All right, let's do this, peanut, if you're staying in the room, no talking. Hello and welcome to the Photo Work Podcast, the talky and touchy feely version of my book, photo work 40 photographers on process and Practice, published by Aperture. I'm Sascha Wolf, recording from Woodstock, New York, joined as usual by my friend and producer, Mr. Michael Chovindal. Good morning, Michael.
Good morning. Hello.
Yeah, so you and I both, of course, have to turn off our air conditioners while we're recording, sweating over here for the sand. So we're gonna be really quick so we can both get back to some. Cool. I'm dripping on the mixing board. That's an unpleasant image. Okay, sorry, everyone. I swear, I love the audience. All right.
I was going to talk about my
armpits, but not now. Oh, my God. Train off tracks again. Well, we are going to get right to it, really, because the show's a little long, but it's a wonderful episode, our second in our summer series of two guest episodes. Today it was two prominent Asian American photographers, the younger Jared Liu and the older Regan Louie, who are friends. And we invited them on to discuss their work and their work as Asian Americans and the way identity and culture is woven into both of their work. And I loved talking to them, Michael. I found the conversation really interesting and also really moving. And it was really such a pleasure to get to spend. Spend time with them, which is, you know, why the episode is a little long. I just.
Yeah, yeah.
I was really so, so enjoying it myself.
There's a. I think there's a lot of you sitting back and listening to them talk to each other, too, which is fantastic. Yeah.
Yeah. I really love that. I have to say. It's, you know, a. It's, you know, a little. It's a little more relaxed in some ways for me, to be honest. But I'm just really just so engaged, and it's like I'm at a lecture, you know, that I'm just loving. So. But did you enjoy the episode?
Yeah, absolutely.
The.
There's a little bit of dealing with grief and trauma in the episode for people listening, but also identity and how that's woven into identity, as you said. And what's really wonderful is to hear how generationally the way of presenting or expressing identity and grief and trauma has evolved. And you can see that from Regan to Jared in this episode and the way they talk about their work, which, as you make a real note of, is so similar with work that looks so different. It's really, really fascinating.
Yeah. It's so uncanny. I know. Well, I really urge folks who may not know Jared's work or Reagan's work, please take a look if you have a moment before you listen, because it is quite striking how different their work is in terms of the way they employ visual language, but how much they're really saying the same things and talking about the same things. So it's really beautiful.
Absolutely.
Well, why don't we get to it, Michael? Such a beautiful, beautiful episode. I hope everyone enjoys it as much as I enjoyed talking to these guys. Michael, if you don't mind, please take it away.
My pleasure. And here is your conversation with Jared Liu and Regan Louie.
Jared Liu. Reagan. Louie, welcome to you both. Welcome to the Photo Work podcast. I'm so happy to have you both on the show and our second episode of two person shows that we're doing this summer. And it's. It's. Yeah, it's really thrilling to have a chance to talk with you both. So welcome.
Thank you for having us.
Yeah.
So let's do our little bios here. We'll go in alphabetical order. Jared, why don't you tell folks a little bit about your photo journey?
Yeah. I was originally a graphic designer who became a photographer because I was dating somebody whose grandparents owned a high school portrait studio. And through the grandmother's dream, she saw that I was working at her photo studio, so asked in real life if I wanted to work as a portrait photographer at her high school portrait studio. So that's how I got into photography. And through that portrait studio, I found out a family secret where my mom was engaged to a man that was murdered by two autoworkers in Detroit, which sparked one of the largest Asian American civil rights movement. And that really shifted how I saw the world and started to make work about it after I left that photography studio.
And then you, you went and got your master's at. At Yale, you know, because I met you there.
Yeah, got my master's at Yale. Before that, I was making a body of work that looked at the Asian American diaspora in Michigan, which was shortlisted for the Aperture Portfolio Prize. And then after that, Aperture, you know, really put me on the map and changed my whole life and career. And they commissioned me to do a project about the idea of what does Tom look like. So I started to think about my family's secret and history and was documenting and photographing my family through memories I had in my parents home as a way to get them used to being photographed, and then used those two portfolios to apply for My MFA at Yale.
And Regan, tell folks about your journey into photography and where that's brought you.
Well, much of my work comes from a feeling of being in a place, yet not fully feeling at home in it. It's a sense that something that was missing, but not without knowing exactly what that something was. And over the years, I've discovered it's kind of a melancholy which I still carry, like a form of grief. Growing up as an Asian American male in a white dominant society often felt emasculated. And I learned early how to adapt or try to adapt by trying to become white. Trying to become a white male by adopting behaviors, you know, like being individualistic or competitive. And, you know, although I knew wanting to become white was impossible also, that's not what I truly wanted. I discovered art and photography in college by accident. There's no family history, no roadmap. But art offered me another way of being in the world outside of the standard routes of assimilation, achievement and invisibility. So when I began studying art at ucla, it was during the height of the dematerialization of the art object. You know, conceptual art was in its heyday. And I chose photography in part because it wasn't considered an artist, especially color photography. It was commercial, functional, a tool. Even then, I didn't feel I could directly go at subjects like identity or belonging, which, you know, is now in style or in practice. There wasn't any permission yet, you know, culturally, institutionally, personally to say this work is about my lived experience. So instead I approached these questions indirectly, working through prescribed visual languages available at the time. Documentary formalism. And these approaches gave me a type of COVID They allowed me to enter into conversations that were otherwise closed. To me, the documentary information matters and still does, but the documentary was never the destination. Beneath the surface of description. I was using photography to answer deeper questions like who belongs here? Who gets to feel at home? Who is expected to explain themselves? So that's how I started.
