WHAT PHOTOGRAPHY DOES, AND HOW IT DOES IT, HOLDS MYSTICAL QUALITIES FOR ME. BY LOOKING THROUGH THE VIEWFINDER OF THE CAMERA AND CAPTURING A PRECISE MOMENT IN SPACE AND TIME, THE PHOTOGRAPH BECOMES PROFOUND IN ITS UNIVERSAL LANGUAGE
From the very first photographs that were accomplished in the early 1800s and up to the present, there have been many great photogra phers whose works I’ve studied. Their individual vision
has enlightened and motivated me. Many of them worked and survived under incredibly difficult conditions, with materials and cameras that by today’s standards would be considered archaic. The great photographers Louis Daguerre, Eugene Atget, Carleton Watkins, Mathew Brady, Brassai, E. J. Bellock, Alfred Steiglitz, Imogen Cunningham, Edward Steichen, Edward Weston, Andre Kertez, Cartier Bresson, Weegee, Diane Arbus, Robert Frank, Man Ray, August Sander, Danny Lyon… I could keep on going and going, they have all inspired me. There are a few photographers like Josef Koudelka that I consider especially significant. Ones who have changed the way we see photography and what it’s capable of as an art form. They did this with their extraordinary vision, and they changed the very concept of what we think a photograph can be or look like. Koudelka is a contemporary photographer and someone I admire very much, his dedication and eye are phenomenal.
As an artist what makes you most proud of your work? This is a tough question to answer… a Pandora’s box… there are so many ways to look at this… but what first comes to mind is that I’ve survived as a photographer, which all other photographers who are reading this will know isn’t easy. I’m proud of that. I’ve been making photographs for over 50 years. To dedicate your life to an art form is huge, and to make a living as a photographer, which I’ve also done my whole life, is quite challenging. I’m proud to say I’m still photographing, still producing new work and still exploring this amazing art form. What do you see through the lens that is unperceivable to the eyes? Photography is unique. It’s not like anything else in the visual arts. It’s an only child without any brothers or sisters. It’s not a painting, a drawing, a lithograph, or any other type of mixed media. What photography does, and how it does it, holds mystical qualities for me. By looking through the viewfinder of the camera and capturing a precise moment in space and time, (and I mean that literally and I include portraiture into this equation) the photograph becomes profound in its universal language. In my heart, I believe nothing compares to it, and I’m obsessed with it.
I feel photography was born perfect and I’m a purist in that sense. I use the camera the way it was designed to be used, meaning I take pictures. I do all my own darkroom work, and I still shoot a lot of film (along with digital). The experience of making photographs is a journey, one I chose to take many, many years ago, when I was a child actually. I’m still riding that train and it’s going as fast as it ever has, maybe even faster, I’m visiting places I never imagined. My instincts about what makes a photograph artistic are complex, in the sense that the power within the medium is complex and I’m
still chasing that elusive emotion by always trying to define it better and making it more personal. Why the predilection for black & white photography? Black and white abstracts reality. Psychologically it travels to a very different place than color. It’s a whole other experience. It’s not that I don’t respect color or think less of it than black and white (in terms of art), because I don’t. It’s just for me... my personality and the way I choose to express myself in photography, there’s something about black and white that I’m emotionally connected with. I also appreciate how incredibly beautiful a black and white silver gelatin photograph looks in person. Its richness, tonality, its presence… there’s something sacred about it. I have worked in the darkroom since I was a kid and I make all my own exhibition prints. Black and white offers a full range of expression. For me it’s timeless. How would you describe your work? I think it’s best to let my photographs speak for themselves, or let others describe them. In many ways my work is traditional, I think the great strength of photography is in its purity, so being traditional is fine with me. One of your Gay Essay pictures depicts a priest in a shattered church, can you tell us the story behind this image? Is from a series of photographs I made on the gay community back in the early 1970s. Much like the civil rights movement for African Americans, the gay movement for equal rights and fundamental human respect has gained momentum through the years, although the progress falls sadly short in my opinion. One of the things that matters most about photography is that it can be used for social causes, to bring awareness to people, to educate them. The man standing in the burnt down church (which was suspected arson) is Reverend Troy Perry. He had an open congregation of gay people, which at the time was very forward thinking and highly controversial. He openly preached that Jesus Christ loved gays and that God embraced gays, just like he embraced all other Christians. He performed gay weddings at the church. Tragically this activity caused the burning down of his church. In the early morning hours a fireman told us to not go into the building, it was too dangerous, but we went in anyway to make the photo. Photographs as opposed to cinema or music, are a mute art, do you believe there is any power in this silence? It’s funny you ask this question because when I was a teenager I would go out to randomly photograph, and let the picture spontaneously happen. I would stuff earplugs into my ears, to cut out all the noise and the distracting ambient sounds. I was living in this silent world of potential stills, where the image existed in a kind of void, waiting for me to discover it and record the precious moment. So the answer to your question is “YES”. In fact there is something sacred about that silence, but it doesn’t prevent the photograph from having its own expressive voice and being visually heard and fully experienced.
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