Griffin State of Mind

We had the opportunity to talk to documentary photographer, Tracy Barbutes, about her recent participation in our annual public outdoor exhibition, Vision(ary). Her ongoing project, At Home with Fire in the Sierra Nevada, began with the 2013 Rim Fire events near her hom, envolving into a contemplative reflection of artist’s connection to place: “Wildfire changed the trajectory of my career and it altered my nervous system,” remarks Barbutes. “My vision has evolved from the reverence I hold for this natural phenomenon.”

Tracy Barbutes is an independent photographer who has lived in Northern California on Sierra Miwok lands near Yosemite National Park for more than two decades. Her current work often features wildfire, women’s issues, rural life and Yosemite National Park. Tracy’s work has been featured in National Geographic Magazine, The Washington Post, High Country News and The Wall Street Journal, to name a few. Her image, “Transformation” is included in the Women Photograph book, “What We See: Women & Nonbinary Perspective Through the Lens.” She has exhibited throughout Europe, Asia and the U.S.

Follow Tracy Barbutes on Instagram: @tracybarbutes

Website: www.tracybarbutes.com

What inspired you to start documenting the wildfire crisis in the Sierra Nevada region, particularly after the Rim Fire in 2013?

The Rim Fire was, more-or-less, the advent of the mega-fire era we find ourselves experiencing. I cannot leave my home without seeing a burn scar from any number of fires that have burned since 2013. This changing landscape exists throughout the Sierra Nevada and Western U.S. (and globally, obviously). As a photojournalist and documentarian, it is my duty to tell the story of the changing climate and its impacts.

Can you share more about your journey as a photographer and how you began focusing on themes such as wildfire, women’s issues, and rural life?

As a photojournalist working for daily newspapers, I regularly covered everything from sports, breaking news, gang violence, community events, structure fires, politics, etc. The 2013 Rim Fire ignited not long after I left a staff position to become a full time independent photographer. An international event happened, literally, in my backyard, and that 402-square-mile fire changed the trajectory of my career. I began to document wildfire, which led to documenting forest management/mismanagement, prescribed burning, community education efforts, noticing that women are a minority in firefighting, as well as a host of issues that impact rural communities. The more people I meet, the more questions I ask, the more I find to document.

Your project, At Home with Fire in the Sierra Nevada, spans over 10 years. How has your approach to documenting wildfires evolved during this time?

My imagery initially focused on helping residents understand the dynamics of wildfire, hoping it would help them to make good preparation decisions for themselves and their families. My strictly photojournalistic approach has since evolved to include contemplative, poetic, conceptual work in hopes the imagery will educate a broader audience about how climate change, and specifically, fire,  affects all of us, and especially those who live in the Wildland Urban Interface (WUI). 

Could you describe a memorable experience or moment while photographing wildfires that deeply impacted you or your work?

Obviously, the Rim Fire had the most profound effect personally and professionally. It was the first time I covered a large wildfire, it was the first fire I watched from my inside my home, and it was the first time I evacuated. I spent many days in active fire zones with Public Information Officers (PIOs) and firefighters learning how to safely be in and around fire, while learning about fire behavior. It was eight years later, during the 2021 Caldor Fire, that I was ready to see an entirely different aspect of wildfire. The Caldor Fire had already churned through the south side of this section of the river canyon corridor, and it was continuing to burn moderately up and down the hillsides. However, the fire was raging upward on the backside of the canyon, creating a pulsating orange light show that illuminated the entire sky. I pulled safely off the road to experience trees torching on the ridgeline easily 1,000 feet above the road, the fire spotting up and over the ridge, the fire’s glow and smoke pulsed and it roared. It shook me awake to the fact that fire is a living, breathing, powerful entity capable of destruction, cleansing, beauty, rebirth.

Is there/are there particular images in the series you’d like to expand on or tell us more about?

