Thomas Gardiner

Thomas Gardiner graduated from Yale with an MFA in Photography in 2012. He earned his BFA from The Cooper Union, during which time he began working with a 4x5 camera to document the small communities he grew up in around Western Canada. During his studies at Yale he switched to 8x10, and began documenting working-class cities in the Northeast around New Haven. In his first year he was awarded Yale’s Schickle-Collingwood Prize and in his final year both the Leeds-Marwell Photography Scholarship and the Tierney Fellowship. He currently lives in Vancouver.

Untitled, USA

I grew up in the isolated, hinterland regions of Western Canada. Economic life in these working class communities revolved primarily around resource extraction industries such as oil, potash, uranium, and farming. Far from large cities and the cultural centers of the world, I desperately wanted to leave the small towns of Saskatchewan. When I did eventually leave, I found photography. Returning home after several years living in Vancouver and then New York, I saw the people and places I left behind in a totally different light. Through the camera, Saskatchewan seemed like a place from another era, yet at the same time it felt more familiar than ever before. Now living in the US, I find myself searching the towns and cities of this new country for the places I knew in Canada. 

When I photograph, the most important thing I look for is a kind of visual complexity in a space. I tend to find and return to urban communities where industry or manufacturing once thrived, ending up in back alleys, empty parking lots, behind strip malls, and in neighborhoods lost in the seams of the interstate freeway system—economically neglected places that reflect the nation’s disinvestment in its working people. Many of these environments— like the towns where I grew up— seem frozen or forgotten in time. Yet beyond any simple nostalgic attraction to these places, a contemporary theme is located somewhere within the challenging relationship of a visibly aging infrastructure in America versus the overwhelming crises of the modern world we live in today. Despite the apparent frozenness of these neglected spaces, time is still moving forward. 

Though there is certainly a documentary impulse throughout my work, even more important to me are the possibilities for the deliberate creation of a scene. The 8x10 view camera I use is traditionally regarded as a tool for exquisite detail, harnessed for its mimetic ability, for its higher descriptive fidelity. Yet my interest is in rendering those things generally less-easily seen: human desire and the interior dramas within individual lives. By using an 8x10 camera, I want the meditative attention to detail, but also I want the energy of the decisive moment, as is most commonly associated with smaller, faster, lighter cameras. My goal is always to attempt to overcome these limitations of the larger, slower 8x10 camera, and I feel it’s when I come close to this goal that the images are most satisfying to me. The result is a photograph with a unique kind of drama that is both fixed and transient. 

Once a person has agreed to let me photograph him or her, I feel we have become co-agents in a kind of script. The individuals I meet have a concrete relationship to the environment where my camera is placed. My contribution to the script, however, comes from murky memories—psychological, visual, social, and more— of my own past. The people I photograph are in this way cast into those memory scenes, yet simultaneously their actions and decisions infuse the scene with new meaning. The photograph becomes a kind of dialogue, the end result often being a departure from what either photographer or subject imagined. For me, photography is a complete sensory experience. Despite these attempts to describe my photographic process, I firmly believe that attempts to spell out in words a photograph’s meaning are destined to reduce its power. While this isn't to say that writing can’t aid in interpretation, there will always be something lost in translation. That is why I want viewers to consider these images without captions or theoretical viewpoints. And so the only title can be: Untitled, USA.

Scott Alario

Scott Alario was born in New Haven, CT in 1983 and currently lives and works between Providence, RI, and Alfred, NY, where he is a visiting assistant professor in the School of Art and Design at Alfred University. He received his MFA in photography from the Rhode Island School of Design in 2013. His work has been included recently in exhibitions at Louis B. James, NY, 2013-14, and ClampArt, NY, 2013. In 2011 Alario was named one of seven emerging photographers to watch by Art New England. He is the recipient of a 2012 Fellowship Merit Award from the Rhode Island State Council on the Arts. Alario's work is currently on view in a solo exhibition (til July 18) at Kristen Lorello, NY. 

What We Conjure 

I’m in the process of a body of work that has no end in sight. What We Conjure is an autobiographical story, a contemporary folk tale, one that I’m creating along with my partner, our five-year old and our dog.

The work consists of pictures that are made while tracking and documenting, collaboratively inventing and constructing. I follow intuition, daydreams, our daughter’s instruction, or carefully sketched out ideas; and I set them before a large format view camera. Using an 8 x 10 inch film camera connects me directly to the history of photography, and specifically, to a history of the family photograph. It’s a process I’ve come to love regardless how counter-intuitive it may seem amid today’s picture making technology. The view camera’s fidelity and rendering of tone is unrivaled, and its presence with a sitter creates a performance, its own unique drama.


