Art dealer, curator and lifelong photographer-advocate Sasha Wolf speaks with Humble Arts Foundation about Photowork: her new book of informative, career-changing interviews.
Regardless of how you define “success," being a successful artist is hard. From making a truly cohesive body of work or writing a statement that resonates and cuts through the clutter of art speak, to marketing your work and getting buyers, curators and publishers to care about your work, it’s daunting. And with the onslaught of digital and visual noise, the challenges are ever-evolving.
In response to so many of these challenges, Sasha Wolf recently published Photo-Work: 40 Photographers on Process and Practice with Aperture, a collection of short, sweet, direct interviews with forty photographers crystalizing their key challenges, how they overcame them, and how they continue to iterate and pivot to help enrich and advance their process, practice, and careers. While the book doesn’t offer a simple salve – it shouldn’t – it’s a refreshing and much-needed conversation.
Jon Feinstein in conversation with Sasha Wolf.
Mask in Reverse, 2016 © Matthew Connors
Jon Feinstein: What inspired you to publish this book?
Sasha Wolf: I was inspired to make the book because I felt there were a lot of blind spots for photo students. When I talk to students, they always seem hungry for inside information. Not about the nuts and bolts of edition numbers, sizing or pricing, but about what I look for in an artist. This leads to conversations about mature bodies of work and an artist’s point of view, and a lot about process: starting projects, finishing projects, exhibitions, book-making.
I guess I just realized that the more students of photography (whether literally in school or not) hear from other artists on these topics the faster they could, potentially, settle into their own modus operandi. I think people spend a lot of time wondering if they are doing something the “right way” and I guess I wanted to help people move along through that phase a little faster by suggesting that there is no single right way. But, of course, I also hoped that if you could find a photographer, or two or three, in the book, who you relate to, you could also, potentially, pick up some really valuable tips from them on their process. Like having a virtual mentor.
West 124th Street and Lenox Avenue (From Harlem Redux), 2016. © Dawoud Bey.
Feinstein: Did any of the interviews exist beforehand? What was your process like?
Wolf: I started the book from scratch and all of the contributors from the very beginning were asked to please not default to art-speak but rather to speak plainly. I felt that the only way to keep everyone “honest,” so to speak, was to get them to focus less on the theoretical aspects of their work and more on the practical. I think artists often default to theory as a form of self-preservation; a way to keep some things hidden and just let the work speak for itself. I’m very sympathetic to this tactic but it just would not have been good for this book.
Sasha Wolf hard at work with some encouragement from her dog Peanut Wolf. “You can refer to her by just ‘Peanut,’” says Wolf, “she’s very informal. Photo credit: Kris Graves
Feinstein: What do you think is the biggest + most common + consistent challenge for photographers today?
Wolf: Let me just start with the caveat that there are multiple challenges for artists on all fronts! Now, having gotten that out of the way….
I think one of the biggest challenges for photographers professionally is just how hard it is to procure exhibition space, let alone representation. There are many reasons for this, and I think a longer answer would be its own, stand-alone essay, so I won’t get too into the weeds on all of that. I will say, I do believe that artists should be more proactive about procuring exhibition space and I’d like to see more artists start their own cooperatives to exhibit their work. This also dovetails into something else that I believe is a big, more existential problem for artists today: they think that art and commerce should go hand in glove, and when they find that they are not making money from their art--which is the case for 99.9% of artists at some point in their careers- they feel such intense disappointment.
The challenge is to rid oneself of the notion of art=commerce as fast as possible. The only thing that should tear you up as an artist is the excruciating experience of baring your soul to the world and then standing around naked as a bunch of strangers evaluate your worth. Pema Chödrön has this amazing quote from the Zen Monk, Shunryu Suzuki Roshi, in one of her books: “Life is like stepping into a boat that is about to sail out to sea and sink.” I love that quote. I think it’s really funny and also really true—about life—but also about being an artist and the bravery needed to make and share your work knowing that some or all of what you share may sink. I could expound on that, but I’ll just leave it there.
