made the work, you need to be
able to get the swirl of elusive ideas and concepts that make sense in your own head out and
organized in a concrete, meaningful way. We all
know what we are trying to say with our images,

identifying
your audience
Every artist has a unique path. Every body of
work has a unique path. The path is determined
both by your vision/goals for your work and

SPRING 2014

47

would resonate with the people who regularly

walk the halls.

Image Credits (left to right)

Not all work is easily salable. While the plastic

bag typology you have created with all of your
heart and soul speaks to you on every level, a
lot of commercial galleries may find the images
hard to sell to collectors. That is not to say there
is not an audience for this workthat audience
just may not be best reached through a commercial gallery. The same holds true for most subjects. It may also be the case that your photography is not at the leveltechnical, sophistication,
subjectthat commercial galleries are seeking.
Again, that does not mean there are not people
who would really connect with your images and
want to become collectors of your work. It just
means the gallery system may not be the best fit
for you right now.

Again, think about the person who would most

respond to your work. Does your art have an
environmental bent? Is it feminine or issue-oriented? Now, think about an organization or nonprofit in your community whose membership
would respond to your work and consider partnering up to hold an event, exhibition, or fundraiser. For example, if your work deals with the
landscape of a certain geographical area, partner
with a conservation group to hold a fundraiser
that features your work. You could offer to raffle
a photograph and give a percentage of sales to
the group. They will work with you to plan the
event and get their membership to attend, giving
you the opportunity to get your work in front of
a roomful of your target collectors. The goodwill you will generate will build loyalty, and the
altruism will generate sales.

GRAIN Images (Lexey

Swall, Tristan Spinski,
Greg Kahn)

Be honest with yourself and try to look at your

work with some perspective. If you feel that
your work is a bit more challenging or less commercial than most galleries would be interested
in exhibiting, your best bet may be to seek out
non-commercial venues. Typical non-commercial venues include non-profit galleries or photography centers, museums, and university galleries. Depending on your subject, you may find
a great fit at a non-profit organization building
or university department building where the art

Examples of groups to partner with, depending

on the type of work you make, include conservation groups (environmental), Junior League/
womens business organizations (feminine), garden club/botanical garden/nature center (nature photography), childrens non-profit/PTA
(family themes), medical charity or cause (figure
work). There is a way to connect most bodies
of work to a group of target collectors, it is just
a matter of digging deep and working out the
most effective, creative, and meaningful angle.

the target audience for the photography. Who

is most likely to appreciate your images? How
can you best reach this person? What are your
obstacles to connecting with this audience?

48

DONT TAKE PICTURES

Clay Lipsky

Maggie Meiners
Hannele Lahti
Heather Evans Smith
Nick Shephard

If your photography has commercial appeal,

there may be exhibition opportunities at commercial galleries. The galleries will expect your
images to look impeccable and your presentation to be professional. Cheap frames are unacceptable and do nothing to elevate your work or
your brand. Cutting corners may save money in
the short term, but artists who prepare for longterm success are more likely to achieve it.

connecting
advocates

with

Your

All artists want to know what they can do to sell

more work. Here is the answer: keep in touch
with the people who already support you.
Cultivating the relationships you already have is
the easiest and most important thing you can do
to grow your audience. As a collector, you can
have one of two experiences: you can buy an
image and hang it on the wall, or you can buy
an image, hang it on the wall, and know that you
have helped support the artist that created it and
have an ongoing relationship with him or her. If
you were the collector, which would you prefer?
Which artist would you be more likely to buy
work from again? Which artist would you want
to continue to support and introduce to others?
Artists should be reaching out to their collectors
and supporters at least twice per year, and it
should be in a personal way. While email newsletters are important to keep a wider audience
up to date on your work and successes, your

core supporters should also receive a handwritten note, a very small print or postcard with
your newest image, or even a (gasp!) phone call.
Do not underestimate the power of the personal connection. After all, its what drew these
people to your work in the first placethey saw
your image and felt a personal connection to
it and, by extension, to you. You have the opportunity to build the relationship beyond being
merely transactional. Collectors are not just a
bank accountthey are people who appreciate
and are interested in what you have to say with
your work. That initial connection through the
work can be the start of a meaningful collectorartist relationship.