I’m exploring my role as father through these pictures, and occasionally appear on the other side of the lens, implicated in the story we weave. There was a point when I found myself wandering, looking for a photograph, with fingers crossed. When I became a parent I felt an urge to tell stories and so set out to make a fable for my daughter. Along the way, reality has leaked into our myth. We are on a search for the spiritually significant, the magic in every day. What will we find that’s worth passing down? What will we conjure?

Eliot Dudik

From the series Broken Land

Eliot Dudik is a photographic artist exploring the connection between culture, landscape, memory, and politics. Deep seated and sustained interest in the history of photography has guided much of his research and practice throughout his artistic career. His first monograph, ROAD ENDS IN WATER, was published in 2010. In 2012, Dudik was named one of PDN’s 30 New and Emerging Photographers to Watch and one of Oxford American Magazine’s 100 New Superstars of Southern Art. His photographs have been exhibited in cities across the United States such as, Los Angeles, New York City, Washington DC, San Francisco, Houston, and Baltimore.

Eliot graduated cum laude from the College of Charleston in 2007, receiving a Bachelors of Science in Anthropology and a Bachelors of Art in Art History. He received his Masters of Fine Art in photography with honors at the Savannah College of Art and Design in 2010. Eliot joined the University of South Carolina faculty in the fall of 2011 as an adjunct professor of photography.

Interview conducted by Allison Jarek and Ashley Kauschinger 

Note: Click on an image to view larger 

From the series Broken Land

Light Leaked: What drew you to creating work about the American Civil War?

Eliot Dudik: I have been terrified by the idea of war in general since I was a young child. Whether watching a film portraying a particularly horrific war, or reading a book describing the hardships, I have never been able to imagine myself within the ranks. So my interest began with astonishment that others could face certain death on a battlefield and fight heroically, while all I can imagine for myself is something that looks an awful lot like a fainting goat.

These interests were compounded when I moved to South Carolina, about ten years ago, and very quickly found conversations turn toward aspects of the American Civil War at a shocking frequency. I am also attracted to the idea of cultural memory and the way events of the past are remembered or recounted in differing ways based on lived experience and the passing of narratives.

My goal is that the landscapes I present come alive with the acts of war, and cause folks to consider the divides in this country during the mid-19th century, comparing those divides to those that exists today in our culture and politics.

From the series Still Lives

LL: Do your bodies of work, Broken Land and Still Lives, inform one another? How has this work developed over time?

ED: The STILL LIVES series grew out of the BROKEN LAND series. I had started visiting reenactments to make landscape images with the acts of war happening upon them. Initially, I thought the reenactments were outlandish, not being able to understand the drive that causes participants to travel long distances to reenact bloody battles. I learned a lot from reenactors and from some readings about why they do what they do, none of which was what I envisioned, and decided to embrace their tenacity and immortalize them above the landscape they fight for. For me, the two bodies of work use similar subject matter to communicate different things, with some overlap.

From the series Broken Land

LL: How did you decide to use the diptych in Broken Land? 

ED: Although they certainly look like diptyches, they are actually one image, exposed simultaneously within the camera. A close friend allowed me to borrow his 8x20 Korona view camera, and I was trying to figure out how I could use color film in it. Traditionally, only black and white film was available for the 8x20. I thought I would try to build a jig that would allow two sheets of color 8x10 film to come together, and slide into the 8x20 inch film holder. The separation in the film also lent to concepts I was interested in exploring, namely cultural and political divides in this country.

From the series Still Lives

LL: Describe what a day of photographing is like for you. What do you look forward most when going out on a shoot?

ED: I'm afraid to anyone else, I am awfully boring when I go out to photograph, which is a real bummer since I enjoy having company. Typically, my outings involve a lot of driving, looking, driving without looking, reversing, parking, looking, getting out of the car and looking, walking, lugging a ton of gear somewhere, setting up, and making a photograph. There isn't anything I enjoy more. My heart is always racing when I'm on the hunt, and I try to balance that a bit with NPR and sunflower seeds. The unknown is what I look forward to the most when preparing to go photograph. Not knowing what I will find or who I will meet is always the most thrilling part, which is probably the same reason I am keen to explore antique and junk shops.

From the series Broken Land

LL: What advice do you have for fellow photographers on time management, money, promotion, and continuing to make art?

ED: Oh boy. Find it, find it, do it, do it.