You're talking about the late 70s, I think.
Yes, late 60s, early 70s.
And obviously a very different. As you said, and this is really fascinating, you've been photographing extremely prolific for all these years now, and you've watched as a very different type of photography has sort of come to the forefront, as you mentioned, which is photography very preoccupied with the exploration of identity and identity, particularly in America. We're seeing many, many different groups of people, people whose parents or grandparents or great grandparents. Often, of course, it's parents who have come to the United States for the, you know, opportunities, the American dream that seems to be crumbling, but at the time, certainly a lot of opportunity for folks coming from different parts of the world where, for various reasons, it was difficult to, you know, really thrive. And both of you, your families came from China. It's very interesting, Reagan, that on your mom's side, they came many, many generations ago, and on your father's side, he was first generation. So, you know, so you have both the history of Chinese American experience going back so, so long ago to sort of the beginning, that first wave, I guess. But anyway, getting. I'm. I'm now going off, on. On many tangents here, as I tend to do, but it is really fascinating, Reagan, that this type of work, this. This exploration of what does it mean to be of. Of different worlds, of. Of different identities, to be, you know, part immigrant and part American, culturally at least, is so, so popular now. And, you know, you get to now really sort of explore that really openly in a way that you didn't get to when you were, or probably until fairly recently. What. I mean, what is that like? I mean, I almost wonder, was there, like, a moment where you realized, oh, my God, this work I've been making is now I don't have to sort of talk around it anymore. I can be very direct and more, you know, I can come at it more direct because it's. It's a way of talking about photography that people are now extremely familiar with.
Exactly. I mean, today, I think it's significant to mention that the Supreme Court upheld Wong Kim Ark, that birthright citizenship is, you know, the law. So, yeah, I think, yes, we got one win, win today. And the other thing, I mean, about this podcast or this talk that's important to me is that I'm speaking with Jared, you know, that we're having this intergenerational conversation, one that I never expected to have. And you're absolutely right. I mean, right after Covid, you know, I think that's when, you know, I realized that this new generation of artists like Jared was doing the work I longed to do, I wanted to do, you know, that I thought it was, you know, I couldn't openly say I was doing, but that's what I was doing. You know, this auto, fiction, these questions of identity, you know, were all questions that were buried beneath, like I said, or covered by the work, the documentary style, whatever you want to call it. But, yes, I was trying to do, or wanted to do, what Jared and his cohort are doing now. Yeah. So it's been very inspiring.
I'll tell you Something. It's really been fascinating to me just looking at both of your portfolios of work, looking so, so deeply and reading interviews the two of you have given and other material. And at the end of the day, it's just so fascinating how different your work is. Jared, you make, you know, really what we would call sort of more classic conceptual work. Very staged, very sort of collaboratively staged with your. With your subjects. And, Reagan, as you said, you're coming from more of a classic color, I want to say, because it's important that people imagine this correctly. Your work is color, so it's color, documentary, a very sort of specific type, sometimes with a, you know, large format, you know, a view that we would associate with a certain time of that sort of almost like Joel Sternfeld, Stephen Shore type feeling, particularly when you're photographing in San Francisco's Chinatown. And so it has that very specific visual language. But the way you two talk, I'm sure you realize this. The way you two talk about your work, there is so much overlap. It's crazy. You both talk so eloquently and beautifully about the layers of meaning in your work, and sometimes we could just switch. It would, like, fit so perfectly. So I wonder if you two have sort of talked to each other about this. But it's really uncanny how much you two describe very different work that you're each making in a very, very similar way. I mean, I think I'll just say one other thing, and then I'll stop talking. But, you know, Reagan, I think you talk more about. And I want to ask you about this later, but the way in which you reach for the moment, but also the historical time, too, in your pictures. So you're sort of trying to balance those two things at once. And so I think you use the word historical more. Jared, you sort of used the word culture more. But really, it is uncanny. So I just wonder if you guys could add anything to that.
Well, yeah, I would say that again. I've been deeply moved by the work of Jared's and younger artists today who are engaged directly with their questions of identity, personal narrative, auto fiction. And the work is like Jared's is bold, tender, and necessary. So I recognize something in that work, in his work that I longed for. As I said earlier in my practice, I wanted to do that kind of work. I needed to. But again, you know, the conditions, my own sense, including my own sense of permission, wasn't fully formed. But the work, you know, reflects how much the culture has changed, not only form and values, but practice. And presentation. And it's encouraged me to think differently about how I work. You know, now I think more about collaboration, expanded modes of authorship. Yeah. And questions about, you know, what the work really means in terms of being human.
