In his recent series, Dwelling, Matthew Cronin scans and warps 1970s JC Penny catalog photographs to create a sense of uneasiness on the construction of domestic scenes.

In 2018, Matthew Cronin came across an archive of large-format 1970s JC Penny catalog transparencies. Like much commercial photography then and now, these slick, elaborately lit commercial interior shots created a stylized illusion of domesticity to sell beds, sofas, and other household items.

Drawn to their peculiar, dated fantasies, Cronin scans, layers and subtly manipulates each image to subvert their narratives. Fake shadows appear where they shouldn’t and don’t where they should. Patterns mysteriously bleed from the fabric into other surfaces and formerly “inviting” interiors now hover in purgatory - somewhere between comfort and terror. Digital specters are clear and constant reminders that we are seeing their strings.

Having spent time with his work when I selected it for PhotNola’s “Currents” exhibition at the Odgen Museum of Southern Art last December, I reached out to Cronin to learn more about the artist and his work.

Jon Feinstein in conversation with Matthew Cronin

Jon Feinstein: How did you come across these old catalogs - it's actually an archive of 4x5 transparencies, right?

Matthew Cronin: Close! They are 8x10 transparencies, but it most cases I am working from high resolution scans cropped to 4x5 or smaller. I came across the archive on eBay while searching for camera parts. About a year and a half ago I was photographing in a storm and an unexpected gust of wind smashed my view camera on some rocks. Looking back, it feels a bit like fate. I had been losing interest in the camera as an image-making tool but couldn’t work up the courage to ditch it. Thankfully the universe took care of that! Anyway, I was looking for spare camera parts when I realized that I should embrace the situation. One thing led to another and I eventually came across the archive online and bought it.

Feinstein: What draws you to work with found materials?

Cronin: For me, photographing has always been an excuse to make a print. I love the moment when I get to bring an image into existence. However, printing as a technical exercise is not satisfying to me. I use found material in a way that embraces the part of the photographic process I enjoy the most. It feels like I really get to “make” the picture.

Feinstein: In your statement, you mention that "each photograph is an invention - a lie" While this might not be an entirely new idea – we've been talking thru this since Sontag's days – it feels fresh and current now in our age of “fake news,” digital manipulation, etc. How are you thinking about this in relation to the world we now inhabit?

Cronin: I think fake news is pretty close to the concept of invented traditions, which I’ve been researching for this project. In times characterized by profound change, it is common for people to seek stability in established traditions. When there isn’t one available, a new tradition is invented. The new tradition can emerge anywhere. It could take the form of a political slogan, a national anthem, or even furniture. Like fake news, when closely examined, the invented tradition will unravel and reveal the anxiety that generated it. I think my pictures work in a similar way. They initially feel comfortable and familiar but if you look long enough that feeling becomes something much more unsettling.

Feinstein: Is this work political, for you?

Cronin: I consider the work political, but that is only a single element of it. For me, art is about connecting the personal to the universal. My individual beliefs are in the work and I want the viewer to access them, but I want it to happen on their terms.

Feinstein: You also mention that you "seek out, sort, and reinterpret images in order to uncover and create meaning… " What do you feel you've uncovered along the way so far?

Cronin: All of my photographs are the product of montage and multiple exposures. I use this process to combine up to a dozen separate photos into a single composition. Due to that process, new relationships emerge between objects in the final picture. Even when something is not subjected to overt manipulation, its meaning changes based on the new context.

For example, in Dwelling #8 there are two reproductions of well know illustrations framed and hung on the wall. They both come from an 1871 issue of La Mode illustrée, a Parisian fashion magazine. The artist, Paul Cezanne, appropriated the image on the left for his painting La Promenade, 1871. It is a part of a small series of paintings where he repainted several images from magazines. On one level it is a nod to an artistic influence and the tradition of appropriation. On another, it’s a way to connect my source photographs to historical representations of class in popular media.

Feinstein: I have my own associations with the era, but I'm wondering how important it is for you that these negatives are from the 70s vs another time. Does that impact how you think about the work or how you see it being read?