Untitled, from Cui Cui, 2005 © Rinko Kawauchi,
Feinstein: What do you think are some of the biggest creative challenges?
Wolf: I think one of the biggest creative challenges for photographers has always been, and continues to be, relying too much on their equipment to make their work. I believe that unless a photograph is endowed with the artist’s inner life in equal measure to the world outside, as captured by their camera, then it’s just a postcard. Shooting on 8 x 10” film may make it more aesthetically pleasing, or even astounding, but it won’t be important.
I use this Robert Adams quote in my introduction to the book that I think is really wonderful and gets to the heart of what I’m trying to say here, better than I can say it:
"Art asserts that nothing is banal, which is to say that a serious landscape picture is metaphor. If a view of geography does not imply something more enduring than a specific piece of terrain, then the picture will hold us only briefly; we will probably prefer the place itself, which we can smell and feel and hear as well as see—though we are also likely to come away from the actual scene hoping to find it somewhere in art. This is because geography by itself is difficult to value accurately—what we hope for from the artist is help in discovering the significance of a place.”
And I do feel I have to, at least, nod to the fact of the ubiquity of photographs, the astounding “everywhereness” of photographs, as well as digital technology itself, being, of course, a challenge to the fine art photographer, for many, many reasons. But so much has been written about that that I think I’ll take a pass on that particular issue, today.
Ascend, 2013. © Kelli Connell
Feinstein: What are working + struggling photographers consistently getting "wrong?”
Wolf: I think what photographers get wrong is connected to the second question. They misunderstand the true amount of exhibition and sales opportunities, always (optimistically, perhaps) assuming the number of spaces and opportunities is greater than it is. And they misunderstand this by A LOT. I represent, in my opinion, a number of very important photographers and getting them into museums is a real challenge.
To say that there are many more good photographers than there are collectors to collect them or museums/galleries to exhibit them would just be a major understatement. Photographers need to really understand that. Once they do they are liberated to think of their practice the way they should: as a very long game with many peaks and valleys. Certainly, NOT as a straight shot up the mountain.
New Orleans, Louisiana. 2002. © Alec Soth
Feinstein: How did you go about selecting the photographers to participate in this interview series?
Wolf: I started the book off by asking a select group of artists, who I personally really wanted to hear from, if they would participate. Many of these artists were people I have a relationship with, so I assumed they’d say yes, just to be nice to me. Then I built the remaining group around the initial group, filling out certain genres, but also genders and ethnicities. Ultimately, I think the book could be even more diverse, but I did the best I could on this one and, perhaps, I can do better if there’s a book 2. This one was a bit of a jigsaw puzzle so the 40 participants are not as random as it may seem. Or, really, not random at all.
Feinstein: You ask each photographer the same set of questions. Why is this important to the book and its ultimate goal?
Wolf: The goal of the book was to be able to compare and contrast, so it was absolutely essential that all of the artists were answering the same questions. From the very beginning, I imagined readers opening the book up, finding their favorite artists or those they relate to somehow, and marking those pages and flipping back and forth comparing answers.
Oliver and Mrs Nibbles © Catherine Opie
My Father Outside his Bedroom, Bridgeville, PA, 2005 © Doug Dubois
Feinstein: What was your biggest learning/ "a-ha" / unexpected moment or glimmer of golden knowledge in working on these interviews?
Wolf: I don’t think I had any a-ha moments, but you have to remember that I have been representing artists for a living now for almost 20 years and before that I was a filmmaker so… I have a very good understanding of how artists think about making work. Frankly, I often think of my job as part art-therapist, so I’m in constant dialogue about process and practice. But, having said that, there were many very honest answers from folks and so I did learn a lot about different people’s specific experiences, methods, and feelings. Maybe I could just share some of those?