And, you know, for me, vice versa, too. Regan, I've always longed for a certain kind of culture that you've photographed, I think, within Chinatown, San Francisco, and even going back home to China. You know, my mom was born in Hong Kong under British rule and then eventually moved to Michigan, and my dad was from San Francisco. So we had moments during my childhood where I was continually continuously going to San Francisco. And it almost felt like this second home where I was able to see a community that I was kind of longing for in Michigan, but never really understood that longing until I started to make pictures inside the domestic spaces of Chinese American, Asian American families in Michigan. So I think mutually, I have this similar kind of longing of like, of seeing what a community looks like outside of a domestic space. Because most of my work feels like, or most of my work is really situated inside the interior domestic space of homes that I'm familiar with.
Yeah, it sounds. Jared, like, what I understand to sort of be the trajectory is that you were not that involved with Chinese culture or Chinese American culture really, until you started this project that you mentioned earlier when you found out that your mother had been engaged to Vincent Chin, who was brutally murdered in a, you know, racist crime. I'm just repeating my words here, but. And then I almost sort of smiled. I mean, it's very moving. And also, I don't know, there's something sort of endearingly loopy about the fact that, you know, you wind up after that. It sounds like expanding for the first time in your life, your. Your network, your friendships, your. Your sort of cohort becomes more the Chinese American group in, you know, around where you lived in Michigan.
Yeah, no, totally. I mean, I think that's the reason why I was photographing inside my community's homes is because, like, growing up, it was probably the only space where I felt like I could understand my Chinese culture through intergenerational relationships between my mom, dad, grandparents, and older cousins. But then outside of that domestic space, I, you know, I had to. I was living in a very white ish suburban neighborhood. I was going to a mostly white high school, middle school, you know, elementary school. So, you know, I think in high school I was probably one of five to ten Asian Americans in a cohort of like, I don't know, like 300 kids, you know, in this high school. So, you know, I was, I was hanging out with skateboarders, I was listening, I was hanging out with punk rock kids when I was growing up in high school, you know, going. When I was in high school. So. But then coming back home, there was like this culture shift where I had to like, abide by my parents rules. But then I could, I could somewhat feel like I was understood in a way through just culturally, through my parents. So then when I was figuring out my, you know, connections to Vincent Chin's history and questioning why I didn't really have a community growing up, I was, you know, really searching for it through any means possible and then really gravitating towards the domestic space because it spoke to that complexity of like, intergenerational relationships, the aesthetics of the home, questioning what an Asian American aesthetic looked like within the domestic space. And then using that landscape of these objects and family photographs as kind of this tension point between the portraits I was making. And I didn't realize until after putting out my show at UMA that a lot of my work is just about the periphery. It's about the peripheral objects that surrounded the, the subject that I was photographing.
Yeah, it's, it's, it's very moving to see that sort of way in which self discovery is taking place in your work. You start really more in sort of Reagan's space, you know, making more sort of documentary like images, but you've really moved away from that. Do you think about, you know, as an artist, do you think about voice and that way in which some people hate the use of the word voice when talking about. In this context? I find it helpful. But do you look back at your work? I mean, you're not disavowing your earlier work, but how do you think about such a sort of dramatic shift?
Yeah, I think initially was kind of self taught. Right. Like I worked at this high school portrait studio and became fascinated with the medium of photography. And the only way I was able to really teach myself was using Google when I was off of. When I was off of work. So I would occasionally just Google and try to learn as much as possible about photography. And a lot of the image makers that Google would push on to me were mostly like documentary magnum photographers. So I was really kind of influenced in the beginning by that. But then as I started to dive.
Yeah, interesting.
Yeah, really deeply into photography, you know, I came across course, like Gregor Crutzen's work and then Jeff Wall's work and Dina Lawson's work and started to think about really like Fantasy and the imaginary as a way to. To really put myself into the work and into the world that I wanted to create in each picture. So the imaginary fantasy became a strategy later on after kind of the self discovery of community, which pushed the work to a different way of making for me. And I think, like, at some point, while the world is moving so fast with how many images are being put out, like, you kind of have to do what you have to do to make a picture that you want to make. So whether that's coming and stumbling across a picture or then even constructing and staging a picture, I think for me it's starting to just kind of melt into the same way of making. It's just a different tool set.
Interesting that those artists sort of gave you permission to do something. Seems like you really had a sort of a natural inclination to do. Both of you, as I mentioned earlier, when you describe your pictures, you both describe each image with so much meaning, so many layers. I was wondering, with both of your work, this is what I was saying earlier. It's like it was freakish how many things came up where I was like, oh, I could ask both of them this exact same question. But the thing that I really wanted to ask both of you is how much do you expect of us, the viewer, to understand? Because again, you both have a propensity to describe single images. I'm not talking about an artist statement on a body of work, but both of you tend to describe a single image quite elaborately. I mean, I loved reading these descriptions, but I wonder, because you're both so clear about it, but what do you expect of us, the viewer? What are your expectations?
Go ahead, Jared, dive in.