Nothing about being an artist is easy. Artists know that, or soon will. Having some control over the whole mess (time management, money, promotion, continuing to make art) is the unglamorous, behind-the-scenes art of being an artist. The vast majority of us cannot make a living strictly from our artwork, so another form of income is generally necessary. This severely complicates time management. 9-5? Forget full-time, being an artist is a full-life job. Be prepared to work long hours at your day job, and even longer hours in your studio. The best thing we have going for us is our creativity; it would be a terrible waste if our creativity was limited solely to our artwork. We need to be imaginative in all aspects of our lives to have a sustainable art practice. When looking for employment to put food on the table, think creatively. What can you do that will also somehow enhance or enable your artwork? My favorite example was a brilliant move by my friend, Mark Dorf, where in after finishing his undergraduate degree in photography, he moved to Hudson, NY and got a job at a carpentry business. Importantly, Mark was making work at that time that consisted of installed constructions in the landscape. The place of work not only gave him a paycheck to survive, but also gave him the tools, facility, and materials to create his artwork. Brilliant.

From the series Broken Land

Money is a major concern for most of us. Art, and especially photography, is expensive, and doesn't have an end to its expense if you allow it. Similar to time management and the job front, be creative with the money you have and in the ways you seek funding. I like to buy good equipment once, rather than upgrading year after year. I find this to be a sound investment with everything excluding digital equipment... You're on your own there. I suggest making a 5-10 year plan, even in your head, as to who you are as an artist, and where you want to be. Make note of the equipment you must have to sustain your artistic career, and slowly try to piece it together. I don't buy anything new. It just doesn't make sense to me. I do my research on used equipment and shop around until I find exactly what I need for less than I've seen it previously. I try to encourage my students to start building their studios while they are students. Walking out of school, where you had a perfectly equipped and maintained studio, and into a world where you are largely on your own, is the scariest step. Start small, but do your best to begin building your workspace as soon as possible. Students are graduating from art programs and schools in great numbers, and I feel many of them drop out of the art making routine relatively quickly because they lack the space, equipment, time, money, and community that had enabled them the previous four years. It is vitally important to make a plan early to sustain your artwork, continually assess your plan, and make adjustments.

From the series Broken Land

Once we accept that we are artists, it is up to us to promote our work. Especially in the beginning, no one else is going to do it for us. As we reach certain levels of success, the promotion of our work often takes on a life of its own, and efforts to promote are multiplied, which doesn't mean our job is finished, it just means we are receiving some help. Enter contests, juried shows, and apply for grants. Achieving any of these does wonders at promoting your work and builds your resume at the same time. Submit for solo exhibitions, and put together a thoughtful gallery packet. Building and sustaining your network is also significantly important. Set aside time to get out and meet people at conferences, gallery/museum openings, portfolio reviews, etc. I use Facebook a lot to continue relationships with folks I meet at these places. It helps me keep up to date with what everyone is doing, keep my network informed as to what I am doing, and learn about related news and opportunities that could be beneficial.

Lastly, on continuing to make art, I feel it's largely based on your ability and desire to do all of the above. If you need to make art, then you will find a way to do so. If you're not making art, but feel the need to, then determine what it is that's standing in your way, and kick it aside, unless it's a baby. If it's a baby, then kick something else aside, preferably not a person.

Lori Nix

Botanic Garden, 2008 

Lori Nix was born in the late 1960’s and raised in the American Midwest. Her early exposure to the destructive powers of Mother Nature and Hollywood dystopian stories fueled her young imagination and has led her to where she is today. For the last 20+ years she has constructed small scale dioramas and photographed them. Beginning with retelling the tall tales of her youth in her Accidentally Kansas series, she has progressed to imagining urban scenes of the apocalypse. Her last series, The City, spanned nine years and imagined a future mysteriously devoid of mankind. Intensely detailed and rich in color, her photos offer up a possible future for modern society. Nix received her B.A. in ceramics from Truman State and studied photography at Ohio University. Upon relocating to New York fifteen years ago she participated in the AIM Program at the Bronx Museum. She is a two time recipient of a NYFA grant and currently is on their artist advisory committee. She routinely mentors young artists and lectures at colleges and universities nationwide. Nix has gallery representation in NYC, Chicago, Boston, Seattle, Toronto, Italy and Germany. Her work has been shown in the Museum of Art and Design in NYC, The Toledo Museum of Art in Ohio, and The Bruce Museum in Greenwich, Connecticut. She also is a partner in a digital printing studio in New York City, JAM Editions Inc.

