A new photobook pairs vintage watermarked “proof” photographs with prose to create stories of anonymous people.

What happens to the memories behind anonymous, discarded photos? What can we know about a person when all we have is a snapshot - discovered in an old shoebox, in a bin at some vintage store, or an archive some stranger is hocking on Ebay? What stories do we create in our minds to color the photos we find? In the case of Proof, published by emerging photobook imprint Sleeper Studio, sequencing such anonymous photographs with literary fiction can be an opportunity to provide new meaning.

Proof is a selection of vernacular proof photos from the collection of Robert E. Jackson, curated by publisher, photographer, and fellow vernacular-obsessor Ben Alper. On its own, it’s a bizarre testimonial to pre-Photoshop retouching. A nod to historical obsessions with fantasies of beauty and perfection. Red lines stretch across faces, cutting them up, scrutinizing, and suggesting “improvement.” Instructions for removing wrinkles. An opportunity to take home a memento of a major life event – a wedding or a graduation. Watermarks assuring a sale.

As images alone, Proof shows the power of images to deceive. But there’s more. The images are accompanied by texts by Edith Fikes - narrative lists and long-form tales that create new fictions for these images. Captions like: “I had my first auto accident when I wasn’t wearing my glasses. I was driving my father’s new car” and “Connie and Dean’s wedding, 1950. (Dean married Constanza and she changed her name to Connie.)” create a surreal historical memoir. It’s nostalgic but we’re not sure what for, a narrative that is as equally open-ended as it is specific.

I contacted Fikes, Alper, and Jackson to learn more about their process and ideas.

Jon Feinstein in conversation with Edith Fikes, Ben Alper, and Robert E. Jackson

Courtesy of the collection of Robert E. Jackson

Jon Feinstein: Ben: You and Robert had been talking about collaborating on a book for years. You settled on Proof after visiting Robert in Seattle for a few days and combing through his vast collection of snapshots. What initially drew you to the proof images over everything else?

Ben Alper: I knew I wanted to work with a cohesive subset of Robert’s collection. Having looked through a good deal of it on a previous trip, I was aware of these mini-collections within the larger body - double exposures, for example, was another favorite. But it was actually Robert’s suggestion to focus on proof photographs, and once I spent just a few minutes with them I knew they were the subject. I was incredibly drawn to their strangeness and beauty.

The retouching notes, crop lines, the self-consciousness of the language used to describe them, all of it was compelling to me. I also wanted to play with the double entendre of the name: the fact that proof refers both to a rough, unfinished print and a piece of evidence furnished to establish truth. I think grounding the project in, or around, this traditional notion of photographic objectivity only heightened what Edith was able to bring to the project through her fictional responses.

Feinstein: Robert, what originally drew you to collect proof images?

Robert E. Jackson: I like collecting in areas of photography, which haven’t been the subject of past books or museum exhibitions; photo genres which seem to be undervalued, understudied, and often misunderstood, neglected, or ignored by fellow collectors, museums, or the academic world in general. I also am drawn to photos, which have been manipulated in some way—written on, typed on, collaged on, etc. Therefore, finding photos with the words “Proof” stamped on them (or some variant of that) was appealing and induced me to start my collection.

Feinstein: Were these all from one lot or from multiple sources over the years?

Jackson: I purchased most of them over the years in various ways—via such sites as Ebay and Etsy and from dealers (and sometimes collectors) who were willing to sell me such a photo from their inventory or personal collection.

Feinstein: Ben, you describe the portraits as a "performance of identity" - can you build on this?

Alper: To a large extent, I think all photographic portraits are two-way performative acts. They are the result of two parties (the photographer and the subject) engaging in a kind of choreography. There’s a push-and-pull between opposing desires - those of the image-maker and those of the sitter. But they’re at odds with one another. What the photographer may want, photographically-speaking, may not have anything to do with who their subject actually is; and conversely, the subject may not want to capitulate to the vision of the photographer.

Even in the most harmonious exchanges, I think we’re always projecting a version of ourselves that is uniquely constructed for the camera. In this way, we’re constantly performing and adapting identities.

Feinstein: Was this connection immediate for you when you first landed on working with the proof images?

Alper: In the proof photographs, this became particularly acute in the instances where there are multiple images of the same subject. Watching the subtle shifts in expression, feeling and tenor speaks to the idea that there is nothing about us that is fixed, we’re always wearing a mask of some kind.

