Vision(ary)

Jaina Cipriano: Empty Mirror

Posted on September 20, 2024

We had the opportuntity to talk to experiential designer and filmmaker, Jaina Cipriano on her recent partipation in our annual public outdoor exhibition, Vision(ary): Portraits of Cultures, Communities and Environments. Her project, Empty Mirror, features a series of dreamy and playful self-portraits exploring tumultuous yet liberating episodes of coming-of-age, healing and identity regeneration.

An interview with the artist follows.

Follow Jaina on Instagram: @jainastudio

© Jaina Cipriano, You Get to Make the Choice

Jaina Cipriano is an experiential designer and filmmaker exploring the emotional toll of religious and romantic entrapment. Her worlds communicate with our neglected inner child and are informed by explosive colors, elements of elevated play, and the push/pull of light and dark.

She is a self-taught artist with a deep love for creative problem-solving. Jaina writes and directs award-winning short films that wrestle with the complicated path of healing. In 2020, she released You Don’t Have to Take Orders from the Moon, a surrealist horror film wrestling with the gravity of deep codependency. Her second short, Trauma Bond, is a dreamy coming-of-age thriller that explores what happens when we attempt to heal deep wounds with quick fixes.

In 2024, Jaina became the executive director of the Arlington International Film Festival. Her passion for changing lives through storytelling has found a home in the legacy the founders have created. Jaina is excited to foster community and creativity in New England in the coming years.

Jaina’s photographic work forgoes digital manipulation; everything is created for the camera. She takes an immersive approach to working with models, approaching a shoot like a documentary photographer as her subjects are let loose in a strangely designed space. Working with Jaina is often described as cathartic and playful. Her photographic work has been shown internationally.

She is the founder of Finding Bright Studios, a design company in Lowell specializing in set design for music videos and immersive spaces. She has collaborated with GRRL HAUS, Boston Art Review, and was a Boston Fellow for the Mass Art Creative Business Incubator and a finalist in EforAll Merrimack Valley.

Jaina, congratulations on being part of Vision(ary). Given the central theme of the exhibition, how do you think self-portraiture can address issues beyond the self in a way that it involves community and environments?

Absolutely. I forget my images are me.

I believe that our internal narratives shape the future we believe we deserve and that those narratives come, in part, from the media and art we consume.
Empathy is at the core of my practice and I think that by telling new stories that focus on marginalized voices we afford everyone the freedom and power that comes with seeing their own truth reflected back.

We change our narratives so we can change the world.

© Jaina Cipriano, *You Tried to Bury Me*

We are curious to know, where does the title of the project come from?

It’s about Becoming Yourself. Coming of age in the confines of the structures I did left little room for movement. I was always thirsty to know who I was. Growing up has been a journey of finding myself and filling the empty mirror in front of me. My reflection was built up over time. These works are an exploration of my childhood narratives through my grown-up lens. From sayings my father had (“I’m going to put you in a box so you won’t grow up.”) to bible stories that kept me up at night to fairy tales of salvation. How have they shaped my view of myself, the world and what I believe to be possible for my future?

How long do you usually work on an image? What is the longest it has taken you to make a photograph?

Usually only a few days. That is intentional, I don’t want to overthink or talk myself out of any creative decisions. I try to work by listening to my gut. Sometimes a set takes weeks to build. In that time I am not thinking about the photograph. The photograph can’t emerge until I can inhabit the space. The photograph itself never takes more than a few hours.

My childhood was mostly consuming media (books and movies) and daydreaming in the backyard. They were my best windows into the world.

As I got older, the camera gave me a reason to be somewhere. With a camera in my hand I made new friends and was invited to document their days. I discovered myself and the world through the viewfinder.

Those two things came together to create my practice. Now I build my own stories and make sense of them through my lens.

Creating these worlds through photography allows me to change my internal narrative. When life feels painful or strange, I can use photography as a form of psychomagic, creating safe spaces where I can open up, be present, and trust the process. It’s a way for me to connect with who I am without the heavy influence of my past. I am illuminating new areas of myself to eliminate the darkness of my fear.

Your childhood experience of playing pretend contrasts with your current practice of constructing and photographing your own spaces. How has this empowerment shaped the themes you explore in Empty Mirror?

It allows me to play, which helps me reconcile my past hurts and move through them into my wonderful present. Sometimes I connect to my childhood self and she just wants to make messes and dress up — and we do just that. There is empowerment in being able to say “yes” to my inner child.

Your interactive, participatory installations bring a different idea of the concept of community and environment. What motivated you to begin working in this fashion?

In 2017 I started Immersion — decadent, themed parties in my small Cambridge apartment. Some of the nights had rooms chest deep with balloons, dozens of cakes to step on or strange, blacklight reactive spaces. I invited women who were interested in exploring behind or in front of the camera and we we’re all set loose in this 360 set I built and lit. Something happened in those spaces – discovery, connection, it felt like magic. It felt more real, to me, than real life.

As we get older we lose our opportunities to play. I always want to make space for myself (and others) to play. Play can help us heal our emotional wounds.

Finally, what thrills you the most about the theatricality of fabricated spaces?

The possibility. It is truly endless.

I am also able to communicate thoughts and feelings that I cannot in the “real” world.

In a way, all photographs are memories. But playing in fabricated spaces gives me the ability to re-create my own memories in a way that feels authentic to me. Even if they don’t look the way they used to, they hold more emotional truths than my childhood snapshots do.

They reveal emotional landscapes that are deeply personal yet universally relatable. By creating these worlds, I can connect with my own emotions and experiences on a profound level, while also providing a mirror for others to see themselves and feel less alone in their intensity.

© Jaina Cipriano, *Childhood Is Over, Pack It Up*

Lidia Rusell | Desert Landscapes

Posted on September 15, 2024

We had the opportunity to accompany Lidia Rusell on a virtual journey on series, Desert Landscapes (2019 – 2022), currently on view in our annual public outdoor exhibition Vision(ary). Her project presents expansive vistas of iconic American scenery — from the Mojave Desert to the Grand Canyon. An interview with the artist follows.

© Lidia Rusell. All images courtesy the artist.

Lidia Rusell specializes in fine art, landscape, contemplative, and storytelling photography. Lidia combines her background as a journalist and publicity professional with her photography to tell stories about landscapes, places, moments, and reality behind forms. Her art explores the relationships between landscape, nature, human life, and spirit. Her photographs were featured in educational and art magazines, and were shown in group exhibits. Born in Poland, she currently lives in the US.

Follow Lidia on Instagram: @lidiarussellphotography

Desert Landscapes (2019 – 2022)

This project emerged from days of travelling through remote western desert landscapes of Arizona and California, so unfamiliar to my European eye. The visual language of American deserts is unexpectedly rich. I felt enchanted and humbled by the colors, textures, forms, layers of time, silence, sense of space, sense of unearthliness, the elements. Indigenous Peoples call these lands sacred and encourage their inhabitants to understand themselves through understanding the place they find themselves in, and in consequence, to become good guardians or stewards of the lands they belong to by virtue of birth or residence. If we understand ourselves in this way, we will grasp something essential about our relation to our communities, land we live on, and the planet. I am hoping these images reflect a sense of the awe experienced while driving and hiking through America’s deserts. These journeys took place shortly before the beginning (The Grand Canyon) and the end of the pandemic (The Mojave Desert), and they both prepared me for, helped to go through, mirrored, and enabled to better understand the meaning of that unprecedented time.

**Lidia, congratulations on being part of Vision(ary). If we were on a photo trip to the desert together, where would you take us?**

It may be too hot for Death Valley at this time, but I’d still take us to the Mojave Desert – some areas are not well known or widely photographed. For the most part it’s very much deserted – you can drive for miles and see just a train at the horizon or single vehicle. So it’s a super comfortable place for outsiders and empaths. Mojave’s vast open vistas, rocky hills, and remote roads have a pull that’s hard to resist.

The Mojave Desert sounds great. What are your photo essentials and what music, if any, should we play?

When it comes to travelling and photography, our presence and attention count the most. We need eyes wide open, sunglasses, a good pair of lightweight hiking boots, an offline or printed map, plenty of water, and plenty of stamina – we may drive forever on bad roads, face strong winds and blistering sun. Wind is music that the desert itself is playing.

Many Europeans also associate the Mojave with a quirky German cult movie from the 80s called the Bagdad Café and its’ hit song (lyrics start… “A desert road from Vegas to nowhere”) which captures something from the spirit… we accidentally found this small café in the middle of nowhere… buried in a desert dust it looked a bit too quirky for me, so I didn’t care to go inside.

I won’t play the very atmospheric Hania Rani’s music – though it would be great to introduce this talented young Polish piano player, vocalist, and composer (she’s a good photographer as well). Her nostalgic progressive mix of minimal tracks and neo-classical sounds would probably go well with desert sands and night skies. When we travel (it’s my heart that takes us places but it’s he who drives, just one aspect of his overall awesomeness), we sometimes listen to R.E.M. as we have this one old CD in the vehicle, but more often, we simply allow the sound of the place to reach us, so perhaps that’s what we could do now?