Oh, gosh. Well, I think initially, when making the work, my expectation, I'm not really thinking about the expectations of the viewer. It's really for me to get what I want to get out onto paper or onto an image. And as I move forward, you know, especially now, like with having so many or just a handful of exhibitions and showing the work, the expectations kind of reveal themselves. While I kind of watch people look at the work and I notice, you know, of course, a lot of Asian American viewers understand and gravitate towards the work, but it's also like, you know, there is. There's also other ways of. Or other people that understand the work as well. Like, so there is a little bit of universality too, I think, by some of my pictures. But I don't know, like, as far as expectations, I think right now with this current work that I'm making. I'm. I expect nobody to really understand why I'm making the work, which then forces the viewer to maybe read up on the landscape that I'm making these pictures in. And I think, like, I don't know. That's just. Yeah, I think I'm having fun with that. Like, there's a certain amount of joy that comes with forcing the viewer to do the work to understand why this picture was made. And I think for me, you know, explaining it at an artist talk or through an artist statement is what I have to do. But I think when a viewer looks at the picture and they're not understanding what it's about, then it really. My hopes are. Is that they. They do the work to understand it in some way. Yeah. I don't know.
Yeah, no, no, it's. It's. Look, I. It's not obviously not an easy question. I mean, it. You know, it's. It's one I'm often, you know, fascinated by in all different people's work. I think with you two, I really wanted to ask you both about it. And, Reagan, I really want to hear your thoughts because of how much you two both talk about what's going on in a photograph. And, you know, Reagan, I'm. You said in one talk or interview, I don't remember where I got this from, but that on one of your trips to China that you shot 300 rolls and maybe you liked 100 images, because for you, each image has to be, as I said earlier, about the moment, but also about the historical. And so, again, a lot there for a viewer to try and decipher. So how do you think about just presentation and what a viewer may or may not come away with?
So I think we have 30 hours of tape. Right? That's a super deep question. Let me see if I can begin to unpack it. Yeah. First of all, you know, I. As Jared said, I do it for myself, right. To understand who I am, you know, what. What. What the world's about. So that's the first point I want to make. And then, you know, I don't want to be like Ezra Pound, you know, his dictum where if you want to understand my work, you have to read everything I've ever written and everything I've ever read. That's. That's not. But, but. But there is something that. And I'll try to get to this clearly, you know, what I saw in Jared's work, for example, you know, in a way, I grew up. I always joke, I grew up in the Midwest. I grew up in a rural part of Sacramento. And like you, Sasha, I had dogs that never came in the house, you know, so it was an area that Joan Didion writes about in her first novel, Run River. So I really felt like I was growing up. I grew up in the Midwest like Jared. And so I like Jared, even though I was somewhat surrounded by Chinese community, although I grew up in Sacramento after I was two or we left San Francisco for my father to open a grocery store in rural Sacramento. You know, I also grew up in a kind of isolation, sort of like Jared describes. And I think I want to find out where you heard the word historical. I mean, definitely think about that, but also cultural. And I think culture for me is it's not only genetic, it's epigenetic, Right. It's transmitted to us, you know, through our nervous system almost. Right. And the food you eat or even phrases, you know, as we try to speak Chinese and butchering the language, you know, enters the whole cultural side, enters into us in a whole, I don't know, inexplicable way. So I really feel kinship with, you know, Jared in that, in that sense and how we're formed. Even though I was surrounded by more Asians, although my high school, I had less than five other Asians, Jared. So you're already a majority. So, yeah, we lived in this kind of isolation that was partially self imposed but also necessary again because of just the, you know, living in a, you know, white dominant society, just to say, shorthand. And that's another thing, you know, that I saw in Jared's work. You know, we as Asians, you're right, Sasha, we just have common experiences. So we can, you know, we can speak in almost a shorthand. Right. I just know he understands certain things. So, for example, when I saw Jared's early work, I immediately got his Asian side. You know, just think about what those early explorations were. It was about studying communities, kinship, and so these are all values that were instilled in both of us by our families. So, you know, he was searching for that sense of family even before he knew it. Right. By photographing these other groups of people, skateboarders, or whatever. So, you know, right now, Willem Flusser has become super popular. Jared and I were talking about him the other day and, you know, I remember teaching his work when I was years ago. And now it's kind of delightful to see he's. He's returned somewhat. And one of the things he talks about is how photography itself is full of cultural codes. Right. So of course, yeah. You know, that's what I'm. You know, what I'm doing. I think that's what Jared's doing. And the artists that, that who are deeply engaged in these questions of, you know, identity and ethical practice and personal narrative. And, you know, it's. It's a delight for me to sort of at this stage of my life to see that this is, as you were saying, Sasha, becoming the rigor. Right. I mean, this. It's almost the opposite.
Absolutely.
What, you know, when I was growing up, if you mentioned anything about race or identity, you were. It was taboo. I mean, you were breaching what art was. But now we've actually come so far, and I've talked to Jared about this too, that nowadays, and I think this gets to the heart of your question, Sasha. What do we expect people to understand as the meaning of the work? Well, let me step back one step. You know, I think Sontag really nailed it when she said, you know, photography, it's like words, you know, it's. It. Words can be a laundry list or it can be poetry. The same thing with photographs. Right. It can be descriptive, documentary, fiction, poetry, all those things. And that's what I love about the medium. All those layers, as you talked about. Yep, I'm with you. So what I think is. Is happening now and missing in a lot of work, especially if I look at, you know, I was talking to Jared about painting. I see a lot of this in painting now. There's no acknowledgment of the art in the work. You know, it's all about, you know, I just came back from Venice Biennale and, you know, it's pretty classic. All the text label. Wall labels don't even talk about the work. They talk about all those, you know, the backstory or the trauma or whatever, which is all part of the work. But we can't forget about the form, right? And I think that that's how you enter the work. I mean, there's lots of ways to enter the work. That's what I love about photography. If you want to stay in the level of information, description, history, fine. You want to dive deeper, you can into whatever. So I'm losing track here, hopefully. Michael.
