Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Monday, April 26, 2010
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Sunday, June 3, 2007
how I fell in love with found photos
I'm initiating this blog at the good suggestion of a friend. I'm an artist who works with found photographs. For years I did photomontage with magazine images. At age 50, I decided to go back to school and work on an MFA in order to make better art. In grad school, they asked me to think about my materials, my process, my influences, etc., etc., etc. When I deeply examined why photomontage was my primary artform, I realized that the part that resonated with me was the found photograph/image. What I came to understand was that I didn't want to continue to work with the images from magazines.
My last semester began in August 2001. I was to create a body of work for my thesis exhibit. Ideas floated by. Then came September 11. Though I live far from NYC (in Montana), I was profoundly affected. I made art about it that wasn't particularly satisfying. What I wanted to arrive at was work that offered something helpful. Discussing this with a friend, she askedm me, "What anchors us in these situations?"
I decided to send a letter to 200+ friends, colleagues and acquaintances (half at home and half at grad school) and ask them to send me a shapshot of something that anchors them. Anything...a person, place, animal, thing. They could also tell me why what was pictured was important. I scanned each photo and returned it, unharmed, with a personal note.
It was the most fabulous experience for me when the envelopes started arriving. I would save them until I had time to really pay attention to each one. What I discovered is that the things consumer culture tells us are important, definitive--aren't. The photos were of children, special loved ones, unique places, beloved pets, groups of friends or family. No diamond rings or fancy houses. I received over 200 personal snapshots.
The resulting artwork was eight unframed posters with one category of photos scanned and montaged on a different image of my refrigerator. I designed and printed a tri-fold, black and white brochure listing all the collaborators' names, describing the project and reproducing some of the photographs and what was written about them.
It was an artwork that felt right, good and so appropriate. It was a joy to create. It also caused me to fall in love with vernacular photographs. Since that time I have continued to search for and work with found photographs.
My last semester began in August 2001. I was to create a body of work for my thesis exhibit. Ideas floated by. Then came September 11. Though I live far from NYC (in Montana), I was profoundly affected. I made art about it that wasn't particularly satisfying. What I wanted to arrive at was work that offered something helpful. Discussing this with a friend, she askedm me, "What anchors us in these situations?"
I decided to send a letter to 200+ friends, colleagues and acquaintances (half at home and half at grad school) and ask them to send me a shapshot of something that anchors them. Anything...a person, place, animal, thing. They could also tell me why what was pictured was important. I scanned each photo and returned it, unharmed, with a personal note.
It was the most fabulous experience for me when the envelopes started arriving. I would save them until I had time to really pay attention to each one. What I discovered is that the things consumer culture tells us are important, definitive--aren't. The photos were of children, special loved ones, unique places, beloved pets, groups of friends or family. No diamond rings or fancy houses. I received over 200 personal snapshots.
The resulting artwork was eight unframed posters with one category of photos scanned and montaged on a different image of my refrigerator. I designed and printed a tri-fold, black and white brochure listing all the collaborators' names, describing the project and reproducing some of the photographs and what was written about them.
It was an artwork that felt right, good and so appropriate. It was a joy to create. It also caused me to fall in love with vernacular photographs. Since that time I have continued to search for and work with found photographs.
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