Rachel Phillips

Rachel Phillips began photography while completing her undergraduate degree at Skidmore College. Her work has been included in numerous exhibitions and been published in American Photo, B&W Magazine, COLOR Magazine, and LensWork. In 2010, her series Field Notes was included in the Critical Mass Top 50. She will be an artist-n-residence in summer 2013 at Rayko Photo Center. Rachel lives and works in the San Francisco Bay Area. 

View more of Rachel's work here 

Ashley Kauschinger: What are your thoughts on the idea of home, family and ancestry? 

Rachel Phillips: By temperament and instinct I tend to value continuity and stability, and my family has been the single greatest source of cohesion in my life. My parents still live in the house they bought when I was five.  My paternal grandparents were a bedrock of my childhood—because I was homeschooled, I had the great fortune to be able to stay with them routinely for 3 or 4 nights every month or two.  This gave me an intimate, extended, contemplative experience of them and an anchoring in family and history.  They lived in a big, electric blue, somewhat derelict and entirely appealing old house I adored—it had secret passageways upstairs and forgotten boxes of family mementos.  I don’t think my cousins, who appeared in great batches together for riotous holidays, had that same depth of experience I did.  My grandfather will be 90 in March, and I still find comfort and joy in the routine of visiting him for dinner and a rerun movie now that he lives across the street from their old house in a senior apartment complex.

My mother’s family lived in California’s San Joaquin Valley, and a family trust owned about 400 acres of ranch land which my mom managed throughout my girlhood.  Mom’s family is much smaller than my dad’s; both my maternal grandparents died before I was born, and she has one sibling to my father’s seven!  So my experience of family on her side was more of legacy and history and names and geography than of people.  Visiting the ranch with my mom, talking to farmers, riding the levees, watching the river, spotting the owls in the barn, hearing stories about her parents and grandparents who had been well-known in the small community, gave me an enduring interest in the ways we make a landscape personal and meaningful across time.

AK: Are you influenced by poetry and literature? Who are some of your favorite storytellers (visual and written word)? 

RP: I don’t read nearly as much as I’d like to—the mornings are too busy, and I’m too tired by the evening.  But I work teaching dyslexic children how to read, so I spend my days explaining language in a slow, exacting way.  I also read and re-read children’s classics with my students year-after-year: Wind in the Willows, The Secret Garden, Rabbit Hill.  Those books have influenced my work in terms of imagination and staging scenes, but also in how I represent the scale of things.  Children’s books often present the world from a child’s or animal’s point of view, making the protagonist small in a large world; that notion of diminishing one’s own self—physically and egotistically—so as to be absorbed in the world around you, finds its way visually and philosophically into my pictures.

AK: Can you talk a bit about your methods? How do you mine for ideas? How important is alternative process to your concepts? 

RP: Once a series is underway, I spend a lot of time thinking about individual images and oftentimes planning before I make them—imagining how to translate complex ideas and instincts into simple pictures.  Much of my photography is staged to some degree, so there is the freedom of being able to include and exclude whatever you want within the frame.  But with this freedom also comes the tremendous challenge of building something with grace and authenticity that resonates with the viewer.

Before I start a series, I putter around making things, making things, making things!  I’m fortunate to have a group of friends that experiment with new processes collaboratively, and that exploration leads to serendipitous connections that only appear in hindsight.  For much of my work, process does come first—a sense of having these wonderful materials, and wondering what to do with them.  “Alternative” processes have been important to me because in learning ways to print photographs on non-traditional materials, like the old envelopes I’ve used the last few years, my paradigm about what a photograph can be as an object has expanded.

AK: What is your process of self promotion? What advice would you give to other photographers? 

RP: I’m fortunate to live in the San Francisco Bay Area where there is a large and active photography community, and I’ve found that the richest and most satisfying opportunities to bring my work into the world have come from networking locally and building personal connections over time.  A friend gave me some great advice when he told me, “Don’t be that artist that shows up for their own opening, but doesn’t come out for anyone else.”

Sarah Hobbs

Sarah Hobbs' installation piece, Overpacked opens December 16 - 19, 2012 at the W Hotel in Midtown Atlanta.  "Hobbs's site-specific sculptural installation in three hotel rooms continues the artist’s empathetic examination of the obsessive side of human nature. The artist creates a personal aura for each room, evoking the psychological baggage people carry with them when they travel." 

Artist's reception is Sunday, December 16th, 10am - 12pm

Learn more about Sarah here: http://sarahhobbs.net/home.html

Her monograph can be purchased here: http://www.amazon.com/Sarah-Hobbs

Items used in installation 

Ashley Kauschinger: How did the conception of the idea for Overpacked begin and evovle? What do you think this piece says differently as an installation vs. a photograph? 

