Hi, everyone.
My name's David and I'm from Sydney in Australia. I wanted to say a really heartfelt thank you for all the work that Photowork foundation has done over the years and continues to do. I haven't ever had the opportunity or privilege to receive a tertiary education at all or in photography. And through the podcast and the book, I feel like I've been able to access this incredible wealth of knowledge and insight that I don't know where I would be able to receive anywhere else. I'm truly so grateful for that, and I don't take it for granted. Sasha, the depth and generosity of your questions you ask as well as the answers you receive from your guests have left me speechless and endlessly inspired. So thank you for that. Congratulations on your 100th episode. I've listened to all of them so far, many times, and if you choose to, I can't wait to hear you do 100 more. Thanks again.
All right, let's do this, peanut. If you're staying in the room, no talking. Hello, and welcome to the 100th episode of the photo work podcast, the Talking 100. Oh, my God.
Wow, that was really early.
That sure was. Wow, he's excited. I'm Sasha Wolf. That's Michael Chovindal, everyone. My partner. Hello, Michael.
Hi. We did it.
We did it. So, Michael, yes, it is our 100th, and, yeah, it feels like a big milestone. I know we sort of always feel milestones along the way, the first season, second season, whatever, but this definitely has felt like a big moment, and I want to just thank you so much from the bottom of my heart for being on this journey with me. You are the.
Oh, it has been my pleasure.
Wait, hold on. Hold on a second. I am going to, in my mushy way, tell you how much you mean to me, so don't you get sassy. Just hold on there. Michael, seriously. I called you a little over five years ago and said, I have this idea and I need help. And it turned into this partnership that's just been such a fantastic, at times, infuriating and frustrating for both of us and. But mostly, I think on, well, to speak for myself, a really incredible experience. I feel like I've just grown so much from it. These conversations I've gotten to have with folks and just being able to share them with people, which has really been so meaningful to me at this point in my life and things that are important to me. Anyway, Michael, thank you so much.
Oh, well, I mean, no, you're speaking for the both of us. It's been really incredible. Working with you is really a privilege because I get to meet amazing people. I get to learn from you and how you. Not only how you handle business, but just the way you speak with photographers. You're in this really, I think, beautiful world of photography. The people around you, everyone that is involved with the show. It's such an honor and I'm very appreciative for you inviting me to be part of this. And, yeah, five years ago, we had no idea where this was going to go. No, no, it was a great experimen.
It was just to remind folks quickly of the origin of the show is during very, very early on In Covid, in 2020, I was on the phone with the artist Brian Scutmot, who I represent as part of Sasha Wolf projects and is also a good friend of mine. And we were just talking, as we do, and on the phone for probably an hour, hour and a half. One of my epic conversations. And I think it was while I was on the phone with him. Like, I feel like Brian was involved somehow in the sort of moment. Every time I talk to Brian, we wind up having a really. A really moving conversation about being an artist and a lot about that process and a lot about specifics, as we call the practice, and ways in which there's the inevitable roller coaster ride. And I just realized that this is a type of conversation that I get to have with a lot of really wonderful people on a really regular basis. Brian was sort of central in that because he and I tend to have these epic conversations, but I realized I just am having these conversations all the time with such interesting people because as a former artist, recovering artist myself, it's like something that I guess I'm just really interested in. I mean, I don't know, you know, it's just something that really fascinates me. And so I'm sort of always probing and really getting into it with folks. And so, yeah, I called you and I said, I have this idea. Obviously, it's not particularly profound or not profound at all, but I said, I have this idea. I think I could have some really great conversations while we're all locked down in Covid, and I've access to a lot of really interesting people that I think other people would want to hear from. And you were like, let's do it. And you have a lot of experience having your own podcast, real photo show. You have a lot of experience doing this. And I did not just have a lot of experience talking, so.
But, you know, one of the reasons why I was so on board was because you and I had a fantastic show together on your book, 40 photographers. And that, you know, I knew, I knew just from that show that, you know, I was going into business with someone who knew what they were doing, but also had great ideas and thoughts on photography. So that was a no brainer.
Thank you. Well, with the origin story in mind, I want to, on this occasion thank all of our guests who have made the show what it is, and especially Brian, who was our first guest. And, you know, I think, you know, having Brian do that was, you know, a leap of faith. And I am so grateful. And really to all of our early guests who didn't quite know what they were getting into. So appreciative. And really to everyone who's. Who's come on since and continues to and to the community of artists, curators, just anyone adjacent to the photography world who listens to the podcast and has come up to you and I, separately and together to, you know, share with us their thoughts. We're so grateful to everyone's continued commitment to the show and to our team, of course, Tara Sells back numero uno and all our other advisors and supporters. So, so grateful. You all are just such an inspiration. So, anyway, all right, I'm feeling a little emotional, I'm not gonna lie. Yes. Let's tell folks about what we have for them today.