conclusion
Know how to talk about your work and with
whom you should be talking to about it. Being
able to pitch your images to the people who will
most appreciate them and developing meaningful, ongoing relationships with them is the foundation for a successful life in art. If you can talk
about your work in a way that really connects
someone to the photographs you have made,
keep that connection working for you and watch
the chain reaction.

Jennifer Schwartz is the creator and director of Crusade for Art, a non-profit organization whose mission is to help artists create demand for their work.

SPRING 2014

49

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announcing tHe tHiRteentH fine PRess title fRoM HoRse & Buggy PRess

TesTify
A Visual Love Letter to Appalachia
PHoToGRAPHS By RoGER MAy

Testify
volume one

p h o t o g r a p h s b y r o g e r m ay
Foreword by Si as House

excerpt from Rogers introduction . . .

Testify is a visual love letter to Appalachia, the land of my blood. This is my testimony
of how I came to see the importance of home and my connection to place. After moving away
as a teenager, Ive struggled to return, to latch on to something from my memory. These
images are a vignette into my working through the problem of the construction of memory
versus reality. My work embraces the raw beauty of the mountains while keeping at arms
length the stereotypical images that have tried to define Appalachia for decades.

RogeR May

is an Appalachian American photographer currently based

in Raleigh, North Carolina. He was born in the Tug River Valley, located on the
West Virg nia and Kentucky state line, in the heart of Hatfield and McCoy country.
An active photographer, writer, and speaker, Roger shares his work on his website,
rogermayphotography.com, and at his blog, walkyourcamera.com. Rogers work
explores the intersection of the visual history of Appalachia and issues of representation throughout the region.
Since 1996,

HoRse & Buggy PRess

books have won regional and

national awards for their design, production, and content. Many titles have found
their way to special collections and rare libraries across the globe. The press
collaborates with established story tellers (Allan Gurganus), prolific poets and
essayists (John Lane, Jeffery Beam), award-winning illustrators (Ippy Patterson),
photographers (Rob McDonald) and many other talented artists, writers, scientists, and historians creating important work and addressing issues of our day.
These tactile books, often hand-bound and printed with hand-fed, hand-cranked
letterpress equipment, connect us intimately to the words and images housed
within. Produced with a loving attention to detail from design through what is
Testify is a limited edition, two volume set of books featuring fifty images (black and

often a mix of production processes, these fine press titles show what is poss ble

white, as well as full color), an introduction by photographer Roger May, and a fore-

by integrating old and new technologies to create books which become true origi-

word by Silas House. Each book is 8 by 10 inches and contains 36 pages. Interior

nal artifacts. Each book reminds us of the importance of beauty and show swhat

pages were printed on a high-end Indigo press using 100lb Mohawk Superfine egg-

we are capable of when we do things the slow wayfrom the heart and with our

shell finish text paper. The covers were hand-printed on a hand-cranked, hand-fed
letterpress on an olive green printmaking grade paper, and each book is handsewn with linen thread. The limited edition of 300 copies is signed and numbered

own hands. The work is given a strong and proper stage, ensuring the work will be
treasured for generations to come.

by Roger, and the two volumes are presented together with a full-bleed printed
bellyband wrapping around the pair of books. Also included is a bookmark as well

fine press books and more . . . for the Jet Age and beyond

as a photographic print (suitable for framing) housed in a translucent envelope.

$65. to order visit rogermayphotography.com or horseandbuggypress.com.
Testify will be on display as part of Rogers photography exhibit at H&B during March and April.
Open Studios & Reception Nights: Friday, March 21 and Friday, April 18 from 69pm.

Durham, North CaroliNa

Untitled
Robert Alexander Williams
2012