Transformation. I spent the day exploring the Sequoia National Forest (Western Mono/Monache and Tübatulabal lands) in areas along the Great Western Divide Highway and in and around the Trail of 100 Giants at the end of September 2021. I felt compelled to find and document Giant Sequoias that had survived multiple lightning-caused wildfires: the KNP Complex Fire burning to the north in Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks and this one, the Windy Fire, burning in Sequoia National Forest. I needed to bear witness to survival after having already documented so much devastation this fire season. I should have carried a chainsaw and was fortunate that I could work my way around burning logs and downed trees choking the roadways. I walked through powdery gray soil while breathing putrid, suffocating smoke and avoiding fire-weakened and damaged trees that crashed around me. I did a double-take at this burning remnant, as ironically, it felt like the most ‘alive’ thing I had experienced thus far on the day’s journey. In an instant, this downed tree, smoldering from the inside, became symbolic of a grieving, weeping planet, a Western landscape ravaged from drought and an inflamed nation fractured from deceptive narratives.  

In what ways has living in such a wildfire-prone area shaped your personal and artistic outlook?

I rarely sleep through a night during fire season. Year after year of intense fires and more days of intensely unhealthy air quality, I find myself searching for poetic beauty in the changing landscape. I need to find positives to balance with the destruction.

Can you tell us more about the juxtaposition in Diptych – Spring Storm, September Suffocation at Tenaya Lake (2015, 2020)?

Tenaya Lake is located along Tioga Pass Road, Yosemite’s mountain pass (the highest elevation highway mountain pass in California). The pass, which is just up the road from my home, closes in the fall as inclement weather encroaches and reopens anytime between May and July, depending on snow and road conditions. Opening day is my favorite day of the year, by far. The lake, the pass, and all that is made possible by having access equals absolute joy and a multitude of options. Spring Storm was taken on the pass’s opening day 2015, which led to a full day of hiking and fishing in pure mountain air, where the AQI was ~10. September Suffocation was taken on my birthday while multiple mega fires raged throughout the state, forcing the closure of most public lands in this region, and the AQI was well over 300, equal to emergency advisories. This meant no hiking, no fishing, no paddling, no exploring new mountain lakes or meadows, and warnings to remain indoors. These images represent the dichotomy of joy, renewal, beauty, exploration and possibility with devastation, loss and grief that comes with living in the heart of wildfire country.

Finally, what advice would you give to aspiring photographers who are interested in documenting environmental issues or landscapes undergoing significant change?

Please – listen to people who live in the communities you are documenting. Make time to understand the issues. Please fight the urge to create stereotypical imagery. If you’re covering fire or other weather events, please have all necessary PPE and have some training before you put yourself in the elements.

We had the opportunity to talk to Evgeniya Tsoy about her series, The Journey to the Edge of Eternity, currently on view in our 2024 Vision(ary) exhibition. The work explores the region of Kamchatka Peninsula in the Russian Far East. An interview with the artist follows.

Follow Evgeniya on Instagram: @tsoy_photo_

Evgeniya Tsoy (Евгения Цой) is an art photographer who lives in Russia in the city of Kazan. She was born in 1983. She graduated from the Institute of Chemical Technology in 2007 and worked as an engineer. Since 2012, she has been engaged in photography, and since 2022, she had been studying art photography and contemporary art. She has participated in more than 10 Russian an foreign exhibitions.

The Journey to the Edge of Eternity

Kamchatka is a place of incredible beauty and energy. Here, time seems to have stopped and frozen between thousand-year-old volcanoes and the ocean, wrapped in fogs that plunge you into oblivion. It is a checkpoint on the edge of eternity—an interworld in which it is easy to get confused and, in the dissipated fog, to see this world in a new way.

Reality is nothing more than the perception of this world by our consciousness. In my series, I seek the gap between how we are used to seeing the reality around us and what else it could be. By reassembling individual elements of the overall picture of reality into a new plot, I create a different metaphysical space or object. This approach allows me and the viewer to detach from the usual visual clichés and try to see something from a new angle.