Yeah. So we've had so many moments in the show where people have said such profound things, and we've just assembled some of them for this episode and broken down by the idea of Community origins and editing. And also, I want to mention, we have had just an outpouring of people telling us their experiences with the show and thanking us, but also just how it's inspired them. So all along the way, we'll have clips from listeners and from guests who have sent something in to say something about how the show has impacted them. But we'll start with Community, and in order of appearance will be Curran Hadtelberg, Gillian Laub and Carolyn Drake. And then we'll move to Origins, which will be Keisha Scarville, Raheem Fortune, and Shireen Neshat. And then we'll finish with some thoughts on editing by Gregory Halpern, Todd Hydo and Ron Jude. And don't worry if you can't remember all those names in order because I wouldn't be able. They will be timestamped in the notes, in the show notes. So as you're listening, if you wanna just peek down and see who's speaking. Just look at the timestamp. But, you know, I just think these are incredible, incredible moments in the show.
Absolutely. And obviously we could have, you know, we had a million options. It was an embarrassment of riches. But we chose these because not only do we think the themes are really important and important to us and things you and I talk about a lot off mic, but also the way that each gu, you know, interacts with the others around them. We just felt that it provided a lot of food for thought. So our first clip show on the occasion of our 100th episode. And yes, thank you to everyone who sent in a wonderful message. So appreciate that. And Michael, on this 100th, if you don't mind, please take it away.
My pleasure. And here we go.
Hello, Michael and Sasha and greetings from Minnesota. I adore photo work podcasts and listen to every episode while driving to shoots and chasing my photography projects. The warmth and humanity you bring to each conversation make hard creative work feel possible. Your show has quietly changed how I approach my practice and I find I'm more mindful, more patient, and more connected. I will say a standout episode for me is episode 69 with Anna Walker Skillman at Jackson Fine Art. That behind the scenes look that you discuss about the challenges of both showing and selling photography is the kind of practical, honest conversation photographers so rarely hear. You both emphasize with the real challenges of being a dealer and of selling work as an artist. As you said, quote, photographers now are really depending more on each other and the support of each other more than galleries. Thank you for 100 episodes of generosity and insight. I can't wait for the next 100.
Hi, this is Todd Hideau and I just wanted to say congratulations to all the people at photo work on your 100th recording. That's amazing. And I'm very happy to have been the subject of two of them, which was really a pleasure to do. And thinking of all those podcasts, you all must be 100 times smarter than before. Congratulations. I look forward to more.
My memory isn't good enough to quote you back, but said something about a person who then gets you access.
Sure, sure.
So, like, how does that work practically for you?
Like, how do I.
How do you meet that person who then turns out to be someone who. I assume what you mean is someone who's introducing you to other people. I mean, you. You're going into places and you're making these really intimate pictures. So, I mean, I know you, so I know you to be an incredibly warm and gentle soul. I hate Having my picture taken, I'd probably say yes to you. But how do you develop those relationships?
Well, it's all based on a kind of mutual curiosity. You know, I think all the pictures kind of originate from this moment of intimacy and vulnerability that we both have to partake in in order for it to work. But in terms of meeting someone and sort of getting to the next steps of making the picture, it's. There's no, you know, secret to how it happens. It's something that is just felt like you kind of walk around typically where, you know, people are going to be congregated or spending time outside, and I just walk up to someone and express interest in them. The camera's usually out at first just so that they know it's not some surprise later. So I kind of let them know nuts and bolts right off the bat, you know, that I'm a photographer. I'm traveling around looking to spend time with someone that I'm interested in them. And then I'd love to take their picture and spend time with them. And that putting it all kind of out on the table right away is a good way to cut to the chase because people will say no or yes immediately, and it just kind of develops from those points.
This is just something I'm preoccupied with in general. I've talked to Skipmod about this quite a bit. Does it ever. I put this. Does it ever nag at you at all that the people who you're photographing, a lot of them are not going to be. I don't want to make assumptions, so. But I would think a good percentage of the people you're photographing are not going to be really familiar with the language of fine art photography. And they can't. Well, not that they can't, but they might not be your audience. I mean, you know, I don't want to sell people short, but I also want to just. It's something that nags at me and what I do, you know, this sort of disconnect between the subjects and their familiarity with the visual language that we're sort of seeped in. And so how can they also be a viewer of the work? I mean, do you ever think about that? I don't know if that just was so convoluted. I was just tripping over myself to not be offensive in any way.
No, it makes sense what you're saying. Yeah, sure. I definitely think about it. There's a lot of disconnect in terms of access for viewing art in general. So, yeah, it certainly crosses My mind, all I can say about that is that when I'm photographing someone, there has to be this kind of. This kind of notion of a mutual relationship. And I have to communicate those talking points about, you know, I'm a photographer, so I show in galleries. I make photography books. So there's a. There's a chance that you might be participating in that. Is that something that. How do you feel about that? You know, and so those kind of questions are discussed. For what it's worth, a lot of the people that I spend time with, I will bring them back prints. And there's some kind of closing of the circle in a nice way by doing that. And then also it varies with people's, like, interest in the pictures once they have them, which is kind of interesting. There's one photograph I took of this kind of a still life of these watermelon that are sort of covered in bees.
I know the picture really well.