Thank you for the recommendations! What is the first thing we do when we get to our destination?

We take a deep breath and acknowledge our inner state. We take the environment fully in and make sure we understand where we stand – what we should pay attention to on this land, who lived there, and where these inhabitants or their descendants are today. We thank them (and the desert gods!) for allowing us to come that far. And we notice the weather…

What initially drew you to landscape photography and desert landscapes in particular?

I always thrived in nature, and grew up with a landscape that was New England-like: forests, lakes, and close to the sea. As a teenager I discovered the mountains, and used to hike with my high school girlfriends. We would hitchhike the entire country, from the far northwest of Poland, to the lower south, and oftentimes we’d cross the border to the less crowded Tatra High Mountains in Slovakia, which are part of the Carpathian mountain chain. Both Slovak and Polish sides are protected as national parks. Later I would hike there on my own with a 35mm analog camera. The Tatra Mountains would make me feel strong, brave, and unusually alert – it was almost as if I sensed a higher consciousness there, and I loved those silent conversations with rough landscapes (at 8000 feet, my fear of heights would take me back from the trail before I reached the summit).

Mountains possess a spirit, and so America’s deserts. When we immerse ourselves in this terrain and allow ourselves to be receptive, we tap into that well of desert wisdom. This connection is reminiscent of vision quests that have played important role in the spiritual practices of many cultures, including Christianity, Judaism, and Indigenous traditions. From a spiritual perspective, the desert is for growth and transformation. It calls for courage, strips away the layers of cultural falsehoods and illusions we cling to, leaving us with a raw, unfiltered view of reality. It provides us with great clarity and respect for the elements and forces that are bigger than us. Yet my journey into landscape photography began amidst the mountains, where a landscape felt grand and alive, and I wanted to freeze our encounter in time. My focus extended beyond physicality, I wished to depict the underlying mystery, the essence. At times, it felt akin to photographing a ghost – the unseen energies that pulse through our world.

You took these photographs shortly before the beginning and the end of the pandemic. How have desert landscapes throughout this period shaped your understanding of solitude and the human connection to nature?

Contrary to popular belief, silence in the desert is rarely an absolute void. Instead, it’s often punctuated by a variety of sounds: the whisper of the wind, the rustling of leaves brushing against one another, the songs of birds, thunderclaps, the patter of rain, and the reverberations of sound bouncing off the rocks. Yet, amidst this auditory richness, there is an overarching silence, akin to being nestled in a spacious vacuum bubble. It allows us to connect with both our surroundings and our internal responses so that we can better see and understand. The mental chatter diminishes, uncovering a spaciousness within us that daily distractions often hide. The desert, while captivating, offers little for the mind to focus on, creating a uniquely meditative atmosphere. When we become quieter, more empty, more desert-like, we can both loose ourselves and find the self that underlines our experiences.

The desert reveals that we are each solitary beings, unique universes in ourselves. We shape our own realities through the stories we tell. In this exploration, we can also see that everything else is a unique world, and together, we can create shared realities based on our collective experiences and the narratives we build together. We must learn to change how we view our relationship with the Earth. The pandemic helped many recognize our dependence on nature. We saw how the natural world thrived without us and offered us comfort during tough times. It’s essential that we take action to help the planet heal while there’s still time.

The desert journeys allowed me to recognize the power of the land. In these vast, seemingly barren places, I saw the endless possibilities of the human heart. As we move past the isolation of the pandemic, it’s important to nurture our visions for a new reality – one we started to glimpse during quiet, introspective times. Together and inspired, we can bring this new reality to life.

You’ve written in your blog you “lean towards more wild and rugged places” yet have been excited about visiting both “remote locations and the more iconic tourist destinations.” How does your photographic approach change depending on its isolation and location?

When navigating crowded locations, photographers often find themselves faced with two choices. The first is to photograph the moment and make a documentary statement (depicting scenes like tourists taking selfies at the precipice of cliffs or climbing nature monuments that hold sacred significance for Indigenous peoples, much like cathedrals do for Europeans). These images convey a juxtaposition of nature and human intrusion. Some photographers opt for a more selective approach and create idealized images devoid of human presence, carefully cleaning up the frame to remove any trace of tourists or fellow photographers. My preference leans toward arriving at these iconic sites when the hustle and bustle has waned, and fatigue has driven most away. We often choose “bad weather” day or venture to places that appear overlooked, nestled in the shadows of more popular attractions. I find value in spaces that afford a simpler interaction with the environment. In an isolated place, I allow intuition to be the guide (while having some idea about terrain based on former research). Sometimes there’s a need to decide about gear, length of hike, light, but usually all is spontaneous, and often feel that landscape recognizes the respect we give and offers to guide us…

Okay, feels as if I bored our photo group, and we could all benefit from a good cup of coffee. That’s what tourist destinations are for – they house delightful cafés and stores that offer an opportunity to appreciate the craftsmanship of local artisans. As a former ceramic artist, I often bring back from a trip a unique piece of pottery, and love to learn more about it.

When we venture into more ‘civilized’ areas, the visual narratives that unfold differ from those from untouched landscapes, but the cultures that thrive in the desert are picturesque and distinctive, even with a global coat of paint and disastrous impact on environment.

Some of your photographs feature Joshua trees, making us think about the environmental challenges threatening them. How can photography raise awareness about the interconnectedness of ecosystems and human happiness?

David Ulrich, a photographer who weaves the threads between art, nature, and consciousness, shared insights gained from research on the impact of climate change photography. If I recall correctly, the findings revealed that images that portray the disasters and evoke feelings of despair are often less effective in raising awareness than those that depict the beauty and fragility of our threatened environments. This revelation is profound. When we engage authentically with the landscapes around us, their beauty fosters a sense of gratitude and reverence. This emotional connection allows us to acknowledge the “invisible thread” that binds us all to the Earth.

Standing before a Joshua tree, or any element of nature that resonates deeply within us, we find ourselves in a contemplative space where we can perceive the sacredness of the land – like the Navajo people, who view the land as a powerful form of consciousness. The idea that, with every step we take upon the Earth, we are engaging with something far greater than ourselves is not just a romantic notion; it is a truth found across cultures and present in the literary traditions of the West. True happiness and fulfillment cannot exist in isolation, particularly when we are surrounded by landscapes that are suffering and exploited. The sight of dying Joshua trees – a species whose decline signifies the loss of countless other forms of life – serves as a reminder of our shared destiny. We are woven into this tapestry, feeling the land’s pain not just through despair but through the beauty it offers.

It is striking that while photographers are among the minority that articulates the state of our natural world, the majority of society remains unaware or indifferent. The beauty depicted in photographs is not just a visual treat; it is an act of reciprocity, an exchange between the planet and inhabitants. It invites us to pause, reflect, and perhaps take action in safeguarding our environments. Through this lens, we begin to understand that our happiness is intertwined with the health of our planet, and each image becomes a reminder of what we may lose.

What other photographers inspire you?

I like that the word “inspiration” is derived from the Latin “inspirare,” meaning “to breathe into.” There’s something timeless about the pure, fresh air of Ansel Adams’ and Minor White’s photographs. I have great respect for the dedication and work of Sebastião Salgado, Ragnar Axelsson, and Robert Misrach. I find myself drawn to images that evoke particular inner states in the viewer, much like the landscapes from David Ulrich. I get lost in the beauty of landscapes photographed by William Neil, Jimmy Chin, Roman Loranc, and Xuan-Hui Ng. The frames of André Kertész and Édouard Boubat never cease to inspire me; their curious, tender perspectives and thoughtful compositions remind me that there is always something captivating to see. I am fascinated by Abelardo Morell‘s pinhole projects, especially “Tent Camera,” for their unique processes and artistic vision. Additionally, I admire the intricate work of Wendy Bagnall, Sandra Bartocha, and Ingrid Weyland, which highlights their sensitivity and craftsmanship.

Gab Mejia is an exceptional young storyteller, photographer, environmentalist, and his response to my question during the National Geographic webinar about his favorite spot in the United States motivated me to explore the Mojave Desert. My list of inspirations is already quite extensive, but I’m also fortunate to have friends and acquaintance photographers who inspire me every day. Last but not least, my husband is a photographer – though his work is mostly confined to family albums and his phone – and he has the ability to inspire and even physically guide me a foot or two when I’m trying to frame.

We are getting ready to go back as we reminisce about your favorite places to photograph. What are they?