Evgeniya, your series The Journey to the Edge of Eternity explores the mystical aspects of The Kamchatka Peninsula in Far Eastern Russia. What drew you initially to this place?

Kamchatka with its unique and pristine nature has long attracted me. This remote peninsula at the edge of Russia has always seemed to me a special place. The first thing that struck me when I first visited Kamchatka was its grandiose and unspoiled landscape. Volcanoes, hot springs, vast snow-covered expanses – all this creates a feeling that you have ended up on another planet. Time seems to stand still here, and human presence is almost imperceptible. But in addition to this, Kamchatka also has a deep cultural and historical subtext. For me, Kamchatka is not just a picturesque landscape, but a place where ancient cosmogonic ideas and modernity intertwine, where man tries to find his place in this powerful natural world. The process of creating this series for me is a kind of spiritual journey, a meditation on the relationship between man and nature.

The title is so poetic. What is the inspiration behind it?

The parking sign in the middle of the volcanoes became the key in choosing the title. There, the fog suddenly descended and a state of timelessness appeared, as if you found yourself in the eternity of the thousand-year-old valleys and volcanoes. This sign looked very strange, inorganic, but at the same time very metaphorically stopped you right there, in that place.

Human constructions amidst deserted landscapes are a recurrent motif in your project. It really sets up quite an intriguing, almost dystopian/sci-fiesque tone for the series. What do you look for when choosing things and places to photograph in the context of this work?

I am interested in places where human presence is felt, but humanity itself is absent. This creates a sense of abandonment, of a disrupted balance. I like this contrast between the artificial and the natural, between civilization and the pristine environment, which really gives an dystopian undertone. This is an intentional artistic device that I use to prompt the viewer to reflect on the place of man in this world, on the balance between technology/progress and nature. In the series there is one work with a person, it is necessary for the person to enter this space, as a wanderer and a participant in the events.

You mention creating a “different metaphysical space” in your work. Could you elaborate on how you achieve this in your photography?

When I talk about creating a “metaphysical space”, I mean that I am trying to go beyond the usual documentation of the landscape and form a sense of an alternative reality in the viewer. This space is familiar to us, but at the same time alien to our everyday life. And this is primarily a choice of locations, I am looking for places where human presence is combined with a pristine, almost alien environment. In many shots from the series, there is also fog, which helps to create this otherness of the space.

Can you describe a memorable experience or moment while developing this work that significantly shaped the course of the project?

At the very beginning of the trip, I found myself on the shore of the Pacific Ocean during a thick fog, there was a sense of timelessness, as if it had stopped here. Playground, campsites, objects on the beach and other traces of human presence – all of a sudden it all looked completely different. And the Pacific Ocean at the same time calmed with its monotonous sound of waves and stirred with its power and might. That state and feeling from that place became the leitmotif of the whole trip and left an imprint on the frames taken there.

Kamchatka is known for it seismic activity and volcanic eruptions, how do you adapt your photographic techniques or practice to such unpredictable environment?

During my trip, there were no eruptions or any strong seismic activity. I try to find a balance between a documentary approach and a more contemplative, artistic vision. It is important for me not just to record events, but to convey the sense of primordial power and beauty of these places.

Is there something about his place you think people should know or that you’d like to seize the opportunity to share?

Yes, I would like to show the peculiarity of this region. Volcanoes cannot leave anyone indifferent. And nature itself is also very diverse here, it’s like a laboratory for creating our planet. Immutable beauty, through which you seem to touch eternity. In the interweaving of different elements in this place, an extraordinary energy is felt. The power and might of the ocean, the grandeur of the volcanoes, the centuries-old beauty, in the midst of which we are even less than a grain of volcanic sand. And also the rich cultural heritage of the indigenous peoples of Kamchatka – Itelmens, Koryaks, Evens and other ethnic groups. Their ancient traditions, beliefs and shamanic practices, closely connected with nature, are of great interest and value. I would like to find myself there again and pay more attention to this.

