Growing up in the early 1970’s, Seattle-based photographer Bill Finger and his family would routinely gather around the television to obsessively watch the Apollo space launches. Even into into his early adulthood, he recalls being particularly moved by an NPR segment about sending a manned mission to Mars. This initially inspired Ground Control, a series about a fictitious character who tried, in vain to go to space; and more recently emerged in Voyager, circular photographs of immaculately produced dioramas that explore the complicated boundaries between fact and fiction, and self exploration.
Shadows, 2016. © Joe Rudko
Joe Rudko is quickly becoming one of the most pivotal figures within the Pacific Northwest emerging art and photography community. His collages of found vernacular photographs, sourced from thrift stores, antique shops, snapshot collectors and, most recently, from a family archive discovered in abandoned shed in Washington State, turn anonymous, expired histories into sculptural monuments. Building on traditions ranging from the Dadaists of the early 20th century to the 1970's and early 1980's Pictures Generation, and even the recent work of Penelope Umbrico, Rudko's work makes appropriation exciting again. Like Umbrico, Rudko goes beyond simply re-contextualizing of found imagery. He tears up recurring tropes in family snapshots - clouds, water, sunsets and shadows - and reframes them to unveil a collective experience of viewing and valuing the world. We spoke with Rudko on the occasion of his solo exhibition, Album, on view through July 2nd at PDX Contemporary in Portland, Oregon.
Ruined Polaroid #27 © William Miller
Beyond the boast of "democratizing photography" (which the Brownie Camera did more than a century ago), one of Instagram's first signatures was its square format and countless filters that nostalgically mimicked film types, flares, and early analog-only processes. Among these, its loudest nod was perhaps to Polaroid photography, in both its aesthetic and its instantaneous process.
In his recent book "The Camera Does The Rest: How Polaroid Changed Photography," Peter Buse, while providing a thorough history, likens the Polaroid to a Sony Walkmen -- an "expired technology that lives in the past." While his claim rings true on many levels, great work has been done to bring the medium into present, and future. For example, The Impossible Project's reinvention of the film (and purchase of its factories) when Polaroid shut down production in 2008, and Land Camera/ Rare Medium's efforts to restore old Polaroid cameras and create a community around them.
So where does this leave photographers who are still making Polaroid specific work? How does "digital nativity" and seeing the world thru an app or phone-driven lens color or inform new Polaroid work. Is it possible to work within the medium without relying on nostalgia? For Humble's next open call, "Group Show #50: 'Roid Rage" we want to see Polaroid work made since 2010, the year Instagram launched.
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© Holden Schultz
Twentieth century photography in California was born of departure. Beginning in the 1920s, pioneering photographers with familiar names - Imogen Cunningham, Dorothea Lange, Edward Weston, Ansel Adams and others - abandoned the primacy of aesthetics inspired by Pictorialism for the straight objectivity of Modernism. Generations of West Coast-based artists who followed have sustained that practice, pushing the medium’s boundaries through myriad documentary and conceptual explorations to arrive at the current moment and photography’s unparalleled popularity. That sustained enthusiasm, paired with increased institutional activity such as the opening of the SFMOMA’s Pritzker Center for Photography and smart programming in commercial spaces like Jenkins Johnson Gallery and Fraenkel Gallery, and non-profit organizations like SF Camerawork and Rayko Photo Center affirms the medium’s overall vibrant health.
Water Tower, Unique daguerrotype, 2015 © Daniel Carrillo
Photography has a rich history struggling for acknowledgement within the larger art world. In its early days, many artists and painters dismissed its artistic merits couched in a "my kid could do that" perception of mechanical process, and early debates frequently sparked over whether the medium should be regarded as an "art" or a "science." Still, into the twentieth century, The Metropolitan Museum of Art waited nearly half a century to display its second photography-focused solo exhibition, with the work of Stephen Shore (Alfred Stieglitz was first, in 1928.)
In Seattle today, despite the city's international recognition for a range of artistic media, this struggle lives on, and photography is rarely considered in the same conversation, often living in a silo'd state. This past spring, Michelle Dunn Marsh, the Executive Director of Seattle's Photographic Center Northwest had a solution.