If you glimpse through my portfolio, I hope you’ll detect a pursuit of presence and a hint of mystery. I’m drawn to remote locations that were once considered “off the beaten path”: frigid islands, rugged hills and mountains, volcanic regions, deserts, badlands, and glaciers. If I could frequently visit such landscapes (and survive there!), it would truly be a dream come true. At the same time, I share a connection with the Atlantic Ocean, which feels like a more expansive version of my childhood companion, the Baltic Sea. Lately, you might find me among the East Coast’s sand dunes, absorbing their tales of the past, the shifting sands, and the uncertain future, while gaining insight into the resilience we will all need as we navigate through our collective transformation.

What is the last thing we do when we leave?

We express our gratitude. And make sure we are well-informed about how to return safely (details on the route, weather conditions, and time)… we don’t want to drive through mountain passes in fog or get stranded in the desert after dark, though such an adventure might offer great photographic opportunities. We appreciate the land for welcoming us and revealing its mysteries. One of those mysteries could be the realization that we are never truly alone in the desert?

Nicolas Marticorena: Aridness

Posted on September 14, 2024

We had the opportunity to talk to Nicolás Marticorena about his series, Aridez (Aridity), currently on view in our annual public outdoor exhibition Vision(ary). The work explores the concept of ecological and ’emotional’ aridness through the photographer’s solo journeys across his homecountry Chile, Mexico and Marruecos. An interview with the artist follows.

© Nicolás Marticorena, Oaxaca, Mexico, 2022. All images courtesy the artist.

Nicolás Marticorena (Santiago de Chile, 1983). He studied journalism and photography at Andres Bello University and has a PhD in Sociology from the University of Barcelona, Spain. As a journalist and sociologist, his approach to analog photography began during college with an initial interest in documentary photography. Over the years, he has been exploring other styles and developing a personal photographic look, which he conducts as a process of internal search and expression that allows him to connect with the contemplation of the environment, people, and the intimate. Since 2021, he has deepened his photography knowledge and capabilities through workshops with renowned photographers Luis Poirot and Fernanda Larraín, with whom he has been learning laboratory techniques for more than two years. In 2023, he was part of Pasajero, a group exhibition of analog photography at Centro Cultural Las Condes.

Follow Nicolás Marticorena on Instagram: @nicolas_marticorena

©Nicolás Marticorena, Tifnit 2, Marruecos, 2023.

**Nicolás, let’s imagine we are on a photo trip around Chile, Marruecos, and Mexico — the places where your series Aridity takes place. Where would you take us first and why?**

Without a doubt, Chile. It is the place I know best, it is my environment, and it is where my interest in connecting with aridity originates. I believe that as photographers, our perspective is always more enriching when we capture what we inhabit the most—be it a specific space, a theme, an emotion, or a particular interest. From there, we can create and understand the paths and evolution of our photographic projects. And Chile, especially the province of Petorca, is the space that has allowed me not only to develop a more personal perspective on a very sensitive socio-environmental issue but also to embark on a journey of self-discovery, where I have sought to connect the photographic process with my emotions through the images I have taken over the years of landscapes, people, and communities.

I would take you on the route I usually follow through the province’s roads, with no other goal than to travel at a leisurely pace until I have the chance to find those places and situations that spark an intimate interest in photographing and getting to know those who live in these towns struggling to obtain water, learning about their lives, their memories, their surroundings, and their relationship with the mountains and nature.

©Nicolás Marticorena, Cabildo, Provincia de Petorca, 2022.

In all the places we are going to, why is water — or better said, the lack of thereof — so important to you and to the narrative thread of your project?

Through the images, I delve into the thread of aridity as an environment that allows me to connect with resilience. It relates to the ways in which nature, the landscape, and those who live with that environment adapt, as well as to those who travel or have traveled through an emotionally difficult path. In my view, aridity somehow drives us to seek the extension of life and transforms into a context that makes us reflect on what we were, what we are, and what we want to be. This deeply intrigued me, especially considering that the climate emergency we are experiencing is expanding the presence of aridity in our world in every sense.

When I started this project in Petorca, an area suffering from the effects of climate change through an unprecedented megadrought, I began making recurrent trips to the area as an observer. I gradually familiarized myself with the context, the environment, and spent long days traveling alone, exploring mining routes, and conversing with people I met along the way. This dynamic allowed me to perceive the resilience of the environment, but also to feel my own resilience in relation to the situation and my personal experience. I realized the ambivalent effect of aridity on me and also began to notice that other trips I was making or wanted to make to other places—such as Mexico and Morocco—had commonalities with Petorca.

©Nicolás Marticorena, Tifnit 1, Marruecos, 2023.

Travel to photograph or photograph to travel? What are the implications of each?

Perhaps it’s a mix of both; I think there is a reciprocal relationship. Traveling is one of the most exciting activities we can engage in, and personally, it is one of the most cherished times for me to immerse myself in a subject and dedicate myself exclusively to photography, without distractions. It’s my chance to be amazed. Conversely, I believe that photography often leads us to discover, delve into, and develop an interest in new destinations. Since I was young, I’ve been fortunate to travel, but when I started integrating photography into that exploration, I benefited from a combination that expanded my experiences and travel horizons far beyond, whether near or thousands of kilometers away. Today, photography defines my travels and profoundly influences the destinations I choose; those that support my creative process and self-discovery.

©Nicolás Marticorena, Alicahue, Provincia de Petorca, 2020.

What is on your mind when you hold your camera when you are photographing a person versus a landscape?

It’s difficult for me to describe or generalize. There are times when I find myself encountering a person as part of a particular situation, inhabiting an eye-catching space, or reflecting an expression that draws my attention. At those moments, I feel the impulse to photograph, encountering a certain surprise that motivates me to capture the instant and offer my own interpretation of reality. Or there are times when circumstances lead me to a meeting through conversation and interaction, allowing me to get to know a person a bit better and discover them. That’s when the opportunity to create a portrait arises.

When I photograph a landscape, I also feel an unconscious impulse; something compels me to pick up the camera and record. I’m drawn to composition, light, and textures, but underlying it all is something irrational. The photographer Graciela Iturbide says that when we photograph, we interpret a very subjective reality that somehow conveys our previous experiences and emotions. I feel a strong connection with what she mentions. I believe that when I’m alone, with my camera in hand, and I come across a landscape, situation, or person to photograph, I’m unconsciously capturing a moment that reflects a part of who I am and who I have been.

©Nicolás Marticorena, RutaE411, Provincia de Petorca, 2019.

What are your photo essentials you take when you go on such photo trips?

I try to travel as light as possible. I carry a medium-sized backpack in which I keep a light meter, a remote shutter release, some rolls of film, a 35mm camera, and of course, my Rolleiflex, which has been very useful on these trips. It’s a camera that, in a way, seems to generate trust and curiosity in people when I photograph them. It has opened some doors for me.

©Nicolás Marticorena, Chalaco, Provincia de Petorca, 2023.

If you could add one more country to your project, where would you travel next?

I would love to have the opportunity to explore Iran in depth. It’s a country that seems enigmatic to me, culturally rich, and with landscapes that are deeply moving. I’ve gotten to know it a bit more through its artists, its cinema, and significant photography books like Gilles Peress’s Telex Iran: In the Name of Revolution. It’s a country experiencing aridity and, unfortunately, is also severely affected by water scarcity. I hope that when the military and political tensions ease, I’ll have the fortune to explore it.

I also want to explore the northern part of Chile more deeply, with its desert and highlands. This September, I will travel to the town of Putre to start a journey by land to Calama, where I hope to continue expanding my Aridity project.

©Nicolás Marticorena, Mirleft 2, Marruecos, 2023.

Vision(ary) | Rob Hammer

Posted on July 28, 2024

We spoke to artist Rob Hammer about this project, Barber Shops of America, currently on view at the Griffin Museum’s annual public outdoor exhibtion, Vision(ary). An interview with the artist follows.

Rob Hammer is a documentary and commercial photographer from upstate New York. He has lived in many places throughout the USA, including California, Colorado, and currently North Carolina. Throughout his career, he has photographed some of the best athletes on the planet, like Kobe Bryant and Shaquille O’Neal, for clients such as Nike and Adidas. When not on assignment, he devotes his time to long-term documentary projects that focus on niche aspects of American culture, resulting in photography books. Barbershops of America, American Backcourts, and Roadside Meditations are a few notable examples, as well as his current project documenting real working cowboys on historic cattle ranches in the American West. He is also a dedicated fly fisherman, duck hunter, and backcountry snowboarder.

Website: www.robhammerphotography.com

Instagram: @robhammerphoto

All images © Rob Hammer. Courtesy the artist.

Project Statement

In the heart of our communities, where the pulse of daily life beats strongest, lies the timeless sanctuary of the neighborhood barbershop—a beautiful but dying piece of American history. This series seeks to document the spirit of these vibrant spaces that serve as more than mere grooming parlors—they are cultural landmarks, social hubs, and intimate storytellers of our collective narrative.