No, no, I'm really enjoying hearing. No, no, Michael, do not keep your scissors to yourself. I'm. It's wonderful to hear you talk.
That's what I'm saying. I think Hilton Ohles, in a really great essay, a review of the Whitney Biennial, was talking about this. Acknowledging, while acknowledging the meaning and the content of the work as being powerful. Often what was neglected was the carrier of that message. Right. The work itself and forgetting, hey, maybe that painting referred to the Dusseldorf School or the layering. And I see this in photography too, happening. We're neglecting the beauty of it, the form, the poetry of it, and just jumping into the story, which, again, is important. But it's not the work that's part of the work.
It all comes down to everything in moderation at the end of the day. Right. It always comes down to that thing your mom said. Yeah. It's balance, form and subject and.
But what. But maybe, you know, we're in this moment or maybe past it, of correction. So now we can get back to that balance that you're speaking of. But. But again, you know, for photographs, you know, there's so many ways to enter into it. And I don't expect people to know the, you know, the specific cultural backstories of our lives, but to understand the importance of certain values like community, sense of home, belonging in a kind of trauma, or the struggle that people of color have to deal with. Right.
So I can tell you, by the way, that I actually can't tell you exactly what I was reading or listening to when you used the word historical, but it was in the context of your sort of preoccupation with the different movements of, let's just say growth, for lack of a better word, but sort of movements of growth in China. And I mean, I'll use your photograph of the Prada panda building with the panda. Right. Like, as, you know, just orient you and sort of, you know, where I'm coming from. But, you know, just. You might have. Or there's that. Wonderful. I'm not going to be able to bring it up and describe it perfectly, but I was watching a little clip of a talk, or the whole talk, whatever it was. I mean, some are very short, some are very long. Where you ended with an image of a young man with. Looked like something behind him is burning and he's wearing a blue shirt. Anyway, it doesn't matter. But you were. You were referencing the sort of. What's both historical in that image and what's happening just right there in the moment. And I really love that. I mean, I think to me, you know, I'm always. You're both really such great examples of this. When I talk to young photographers, I'm always trying so hard to impress upon them the importance of a rigorous intellect in the practice and not relying on the camera too much, because the camera will trick you. It's like the devil. It'll, you know, make you think it's your best friend, and it's going to make everything's going to do everything for you. And then, like, surprise, surprise. You know, you actually have to do the vast majority of the work yourself for the work to stand the test of time. And, of course, even in the moment, to come out with multiple layers as you both strive for. And, you know, this is the epitome of a good, strong, rigorous practice the way it should be. So I'm admiring.
Well, thank you. What was pl. You know, Philip Lorcus, of course. He was great, quippy phrase, like, photography is a foreign language everyone thinks they understand.
So, yes, that's great.
But. But, you know, to get back to, I think, you know, again, I so admire Jared's work in this whole young cohort. And we just have to keep searching for a language that allows us to be fully present without apology. That's how people are going to get to understand the work more deeply. Right. If they start to pay attention.
Yeah, yeah. And that goes back to, you know, thinking about expectations of the viewer, because I feel like when I first was making a lot of these pictures, I was really relying on, like, this almost Orientalist aesthetic in the picture as an obvious way to describe my culture or my identity. But as we move forward, I feel like, you know, I have to start thinking about, like, this almost overproduction of viewing this, like, very certain phenomenological experience of identity or culture, and to look beyond that way of making and really, like, dive deeply into something that's a little bit more intimate, a little less obvious, and maybe expect the viewer more to do the research and the work to understand why these pictures were made? I don't know. How do you feel about that, Reagan? As we, like, move into, you know, more photographers of color making work about intimacy, community and family, but then kind of focusing on certain, I guess, tropes or aesthetics to describe something in an obvious way.
Yeah, absolutely. As you know, we've talked about this before, Jared. You know, I think some of what's happening now is very problematic. Let's say identity, for example. I think too much a lot of the work now has flattened the complexity of identity, making everything the same. This is a danger. But I think, you know, this correction that I was talking about that's been happening still needs to play out some more. Right. I mean, we still need more density of work, so.
Absolutely. Well, I think it also gives people a chance, just like you just said to. Instead of having to State. I am this. I come from this. Screaming from the rooftops as people, of course, want to do. Of course they do. Maybe now there can be a little bit more. I am this. I come from this. And here is all the other things that make me who I am. Like, Jared, you are a skateboarding, punk rock, Chinese American, right? Like, and more.
Is a bowler, too.
Yeah, I also bow and a bowler.
I mean, maybe once things sort of settle, you get to be who you are in all of your complexity and in all of the layers. And, you know, I asked you a question, you guys, that really comes from a very white. It's a very white perspective question. Because, of course, I'm saying, what are we white people? You know, how are we to understand? Of course the answer is, well, a lot of, you know, folks who grew up like I did or have the same background as I do understand more than you do. Right. So that's a whole nother kettle of fish. That, in a way, is really interesting because it mirrors your very sort of evolution here as Chinese Americans, both American and Chinese, you know, having to talk to two different audiences, really.
