Ray Ewing

Ray Ewing is a photographer and artist from the island of Martha's Vineyard. Ray received a BFA in photography from Maine College of Art in Portland in 2012, he is currently completing an MFA in studio art at The University of New Mexico in Albuquerque. Ray has worked as a photojournalist, commercial photographer, educator and an exhibiting artist. As a photojournalist, Ray has received multiple awards for his work with the Martha's Vineyard Gazette. As an artist, Ray has been a part of multiple group exhibitions as well as a solo show entitled Visual Stimulus.

Artist Statement: Realistic Worlds

Realistic Worlds is an exploration of the human need to design our reality to satisfy our desires. I study this general human trait by describing spaces which adhere to a specifically American definition of fantasy as being guided by self-evident power and excess. The structures of the tourism and entertainment industries are houses of worship for the American religion of escapism. We use a thin, glossy veneer of designed reality to engage in obviously absurd, yet culturally accepted sanctuaries of make-believe.

Garrett Hansen

Garrett Hansen graduated from Grinnell College, where he studied economics and political science. He completed his MFA in photography at Indiana University and has taught at several universities in the United States and in Asia; he is now an Assistant Professor of Photography at the University of Kentucky. Garrett’s work deals primarily with issues of place and how we grow to know and understand the world around us. Garrett has had numerous solo and group exhibitions in the United States, Europe, Indonesia, and Japan.

Artist Statement: Hail

Roughly 40% of the population in the US owns a gun and there are enough guns - approximately 300 million - to arm nearly every man, woman, and child in the country.

At the core of the series is a desire to consider these facts and to create a set of images that speaks to their implications. Each of the images is created from individual bullet holes. While shooting is fundamentally a destructive act, by bringing these holes into the darkroom, enlarging them and then processing and printing the results, I am able to balance this destruction with creation. The viewer is presented with something that speaks to the sublime – they are both attractive and terrifying at the same time. In many ways this reflects our own opinions of guns in America, a country where the debate between rights and controls continues to rage.


Interview conducted by: Adam Neese 

Adam Neese: Can you tell us a little bit about how and why you began the Hail project?

Garrett Hansen: I had been thinking about doing a project that focused on guns in America for a number of years, but when I moved to Lexington to take a job at the University of Kentucky in the fall of 2013, I decided that I really wanted to focus on finding a way to think and talk about the issue. Part of it was that I had just returned from living abroad and that always helps me think more critically about our culture. Another part of it was that I was having a lot of conversations about guns with gun owners and I found that we largely agreed on issues of gun control. This put in stark relief how much the conversation has been dominated by a small but incredibly powerful segment of the population. I wanted to enter into that dialogue, or maybe more accurately, try to create a space for dialogue. That’s really at the heart of this work – an effort to create images that allow people on all sides of the debate to think about, rather than simply react to, this incredibly important problem that we have.

AN: In considering your images in the series Hail I am struck by the beauty created by abstracting the scale of the actual bullet holes. How did you arrive at the final form of the images? Can you tell us a little bit about that process as it relates to the rest of your working methodology?

GH: From the beginning I knew that I didn’t want to approach this issue through straight photography, but I didn’t necessarily have an idea of what the images should be. I knew I wanted to start with something that everyone could agree on and I thought that maybe the simple idea, and it sounds silly saying it, but I thought, “Bullets put holes in things. I’ll use that as a starting point.” I ran a few experiments in the darkroom by just punching holes in paper and there seemed to be promise in the approach. I then went to a local gun range and started to shoot some different materials to see what might work best. There were a lot of failed experiments – I was committed to the concept, but without a clear idea of what they should look like, I just had to keep trying different approaches. I wouldn’t say that each experiment contributed to the final result, but some aspects of the early failures definitely make their way into the final images. When I saw the first images that I made by solarizing orthographic film, I knew I was getting close. For me they go beyond the simple document or record; they reference the celestial and, in turn, the sublime. That was the goal – to create an experience for the viewer, not just provide them with a fact. I’m still developing the technique. I wouldn’t say I’ve mastered it, but at this point I’m really just refining it.