We had the opportunity to ask Daniel Court a few questions about photography and his project, Watersong, currently on view at our annual outdoor exhibition, Vision(ary): Portraits of Cultures, Communities and Environments.

An interview with the artist follows.

Daniel James Court is a British photographer based in Washington DC, USA. He received his BFA in Visual Communication from Bath Spa in 2012 and his MFA in Photography from Aalto University of Arts in 2021. His series ‘Neither Here Nor There’, documenting the closure of the Calais ‘Jungle’ refugee camp in Northern France, was exhibited at the Pitt Rivers Museum in Oxford in 2019 and was featured in Storytelling Exhibitions: Identity, Truth and Wonder, a book by Philip Hughes (Bloomsbury UK). His graduate series ‘The Place of No Crows’ received a ‘Finalist’ award from Blurring the Lines 2021 and was featured in their annual publication. He had his first solo show at Hippolyte Korjaamo, Helsinki, in June 2021. His photographs have been exhibited in Finland, Greece, Lithuania, Turkey, and the UK.

Website: www.danieljamescourt.com
Instagram: @danieljamescourt

Daniel, let’s imagine we traveled all the way to Finland to accompany you on a shooting day for your project Watersong. (Thanks for inviting us!). What drew you initially to document the culture of wild swimming?

I grew up in London, where swimming basically meant going to an indoor swimming pool. I moved to Helsinki in 2016 and experienced a completely new kind of swimming culture. Finland has a large archipelagic coastline and nearly 200,000 lakes, so you are almost always close to a body of water. Swimming in nature is, therefore, a huge part of the culture, whether its combined with the sauna as a more social activity, or a solitary morning swim before work.

Initially, I overlooked swimming as a subject, even though I often photographed my partner and friends during sauna and swimming sessions. Over time, as swimming became a more significant part of my daily life, it became a kind of respite from the overstimulation of technology, work and the urban environment. When I started to think about swimming in this way, and why it was so meaningful for me, I began to consider that there was an interesting project here.

What are your photo essentials to capture a day of swimming?

Camera, towel and bathing suit (optional).

We are met by a lake upon arriving (or is it a coastline?). What’s the first thing we do to immerse ourselves in the environment and prepare for a day of shooting?

In and around Helsinki, it’s most likely the sea; if we’re more inland, then it’s a river or a lake. Whenever I’m swimming with friends, I’ll almost always make some portraits but since last summer, I have started to actively seek regular swimmers to photograph. When I work this way, meeting people for the first time, we usually just talk and swim together first, before I begin taking any photos. I try to keep photo shoots somehow as natural as possible.

What pose should we do, if any, if you wanted to take a portrait of us?

I’ve never been great at posing, I usually try to just observe people while I am with them until there’s a moment or an action that feels like it could be a photograph. Of course, I might move the subject to better compliment the lighting or scenery.

The wind echoes. The conversation deepens. You begin to tell us: How has your exploration of Watersong impacted your understanding of the human-nature relationship in combating the “extinction of experience,” as you mention in your artist statement?

The ‘extinction of experience’ posits that technology and urbanization have led to a disconnection from natural environments. And as people have less direct contact with nature in their daily lives they tend to have less concern about environmental destruction. So it’s important that nature remains tangible and accessible, for both personal and environmental well-being.

Spending time in nature is a big part of the Finnish identity and culture; therefore, I think it’s no coincidence that the natural waters in Finland are said to be some of the cleanest in the world. There’s generally a deep respect for nature and a strong discourse around the idea that nature should be accessible to all (every man’s right). This relationship is very a positive one and it’s something I wanted to explore in this project.

We take a moment to absorb the water sounds around us. Would you recommend photography as a way of reconnecting with nature?