They used that for their Christmas card. This was like a farmer, you know.
So it's like there are these little.
Things where the pictures live in a different way, I guess, than, you know, outside of the book form or the gallery wall. That maybe has some meaning. It's a good question, though. That doesn't mean that they'll ever be, as an example, in New York seeing the show, you know what I mean? So there is complication there, that's for sure.
Also, you wind up making this just extraordinary feature documentary that I urge people to watch called Southern Rights. It's on hbo and it is an incredible film, Joanne. I mean, it's. I had seen it before and I rewatched it the other day, getting, you know, ready to talk to you. And my mind was blown because of, you know, this incredible combination of your warmth and just your big heartedness mixed with your incredible aesthetic sense. I mean, so beautiful. There are so many shots in that film that are so staggeringly beautiful. And I really believe, of course, helps people stay involved in this difficult subject. I mean, that's so often what a beautiful piece of artwork can do is sort of seduce you into. So you stay there and then you tackle what's difficult. But anyway, sorry. I could just go on and on talking about how great you are, but can you talk about what that was like? How do you do that? How do you go into a community where you don't know anyone and where you are such an outsider? And I know you had some trouble there and people threatening you and whatnot.
So, yeah, okay. So it was a long, you know, I Still, I never feel like anything is finished. My relationships with the community and people still continue. So it's hard to talk about it in the past tense because I feel like I'm still involved.
Yeah, well, don't.
But anyway, look, I was very conscious and aware of the fact that I was an outsider. And I felt. I feel like with that comes a great responsibility to do right and to also constantly question yourself about going in. And at first, when I spent time in Montgomery County, I wasn't sure about my place. And I didn't ask direct questions because there were some people I remember, some of the white families were like, this isn't about race. I don't want to talk about race. This isn't. And I kind of backed off because that was just jarring to me because it was so obviously about race. And I think that it really takes time to get to know. With any relationship, it really takes time. And I'm never in a rush. I don't believe in helicoptering in. It's really time, to me, is everything seeing things evolve, how things, you know, unfold. And I'm patient.
I had this bad accident with a. I was doing a police ride along in this town, and this assistant and I got in a car accident with a policeman who was chasing a man down from Memphis who was trying to escape. And it was just this point where I was like, this is not what I'm looking for. And also around the same time, I kind of. This woman who's a textile artist in this town, I had decided to kind of collaborate with her and have her help me embroider these rugs that I was going to put in my exhibition at sfmoma. So I decided to put down the camera and just sit with her and work on these embroidered rugs for a couple of weeks. And she invited. She had all these friends who were into making quilts and sewing. And so they all came, too. And we would kind of take turns being together. I mean, sometimes I was alone, sometimes I was with culture. Sometimes there would be five of us sitting there kind of around this quilting structure, just talking and, like, using the needle and thread. And it just was a moment of connection that I felt. And it was really. What I really reflect on is that I put down the camera for a while and allowed something to come without having the camera with me. But it was kind of. I ended up drawing from their lives and their environments and finding because I became really interested in, like, sewing and textiles at that point. And so I was interested in these materials from their lives. And I started working with those materials and borrowing those materials and borrowing the spaces that they lived in or that they were interested in. So that was the source, I guess, of the visuals, like the objects from their lives and their bodies and their children and their environments.
Hi, my name is Evgenia Parfionova. I live in St. Petersburg, Russia. Thank you guys for the podcast. Photo work has been such a great source of inspiration for me as a photographer. I listen to it a lot while I'm working on my projects and it makes me feel connected to the wider photography world, even from so far away. The episode that stayed with me is the one with Raymond Minx. I loved how he talked about finding one place and just staying there, digging deeper and deeper and letting the space become a reflection of what he was feeling inside. This idea that we always project something of ourselves onto the world we photograph really helped me think about my own long term photography project, what it is actually about for me. Thank you guys again and I'm looking forward for future episodes. You do an amazing job. Thank you. Hey, Sasha and Michael, it's Greg Harris, photography curator at the High Museum in Atlanta. Wishing you a happy 100th episode. Congratulations. It's such a great achievement. I've been listening to the podcast since the very first episode way back in the day. I love what you guys do. I always get so much insight into how artists think, how they work, how projects come together. As a curator, it's such a valuable resource. I've also had the honor of being on the podcast twice. And Sasha, you're an amazing interviewer and your questions are so provocative and makes me think about what I do in a different way. And I don't know, I love what you guys do and I'm so happy that the podcast has been going on so long and I, you know, can't wait for the next hundredth episode. Congratulations.