Feinstein: You bring up the idea of power dynamics at play in the portraits: power between photographer and sitter – something I normally associate with commercial or fashion photography or the white/western gaze in ethnographic documentary photography. How do you see it playing out in these "author-unknown" images?

Alper: I think there’s a power imbalance in all photographic portraits - whether we’re talking about an ethnographic portrait or a family photograph. And, for me, it has less to do with intention than it does with the mechanics and psychology of the process. This is related to my answer above about performance, but when a camera mediates an encounter between two people (in this case the photographer and the subject) it renders the subject vulnerable and exposed.

There’s a reason that the language of photography mimics that of certain aggressive acts - taking, shooting, etc. Embedded within this terminology is a kind of control and power bestowed upon the photographer, whoever that happens to be.

Feinstein: Robert, one of the main metaphors Ben used in his edit is the foreshadowing of Photoshop retouching. For me, it's fascinating to see the red lines and other "retouching" signals/ precursors. Is this something you thought about when you were originally collecting these images?

Jackson: As I mentioned previously, I like the “objectness” of photos whereby the surface has been physically manipulated in some way such that the alteration is just as important an aspect of the image as is the underlying narrative or reason for its existence. With such retouching, the photographer’s hand and thought process in making the photo (as opposed to taking the photo) is there for all to see. I find that compelling.

This is PROOF. Photographs from the collection of Robert E. Jackson with texts from Edith Fikes. Published by Sleeper Studio — This is PROOF. Photographs from the collection of Robert E. Jackson with texts from Edith Fikes.
Published by Sleeper Studio

Feinstein: What made you decide to pair these images with a fiction piece instead of a traditional essay?

Alper: We knew from the beginning of this project that we wanted to steer clear of the traditional photo-historical or theoretical essay. We weren’t interested in explaining what these images were, or how they situate within the broader context of vernacular photography. The photographs are, collectively, wonderfully ambiguous and evocative, so it felt much more appropriate to find someone who could create a narrative universe for them to exist within, while simultaneously addressing a number of the conceptual things that they allow us to consider.

Feinstein: Why was Edith Fikes the perfect person to write this?

Edith initially came to this project through Ross Mantle (one of my publishing partners). They had recently worked together on Ross’ book Misplaced Fortunes, but more importantly, Edith just connected with the material in a pretty immediate way. And once we received the first written sketches from her, we knew that Edith was the perfect person to write for Proof.

The tone she was able to strike in all of these discrete, but connected pieces is startlingly appropriate for the images. On the one hand, there’s beauty, humor, empathy, and pathos in Edith’s writing, but there’s also incredible specificity and complexity. She really allowed these characters to transcend their anonymity and be “born again”, not as who they were, but rather as who they might have been. And since we can never really know who these people were, the most fitting tribute is to let them become someone else.

Ultimately, I think Proof blossomed into what it is in large part because of Edith’s facility as a writer and storyteller. Image and text are incredibly challenging to harmonize, so we’re ultimately just grateful that we found the right person for this project.

Feinstein: That’s really interesting. Edith, the assignment to write a fiction piece is totally unexpected. Reading it I feel totally caught off guard - in a really positive way. How did you approach writing this?

Fikes: My approach to writing this piece was to work collaboratively with Ben and Ross who had an early vision for how Robert's archive of proofs might become a story. At first, the project was pretty daunting. Writing about, or as people who are not me was something new. I had to talk to and reference some portrait photographers who think and write about the sometimes strange relationship that develops between a sitter and a photographer.

The tension they describe feels like a good analogy for what it's like to be a part of a family, but also the world made of many little worlds. Basically, there were a lot of real people, personal circumstances, and imaginary lives that I tried to see as falling on a shuffling, unfinished storyline.

One of our favorite text/ image parings from PROOF

Feinstein: How much of this writing is fiction? Do your own experiences and family narratives play into this at all?

Fikes: The proportion of fiction to my own experiences is a tough calculation. The photographs aren't me or mine. The story, timeline, and broken pieces aren't either. But, I should say thank you to my entire family—at home and extended, alive or dead. And, to my high school boyfriend's mother, and especially to my Aunt Vicky whose full first name is Veronica.

The Poetic Fictions in Vernacular Proof Photographs