I suppose this is a variation on the way I typically work. Though most of my work is pretty straight, there is always a period of time at the beginning of a project where I am trying to figure out what the series should look like and what the best materials to use might be. I’m not one of those photographers who applies a single way of working to the world; I try to let the world influence me, which in turn directs me towards aesthetic and material choices.

AN: Most of the work on your website is representational and looks at the world “out there”. How did you arrive at this project where you are starting from nothing- a blank piece of paper- to make the work?

GH: What actually makes this project unique for me is that, in fact, I’m not starting with a blank slate. I have these shot-up pieces of paper and cardboard. I don’t know how I’m going to transform them, but I have the limitation of the materials themselves. That’s been a huge part of this – thinking about issues of transformation. How do you create something out of destruction? How closely are those two things linked in the first place? This might seem like an aside, but spending time in Indonesia, particularly Jakarta, helped me better understand how those things are linked. You’re in this huge sprawling city that is constantly being torn apart by nature. Shiva starts making a lot more sense.

AN: Who are some of your influences? Are there people looking at gun culture and the larger social/political issues around firearms with their art that you find inspirational?

GH: No, I’m not really looking for inspiration from other artists who are making work about guns and gun culture. That’s not to say that there aren’t some great artists who are working on this issue – including some photographers who I would be honored to show with. The photographers who really inspire me are old school folks - Lee Friedlander, Harry Callahan, and Yutaka Takanashi are people I return to constantly. They all seem like intensely curious people; each has proven to be highly experimental over their extremely long careers. They seem restless in terms of subject matter and approach – when I look at decades worth of images, I see them learning about the world and challenging themselves to find ways to use photography to share what they’ve found - that guides me as a photographer, and more importantly, as a person.

AN: It looks like you have been busy with 2 solo exhibitions in summer of 2015. How do you juggle all of the responsibilities that come with being a contemporary artist? Do you have any advice for aspiring artists and photographers?

GH: The one thing I would say is you have to make art for yourself above all else. I was lucky in many ways that I couldn’t study photography in college - we simply didn’t have any classes in it - but we had a student-run darkroom. I spent a huge amount of time there. I had fallen in love with photography completely at 18, but no one cared whether I did it or not. I had to find my own projects and educate myself on the history of photography. I made a lot of terrible pictures and I stuck with photographers who were easy to understand – Arbus and Friedlander made no sense to me when I was 20 – but I was slowly learning. I think a lot of students I see, at both the MFA and undergrad level, want someone to provide the education for them - read this, turn this project in on this date, make ‘x’ number of prints, etc. The students who I see who I know are going to be successful in whatever they choose to do with their photography are the ones who see the projects I give as challenges, not just assignments that need to get done. That’s the difference - they want to be there, there is nothing else they really want to be doing. I didn’t always live up to that ideal when I was getting my MFA, but I think it’s something to remember and strive for.

The other thing is that making art is hard. I’m not happy when I’m photographing - I’m focused. Sometimes I’m elated by the results, more often I’m deeply disappointed and frustrated, but I enjoy that period of focus. When the work finally comes together and I can stand back and look at it, I find I learn something new about the world. Your art should teach you, too. Oh, and don’t try to ‘brand’ yourself. That’s nonsense; you’re a human being.

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.

Carl Gunhouse

America Statement 

“Under their rule, the federal government is permitted to throw hundreds of billions of dollars around on a misguided bank bailout, but if a banker like John Thain spends $1,500 on a wastepaper basket then all hell breaks loose. Dazzling personal consumption is out. Middle-class drabness is in. It’s sad, but there’s nothing to be done” –David Brooks (02/02/09 Op-Ed column in The New York Times) One way or another, everyone grows up believing in the American dream, an unspoken contract that if we work hard, behave ethically, spend within our means and put some money aside, we will be rewarded with economic security, a significant other and aspirations within our reach. A dream that has been augmented in recent years with the promise of smart phones, 3-D plasma televisions, eco-friendly luxury cars, and most of all, a new home with a sizable yard in pristine suburban neighborhood with good schools. This desire for security and consumer luxury has become so ingrained that these goods feel like entitlements due us for our hard work and sacrifice. And over the last decade, these dreams have been stoked by banks offering pre-approved mortgages, stock portfolios promising minimal risk, and car loans with no money down -- all the tools needed to live the good life. But as American society indulged its desires, the economy imploded, leaving us with empty homes in half-finished subdivisions near malls with the stores that are coming soon to sell merchandise affordable to fewer and fewer of us. The country is caught in suspended animation, littered with enticing ads, large car dealerships and lavish Las Vegas fountains, all the more desperate to attract whatever disposable income is still out there. Meanwhile, the product of this uncontrolled spending lingers in the half finished construction projects, abandoned suburban cineplexes and foreclosed homes that have become all too familiar. Consumption has destroyed the American dream and the earnest assumption that an ideal life is guaranteed by hard work, a college degree and playing by the rules. Instead we are left with entry-level jobs, no opportunity for advancement, no benefits, inescapable debt, and the cold comfort that we avoided a Depression. Our desire for something more has brought consequences visible in every corner of America. In these spaces, we can see the America we have become."