Each barbershop bears the unique imprint of its neighborhood, reflecting the diverse tapestry of the people it welcomes in all corners of our great country. The scent of Barbicide mingles with candid chatter, creating an atmosphere rich with camaraderie and shared experience. Here, individuals from all walks of life come together, bound by the common ritual of grooming, but leave with much more: tales exchanged, wisdom imparted, and bonds forged.

The barbers themselves, skilled artisans and confidants, are custodians of tradition, yet constantly adapt to the evolving styles and desires of their clientele. Through my photographs, I aim to preserve the essence of these barbershops as microcosms of our neighborhoods. Each image is a window into a world where generations converge, where laughter and debates resonate against the backdrop of walls steeped with a patina earned only after decades of faithful service. It is a celebration of the ordinary moments that weave the fabric of our daily lives, elevating the mundane to the extraordinary.

In an era of rapid change, these neighborhood barbershops stand as resilient anchors, embodying a sense of continuity and community. They aren’t merely a place to get a haircut; they are a refuge of authenticity in an increasingly digital world—timeless establishments that can never be replaced or duplicated.

Going into this project, Barber Shops of America, why did you choose to depict your feelings of the dying american spirit through a series of barbershops and not of another american staple?

At first it was probably just sentimental reasons that grew from my appreciation for
old school barbershops. Then the longer the project went on, it became obvious that barbershops
are such an important part of the greater American culture. If you break it down further though,
barbershops aren’t just a place to get your haircut. They are about friendship, human interaction,
and community. How can you replace an institution that grew in and with a neighborhood, town, or
city for decades? The friendships and memories that formed in each one are priceless.

Walk us through your photographic process. Did anything inspire you or impact you to create it? Did you face any challenges?

There are always challenges with a project of this size. A year or so into shooting I decided the project would only be complete if shops were documented in all 50 states of the USA. So thought
had to be given not only to funding travel, but more importantly, to the locations of these traditional
shops that have been in business for 40, 50, 60 years? Most of them don’t have a telephone number,
let alone a website or social media page. It was only through extensive travel (35k miles a year) on
back roads to small towns that I was able to find these places that have become a staple in their
communities.

How did you connect and interact with the different subjects and people in these photographs?

Each place was different. Some barbers were more than happy to spend hours
sharing their whole life story. And others did nothing more than allow me to briefly be in their shop
to take pictures. After 13+ years working on this project it’s incredible to think about the people
I’ve met and what occurred after walking through the shop doors. A number of them took me to
lunch, invited me to dinner in their homes, and in one particularly memorable case, my photograph
of a barber in Kansas was used for his obituary. It’s crazy to count how many barbers mention that
they regularly have 3 generations of families coming in for haircuts. Where else does that happen?

How did these communities that you photographed impact you?

Barbershops are a great equalizer. No matter who you are or how much money
you make, the price and service are the same. Each person is met with a friendly smile as they walk
through the door by a barber they have known their entire lives. To be a fly on the wall for those
interactions is an experience and education like no other. If you were to close your eyes and just
listen, the chatter slowly gives clues to where you are in the world. Stick around and you find out
the intricacies of each community. Candid conversations reveal so much that you’d never know otherwise and that gives you a deeper appreciation for people that live drastically different lives
from your own.

Which barbershop of the photographs in this series do you feel speaks to you the most and why?

Tony’s in Brooklyn has been a working barbershop for over 200 years! It’s a special
place. Of the 1000’s of barbershops I’ve been in, none compare to the feeling that Tony’s offers. The
place is so weathered with age that you might think it’s a movie set. Unfortunately Tony passed
away recently, but he moved here from Italy decades ago, and worked his whole life as a barber
supporting his family. It was sad to hear of Tony’s passing, but I’m grateful to have documented his
time capsule of a shop so his legacy can live on.

What equipment did you use the most during the series?

That’s changed a lot. For a long time I only shot on Nikon, but switched completely
over to Sony about 4 years ago. In the beginning I was actually using strobes to light but noticed
that they ruined the unique feeling each shop offered. After that realization I stripped it back to two
cameras and two lenses. Some combinaton of a wide and a longer lens. In general I think people
obsess too much about the gear. Just go out and shoot. The more you have the more it slows you
down and causes you to overthink everything.

Please tell us the stories behind these three photographs and why you chose to click the shutter at that exact moment.

Ⅰ. McLean’s Barbershop – Hyannis, MA.
The color palette and textures of this shop are awesome. Very little has changed there
since they opened decades ago. I love this photograph because it shows a very quiet
moment between two old friends. It’s so subtle that you might not even notice their
smiles if you look too quickly. It defines the relationship that exists between a barber and
customer(friend) that has sat in his chair once a month for his whole life.

II. Cuts and Bends Barbershop – Oakland, CA
Kenneth is such an interesting guy. He loves to read books, which is why his shop is
literally filled with them. The shop is a direct reflection of him. It’s also a second home.
You’ll never see another shop like his. There is so much happening in there, but you can
also feel his calming presence in this photograph.

Ⅲ. Syndicate Barbershop – Long Beach, CA

Compared to some of the other shops in this series, Syndicate is fairly new, but it’s a 1/1. Incredible shop. This photo was taken during their 20 year anniversary party. So many people from the local community and beyond came out to show their support. Which is a huge testament to the relationships that have grown there over the years. It’s fun to think about places like Syndicate having their 40th, 50th, 60th year anniversary parties

Vision(ary) | Susan Lapides’ St. George: Ebb and Flow

Posted on July 27, 2024

We talked to Susan Lapides about her project Ebb and Flow documenting the Bay of Fundy’s and ecosystem. The project captures the region’s unpredictable tidal changes with great force and beauty, offering a unique look to the lives of the peoples living with the ebb and flow of the tides. Currently on view at our annual public outdoor exhibition, Vision(ary).

Instagram: @susanlapides

Website: www.susanlapides.com

An interview with the artist follows.

All images © Susan Lapides. Courtesy the artist.

Project Statement

St. George: Ebb & Flow is my tribute to the residents of a rural community on the Bay of Fundy, home to the highest tides in the world. I return each summer to this place I love, curious about what’s changed. As a fine art photographer with skills learned as a professional editorial photographer, I was inspired to document this moment in time—especially the transitions in the age-old fishing industries as they rapidly reinvent themselves to keep pace with climate change and global demands. Each year I return with a fresh perspective, seeking to find intimate moments that feel iconic to the maritime experience: the deep connection to the natural world, the rhythm of the tides, and the mesmerizing, shifting beauty. This project evolved to create an in-depth feeling of the human presence in New Brunswick, Canada. Many thanks to the community for opening their doors and sharing their stories.

Please describe your photographic process, your editing process, and what type of gear you carried around with you the most during this project.

“Evening Walk” and Granite Town are a few of the earliest photographs in this series, captured in 2006 and 2007 using a Mamiya 645 camera. Shortly thereafter, due to the challenges of accessing film and processing in New Brunswick, I transitioned to digital photography. Different 35mm cameras as the technology improves, using a 24-70mm zoom lens, alongside a long zoom lens that remains in my bag 98% of the time.

Due to the constant shift of the tides, the water remains at 50 degrees even in mid-summer, distinguishing this area from typical beach communities. Boating here demands a keen awareness of tides and currents.

What particularly about the maritime environment do you find the most intimate?

The term ‘Maritimes,’ used to describe Canada’s eastern provinces, conjures images of water and nature. The Bay of Fundy, with its expansive skies and mesmerizing play of light and color, never fails to captivate me. The constant movement of its 26-foot tides, ebbing and flowing every 6 hours, reveals the ocean floor and then blankets the beach anew. In St. George, residents deeply appreciate this natural beauty while also respecting its power: the tides are formidable, the currents unpredictable, and the coastal ledges pose hazards.

While working on this project, how did you develop the connection you have now with both the residents of the community and the environment?

St. George, New Brunswick, Canada, is a small town where everyone knows each other, often connected through distant relations. When my family arrived 20 years ago, we were outsiders, but the community welcomed us warmly. Making friends and connections happened organically through the tight-knit community.

How do you think that your work/photos impacted the community and how did it help you grow as an artist?

This photographic body of work is the result of listening to the community’s stories about the changes they’ve experienced. I aimed to create a lasting document that preserves the collective memory of the people and industries of St. George and New Brunswick. My goal was to produce a document that residents will cherish and share as they pass down their stories to future generations.

I am deeply honored and thrilled that this summer, 2024, John Leroux, manager of collections and exhibitions at Beaverbrook Art Gallery, is exhibiting this work. And in collaboration with Goose Lane Editions, they will be publishing ‘St. George: Ebb &Flow’ this summer.

Out of the photos of this series, which one photo resonates the most with you and your personal experience and why?