Yeah. I think for me, too, when I first met you, Sasha, that was really kind of this. I think we had a really generative studio visit when we first met. And I think what I really loved about having a conversation with you in my studio is that you were kind of. You were able to, like, pinpoint feeling, you know, in a lot of the photographs that you were seeing in my studio. And it was really refreshing because it wasn't. I didn't really have to talk about maybe my Chinese experience or Chinese American experience. But you were able to understand the intentionality of, like, looking at somebody or photographing somebody and hoping to reveal the person for who they are instead of, like, their Chineseness. And I think that was. You know, I had a moment where I was like, okay, then maybe I'm. Maybe I'm doing the work correctly or the work is able to portray itself because someone that's not Chinese American is able to understand the intentionality of why I made this picture or understood the tension between the subject in the photograph and the things that surrounded them, even though it's not necessarily from a Chinese American lens, but there was something there that was able to connect with you. I think, you know, Reagan, when we were speaking about or when you were earlier speaking about, like, this idea of something, you know, I think that's really interesting. Like, what is that something that we're all kind of trying to find within, you know, A picture or a work of art, it's almost indescribable and it can only be labeled as like something.
Yeah, something that's, that's what we're going to figure out the answer to. Jared. You know, I've said again, I just feel blessed that, you know, I met Jared and you know, I've been around long enough to see this, this emergence of this, this work that I feel like I'm, I'm doing as well, you know, and hopefully set the ground for younger artists.
Absolutely.
Even with all my successes and I've had many and I'm very grateful for them, you know, I've never felt fully seen, which is the irony. Right. I think that kind of makes more sense nowadays. So, you know, I've been with this kind of second chance thinking about, you know, trying to summarize it all. And Jared suggested that we talk a little bit about this book. I'm working on that, Please, hopefully is going to do that. So it's a three volume book that begins with, I call it Ghosts in Chinatown. And it's a place that, you know, I was surrounded of my youth, but I couldn't understand the language. You know, it was toisanese, that's where my father's from. And that's the language they speak. And it's very hillbilly and you'd be labeled a hick if you started speaking that. So they never taught it to me.
But, you know, so that's where my dad's from too.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. So you understand this? Yeah. So, you know, I, I felt, you know, both the earliest estrangement from this place, but yet it was also kind of a home, a home base. Right. And so my return, I photographed with a large format camera purposely to allow the shutter to stay open, figures would blur. So it's like a conceptual art project. And I've never really shown this work. So in this, the first section will be that work and some of that work will be shown at the Smithsonian in September as part of this NEA survey grant. So that grant launched me. It really launched my entire work career, honestly. So for me, this is another aspect of looser I can talk about. You know, this is the technical image side of the photography. Right. The, the blurred images, you know, they're optical ghosts, but they're also, I saw them as, as ancestors, as ghosts, you know, that were talking about the instability of memory carrying, you know, one place from another, all that. And then those pictures will be paired, the Chinatown pictures will be paired with pictures that I found in my last village in China, my father's village. And these are photographs I write about in Torto Chur life that formed a picture gallery of our life in America. And these were. So at this point in 2020, my village was now down to 6 people from 180 people. All these villages are basically abandoned now. But I found this cache of photographs, these ghost pictures, I call them, that were distressed by the heat and humidity and, you know, they're all blurred. And. Anyway, so I'm posting those, you know, juxtaposing those to the Chinatown pictures. So that's about the, you know, the beginning of, you know, how it was shaped. And then the second book is about China and the 40 years that photographed transformation, which was incredibly dramatic. And they're juxtaposed against the pictures of my family village that I first visited with my father in 1981, which marked his return to the village after over 60 years. That was the journey that really established for me that I had some work to do in China. And the first visit was remarkable. And I felt this great unbeknownst to me, this great burden I was carrying of being visible right in America. For the first time, I was in an unmarked body. I could blend in, I could disappear. But also, again, this is all in retrospect. Disappearing isn't a form of. Isn't belonging. It's blending in without friction, but it's not belonging still. And that became really evident to me when I visited my dad with my father, our ancestral village. You know, even though, you know, I was greeted and welcomed, you know, I felt some resistance. Something was, you know, it was his home, but it wasn't mine. But still, I felt there was something, you know, I had to do. And so over the course of 40 years, I returned again and again to the village, and I write about this in Torture Life and the struggle I had with it. And now I'm the elder, so I have to, you know, now I have to go back to China and do all these, you know, perform all these rituals. It's great, but it's something unexpected. You know, the juxtaposition of those.
Reagan, I would.
Yeah, go ahead, Jared.
Oh, sorry. I was going to ask you about your process of, like, looking at all of these images and work and, like, setting it up for a book. I feel like you're moving towards that right now, so apologies for interrupting.
No, no. I mean, actually, Sasha, I have to correct you. It was 3,000 rolls of film, and I.
Yes, 3,000.
Yes, I have that in my notes. Yes, yes. 3,000 worse right here.
3,000 ratios.
Yeah, yeah, no, of course. Yes, yes, yes. 3,000. 3,000.
Which means either photography is really hard or I'm really terrible. So maybe a little bit of both,
I think. It's really hard to be really good. Who's publishing the book, by the way?