So I was born, born and raised in Flatbush, Brooklyn, New York. My parents immigrated to the United States from Guyana, South America in the late 60s. And growing up, you know, one of, of course one of my first introductions or understanding or kind of like awareness of photography and the camera specifically was through my father. My dad was a, or is a camera, well, I would say more was a consummate image maker. He was constantly photographing our family himself, you know, things that were going on and, you know, since I was a young child, I would take trips back. My parents would often take trips back to Guyana. And you know, my dad was highly invested in making sure that all of those events, like, you know, all of that was being documented and photographed. So that was my. My first introduction into photography. But I wasn't. I don't think I was aware of photographic communication as, like, a career or an occupation. You know, it was this. It was that which documented like, it was that which was part of the experience of being and making sure that these moments are being captured. And I think once I got to high school, you know, growing up, I loved reading, I loved writing. And so I decided early on that I wanted to be a journalist. I wanted to travel the world. I wanted to write about what was happening in the world and at the time. And this is still true. You know, you can choose high schools, vocational high schools, where half your day would be spent, you know, learning math, science, and then half the day would be spent focusing on a particular vocation. And so I went to a high school called Graphic Communication Arts in Manhattan, West 49th Street. And part of my time there was, you know, I was told that I had to take a photography class and I had to take it in order to graduate, and I didn't want to take it. I remember asking, I'm like, you know, can I just like, write a paper on photography and get my credit that way? But no, I had to take the class. And I had probably, you know, the most. One of the most impactful, amazing teachers. Her name's Jan Jurasak, who had this infectious enthusiasm and passion for photography. And she, you know, she introduced us to Nan Golden. Like, we would spend, you know, we would spend classes, like, just studying Nan Goldin's images or studying like a, you know, a W. Jean Smith image and, like, really, like, talk about how we saw the world and, like, what. What it was about our surroundings that we wanted to capture and express through it. She never. She never let us off the hook. She always kind of forced us, or I wouldn't say forced, but kind of probed us to kind of think deeper and really see. And I remember the first roll of the first. First camera, first roll, first image that I developed in the darkroom. It was my first day in there. And I just remember watching the image come into being in the developer, and I was just completely, utterly flabbergasted.
The magic.
Yeah, I fell in love right in that moment. I knew that I wanted to have moments like that for the rest of my life. And I remember I took the class. I remember taking the class over and over again, and then the school told me, they're like, you can't Keep taking this class. But she was so, so incredible that she would let me come in before school started. I would come in before school started and use the dark room during lunch. I would be in the dark room after school, I'd be photographing my friends. It was just, you know, it was just everything for me. Yeah. And so I ended up attending Rochester Institute of Technology and continuing my path in photography there, which was, you know, was a very different experience. You know, being. Being in the department. Being in Rochester. Yeah, of course. And being amongst individuals, all who were, you know, kind of in that same space of we all, you know, arrive there through a love of photography. And so, yeah, I mean, it was. It was not an easy experience, if I'm being honest. It wasn't an easy experience. Experience for me. But, you know, I. I actually. I remember getting there and they told us, you know, you have to choose. You have to choose a particular aspect of photography to study. And that made absolutely no sense to me. And I remember I was like, I don't understand. Like, why do I have to choose? Like, I'm interested in all of it. And so I. I just. I remember choosing, but then taking classes, like, across the board. So, yeah, I mean, that's.
What did you choose?
I ended up. I mean, people are always surprised when I say this, but I chose biomedical photography, which does not.
Yes, that is surprising.
Which I found out. I was actually speaking to a student at RIT last week, and I found out that that department does not exist at RIT anymore. But I remember having to make the decision, and I was like, wow. Like, that's so, like, so fascinating to me. And I chose biomedical photography. There was something about, like, this kind of marriage between science and photography, but also all of these different realms that photography allowed. Allowed us to enter into and see, you know, that I was. I was really fascinated by. You know, it was something that I had never heard of and never experienced. But. So, yeah, that's what I chose as my major. But I would take class, like, I would take. I doubled up on my credits. I would take fine art classes, AD classes, lighting classes, ophthalmology classes. It was just. It was across the board for me.
Do you think that that concentration has. Is that something you sort of shed afterwards, or does that have a place in your practice now, do you think?
I think. I mean, less. I think less didactically. I think, like, one of the things that I. One of the things that we learned was. And it was a very. Like, there was this kind of strict line which I imagine, you know, is the same for photojournalism documentary. Like, there are certain things that we have to. You have to be mindful of. But there was a very strict line where, you know, like, the image was in service of showing and learning and teaching something about the body. And so there was no space, even though that was the thing that I was most interested in was, like, the space of what else can we learn? Like, what expressive gestures can we bring to this? Like, what is this kind of like this abstraction of the body teaching us? But we, you know, like. Like, it had to be very specific. Everything had to be in service of the didactic, which I don't necessarily think of right now in terms of how I. I approach photography, but this other thing of, you know, it's like. It's that idea of, like, how can we see more deeply into ourselves or into our experiences? Which was something that I was often thinking about and I think still think about.
I was working at kitchens in Texas, kind of like in my early 20s, my first years on my own. Music had slowed down for me, so I wasn't doing as much music. I was more just, you know, that's what. That's the period where I was started, maybe just taking film photographs of friends and, you know, very amateur, just snapshot things of just photographing friends at, you know, a party or at the skate park or at my apartment. Then a job opened up at a local lab, and I saw that and I was like, wow, I'm a line cook right now, like, developing film. Sounds like a really cool job. Like, this would be incredible if I could get this. I think I went to, like, the interview and like a. Like a suit or something. Like, really, like, I have to make sure I get this job, and they call me back and I get the position. And by the way, it's sort of.