Evening Walk — A front swept through, pushing a bank of clouds across the bay with strong gusts. Peter and our daughter, who was outside playing lacrosse, hurried up onto the point, with Daisy bounding alongside them. I grabbed my Mamiya, but realizing I couldn’t catch up, I stopped in the field above and captured just one frame. Then I stood looking upward watching the storm race onward.

Salmon Factor — Madonna is my nickname for this photo. For this project, I aimed to document the fishing industry, both on the water and in the factories. I particularly cherish the moment captured of the woman laughing on the left side of the frame, perhaps reacting to the photographer’s presence. Another woman, with her head tilted and covered in a green hoodie, appears almost biblical in her contemplation. Deep in thought, she seems unaware of my presence, diligently trimming each fillet as it moves down the conveyor belt.

Floating — For many of us, scuba diving is a recreational sport, but diving to install and repair salmon cages or herring weirs or the underside of ship hulls requires an industry that meets the demands of working divers. It’s inherently risky work. In this photograph, Warrick is taking a moment to relax after removing his tank, weight belt, and mask.

About the artist

Susan Lapides is an American photographic artist renowned for her exploration of community dynamics and sense of place through time-based projects. Through her portraits and landscapes, Lapides delves into social, cultural, and community dynamics. A graduate of Tufts University/School of the Museum of Fine Arts, Lapides embarked on a distinguished career as an editorial photographer on assignment for esteemed publications such as Smithsonian, Life, Time, Forbes, The New York Times, and People. She has received awards from the American Society of Media Photographers and has photographed notable figures including President Barack Obama. After 30 years, she transitioned from a career as a documentary photographer to emerge as a fine art photographer.

Lapides has held solo exhibitions at venues such as Sunbury Shores and Beaverbrook Art Gallery in New Brunswick, Canada, and the Griffin Museum of Photography in Winchester, Massachusetts. Her work has been featured in group exhibitions at Foley Gallery in New York City, the Newport Art Museum, Brand Library and Art Center in Los Angeles, CA, and Oceanside Museum in San Diego, CA. Lapides’ photographs are housed in numerous private and public collections.

Currently residing in Cambridge, Massachusetts, Lapides splits her time between her urban base and the coastal community of St. George, New Brunswick, where she finds inspiration for her ongoing artistic endeavors.

Vision(ary) | Angela Rowlings

Posted on July 26, 2024

Angela Rowlings (she/her) is a documentary and portrait photographer based in Boston, Mass. and Prince Edward Island, Canada, where she has been documenting the intersection of culture and climate. We had the chance to speak to hear about her career photographing Boston’s diverse cultural festivals. Her project documenting New England’s first all-female mariachi band is on view at the Griffin’s annual outdoor exhibition, Vision(ary).

Website: https://angelarowlings.photoshelter.com/index

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/angelarowlings

About her project

Veronica Robles is a mariachi singer, musician, and folkloric dancer who co-founded and directs the Veronica Robles Cultural Center (VROCC), a space dedicated to programming for arts and culture for Boston’s Latino community while also welcoming residents of all backgrounds. Veronica, who has performed mariachi music since she was a teen in Mexico City, realized her dream of starting New England’s first all-female mariachi band. She balances her community work at VROCC with an increasing number of mariachi performances. Veronica says her work honors the memory of her daughter, Kithzia, who passed away as a teen.

While documenting many events around Boston for more than 20 years, I have witnessed Veronica showing up for the community consistently and enthusiastically in many ways. Through the arts, she has helped to foster a sense of cultural pride in Boston’s youth with Latin American heritage. She exudes warmth and acts as a bridge between these cultures and the broader Boston community by organizing events such as her annual Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) celebration and offering dance, music, entrepreneurship, and leadership classes. Her love of community shown via music and dance mirrors my own that’s expressed photographically.

Running a successful cultural center while simultaneously leading an all-women mariachi band with a full calendar of events is no easy feat. My photos are meant to pay tribute to Veronica’s contributions and offer inspiration to others, particularly women, who are trying to juggle all that life brings us.

Veronica Robles, center, and members of her all-female mariachi band help each other get ready to perform during the VIP recepion for Immersive Frida Kahlo in Boston on February 9, 2022.

What inspired you to create this project, and how do you personally connect to your work? What do you hope to get out of it?

I met Veronica Robles long ago while working on a different project. After photographing many of her organization’s events over the years, I thought, why haven’t I done a project about Veronica herself? She’s amazing and gives so much to various communities in and around Boston. She saw a need for cultural education and decided to fill it. VROCC offers dance and music classes for youth, but they’ve expanded to offer various types of business and cultural workshops for adults as well. Meanwhile, Veronica also founded an all-female mariachi band made up of women from different cultures. One of my favorite things about being a photographer is meeting incredible people and learning new things while documenting their lives.

Veronica Robles performs with her all-female mariachi band during the VIP recepion for Immersive Frida Kahlo in Boston on February 9, 2022.

Do you believe this project helped you grow as an artist and how?

As an independent photojournalist, you have the liberty to photograph the way you want, in theory. However, there are paid assignments, editing, research for other projects, grant writing, and life to juggle at the same time. Sometimes you can’t photograph a part of the story due to scheduling conflicts, so you must seek alternative ways to tell the story. It’s taught me to check in frequently with the people I’m photographing. The best way to cover a story is by showing up and talking with people face to face. People open up so much more when you’re present.

What photographic and editing process did you go about using? What type of gear do you bring most often with you during these series?

I photograph with one DSLR and one mirrorless camera and two or three lenses. To me, the gear is less important than paying attention to light and anticipating moments. My background working at newspapers forced me to photograph in all types of light. Sometimes key moments happen in the worst light and you must find a way to make something beautiful in tough situations. When editing, I select images that both advance the narrative and help the collective piece flow. Sometimes it’s necessary to eliminate a favorite photo because it’s repetitive or has a similar feel to another.

An altar honoring loved ones, including Kithzia López-Robles, daughter of Veronica Robles, is a part of the Día de los Muertos celebration at the Veronica Robles Cultural Center on October 30, 2021 in East Boston, Massachusetts. Robles has dedicated her community work in memory of her daughter.

How do you think or hope these photographs will impact its viewers?

Veronica is someone who has faced challenges as many people do, yet she is constantly inventing opportunities for herself and the community around her. She pushes herself creatively and professionally and encourages others to grow. Although her focus is on programming, education, and events in the Latinx community, she brings her music and dance to everyone and offers a welcoming environment for people of all backgrounds. Hopefully viewers get a glimpse of her life and will be inspired by her creativity and generosity of participation in Boston and surrounding areas.

Veronica Robles, left, and members of her all-female mariachi band return to their dressing room after performing in the VIP recepion for Immersive Frida Kahlo in Boston on February 9, 2022.

How do you go about interacting and connecting to your subject?

I’ve known Veronica for most of my career, so we already had a friendly connection prior to this project. Coming from a background covering news, I prefer when people don’t pay attention to me or my cameras as I work, since my goal is to capture authentic scenes. During longer projects, there is often downtime between photographing moments. I use this time to ask questions or chat with people I’m photographing to get to know them and have them get to know me a bit.

Which three photographs of this series personally speak the most volume to you as the photographer?

My favorite photo is of Veronica singing during the Día de los Muertos event as a man hugs his son. The man had recently lost his father and embraced the child in a touching moment. Veronica dancing through the streets of East Boston with the children captures her relationship with the community. And the photo of Veronica facing the clouds shows a dreamer at work. Veronica is always pushing herself out of her comfort zone, trying new things, and uplifting others.

Vision(ary) | Sandy Hill: American Lawn Decor

Posted on July 25, 2024

Posted on June 24, 2024 (Edit)

Sandy Hill‘s charming portrayal of quirky and sometimes surreal world of yard decorations across New England and New York are not simply a light-hearted invitation to see yards as canvases for personal and cultural expression. As the artist notes, they are also windows into the lives of those who create them.

We had the opportunity to talk to the artist about her project, American Lawn Decor, currenly on view in our exhibition Vision(ary), on view through Septemver 15, 2024.

Sandy Hill grew up in a small town in Northeastern Ohio. The natural beauty as well as the rustic farms in the area provided the inspiration for her interest in photography. In fact, her first newspaper cover was taken at one of these farms and later a significant photography project revolved around an old family farm in upstate New York while she studied Documentary Photography at RIT.

Hill was a photographer for several daily newspapers and a wire service in the greater Boston area. She was also a public relations photographer for the University of Rochester. She had a solo exhibit in winter of 2021/2022 at The Griffin Museum of Photography called “The Gift”.

Her work has been included in multiple juried exhibits including several by the Griffin Museum and The Curated Fridge. The South X Southeast Gallery, The Southeast Center for Photography, Lenscratch, RIT Honor Show, and The Center for Fine Art Photography have also included her photographs in exhibits.

Her current work in portraiture has grown out of her interest in illustrating the stories of different people and learning about different cultures as well as a curiosity about others.