Cronin: The date of the images is not so important to me but can’t be ignored. I want these spaces to feel as if they exist out of time. It should feel similar to visiting someone’s grandparents who haven’t redecorated in decades. “It’s 2020 but somehow also 1975”.

Even though the transparencies date to the 1970s, much of the design is evocative of earlier decades. This is most obvious in the patterns on the bedsheets and curtains but can be found elsewhere in the photos. Since I’ve begun sharing this project with more people I noticed something interesting. There is no definitive decade of association. Some people associate with the ’70s, but for others, it’s the 50s, or 80s, or even the present. This a positive thing in my opinion because the work is not about any particular time period.

Feinstein: The color, shadows, and light have a strange, eerie glow and in turn, I get an eerie sense of the construction of home and place. The spaces feel unsafe. Would you agree? Also -- did the color originally feel that way or is that from your manipulations? It feels consistent!

Cronin: I’m glad that it has that feeling! A major theme of the work is the disruption of comfort. I have been thinking a lot about the history of the word disease. Before its modern definition, it literally meant to feel uncomfortable. Dis-ease. This led me to think of diseases that are inherent to the home and how they might manifest. Essentiality, there are two categories. There are diseases of time – like anxiety and nostalgia. And diseases of space such as uncanniness. I wanted to make pictures that initially felt familiar before disturbing that sense of comfort by evoking these diseases.

Feinstein: Did the color feel that way in the original images/scans or is that a product of your manipulations?

Cronin: Color plays an important role in this. It simultaneously attracts and repels which amplifies the discomfort. I was inspirited by the color shifts in the original transparencies. Instead of removing the color casts I decided to incorporate them into the final picture.

Feinstein: How do these tie into your own, personal notions of home?

Cronin: These photographs reflect the discomfort I felt growing up in a conservative, working-class family. When I visit home I still feel out of place, even though I now have a lot of familial support. One thing that I have been trying to navigate with Dwelling is how to make work about something I am critical of without condemning it outright.

On a personal level, the pictures are my attempt to understand the differing world views of the people I love. Something that I find beautiful about the work is that talking about it has actually brought us closer together. For the first time, it feels like we are having an equal exchange of ideas

Feinstein: You worked with Abelardo Morell for a while and, knowing that, I can't stop thinking about parallels and relationships between his Camera Obscura work and your use of shadows and reflections. It almost feels like a subtle conversation between the two, even though the work is clearly so different. What do you think?

Cronin: Working with Abe fundamentally changed my relationship to art. He showed me the importance of using photography to make a new world instead of reproducing the existing one. I consider him a friend, a mentor, and an inspiration. I am grateful to have spent so much time with him during a formative time in my career.

I agree that there is a conversation happening between the work. I think my use of shadow and reflection is reminiscent of how the Obscura’s projection interacts with the interior. To me, there is a shared theatrically that ultimately becomes about desire and fantasy. We handle this in different ways, but it is something both of our work shares.

Feinstein: Are you continuing to make new images for this series? Is it “done"?”

Cronin: Yeah, I’m still working on them. I feel that my newest pictures are evolving and bringing me into new territory. There is so much of source material that I can see myself working with it for the foreseeable future. Now that I have about 20 Dwelling photos, I am trying to push it out into the world. I really want to show a large edit of the work at full scale. I love them all individually, but seeing the work together really changes the pictures!

Feinstein: I know a lot of artists hate being asked this question but I'm always curious – “what's next?” What are you excited about moving forward?

Cronin: What’s next? I hope a lot! I recently relocated to New York City and am in residence at the NARS Foundation in Brooklyn until the end of March. There are a few new ideas that I am excited about and will use time at an upcoming residency to further develop. One project that is taking shape uses alternative methods of scanning to rework 8x10 negatives of industrial machinery. The project is in its infancy but feels promising. I can’t wait to see where it leads!

Subverting The Cold, Domestic Glow of 1970s JC Penny Catalog Photos