Amazing because this couldn't have been that long ago, 10 years ago or 2015. Yeah. I mean, yeah, I'm shocked. There's still a lab in Texas.
We got two labs in town in Austin. There's two labs that still operate. One is, like, old school Naruto machines, and the other one is an actual dip and dunk lab. So they got two spots there, and there's a pretty big, you know, demand for film processing. So I would go there and start learning about scanning film. But one of the local Austin residents, Eli Reed, would come in and was good friends with the owner of the camera store, because this is kind of like the store I worked at is kind of like Texas version of B and H. They're one of the major camera stores. Like, people like Dan Winters would come in and people who were shooting in Austin at the time. So Eli Reed came in and needed to. To make some prints. And I ended up just kind of working with them, helping him out, because a lot of other people didn't have the patience for him. And I was really fascinated with the fact that he was there, being this kind of legendary magnum photographer, to just kind of be in this local lab making some color prints. So that was super cool. And so we started maybe hanging out for like a week, and I helped him get some prints for a grant proposal. You know, it was. To me at the time, I was like, oh, my gosh, I'm being mentored by Eli Ree. But I'd probably have to remind him who I was. You know, it was. But it was very impactful on me to just hear him talk about it and become more aware of photojournalism and fine art photography, documentary photography, really starting to understand it as a language, as something that had its own, like, you know, substantial history to it. And that was really my introduction to, I guess, the, like, documentary vision was through Eli Reed meeting him. So, you know, then I had someone tell me that the best photos that I was making were some of the photographs I was just making of my friends in a way that felt, I guess, honest or intimate. You know, some of just like, you know, the other, like, young men that I was around. Someone, you know, gave me criticism that that was some of the better images that they were seeing of everything that I was shooting. So I kind of started to focus in on that and taking early attempts at street portraiture in Austin. And so that's really where I started to form my. My voice as a photographer was that. And then also learning, you know, darkroom was also really was big for me because I was, from the beginning, fascinated with just the act of processing film. The. This, like, the kind of reward of it, of pulling the negatives out. And then in the morning, they'll be ready to scan, and then after that, you go shoot and you repeat. And that was really fun to me. And that was a big part of why I instantly gravitated towards making black and white photographs.
I mean, the material part of it, I know, is very important to you, and I relate to that. So, you know, in some ways, when people switch to shooting digitally, it's harder for me to understand, really, just from that sort of standpoint, because the materiality, the touching of things of Film of chemistry, of, you know, all that is to me as it is, I know to you, so much a part of the process that's engaging and interesting. Let me ask you, you had to have been really starting to look at work at this point. I mean, even when you just said sort of in passing that you're starting to take sort of street portraits, you know, obviously you had to have been looking at things to even know what that is. So what are you looking at at this point?
I think some of the early influences that I was seeing at the time was things that were just on the Magnum website, I would go and look at Eli Reed's work and then would be, you know, you could see Martin Parr and you could see Alex. So. And then also a current of, you know, photographers on Instagram, primarily an account called Street Etiquette that was doing kind of this classic style photo portraiture and lifestyle photography of young people in Brooklyn. And there was a couple of short films that came out that were at the time, it was almost like that scene was almost like a 60s revival, like the way that the people were dressing. There's artists like Leon Bridges and there was very much this thing of like reclaiming of historical. And so that was also another current that was starting at that time. So those two things kind of married was also like, you know, now the way that I was photographing my friends was maybe a little bit more informed that I was, you know, had gotten my first medium format camera and was processing my negatives and was looking at Eli Reed's work and was looking at Bruce Davidson's work and kind of understood. But I think with street portraits it took a long time and it's something that I'm still learning about my relationship to that. But I think at the beginning it wasn't super informed. Maybe also like Renick Diestra or like, you know, August Sanders tribute, kind of just try to put someone in the center of the frame and just think that it's going to make a good photo. And now I've know that there's so much more that goes into making. Saying something with the photograph where maybe at that time it was about just learning how to approach people and make photographs of people that I didn't know. But I think that was, yeah, mostly what. What was informing that those early attempts at making images.
I'm really fascinated about the hiatus that you took from, from art making after Berkeley. And what exactly happened, if you don't mind my sort of probing here a bit, what exactly happened when you went Back to Iran. You hadn't seen your family for 11 years. You go back to Iran and something happens to you. You wind up, I think, producing Women of Allah, which really put you on the map, just to use dumb art world lingo, but really made you quite famous. And we can talk about that series, and I do want to talk about it, but I really, really want to know, was it a lightning bolt? Was it something that sort of dawned on you a little bit each day, but what happened? Because this is a podcast that's our listeners are primarily artists. And I think that's just always fascinating to really understand when you've had a quiet period or a period where you're not making art at all and then you're in school, is it. I mean, obviously it's different for each person. But how did it happen for you when you were in Iran? Yeah.