Website: https://sandyhillphoto.com/work

Instagram: @sandy_hill_photography

American Lawn Decor

After a tumultuous year filled with isolation and conflict I decided to search for the innocence and optimism that I’ve always associated with our country, even as we hold different views, beliefs or backgrounds. I found signs of this in the joy of yards adorned with unique decorations. The many different perspectives on what constitutes beauty or humor continue to intrigue and draw me to a door to find out who lives or works there. Rarely have the residents turned down my request for a quick portrait, and they stand with dignity and pride, humor or mystery, near a fictional world created for us to enjoy.

My intention was to avoid judgment. Rather I felt the need to search for a connection to people who share my country, and regardless of beliefs, views or background chose to celebrate life during a pandemic and beyond.

I continue to work on this project and I hope to extend the area I cover beyond the New England and New York regions.

This work was inspired by a desire to renew my own hopes and optimism for our country by looking beyond the headlines and finding a positive commonality. It is also my hope that these photographs can perhaps help us realize that we can find connections even during times that seem to be driving us apart.

We can find ways to appreciate one another even if it’s something as simple as a lawn decoration.

What inspired you to create this project, and how do you personally connect to your work? What you hope to get out of it and grow as an artist.

I was inspired to start these portraits during Covid as a way to step away from social media and television’s perspective of our population, and to connect with people (while masking and safely distancing). It gradually morphed into a project about finding something positive to focus on in others instead of differences and flaws. I hoped to regain some optimism for our country and humanity. I grew to recognize that we need to find ways to get past differences and headlines and find ways to connect to others even as they hold different opinions and backgrounds.

What type of camera and gear do you bring most often with you during these series?

My Nikon usually, or sometimes a little Olympus I keep with me for spontaneous shots

How do you think or hope these photographs will impact its viewers?

Ideally, I really hope they help viewers to step away from the hate, anger and judgement so prevalent in our times, and recognize the joy of humanity in others. I feel it is so important for our country to figure out how to overcome the divisiveness and remember how to talk to one another with respect, and maybe a start would be appreciating something as simple as creativity with lawn decor. This is also just a small attempt to celebrate something light and fun during dark times.

Which three photographs of this series personally speak the most volume to you as the photographer and what in your mind makes a good photograph?

I think what defines a photograph that I feel good about taking includes something beyond just the surface appeal. It can vary widely from news images to street photography, fine art and documentary. Ultimately I know it when I see it or feel an emotional response to it.

1. The woman by the fence:

2. The man with the Statue of Liberty because of the uniqueness of the decor and his obvious pride:

3. The woman with the flamingos was very kind to let me photograph her. She’d recently suffered a terrible loss and the flamingos were connected to that. So that image speaks to me of loss, love and strength during hard times. It is what I consider the strongest image because of the resilience and love I see in it. I feel it speaks to the times and what we need now more than ever

Vision(ary) | Chen Tianqiutao

Posted on July 23, 2024

For this interview, we talked to Chen Tianqiutao about his project Seen/Unseen, currently on view as part of our annual outdoor exhibition, Vision(ary).

Website: www.chentqt.com
Instagram: @chentqt

Tianqiutao, we are honored to be showcasing your project Seen/Unseen **as part of our annual outdoor public installation, Vision(ary). Please tell us, what inspired you to create this series of portraits of migrant children?**

Tianqiutao Chen: When I was in China, I used to be a voluntary photographer for an NGO called Vibrant Future which provided afterschool programs for the migrant children in Beijing. I established associations with the kids during my service in two migrant villages and started photographing them.

After documenting the children for some time, I felt that I could never capture the essence of their lives, and what they were experiencing, so I decided to develop this project using photography as a participatory field research method and social practice, collaborating with the kids and enabling them to tell their own stories photographically.

© Chen Tianqiutao. Handwriting by Zhang Ao: *Beijing is very good, just that the environment is too bad. I had a good time in hometown. Every year I went back there, I would collect corns and catch fish in rivers with my friends.*

It’s incredibly powerful that you also taught these children the basics of photography and supplied them with disposable film cameras to document their daily lives. What did you envision the impact of these photos would bring them, their community and the viewers?

TC: Through taking snapshots, the kids paid a little more attention to the “everyday” and practiced capturing meaningful moments and stories, which cultivated their self-expression and visual storytelling abilities. More importantly, they became more confident as creative individuals.

The photos taken by the children showcasing their daily lives provided the viewers with first-person perspectives of those true insiders, which were often unseen. Our collaboration and several resulting exhibitions brought more exposure and public attention to the migrant people in Beijing and mobilized more social support and services for their community.

© Chen Tianqiutao. Handwriting by Zhang Rong: It’s not good here, I eat and drink a lot everyday, can not feel the happiness of a kid living in mountains. It’s hard to walk on the sinuous paths in my hometown, but it feels happy to smell the sweet scent of fruit in fall.

TC: Planning and organizing this collaboration in the early stage were challenging. I had to go back and forth, negotiating with the NGO, so I could utilize their space to meet with the children and have access to more potential participants. Recruiting was also not easy. I had to talk with not only the kids but also their parents to let them know who I was and what we were planning to do. Some parents didn’t want their children to be “distracted” from their schoolwork, but luckily, most of them were open and supportive.

How did you approach or interact and connect with the children as you photographed them in their everyday environments?

TC: The portraits I took for the children were also collaborative endeavors. I asked them to decide where they wanted to be photographed, choosing the environment and background. They would take me to places that they thought were significant to them. For instance, some chose the road to school, the back alley of their houses, or where their homes used to be. After they had decided on the background, I would take portraits for them as a cold observer.

© Chen Tianqiutao. Handwriting by Wu Jinge: *Beijing is interesting. I feel carefree here. I play with my friends everyday. My parents are very considerate. I feel lonely in hometown because my brothers and friends don’t play with me.*

TC: Our collaboration allowed me to gain a more well-rounded observation and deeper understanding of the complicated living conditions and social status of the migrant people community in China’s urban centers. I’m impressed by the children’s straightforward and unfiltered visual recordings of their lives. Their photographs showcased a lot of vivid and intimate moments as well as many compelling and unique vantage points, which I could never reach and capture. Also, this project helped me investigate the possibilities of photography and explore its boundaries with social practice and activism.

© Chen Tianqiutao. Handwriting by Song Shuo: *I feel bored. Lonely. School is boring.*

In addition to the photographs, you chose to have the children write about themselves in accompanying text pieces. What can we learn about these narratives?

TC: The text and photos are reciprocal to each other. The written pieces helped articulate their true thoughts and reflect the complexity of China’s urbanization causing their displacement. All the photographs the children took showed their curiosity and passion for the world. However, they did have different and sometimes opposite opinions and feelings about being displaced in Beijing, away from their hometowns. Some of the kids disliked their living conditions, feeling lonely and bored in Beijing, whereas some enjoyed where they were, being able to blend in and make new friends in Beijing.

© Chen Tianqiutao. Handwriting by Zou Wanhui: *School life is fun. I have good time. I go to school with good friends everyday. We share good stuff and we also share knowledge learned at school. I will study even harder in the future .*

Chen Tianqiutao is an artist and educator working in China and the United States. Chen earned a BFA in Photography from the Central Academy of Fine Arts in Beijing and received an MFA in Photography and an MA in Art + Design Education from the Rhode Island School of Design.

Chen’s work has been exhibited nationally and internationally, including at the Center for Photography at Woodstock (Woodstock, NY), ClampArt (New York, NY), Photographic Center Northwest (Seattle, WA), Rhode Island Center for Photographic Arts (Providence, RI), Figge Art Museum (Davenport, IA), Minneapolis College of Art and Design (Minneapolis, MN), CAFA Art Museum (Beijing, China), Minsheng Art Museums (Beijing, China), DongGang International Photo Festival (Yeongwol, South Korea), Taipei International Photo Festival (Taipei, Taiwan), and Copenhagen Photo Festival (Copenhagen, Denmark), among others. His work was selected for the 2022 Critical Mass Top 50. His photobook The Last Post won the Lucie Photo Book Prize for the Independent Publishing Category and was shortlisted for the Images Vevey Book Award.

Currently, Chen is a Visiting Assistant Professor of Art in the Department of Art and Art History at Knox College in Galesburg, Illinois.

Interview by Vicente Isaias and Anya Wallace

Vision(ary) | Laila Nahar: Living With The Tides — The Sundarbans

Posted on July 22, 2024

“I might be physically close or far from the subject, but when I am successful in my photography I am never spiritually separated.” — Laila Nahar

Laila Nahar and collaborator Tanveer Khondker take us to the world’s largest contiguous mangrove ecosystem in this exclusive interview about her project, Living With The Tides. The images majestically capture the time-stopping and elemental beauty of Bangladesh’s Padma River Delta’s Sundarbans.

Follow on Instagram: @naharlaila

All images © Laila Nahar. Courtesy the artist.