Sarah Hobbs: When I finished the work for my last show of photographs (which was in 2009), I took a little time off to regroup. I felt like, after three series, I had mined the concept of psychology in the domestic space as much as I could, using the process I used. I started thinking about different kinds of spaces and what kinds of places are public and private at the same time. A hotel was the perfect choice. There is public space in a hotel, which is unlike a home, but it is a private space that you use as a home base for a short amount of time. One is out of one's element, yet attempting to feel comfortable and settled. So I began to think about the fact that we can leave home, but our issues travel with us. Then I worked on a list of issues that would very easily come out in a hotel room. 

Until I See Something Good

With the photographs, I constructed the installations specifically to be photographed. It was the whole of the experience with a particular neurosis; all I wanted the viewer to see. I have been thinking for a long time about making actual installations, but always ended up being stumped by the fact of the gallery or museum space, which cannot be separated from the experience. While this is not an issue or distraction for other artists, my concepts are tied to the place. So I thought, what if I could use a space that is in everyone's general experience, a place that is accessible, where the entire space is the installation? A hotel room was perfect. The viewer now has a 360º version. It expands the implied person's (i.e. the person occupying the room) process of living with a certain issue. 

Untitled (paranoia) 

AK: What started your interest in human behavior? How did that interest manifest into constructed sets? Do you create each set alone? How long does each one take you, and do you feel each set effects your personal human behavior? 

SH: My interest in human behavior began in graduate school. In my last year I moved into an apartment by myself, the first time I had ever lived alone. I thought, how great to have everything exactly as I want it and it was quiet. It didn't take long to realize that I was faced with all my issues. They had room to grow in that quiet. I have always been interested in interior spaces and how they can carry psychological weight. So I put those two elements together and began creating spaces that represented the building up of various issues. With a few exceptions, I do work alone. I have used an assistant on a few occasions when the volume of work called for it, but mostly it's easiest for me to be alone so I can really focus and try to feel the issue with which I am working. They take different amounts of time, especially depending on the degree to which I have to create the elements. Some take a day while others take months. Creating the sets is really satisfying to me in that I am obsessed with spatial relationships. I have a compulsion to organize things and this is the perfect outlet. Of course, I don't have all of the issues I have worked with (I would hardly be able to get out of bed if I did!), but there are times when I am working on an image when I really connect with the neurosis. It can be a bit startling.

Untitled (insomnia) 

AK: Earlier this year Charta published a book of your photographs, Small Problems in Living. What was the process of getting a book published like and how do you feel about the final product? 

SH: It was quite a long process. I researched publishers and submitted a pdf of a book layout for about two years.  I went to Photo-eye's Publisher's Showcase page again and again. I submitted to Charta and received an email about a week later saying they were interested in publishing my book. They are in Milan, Italy so all of the work was done by email. There are so many details that go into putting a book together, even one as straightforward as mine. I loved every bit of it - sequencing the images, choosing fonts, working with the amazing writers, etc. When all was finalized and approved, I went to Milan for the press run. I was happy to meet in person the people responsible for taking on my book and bringing it to fruition. It was such a thrill to see the final product coming together. I was so pleased with the printing. The quality of the images exceeded my expectations and the writers, Winifred Gallagher and Lisa Kurzner, blew me away with their words. I could not be happier.

Untitled (fate compulsion) 

AK: What is your process of self-promotion? How have you gone about weaving through the maze of your artistic career to be where you are now? 

SH: I was a bit late in starting, but I finally made a website a few years ago. I have been vigilant about keeping it current. I have a blog on which I post as often as possible. The book has been a terrific tool for getting my work seen. I have sent copies to curators, galleries, writers, etc. There are a number of great blogs devoted to photography books and I have connected with some of them. Self-promotion does not come naturally to me, so I have had to work very hard on this.

Procrastination 

As far as my career goes, there are amazing people who have helped me along the way, who have believed in my work. I would be nowhere without them. I have tried very hard to learn about the business side of art and to make good decisions. It is so important to know that making the work is only part of it. Mostly I just keep at it, I put the work out there. I don’t want to let myself down and I don’t want to let down people who believe in me and have supported me along the way.

Escapism 

Photo Friday: Ashley Whitt

For this Photo Friday, I want to highlight some of my favorite works by my best friend Ashley Whitt in celebration of her birthday. Happy Birthday to the woman who constantly inspires and supports me -- Here's to you! 