In the past I have struggled with anxiety and depression and both photography and being in nature have helped in a really profound way. But during times when I really wanted or needed to be in nature, it was the intention of going to take a photo that got me on my feet and out the door, so I think photography can be a great catalyst for engaging with nature.

Lastly, could you share some memorable moments or locations that have left a lasting impression on you during the creation of Watersong?

My partner’s family are originally from Eastern Finland, very close to the Russian border. Behind her grandparents’ old house, a short walk through the forest they have a sauna by a small lake. The lake is surrounded by extremely dense undergrowth that comes right up to the water’s edge, so the lake is almost completely inaccessible apart from a small clearing by the sauna. It’s one of my favorite places to swim in the evenings, especially when the sun is setting, it’s quiet, the water is cold and the light is amazing. I recently made a few photographs here which I am excited to show in the near future.

We are thrilled to introduce Sarah Kaufman on this virtual trip/interview to Devil’s Pool — an unsanctioned swimming hole in Philadelphia’s Fairmount Park. The prjoect is currently fetaured on our annual outdoor exhibition, Vision(ary): Portraits of Cultures, Communities, or Environments.

Sarah Kaufman (b. Philadelphia, PA) holds a BA from Haverford College and an MFA from Virginia Commonwealth University. Solo exhibitions of her photography include Saint Joseph’s University, Haverford College, Bowdoin College, Notre Dame University, Soho Photo, and the Silver Eye Center. Kaufman’s projects have been reviewed and featured in ARTnews Magazine, The Philadelphia Inquirer, Visual Studies Journal, Huck Magazine, and more. She has participated in group exhibitions internationally and permanent collections include Haverford College, The Pennsylvania Convention Center, and Procreate Projects UK. Her first monograph, Devil’s Pool, was published by Daylight Books. Kaufman is an Associate Professor in Art at Ursinus College and she lives and maintains a studio in Philadelphia.

Kaufman’s Instagram: @sarahkaufmanphoto

Devil’s Pool

Curiosity about revealing the human body in unselfconscious moments has long driven my photography and research. My recent work, Devil’s Pool, explores the body out in nature and looks at how the landscape can allow us to exist freely in our physical selves, absorbed in the experience of place. Devil’s Pool, an unsanctioned swimming hole in Philadelphia’s Fairmount Park, magnetically draws people from all over, and this work explores the complex, layered story that unfolds here.

The film photography project, spanning seven years, investigates how people relate to their environment and affirms the human need and impulse to commune with the natural world. The work pictures a diversity of human form, celebrating the body interacting with nature and recognizes traditions that follow both the landscape and bathing throughout art. The photographs highlight the value of access to green spaces within an urban setting, and a sense of discovery and revelry through connecting to nature.

Through photographing at Devil’s Pool, I began to see the landscape, both tamed and wild, as a fundamental force that fosters our potential to be fully present within ourselves and our surroundings.

Imagine we’re going on a photo trip to Devil’s Pool together. What aspects of this unique landscape first captivated your interest, and how has it influenced, as you say, your approach to capturing the human body in nature?

I fell in love with the high rocks and sloping woods around Devil’s Pool, draped with human figures of all shapes and sizes, lounging freely, interacting with the landscape and with each other. It was this broad, idyllic view of the body in nature that drew me in. Knowing that this scene was unfolding within Philadelphia’s city limits made it that much more compelling to me.

What photo essentials do you always bring along? And what gets your creative process going when in nature?

I pack my Rolleiflex twin lens camera, and a flash/mount to soften the sometimes intense shadows in the dappled sunlight, extra film, and I wear sneakers/clothes that I don’t mind wading in. As I hike toward Devil’s Pool the sounds of radio beats and steady splashing make their way up the trails and fill me with a sense of urgency. No matter how many times I have arrived at Devil’s Pool, I am always struck with a sense of awe as the woods opens up into the confluence of creeks, cliffs, sky, and people.