I learned a lot about Doug DuBois from his answer to question 1, “What comes first for you: the idea for a project, or individual photographs that suggest a concept?” Doug responds,
"I certainly photographed my family with intent [All the Days and Nights, published in 2009], but it took making a critical number of photographs and a significant amount of time—decades, really—to understand how the images could work together. The photographs were smarter than I was at the time of their making and I had to grow into the work.”
I really think that this idea of the photographs being smarter than he was for a time is really interesting and really gets at the concept of patience and the importance of letting things evolve. That type of maturity is important to me as an art dealer and I am always impressed by an artist who, rather than force a timeline, has the maturity to let a project dictate its own evolution.
My Sister Lise, Christmas Eve, Far Hills, NJ, 1984. © Doug Dubois
Feinstein: That’s great! Who else?
Wolf: Sasha Rudensky had a wonderfully honest response to this question as well and it had many similarities to Doug’s. She said,
“I have occasional moments that bear resemblance to conceptual clarity, but those disappear the minute the grant-writing process is over and the real work begins. When I start to shoot, the acts of looking and seeing take charge and usually lead me away from cohesive ideas on paper and toward what looks right, or beautiful, or abrasive, or absurd. My best projects come from months of ambient shooting, which is frequently aimless and existentially frustrating, yielding few good images. It took years to recognize that all those rolls of film and trips across the Atlantic were not a waste of time and resources but essential to my practice. Because I am interested in history, cultural identity, and place (the latter defined broadly), the work requires a lengthy gestation period, ruthless editing sessions, and renegotiation of my initial assumptions of what is central to the project.”
Photographer Sasha Rudensky (+ baby) during a recent editing session with Sasha Wolf.
Two images from Alejandro Cartagena’s “Carpoolers” series. © Alejandro Cartagena
Wolf (continued): I also found a particular response from Alejandro Cartagena very useful to me, personally. He talks about good photographs having layers, and I love the use of that word. In fact, Alejandro’s description is one I might have to crib.
The question is, "What are the key elements that must be present for you when you are creating a body of work? (Social commentary, strong form, personal connection, photographic reference)”
And, Alejandro answers:
"I think in layers. The more layers a project has, the more possibility there is that one of those layers will relate to someone. Something like this: the project needs to be aesthetically, technically, conceptually, and historically relevant; have a personal connection; pull toward some kind of social commentary; be able to show personal and artistic vulnerability; and so on. Some of the layers are just sparks of interest that will allow a later reading of what I am trying to present as a subject matter or theme.
Certain viewers will be interested in the technical aspects of the work, to start, and expectantly move into the other layers of meaning, history, or narrative involved in the book, exhibition, or site. I feel something worthy happens when one of these layers is perceived, and I also hope that people will find more of the threads that are offered, though I never know if that will happen. In the end, my own personal commitment is to make the work as layered as possible, and in doing so, I also make the best work I think I can do.”
Santa Catarina © Alejandro Cartagena
Feinstein: Why was Alejandro’s quote so meaningful for you?
Wolf: I like how he talks about these many layers, and the way viewers might come to them, like a parent sneaking some vegetables into their child’s milkshake and then the child comes to find that they actually like cauliflower.
And one of my favorite answers to question 6, (Assuming you now shoot in what you would consider your natural voice, have you ever wished your voice was different?) came from Justine Kurland, who in typical Justine Kurland fashion delivered a rather devastating critique of a certain photo movement/clique/wave, in a way only Justine can, which is to say, both brutal and funny at the same time.
“My education came through John Szarkowski’s canon of mostly white men, their syntax and grammar. Adrienne Rich describes the problem and inevitability of speaking in the language of the oppressor in her essay “When We Dead Awaken.” I both love and reject my voice.”
Feinstein: Any final words of advice for photographers?
Wolf: I would just urge readers to go out and get the book. As self-serving as that sounds I can honestly tell you that it’s a really amazing read. There are so many instances of participants responding to a question with something like, “no way!” or “of course not!” And then the next participant answering the same question with an equally emphatic, “Of course!” “Always!” So, it’s really fascinating and also a lot of fun.