First I have to explain that, you know, my work at school, I would say, was quite mediocre. And I'm the first one to admit it, and lucky I destroyed every evidence of it. But there was this thing that didn't fit my character very well, which was the whole education's emphasis on working hard at school, to finding your own signature work. And then the rest of your life you continue to elaborate on that style or whatever is you're doing, and you just get better at it, and then you follow a career and all that. Well, first of all, I have a hard time with mediocrity. I think it's better not to participate in any field of culture with anything that it's potentially mediocre. The second thing is, I don't think that artists are born talented. I think this is not something that comes from your intuition that you somehow are given a gift and you're going to school because that gift has to come out of your brain into the studio on some canvas. I really feel that art is something that you seek and it grows in you by living a life that is full of adventure, excitement, experiences, knowledge, putting yourself on that edge and sometimes pain. And so, you know, As a young 18, 19, 20 year old kids that we go to school, in principle, I have something wrong about, you know, how many of us are that genius, that we can just be born with that talent? It happens. But so for me, that distance, first of all, my understanding that my work was mediocre was a great distance, great understanding and realization, and I'm so glad that I came to that. The second thing, when I came to New York, I worked for 10 years in a not for Profit organization called the Storefront for Art and Architecture, where I devoted my life and time to other artists, architects and thinkers work. And that became my true education and an incredible exposure to minds and people whose work was really based on lots of research and information. Hardly anyone I met was making work that was purely intuitive. And you know, it was a really enriching experience of this exposure for me. So by the time came the time I went back to Iran, by then I was 30, I believe I had achieved a certain level of maturity, certain methodology, certain grasp of artistic value, things that I cared for, the directions of art making that I really appreciated, but I was missing. I was lacking the subject matter or something that I was passionate about. Once I arrived in Iran, it's not, you know, again, I want to insist and I encourage all the artists not to ever make art for career. I was there and I felt so fascinated. At the same time terrified by what had transpired in Iran during my absence that I started to go back, you know, every year for at least two, three years. And all of this when I came back to New York, I felt that this relationship had to somehow continue even while I was in New York. So making art that reflected on what my findings were in Iran helped keep that fire alive. Even though I was now married to an American Korean man. I had a child and I was working at a not for profit gallery. But I had now this niche, very private one, that I could just continue to think and read and work and research about the subjects that I had faced in Iran. All of this culminated on in Woman of Allah. But again, these were not intended as an artistic movement move or career move. It just happened that a person saw something I was playing with and said, oh, I'm interested in showing you. It's like you are. And I only have two pictures, you know, and it was. I always felt that when they said, I'd like to talk to you about your work, they were talking about the storefront, not me. And somebody finally said, no, no, I'm talking about you. But I said, I've only made three photographs. So this was really my blessing. The fact that I didn't arrive at the art world by seeking success or climbing the ladder or even any ambition because I pretty much resigned to the idea that I would never be an artist. So it happened just accidentally. And then from then on, the evolution of the work and the career just happened very well organically.
Hi everyone, my name is Franco De Leo. I'm an artist and a photographer from Toronto, Canada. I found photo Work last year, right after finishing my first solo show, and I believe it. Well, it felt like I really needed something that would help me feel connected and part of a community. I wanted to continue to explore new artists and get inspired, and it was exactly that for me. There's so many incredible episodes and quotes that I've collected and wrote down, but one that that really stood out to me was from Karin Heidelberg. And, you know, he said talking about how it always feels miraculous when something works out because when you're in the trenches making your work, it never feels like it will. And that idea of having blind faith in your intuition and trusting that there are no wrong answers has been so encouraging for me as a queer artist. Hearing Jess T. Dugan and David Benjamin Sherry talk about queer identity and queering landscapes and queering spaces is giving me a language and helped me feel like it was putting words into feelings that I had. Just want to say, Sasha and Michael, what you've created is so meaningful and I'm so excited I have discovered you, and I'm looking forward to another hundred episodes. Thank you for everything. Love you guys so much.
Hey, Sasha, it's Raheem Fortune. Congrats on 100 episodes. Keep up the great work. I know I speak for many when I say we've spent a lot of hours listening to your podcast in the dark room or while editing. Love you.
Ideally, like, my prep, my. My favorite way to edit is to make the picture and then like, like, not look at it for many, many years, because then I can, like, I can see it clearly, more clearly, you know, like, and I'm separated from that experience of taking the picture. I can, like, see it for what it is now as a picture.
Let me just jump in for a second. And also, you really don't want the editing process in the shooting process. I know that about most artists, but I know that is a particular stance of yours that's very important to you in the way you make work, and I think that's quite prudent. The editor, the maker and the editor are two parts of your brain and shouldn't be trying to work simultaneously. So I can imagine that if you think there's still work to be made, you also are concerned about bringing your editor self in too early. And I'm sure that it must be really difficult to figure out when at one point did you go from just shooting Zyzyx to starting to direct Zizix?
Yes, I'd say. I think I would say that there were these periods of time where I would go back because I was living on the East Coast. I did move to LA for the last year to work on Zizx, but there were a good five or plus years of just going back and forth. And so when I would go back to the east coast, you know, I would look at the work. And that does inform how you go shoot the next time.