I'm going to self publish. Yeah. I'm working with this young designer in la. It comes out of that world. Although I'm still going to talk to a couple of people, like Charlie Melcher, who was my first editor at Aperture did, Toward Truer Life. I'm gonna. He's been involved in all my projects, so I'll have him take a look at it. But, you know, nowadays with social media and, you know, there's probably a dozen photo art book fairs going on in the world somewhere right now. So I'm gonna try it.
Oh, yeah, for sure. I mean, self publishing is, you know, in the publishing, photobook publishing, just the past 10 years. I mean, I'm sure we all remember, like, early self publishing, like blurb books and stuff like that. And of course, now it's like it really doesn't make a difference except for, like, distribution, you know, making sure you can get some sort of distribution so as many people have a chance to see it as possible. But I do think that Jared was asking a really important and interesting question, which is how do you corral the amount of work that you have for a sort of retrospective like this?
Well, I've been. Another thing I've been dealing with is my archive. And I just realized how incredibly unorganized I am. So, you know, for me, you know, I referenced this earlier, a photograph is like a poem, right? You got a thousand words, but, you know, what order, what. Which words do you choose? I think that's why it's so difficult. And, you know, it has to be. You have to find the right word and place in the right order. And so, yeah, when I say I have a hundred pictures I like, I mean, I have a lot of pictures I like, but to find that one with that look, that gesture, all the details, that's. That's what I'm. I'm searching for. And it's very intuitive, too, but. And again, I'm looking at the work really differently now than I was, you know, when I first made it. So. Yeah, you know, it's not an easy question to answer simply. No, no, but I have a lot of work to deal with. But.
Well, I think what I was trying to. After the. I was trying to get to wondering, like, how, you know, because my work is so rooted in this, or at least now rooted in, like, the imaginary and, like, fantasy. Now that you've made all of these photographs through throughout your whole life, like, and editing for these, for these, like, multiple books, is there an element of your imagination and this idea of fantasy that enters into the edit, at least when you're making this work that's so rooted in documentary?
That's a great question.
Yeah. I think I've been reading and thinking a lot about this book recently that I've come across. It's like looking at Nia Simone's whole body of work and this idea of desire. And I think at some point in the book they speak about how, like, the imaginary or fantasy is kind of this coping mechanism for desire. And I'm curious for you, like, is there something that you are still desiring after making all this work? And how does, like, the imaginary and fantasy start to. Is the imaginary and fantasy a way to, like, structure and edit thousands and thousands of pictures that you've made over your whole career?
Yeah, absolutely. And something I wanted to say earlier is that documentary is. This is the one thing I got from Evans is a style. I'm not interested. I'm not a documentary photographer. I'm an artist that uses that device or that form or a style.
Yeah, that line. You start with that language and then making your own.
So for me, I always seem. I've always seen my work as fiction. This is not what China really looks like. You know, this is my experience, my lived experience of China. And so, you know, if there's one thing that, you know, one theme that I'm still searching for, it's home. It's a sense of belonging. You know, that's what I've talked about throughout that while I've had acceptance or some, you know, some approval. I mean, I've never felt fully seen or, you know, which. Maybe all artists feel that way, but. Yeah, so the work is, as I said, a fiction. And so that's kind of the driving criteria that this. This work has. To look at the pictures I choose has to have something more than, you know, the information. Right. I mean, we all do that. The other way that I now, recently, as I work on this book, am using as a method is just these juxtapositions. So I see this book as immersive. This is also about time. One of the things I wanted to do by having these three volumes is for it to be interactive for a viewer to look at each book. Maybe Open up one book and look, there'll be lots of back and forth. So they'll see something in Chinatown. They'll be referenced in the book, in the second book, In China or Wing War, to further that sense of time, you know, I want to label all the dates for the China work over 40 years, whereas the work from Wing War I'm not going to date. It's going to be because to me, I see that as eternal, timeless. So that's kind of what I'm talking about too. It's a great idea about how culture is transmitted. You know, again, we. We absorb this internally and it's not rational. Okay, so the third, the third book is the tough one. It's about my son who, who died, you know, when he was 28 in a swimming accident.
And that was just a couple of. Or a few years ago.
Five years ago.
And hit.
I'm so sorry.
Oh, thank you. That, that loss was transformative. You know, grief reframed everything, you know, identity, inheritance, responsibility and. But yeah, sorry, I'm still.
Well, I'm gonna. I'm gonna quote you on that subject, give you a chance to catch your breath. You said, before the death of my son, I used to believe in the myth of, of the rugged individual artist. Now I realize how destructive that model is. We're not alone. We're supported by a community. And I now understand that art is communal, it's inclusive, it's a compassionate experience, which, you know. Oh, I said that made. You said that word for word. Well, I wonder if either of you just wanted to comment on that idea.
But, you know, I wanted to add one other significant thing.
Please.