What initially drew you to the Sundarbans and what sparked your fascination with the Padma River Delta?

My background from Bangladesh continues to shape my artistic identity and my work goes back to my roots in the Indian subcontinent, namely Bangladesh and India. While I was growing up, I was naturally getting fascinated with the Sundarbans – the world’s largest contiguous mangrove ecosystem shared by Bangladesh and India at the southernmost edge of the Bengal Delta. The same applies for my interest with the Padma. The rivers and rivulets, emerging primarily from the Ganga-Padma flow, create this incredible weave of land and water that is the mark of the delta – Bangladesh. There in the delta, along the shores of the Padma, where things are raw, elemental and primitive in the best sense. Water is everywhere and everything. The people of this delta are the Bangalis. I am a part of this delta and this is what has shaped me.

Due to the course of life and norm of the time, I got into engineering. Eventually, I migrated to the USA to continue higher studies in the field. My fascination for photography travelled with me. As any other immigrant having an American dream, I decided to settle in this country and started a job in the high-tech industry. I found myself getting nostalgic for Bangladesh, searching for my soul and questioning myself. I had questions — Can I still connect myself to Bangladesh? How can I reveal that human landscape which for me has never faded? I have been visiting Bangladesh every year, trying to re-discover my carefree days and reclaiming the land and its people and continuing my exploration of collective memories. This was the time when I made multiple journeys to the Sundarbans – this immense tidal jungle covering a mosaic of islands separated by a thousand winding creeks and rivers. My interest only grew stronger for this ever-changing but fragile habitat. Over time, Living with the tides – The Sundarbans became the handmade artist photo book of the Sundarbans.

It is beautiful to hear that you consider yourself to be part of the land. This begs me to question, how would you describe the relationship between the people and the Sundarbans environment? And what role do the local communities play in this landscape?

The Sundarbans plays an important role in the economy and livelihood of the southwestern region of Bangladesh and the Indian State of West Bengal. For Bangladesh, it is the largest single source of forest produce. People started living near the Sundarbans more than 220 years back when the colonial British administration decided to cut the forest down. Workers from other regions of the then Indian subcontinent were brought in claiming the area as laborers and agrarians. After 1875, when more than half of the Sundarbans had already been cleared, the remnants of the jungle gained protection as a reserved forest under the administration of the Forest Department. The Forest Department manages and controls commercial exploitations of the Sundarbans, mainly with the aim of sustaining the economic benefit extracted from the forest and conserving the eco-system. The population density is still rising; people living near the Sundarbans are primarily woodcutters, fishermen or honey collectors.

Many varieties of economically valuable trees and shrubs grow in the Sundarbans forest. Mangrove wood, the raw material for house and boat-building, hardboard, charcoal, furniture and fuel wood, is the most important forest produce. The wood-cutters, known locally as ‘bawalis’, use axes for cutting down the trees and live on wooden barges anchored in close proximity to each other, forming temporary floating camps. When the barges are fully loaded, the men pull them out of the small creeks by ropes and sheer muscle power. With the help of the tides and oars the loads are transported upstream. The varied environmental conditions in the Sundarbans provide a rich habitat for fish, mollusks and crustaceans. The fish stock is so abundant that no great effort was required to get an adequate catch. The honey collectors, locally called ‘mowalis’, search for wild honey and wax in the forest – which is one of the most strenuous activities. Traditionally, most people dependent on forest resources follow unwritten laws and rely on protective rituals. But as the population of the neighboring districts rises steadily, so does the number of livelihoods the forest must sustain.

People entering the Sundarbans are exposed continually to danger: encounters with tigers, crocodiles, sharks and poisonous snakes, as well as river pirates. Natural calamities – storms, cyclones, whirlpools and tidal bores – pose another threat. The people here live in connection with the jungles and rivers all around them. They ask goddess Bonbibi for protection. Old, experienced people believe that their best defense against any harm in the Sundarbans is a devout, god-fearing life, a clear mind, respect, and the sparing use of the forest resources.

You mention in your statement how fascinated you are by the “secretive splendor” and the sense of time slowing down in the Sundarbans. … Are there any specific times of day or weather conditions you gravitate to over others?

The magic of the mangrove swamps had me in its grip. Suspended and still, the mist fills the spaces between the mangrove and the water reflects the physical experience: the mystery of the forest, the heron walking on the edge of the water, few spotted deer grazing quiet, a kingfisher leading the boats on, or the prickling sense of heightened awareness. This is how I intend to make the viewer feel the slowing of time. The mist fills the gaps to show the spaces between, as if we can slip through and escape time itself. Those who have not experienced a mangrove swamp of this dimension will find it difficult to comprehend what the Sundarbans could offer.

I loved the physical experience of going by the creeks in the quiet of the morning or evening when I’m there. The sensation of everything is ‘In Stillness’ and that time has slowed down and that the forest and everything within it exists in a different state. Somehow set apart from our usual perception of linear time as the wind drops, the air cools, all is quiet and still and the forest draws in. It was like moment of eternity and stillness in passing by the winding creeks and rivers, immerged into fog and plucking strands of lives in ever-changing habitat. The forest is always present, binding the mangroves, water and the habitats.

I had John Berger in my mind as he described in his book Hold Everything Dear: Dispatches on Survival and Resistance: “A forest is what exists between its trees, between its dense undergrowth and its clearings, between all its life cycles and their different time-scales…A forest is a meeting place between those who enter it and something unnameable and attendant…Something intangible and within touching distance. Neither silent nor audible.”

In the handmade book Living With The Tides – The Sundarbans, the focus was to show the slowing of the time in the Sundarbans and its mysteries. I showed the fragility through the structures of eight Leoporello panels attached loose and opening on either side, exploring the quietness of the mangrove ecosystem. I printed text on a layer of translucent vellum covering the image of the ‘mangrove and boat’ prints on Japanese paper on background; depending on how the vellum is held, the text will appear to go out of focus and so does the image depicting the peril the Sundarbans is facing today due to climate change and human interference.

Handmade Photobook. *Living With the Tides — The Sundarbans.* Published by Night Rain Press.

How do you approach your subjects, whether human or non-human? Do you prefer to keep a distance from what you photograph?

Irrespective of the subject, human or non-human, the goal is always to engage with the fundamental wholeness of nature, the way that things are linked together and the story it tells. The proximity and engagement are dictated by whether I am an element of the story or not. Say I intend to capture the curious eyes of a child watching a visitor then I would be in proximity, engaged in the story. If I am capturing the carefree freedom of their play, then my physical presence must remain as obscure as possible from the scene. But I believe irrespective of the physical distance, one cannot truly capture the essence of the story without feeling the oneness. That is when we can see what lies in-between, how the elements are weaved together. That is when we capture the continuity of time and space across the frame of the capture. It’s no longer a frame frozen in time but an eternal story. So, I guess I might be physically close or far from the subject, but when I am successful in my photography I am never spiritually separated.

How does distancing oneself from the community being photographed impact the storytelling of the work? Have you run into any ethical concerns while working on this project?

Proximity and involvement always have profound impact on the story telling. Whether it is human, non-human, animate or inanimate, one’s presence would always alter the abstract energy of the story. Then the question always remains what the intent of the story is, what level of alteration tells the essence of the story that one intent to tell. It can be being fully engaged to complete obscurity. The goal is to see and feel the story. When successfully done, one will always find themselves in the optimal proximity.

Ethical concerns and dilemma are always part of any journey. No matter how faint, we never walk a path that we don’t leave our footprints upon. I always find myself in the ethical dilemma whether my presence would alter the fundamental spirit of the ecosystem. I consider that to be a valuable tool in my disposal. That is what enables me to be respectful and appreciative. It guides me to navigate the lands and feelings with gentleness. I would always leave behind something and I will always take back something; and I strive to tread such that our spirits are enriched on both sides. Sometimes I succeed and sometimes I fail.

While working on this project I did not face any ethical issue as per say, but as I mentioned the dilemma is always there. But the way I explored had been gentle, respectful and nonintrusive.

Your work reminds us of Benjamin Dimmit’s Elegy for Wetlands. Considering the realities of climate change and human impact on the Sundarbans, do you consider the project to be an elegy to a disappearing ecosystem?

I have not gone through Benjamin Dimwit’s work; will check up. I do consider this project as an elegy to a disappearing ecosystem. A staggering diversity of life forms in the Sundarbans find themselves in the verge of extinction between deforestation originating from the north and rising seas (due to global climate change) to the south. I am keenly aware that the Sundarbans has almost reached that ‘tipping point’ where further damage by humans could push the ecosystem into an ecological tailspin, from which the tiger and its co-inhabitants may never recover. The U.N. Food and Agriculture organization suggests that “mangroves today cover around 15 million hectares (ha.) worldwide, down from 18.8 million ha. in 1980.” Roughly, one million hectares of this globally threatened heritage exists as the Sundarbans (spread across both India and Bangladesh). The latest blow is the establishment of the Rampal coal power plant set up within 14km of the Sundarbans which poses serious threat to this unique ecosystem exposing the downriver forests to pollution and acid rain.