Nix is also involved in a video collective called Four Story Tree House, four people who come together to tell epic stories through miniatures. She also owns a digital printing company, specializing in printing for other artists.

Interview conducted with Lori Nix by Ashley Kauschinger and Sheryl David

Light Leaked: Your images are beautifully perplexing, and have an acute attention to detail in the creation and photographing of each set. Can you talk about your process from conception to final product?

Lori Nix: First and foremost, there are two of us creating these scenes. I work with my partner Kathleen, and we've been collaborating for almost fifteen years now. With the next project, I will be adding her name to the work. Think of how Cristo became Cristo and Jean Claude. I usually get my inspiration during my morning commute to my day job. There is something about being half asleep on a subway, slowly rocking back and fourth that puts me into a half lucid, half asleep frame of mind. This is when the images come to me. I keep all of my potential ideas on my phone. If I still like them in two years or so, I'll consider making it into a diorama. When I get excited about an idea, I then have to sell it to Kathleen, because it will become our reality for the next seven months, the approximate time it will take us to construct the diorama. Once we settle on the image, I'll start researching spaces and object on the internet, through books, or visiting similar spaces. I then sketch out my ideas, usually over a nice breakfast out, and then we start gathering the materials we will need. The work is divvied up according to our strengths. I take care of the structure and architecture of the space, ie, the walls, floors, ceiling, furniture, fixtures, and Kathleen will work on the small details like sculpting animals, casting objects in plastic and plaster, creating tools, and any sort of carving details. I figure out the color palette and she does the aging and staining of the space. When all the details are in place, I carefully light the scene and start shooting sheets of 8x10 film. I hopefully can capture the final image within a week, but sometimes it may take up to two weeks to tweak the lighting and create the final image I want.

Map Room, 2010

LL: What goes through your mind while you are creating your work? What atmosphere do you create for yourself?

LN: Believe it or not, I go through a lot of doubt while creating the work. I'm constantly asking myself if I can pull off the particular scene I'm working on, is it worth seven months of time and energy, if it's worthy of being on a wall. When Kathleen and I are nearing the end, putting the last few details in place, we're usually depressed because it never seems like we're ever going to finish the diorama. There is always more and more detail to add. It never ends. We try to create a comfortable working atmosphere, so in the evenings, the tv will be on, and on the weekends we listen to the radio non-stop. During the summer, we listen to a lot of men's golf on the television (the announcers are so nice and talk very quietly), or we'll have a baseball game on the radio. We burn incense because I believe a good smelling studio helps alleviate the drudgery of the work.

LL: You work several jobs, while also maintaining your art practice. How do you balance your work and life? What advice do you have for new photographers?

LN: Both Kathleen and I work non-stop. We work 40+ hours a week at our day jobs. We pick up commercial work when it's economically beneficial, and we work in the studio at nights and on the weekends. Our lives are rather boring, but it's what we do. We have a running joke between ourselves "fun is relative". We do this because without the day jobs, we wouldn't have enough money to create the artwork. The day jobs pay for the art supplies and the art work pays the rent. But…we’re also most happy when we busy in the studio, either working towards a show deadline, or working on a video with a very specific shoot date. We kind of thrive under stress. Advice for new photographers? Don’t give up. It may take a while to complete a project, or gain interest in your project once you introduce it to the world. Be patient, but be persistent. And this is the secret to success. It takes time for possibilities and opportunities to come to fruition.

Book images from iocolor.com/city-portfolio/

LL: Your series, The City, has recently been published by Decode books. Can you talk about what the publishing process was like for you?

LN: I met John Jenkins, the publisher over a decade ago. We were standing next to one another at a portfolio review event in Portland; back when Photo Lucida was called Photo Americas. At these portfolio events, everyone talks to everybody. We struck up a conversation and shared our portfolios with each other. John and I kept running into each other over the next couple of years, always trying to catch up on what each of us was up too. I had been working on The City series for ten years and was starting to think seriously about a book. It was a stroke of luck that I ran into John in Miami and through casual conversation I told him I was looking for a book opportunity, and he was looking for his next artist to publish. I only had a few specific requests for the book. I wanted it to be a formal photography book, nothing too design-y, and I didn’t want any of the photographs to go across the gutter. I am not a book designer, nor do I pretend to be, so I let John take the reigns with the design. He fleshed out the book with detail shots and close ups that really pull the viewer into the scenes. I love his design; I love the size of the book. I think he really brought out the best in my images.

The City can be purchased here: www.decodebooks.com/nix.html