So part of, you know, my difficulty at being accepted or feeling accepted in Wing War in the family. You know, on my mother's deathbed, I may have written about this too. She told me that, you know, the worst kept secret. So Jared and I have secrets in our family that I was adopted and, you know, later on and I was never interested in finding out about, you know, who my birth parents were. You know, I was happy with my adopted parents, but with my son's death, I became interested in trying to understand, you know, where, you know, where I came from. And so through DNA testing and all that, I discovered, indeed, I'm 51% Japanese and 49% Chinese. You know, oh, my gosh. Male genes are always delivered by the mother, so we're always more shaped by our mother's side. So, you know, that kind of, you know, opened me up and changed my way of thinking of, you know, how does culture get transmitted? You know, was all this work I've been doing, you know, a lie? You know, was I an imposter? But now, you know, I mean, I really still struggle a bit with it, but now, you know, I'm embracing my Japanese side. Maybe you've heard of this Japanese practice of kintsugi, right? Of repairing. Usually it's broken, of course, so I'm accepting my three identities, American, Chinese, Japanese. And the fracture is what makes me whole.
You know, the three parts fracture is the beautiful part. Yeah.
So. So hopefully this book will give a context to how to see my work fully and. Yeah, we'll see.
Jared, did you have any sense of this idea that Reagan talks about, about being an artist is a communal experience and not the sort of way we tend to or want to think about artists as the sort of individual. What's your experience as a working artist been like in that respect?
Yeah, I think, you know, in the beginning, when I was starting off in photography, it felt very much like this lonely personality that I was. That I was having to deal with in Michigan, where I was making most of my bodies of work and kind of being in solitude making those pictures. But it wasn't until deciding to go to grad school during the pandemic and then entering grad school, where I felt the power of community and being with people that were dedicated to, dedicated and devoted to their practice. And it was really kind of this beautiful, strangely scary experience to be seen in a community where everybody was really focused on their work and community became just as important as the digital print lab and the darkroom and the camera. And it really, community really just like, helped, really definitely helps you grow as an artist. And I think I didn't realize that until being in grad school and then leaving grad school. You know, leaving grad school and still being in New Haven. A lot of the folks that I became friends with at grad school moved back to New York or moved across, you know, all over the United States. And now it's like, dang, I really miss those late night conversations. I miss those, like, you know, late night drinks after a long day of making or a long day of printing. And I'm kind of now trying to find a middle ground of, like, can I have my practice and still have those rich conversations? And I think luckily there's a handful of opportunities to apply to, like, residencies and portfolio reviews to still kind of grow. That network of friends and other practitioners within the field is where I'm Kind of at now. And I'm grateful for those opportunities and, you know, shout out to all of my friends that I became friends with in grad school.
Well, we got to get you upstate New York, because this is where. This is where the community is.
No, we got. We got to get them. We got to get them to the San Francisco Bay area. That's where this community is.
All right, we're going to have. We're going to have a fight.
Split coastal. That's all right. That's.
Yeah, that sounds good. I think. CP I'm going to cpw, so I'll be at least in. I know you are for sure.
I just wanted to add something about community.
Yeah, go ahead.
When I talking about this, too, about, you know, are photographers hermits or. Or what? With the death of my son, I should also add that, you know, the third part is done as a Kaddish. At his funeral, we were bowing to. About. To his bow to him. And the funeral director, who is Chinese American, rushed up and said, no, no, no. Parents do not bow to their children. And I'm still superstitious enough to believe, you know, believe that. But, you know, I wanted to somehow honor Ralston. So this friend of mine said, you know, how about the Kaddish? You know, and so, you know, so I did on social Media, on Instagram, 365 day posts in honor him of him. So throughout all these books and throughout my life as a photographer, I've really explored all the different ways photography has changed as a way of describing the world. And one last thing I wanted to say. So after his death, I was trying to find a community, you know, find a Sangha, because I'm more Buddhist than anything. But, you know, just something resisted. And finally I was talking to this Zen guy, and he said, well, you know, there's lots of different traditions. You know, there's the Sangha, the community, or there's a hermit tradition. So I guess I'm more of a hermit. But I wanted to say that community for me is something also. I mean, all the things that Jared described are important, too. But, you know, for me, the problem was the transactional nature of that. That community. You know, early on in my career, I just, you know, that reminded me too much of the old competitive, individualistic thing. But, you know, that's. That's America for you. But I started to think about community in a bigger sense, that we're part. To remind myself we're part of something larger than ourselves. The work is part of something greater. So That's. That's how I like to think about community as well.
Well, absolutely. And the community, of course, is not just your fellow photographers, but it's the people who look at your work. And it's anyone who thinks deeply about it and is moved by it is part of that community.
Exactly.
Thank you both so, so much for being in conversation with me today. I was so looking forward to it. And I was not disappointed, of course, because you're both just so wonderful and making such strong and important contributions to not just the photography world or the world of art, but the world. Because ultimately that's the point, right? So sharing and helping the rest of us grow. So thank you so, so much. And yeah, be. Be well.
Thank you, Sasha. It's my pleasure.
Yeah, thank you, Sasha. We'll see you in Woodstock soon.
Okay. Look forward to it. Okay, Bye.
Bye.
Photo Work with Sasha Wolf is a production of the Photo Work Foundation. Executive producer is Sasha Wolf and the associate producers are Taylor Salzbach and Noah Lynn. The show is also produced by and edited by me, Michael Chovendalt. In a real photo show, music is by J. Walter Hawks. If you like the show and wish to find out more about the foundation, please visit PhotoArch foundation and be sure to subscribe and review with all the stars on your listening platform.