Upon arriving at Devil’s Pool, what’s the first thing you typically do to immerse yourself in the environment and prepare for a day of shooting?

I usually sit down on a rock and just take it all in for a while and maybe have a snack. Slowing down to load film and set up my camera helps me ease into it and then I begin wandering around and talking with people as they hang out and I begin photographing, asking if it’s OK to make pictures as I go. I carry postcards of my work to share and offer an idea of what I am doing. I often exchange email addresses so that I can send people images of themselves. And of course, if someone lets me know that they do not want to be photographed, either through words or body language, I respect that.

If you’ve packed something to eat, what would it be?

Lots of water when it’s hot out! And granola bars.

We see through your photographs that Devil’s Pools attracts diverse groups of people. How do this mix and their interactions with the landscape inspire your photographic storytelling?

I see the experience of being in the woods in the city as an antidote to some of the daily stressors of urban life. I understand the nature, giant rocks, trees, waterfall, and deep green pool, as a force that brings people together, that has called people to the place and to each other, fostering a sense of awe and connection. I see this landscape as equalizing, in a way, bringing about the shared experience of nature pictured in my images.

How has this project shaped your understanding of solitude, community, and the connection between humans and our environment?

I have lived in cities my whole life, Philadelphia, Richmond, VA, and Brooklyn, and have always valued access to parks, community gardens, and other green spaces. But looking so intensely at how people relate to a single location was a new experience that became more and more intoxicating as time went on. My own connection to Devil’s Pool deepened; I am familiar with the shapes of rocks, the dips and turns of the outflowing creek, and the particular way that people tend to relate to each of these natural features. I notice the changes brought by storms, floods, seasons, years, and human touch. My investment in this place has heightened my understanding that people need nature in their lives. I completed the project in fall of 2020 — photographing at Devil’s Pool through the pandemic summer I saw this need made all the more visible and pressing, especially for city dwellers.

What photographers or other visual artists have influenced you as an artist? And as a human being?

I have always loved looking at painting, especially the work on painters who picture what appears to be everyday life, real bodies, messy moments of beauty and vulnerability. A few that come to mind are Philip Pearlstein, Laura Krifka, and Aaron Gilbert. I’ve also always loved Justine Kurland’s photographs from around 2005-2010, living on the road with her small son, exploring the American landscape.

Growing up in Philadelphia, in a neighborhood that suffered from a lot of violence at the time has also affected me. That experience has influenced how I see the Wissahickon Park as providing an alternative world, accessible to city people, directly adjacent to those realities of city life.

This project has evolved over 7 years. How has it changed? And what advice do you have for photographers working on long-term projects?

Spending so many years on this allowed me to pause at certain moments to take stock, reflect, and figure out where to go next with the work. I would stop photographing for a time and look at small prints, seeking out feedback on the images and the arc of the project. About mid-way through I realized that I wanted to make a book. The series had grown and I was beginning to identify different types of images that could weave together in sequence, telling a longer story about this place and its people. Some of the first images I made at Devil’s Pool were of tiny, languid figures, moving across the landscape, highlighting its drama and grandeur. Some of the last were close portraits, focused more on individuals, their experiences at Devil’s Pool, and my interactions in collaboration with them.

What final thoughts or messages do you hope viewers take away from your photography at Devil’s Pool?

The more intense or immediately eye-catching images of jumping and diving often reveal a raw, visceral interaction with the landscape that holds an edge of adrenalin and danger. I am equally interested in the quieter moments of contemplation that happen at Devil’s Pool and the sensory experiences of feeling and listening to the cool water and the rhythmic splashing of jumpers in the background. I also see communion with nature manifest in the images of play and social connection that to me, appear to be fostered by a shared experience of the place. In my photos, the water, rocks, and trees affect how people hold their bodies and interact with each other. I like to imagine the spiritual potential within each of these modes of connecting with the landscape and with each other.