Which.
Right, yeah.
Which can be helpful, I guess, in a way. It could close down your vision or lead to, like. Directing is an interesting word. Yeah. But for me, it's helpful because I love to wander and I love to just go out and, like, be surprised by the world. But I need, like, as the project goes on, I need to, like, have a little bit more. I need to start closing off some doors.
Yeah. Putting parameters.
Parameters.
Yeah.
So those, like, months, you know, months of, like, being on the east coast and looking helped me figure out, okay, certain things, certain subjects or places or color palettes or whatnot weren't probably going to work, you know, and then. And so slowly, the feeling becomes a bit more clear over time. Does that answer the question?
Yeah, of course. And I mean, what it sounds like is that there's a period of just making, and then there's a period of starting to think about putting up parameters so that you do have a clear color palette. The way you're working with light is consistent. And, you know, you want a certain amount of portraits, you want a certain amount of portraits of objects, you want a certain amount of landscapes, and you have to then start filling that out. But I'm sure it's a real balancing act with, you know, when do you invite the editor in. In a very sort of forceful way, when, you know, trying to keep the editor from being too bossy and still leave room for experimentation and playfulness and surprise. And then at a certain point, having to have the editor completely take over. I mean, I'm sure it's funny because when you think about the process, it's almost like there's two people, but of course it's you. It's just one person. And having to sort of divide yourself into two different people and, you know, who's in charge when. And that negotiation, I think, is something that is so incredibly important in the artistic process, but can take quite a long time to figure out that negotiation.
Yeah, it's funny. I really get distracted by when I'm shooting digitally, for example, when I can see the pictures while I'm shooting, and it seems. It sounds silly, and I've tried to force myself, you know, to work that way because it would be so much more practical. But I do feel like when I'm trying to be really present, photographing, I just need to be looking and reacting and not overthinking. If I overthink, I can get in the way. Yeah. There's these 10 rules for students and teachers that John Cage kind of made famous. And one of them, Rule 8 was, do not try to create and analyze at the same time. They are different processes. And, you know, I remember reading that and thinking, ah, okay, thank you. I just. It made me feel, like, justified in being, like, in separating them in my mind. But, you know, I also do rely on other people. That's really helpful for me. My wife, Andrea Parlotto, who's a photographer, of course, is crucial to looking at my work and being real. She knows me and the work better than anybody and so she's. And she's brutally honest and that's really helpful. Jason Fulford, photographer, publisher was crucial to me, like, in my early years, like, making a. And then figuring out out early on, like, what zyzx would be super helpful to me looking at the work and putting it together. So those.
Having those trusted. Yeah, totally.
I mean, I wish I could be the kind of artist that's like, you know, alone in their room and it's like this genius thing comes out. But it's. I need to kind of talk to people and see it through their eyes and then.
Well, I think that that's incredibly important. How can you. You know, first of all, we know that the idea of the sort of lone genius is this. It's been debunked because it's impossible to know how someone else is going to react to something. And, you know, we want. We're trying to communicate, for God's sake. So.
Yeah, exactly. Especially because I don't have text. I need to see, like, what's. How is this picture landing? What is it? How does it feel to you? And then to use that information, because I do want to communicate, you know, it's. It's not just like, I need to make this picture and put out in the world for me. Like, I want it to, like, resonate and make someone feel something, you know, close to what I felt. So, yeah, I do need, like, people to look along the way to tell me if it's doing what I think it's doing.
And I would think also, particularly with a sort of retrospective book, because it's not like you're just handing a publisher, you know, like, your first book. House Hunting is Really tight. It's one body of work. It's not that there's not a ton to do in terms of sequencing, editing and sequencing, but I would think you'd really have to have a very special relationship with someone to collaborate and trust them on something that has a much larger scope. Like intimate distance.
Yeah, yeah, definitely. The thing that's interesting is like, for me, like all the books I've made prior to this, everything I've done with Nazarely Press, you know, which is my publisher for many of my. Most of my monographs, is that I do the editing and the sequencing, you know, and that's something that like. And I have like the total input on that.
And then.
And so. And it was really different working with Aperture and then where there was like, you know, it's a. There's like a whole entire staff of people that. That make those books. And I found that, you know, I had to get to used. Used to that a little bit because. But I also like, knew well enough and thought very highly of Denise's ability to edit, is that. And then also because she made this workshop book, she knew everything about my work. And she's like a steel trap for that stuff. And so she just. It was natural. And then we had. One of us had come up with the idea that we would do it chronologically because we're trying to figure out how do you sort the pictures and not have them look like my other books, which often have a mixture of portraits, landscapes, like night shots and things like that in them, there had to be some kind of. Or like a form to it. And so the chronological is how it was laid out. And then it just made all the sense in the.
The world.