How do you envision this project contributing to the ongoing efforts to conserve and restore the Sundarbans for future generations?

I don’t know how exactly my work would contribute to shaping the future of Sundarbans. It might ignite sparks in the brilliant minds of new generations to come and snowball into something great. Or it may just as well die down. I believe one never truly know the series of events that may follow one’s actions. I have been simply driven by the urge that it is for me to capture the fleeting beauty of Sundarbans, present it to the world as best as I can and follow the path it may carve out to continuously bring awareness of the consequences of our actions.

Can you describe some of the specific experiences, anecdotes, or moments in the Sundarbans that have left a lasting impression on you?

Too many.

In the last human habitat near the Sundarbans, there is a village called ‘Khejuria’. We went to the village. Bonbibi Puja was next day, and the Priest was reciting the timeless stories of Bonbibi – the mangrove forest goddess – a diety revered by Hindus and Muslims alike.

The complete silence in the morning. The dense fog covering everything around. Feeling of ‘now’ for that moment and nothing after.

The kingfisher guiding the boat, flashing its wings and the spotted deer quietly looking at us.

All the magnificent moments!

I do not want any of these to be just memories from the past for the future.

To wrap things up could you tell us the stories behind these specific images?

We saw this boat (first image) during one of our morning rides inside one of the creeks. Just the boat and its reflection was telling the story of the boatman.

The second image is near the Kotka beach. It was low tide. Suddenly a bunch of spotted deer passed running. The mangrove trees with exposed roots, the sand, the tide and the deer all made it whole.

About the artist

Laila Nahar is a lens-based artist and book-maker in California, USA. She lived her life in stark cultural contrast, born and brought up in Bangladesh and eventually migrated to US in her late 20’s for pursuing higher studies in Engineering. Laila retired from the high-tech industry after 24 years to devote full-time for the passion of her life as a photo and book artist.

Laila is primarily a self-taught photographer and book-artist exploring belonging, memory, cultural and collective identity. She took workshops with Eugene Richards, Frank Espada, Amy Arbus, Keith Carter, Nevada Wier and Emin Ozmen (Magnum), Aline Smithson. Lately, she has become increasingly fascinated with hand-made photo book making and attended workshops with Elizabeth Avedon, Void Impromptu (Publisher), Melanie McWhorter, Center of Book Arts in NYC, Yumi Goto and Susan Kae Grant.

Laila attended CODEX 2024 with 7 of her handmade Artist photobooks. ‘Will you come to Rome with me?‘ selected for DUMMY AWARD24 shortlist. ‘I Have Been Here Before’ photobook selected for ‘12th Annual Self-Published PhotoBook Show’ (‘22); shortlist in the Independent Category Lucie Photo Book Prize 2022 and, featured in PhotoBook Journal. ‘Unfolding: Color of Life – Old Delhi’ photobook selected for ‘13th Annual Self-Published PhotoBook Show’ at Griffin Museum of Photography (‘23) and selected as one of best photobooks in 2022 by Women/non-binary on TheLuupe.com. It was honorable mention in “Back on the Shelf” by FilterPhoto in exhibition (‘23). Photographs of these projects in several group exhibitions by PH21, F-Stop, PhotoPlace, SEC4P, thecuratedfridge, 18th Julia Margaret Award, Griffin Museum of Photography etc.

Laila’s handmade artist photobooks are in permanent collections of several libraries, including University of Colorado Boulder Libraries, Rhode Islands School of Design, University of Richmond (Virgina), Harvey Milk Photo Center (San Francisco) etc.

Interview by Vicente Isaías.

Vision(ary)

Jaina, congratulations on being part of Vision(ary). Given the central theme of the exhibition, how do you think self-portraiture can address issues beyond the self in a way that it involves community and environments?

We are curious to know, where does the title of the project come from?

How long do you usually work on an image? What is the longest it has taken you to make a photograph?

You share in your project statement how your experience coming from a background in a fundamentalist Christian cult made you feel separated from the world. How does photography help you navigate or reconcile this separation?

Your childhood experience of playing pretend contrasts with your current practice of constructing and photographing your own spaces. How has this empowerment shaped the themes you explore in Empty Mirror?

Your interactive, participatory installations bring a different idea of the concept of community and environment. What motivated you to begin working in this fashion?

Finally, what thrills you the most about the theatricality of fabricated spaces?

Lidia, congratulations on being part of Vision(ary). If we were on a photo trip to the desert together, where would you take us?

The Mojave Desert sounds great. What are your photo essentials and what music, if any, should we play?

Thank you for the recommendations! What is the first thing we do when we get to our destination?

What initially drew you to landscape photography and desert landscapes in particular?

You took these photographs shortly before the beginning and the end of the pandemic. How have desert landscapes throughout this period shaped your understanding of solitude and the human connection to nature?

You’ve written in your blog you “lean towards more wild and rugged places” yet have been excited about visiting both “remote locations and the more iconic tourist destinations.” How does your photographic approach change depending on its isolation and location?

Some of your photographs feature Joshua trees, making us think about the environmental challenges threatening them. How can photography raise awareness about the interconnectedness of ecosystems and human happiness?

What other photographers inspire you?

We are getting ready to go back as we reminisce about your favorite places to photograph. What are they?

What is the last thing we do when we leave?

Nicolás, let’s imagine we are on a photo trip around Chile, Marruecos, and Mexico — the places where your series Aridity takes place. Where would you take us first and why?

In all the places we are going to, why is water — or better said, the lack of thereof — so important to you and to the narrative thread of your project?

Travel to photograph or photograph to travel? What are the implications of each?

What are your photo essentials you take when you go on such photo trips?

If you could add one more country to your project, where would you travel next?

Project Statement

About the artist

What inspired you to create this project, and how do you personally connect to your work? What do you hope to get out of it?

Do you believe this project helped you grow as an artist and how?

What photographic and editing process did you go about using? What type of gear do you bring most often with you during these series?

How do you think or hope these photographs will impact its viewers?

How do you go about interacting and connecting to your subject?

Which three photographs of this series personally speak the most volume to you as the photographer?

What inspired you to create this project, and how do you personally connect to your work? What you hope to get out of it and grow as an artist.

How do you think or hope these photographs will impact its viewers?

Which three photographs of this series personally speak the most volume to you as the photographer and what in your mind makes a good photograph?

Tianqiutao, we are honored to be showcasing your project Seen/Unseen as part of our annual outdoor public installation, Vision(ary). Please tell us, what inspired you to create this series of portraits of migrant children?

It’s incredibly powerful that you also taught these children the basics of photography and supplied them with disposable film cameras to document their daily lives. What did you envision the impact of these photos would bring them, their community and the viewers?

We love that you’re touching on how art can bring about social change. When working on a project with minors and complex social issues, it’s inevitable to run into difficulties. Could you please share any challenges or setbacks you encountered?

How did you approach or interact and connect with the children as you photographed them in their everyday environments?

It’s great to hear this project honored these children’s sense of agency. Could you please share what you learned from them, their experiences and their communities?

In addition to the photographs, you chose to have the children write about themselves in accompanying text pieces. What can we learn about these narratives?

What initially drew you to the Sundarbans and what sparked your fascination with the Padma River Delta?

It is beautiful to hear that you consider yourself to be part of the land. This begs me to question, how would you describe the relationship between the people and the Sundarbans environment? And what role do the local communities play in this landscape?

You mention in your statement how fascinated you are by the “secretive splendor” and the sense of time slowing down in the Sundarbans. … Are there any specific times of day or weather conditions you gravitate to over others?

How do you approach your subjects, whether human or non-human? Do you prefer to keep a distance from what you photograph?

How does distancing oneself from the community being photographed impact the storytelling of the work? Have you run into any ethical concerns while working on this project?

Your work reminds us of Benjamin Dimmit’s Elegy for Wetlands. Considering the realities of climate change and human impact on the Sundarbans, do you consider the project to be an elegy to a disappearing ecosystem?

Can you describe some of the specific experiences, anecdotes, or moments in the Sundarbans that have left a lasting impression on you?

To wrap things up could you tell us the stories behind these specific images?

About the artist

Footer

**Lidia, congratulations on being part of Vision(ary). If we were on a photo trip to the desert together, where would you take us?**

**Nicolás, let’s imagine we are on a photo trip around Chile, Marruecos, and Mexico — the places where your series Aridity takes place. Where would you take us first and why?**

Tianqiutao, we are honored to be showcasing your project Seen/Unseen **as part of our annual outdoor public installation, Vision(ary). Please tell us, what inspired you to create this series of portraits of migrant children?**