Carl Gunhouse was born in 1976 in Boston, Massachusetts, but he spent his formative years in suburban New Jersey. Growing up, he developed a love/hate relationship with suburbia that led to the angst familiar to most suburban youth. With this unrest came the discovery of the anger and DIY ethics of hardcore punk rock. Yearning to be part of the hardcore scene, he started photographing bands, which began his love of photography. To escape suburban New Jersey, Carl enrolled at Fordham University in New York City. While completing a BA in European History at Fordham, he discovered that photography could be something to pursue a career so he decided to simultaneously complete a BFA in Photography. After going on to earn his MA in American History from Fordham, Carl concentrated on street photography. In hopes of developing and refining his photography work, Carl completed his MFA in Photography at Yale University. Since graduating, he has found a great deal of personal satisfaction teaching as an Adjunct at Montclair State University, Marymount Manhattan College, and Nassau Community College. He has also gained some renown for his straightforward writing on photography for such web sites as Searching For the Light, Lay Flat, and American Suburb X. His photography has been shown nationally and internationally. As an artist, he has produced a body of landscape and portrait photographs by driving around the United States to expose the little visual bits of America that give voice to our shared history and experience. Carl currently lives and works in Brooklyn, NY.

View more of Carl's work here 

Carl also writes for www.seacrhingforthelight.net

Whitten Sabbatini

Whitten Sabbatini is a southern photographer currently studying at Mississippi State University. 

View more of his work here 

Of the South Statement 

The rural South is a place still haunted and oppressed by segregation. It is a place where, often times, African Americans are viewed as dangerous or pitiful. As an outsider, I am interested in what it looks like to be an African American male living in the same geographic location as myself. This series of photographs is my acknowledgement and appreciation of a culture of which I am not a part of, but wish to better understand.

Mark Strandquist

Mark Strandquist (Richmond, VA) strives to facilitate interactions that incorporate viewers as direct participants, features histories that are typically distorted or ignored, and challenges the form and function of public space.

His work has been featured in various institutions, film festivals, print and online magazines, and independent galleries. The project Write Home Soon was exhibited in the 2012-13 international showcase of Socially Engaged Art at the Art Museum of Americas, Washington, DC. The ongoing project, The People’s Library is part of the permanent collection at the Main Branch of the Richmond Public Library and will be presented by Strandquist at the 2013 Open Engagement Conference.

View more of Mark's work here 

Project Statement 

Some Other Places We've Missed is an ongoing project featuring collaborative practice, interactive installations, and workshops held in various jails and prisons. Functioning in multiple ways, the project uses photography as the catalyst for social engagement and strives to facilitate a humanistic window into the histories, realities, and desires of some of the 2.3 million incarcerated Americans.

At each workshop inmates are asked: “If you had a window in your cell, what place from your past would it look out to?” Participants provide a detailed memory from the chosen location, and describe how they would want the photograph composed. The locations are then photographed and an image is handed or mailed back to the incarcerated participants.

While the images facilitate room for personal associations, the written descriptions become the meeting place for alienated publics and blur our notions of personal, public and exiled space. The project is realized through a set of limitations. Those set by each incarcerated participant--who provide each image’s location and corresponding composition--and those limitations argued by many to be integral to the photographic medium.

Installation View 

Public Collaboration, Richmond VA