Then once we did it that way, it's just kind of. It laid itself out basically. And then if you didn't like the way pictures came together and there was something in between them that wasn't quite right, you can just pull that picture or maybe it was redundant or whatnot. But the thing I like about that book is you see how an artist. For me, I always loved looking at the process of another artist. I just. I go to lectures all the time. I. You know, I'm constantly interested in learning more. And so when I made that book, I definitely wanted it to be. To show the actual like how I worked. And I'll never forget the first time, like, this is like 20 years ago when I had scanned my pictures into like my prints into my computer and that all my photographs are chronologically numbered because just that's how I just did my roll of film and, you know, like, way back from when I lived in Boston, you know, till now. And, like, so there's a chronological number. So the pictures just dropped into place. And all of a sudden I looked at this, like, folder and I'm like, wow, that's my whole entire career in order. And it was such a trip. I mean, now it's like, you know, pictures do that. Like, I mean, they sort themselves, you know. But the first time that was done, I was like, that is fascinating to see how you think and what you hover on for a while or also how sporadic you are as an artist. And then you have times that you're completely focused on something, and then there's times where you're sort of searching or trying out new things, and it's just kind of. But sorting your pictures in a chronological way for anybody is a fascinating thing to do because it's kind of the inside of your mind in a way. And you don't often get to look at those things in chronological order.
Even though all along I was just sort of. I was making pictures, I was a photographer, but I always thought of the medium a little more broadly than that. And I had these sort of philosophical ideas about how photography worked all along. And then when I started looking at these images from the local newspaper in McCall, Idaho, it was called the Star News, I saw something in those photographs that I thought could sort of turn up the volume a bit on my own, thinking about my own work. And it had to do with these sort of hanging narratives that I saw present in these photographs. And the photographs were of a very particular sort. They were images that were generated for mass distribution, at least as mass as a small town newspaper can be. But they were generated typically, not by professional photographers, but by writers who just took a camera out to make pictures while they did the story, or even people from the town who just sent images in who were sort of reporting on their daily lives or events that they were involved in or whatever. And so there was a kind of vernacular tone to the images, while at the same time they sort of existed in this kind of professional format. So they didn't particularly do a great job. I wouldn't call them photojournalism by any stretch. And yet that's the context in which they existed. And that just kind of fascinated me. And the more every week I would get this newspaper in the mail and I just. I kind of kept track of the images that struck me as seeming to have this sort of weird Stunted narrative to them that I felt really kind of existed in every image. And I kept thinking about, you know, how can I exploit that? And so, you know, like I said, it was a number of years of collecting these and thinking about them and trying to figure out, how do I do this? How do I use these? Before I sort of settled on the book format. I've said this before. I feel really fortunate that that was the first book that I ever made. Because what it really did for me was it sort of really made me look at and think about and try to understand the structure, the sort of narrative structure of the book form. And particularly as it pertains to a certain type of photograph in a way that I think if I was dealing with my own images, I would have been sort of favoring the concept that I was working with or the sort of visual. Strictly visual aspects of the images. I think I would have edited things very differently. And that taught me how to deal with my own photographs when I turned my attention back to that and started making books of my own work. So that was, you know, that was my interest in dealing with that material.
That book is sort of the headline, in a way, is the way in which when things are taken out of context, they develop, you know, entirely new meanings. Wouldn't you say, or.
Oh, absolutely, yeah. And to a large degree, context is what delivers meaning in an image. And there's kind of an alchemy that exists between images that get mixed together that forms new narratives. I think our tendency, our impulse, when we're looking at photographs is to. It's a narrative tendency. And I think ultimately, photographs don't do a particularly good job at fulfilling our expectations of narrative. And so what we end up doing is we embellish images with our own backstory, our own narratives, our own history, our own sort of cultural baggage. And I think if you can sort of take that as a device to use to sort of exploit those expectations, photography can be a really sort of interesting thing to play around with. Not just as image making.
I mean, it seems as though you've been doing that for a while, that you've done what you just said described in many books. Not so much in your last book. Right. But in. Certainly in a good deal of the books that you've made over the past 20 years. I mean, it sounds like this is coming from the philosophy major in you in a lot of ways.
Yeah, I think that's right.
What is it that's so compelling about that idea? Because, of course, that's what we do with a photograph. Of course, we embellish. We bring our own life to it. And, you know, human beings are story centric. That's why we're so susceptible to. I mean, we're so susceptible to the story. This always cracks me up when I'm starting to watch a television show or a movie and the first person who we're introduced to, it's almost impossible to shake that person from being your protagonist. Even if the film or television show doesn't ultimately want them to be the protagonist. Just the fact that we saw them first.
Yeah, we sort of understand and recognize patterns and that's part of our sort of.
And we're desperate, right? We're desperate to create narrative. It's like it's hardwired into us.
I think it's a matter of bringing some sort of order to the chaos of lived experience. It's terrifying to be alive. And I think that's why we have this impulse is to give structure, to make it seem like there's some sort of purpose or thread through everything. I think that's what the idea of story is all about. And I think that's. That's what's fascinating about it to me.
Photo Work with Sasha Wolff is a production of the Photo Work Foundation. Executive producer is Sascha Wolff and the associate producer is Taylor Selsbach. The show is also produced 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 more about the foundation, please visit PhotoArch foundation and be sure to subscribe and review with all the stars on your listening platform.