Ashley Whitt is a Dallas native and artist who currently resides in Denton, Texas. Ashley recieved her MFA in Photography from Texas Woman's University and her BFA from UT Arlington. Whitt's imagery focuses on a personal journey and narrative while drawing inspiration from literature, film noir, and the history of art and photography. She implements a variety of photographic techniques including pinhole, plastic camera, alternative processes, digital imaging, and traditional silver printing.

View more of Ashley's work here: http://ashleywhitt.com/home.html

Ann Mansolino

Ann Mansolino is currently an Associate Professor of Photography at Rio Hondo College in Whittier, California. She received her bachelor's degree in English Literature from the University of California, Riverside and an MFA from Ohio State University. 

Her work has been exhibited in solo and group exhibitions across the United States, as well as in group exhibitions in Canada, England, Japan and Singapore. Recent solo exhibitions include the Hunt Gallery at Webster University in St. Louis and the photography gallery at Orange Coast College in Costa Mesa, California. 

In recent years, she has made art, written about art, taught photography in Ohio, Michigan and California, worked in Ireland, taught English in Russia and taught writing and photography in Singapore. 

Her work can be found through Bruce Lurie Gallery in Culver City/Los Angeles

View more of Ann's work here: http://www.annmansolino.com/

Ashley Kauschinger: What draws you to creating symbolic narratives about memory and the self? What do you feel this act teaches you about yourself?

Ann Mansolino: I photograph in order to understand my own self and what it means to be human in the world. My images give visual, photographic form to lived internal experience, and function like a symbolic autobiography. They depict not what particular events looked like, but rather what they felt like, internally. Photographing in this way provides a means by which I can search for and locate meaning and give form to the emotional and psychological texture of the human experience. 

Narrative came naturally to me. I studied English literature in college – I pursued a graduate degree in art later – and believe literature influenced the way I create images. I like the way photographs can hint at a narrative, yet the rest of the story is necessarily left to the imagination of the viewer. It gives the viewer more room to navigate, and a larger place to find themselves and their experiences in the image.

Many of the images are self-portraits. I’ve photographed other people from time to time, yet even friends who have known me for years often can’t tell which images are actually me and which are not. I find this intriguing, as I really do see the entire body of work as an extended self-portrait, even when I’m not the one literally in the image. It is somehow always about self, even though it’s not always a literal representation of self. So I guess another thing I’ve learned is the flexibility and malleability of self, both as model for the camera and as concept.

AK: You have been working on the series Thresholds (in three parts) since 2000. What is it like working on a series for a long span of time and how do you feel the series has evolved? 

AM: I began creating these images when I was going through a difficult time in my life. Thus, early in the series, the photographic self is dissolving and diaphanous, reflecting my belief at that time that the photographs I made felt more real than I did. The images provided a needed sense of certainty and solidity at a time when I couldn’t find such things internally. That’s not where I am with my life anymore (fortunately), but the realization that photography can give voice to the parts of oneself and one’s life that are more abstract and difficult to articulate through other means was very powerful, and has led me to continue to work in a symbolic, poetic, narrative style since then.

In my more recent images, the uneasy interaction between the individual and the landscape has become more prominent, and ideas have shifted toward memory, regret, belonging, possibility, and the idea of home. The work has become lighter in tone and more playful, as well… reflecting the changes I’ve gone through, while still retaining continuity in style and approach. I believe that there’s value in continuing this exploration of identity indefinitely, across the span of my lifetime. I wonder how the photographs will evolve visually in 20 or 50 or more years, as I go through different phases of life, and as ideas of aging and mortality take on a different weight in my experience?

Already, though, the series has become so large that I have had to divide it into sections. The current three parts correspond to the different locations I’ve lived in while making these photographs: Ohio, Michigan, and California. Major changes in geography have resulted in differences in the look and feel of light and landscape, and thus provided natural groupings among the photographs.

AK: How do you conceptualize the constructions and symbols that you use in your images? Do you plan in detail or have a more visceral approach? 

AM: It’s really a mix. I do a lot of writing and drawing, and this process is essential in clarifying the ideas and symbols I’m thinking about. Sometimes, the images emerge fully formed. For instance, the images of the ladder emerging from the lake – I kept drawing that symbol over and over until I realized that I just had to go build myself a winding, curving ladder out of tree branches and put it in a lake to make photographs. The resulting images were very much what I had envisioned. Other times, I go to a place and start exploring it with the camera. I figure out how I fit into it, what other objects are needed in it. Often, even when I arrive at a location with a specific photographic plan, the final image is somewhat different, is something that evolves intuitively as I work.

AK: Your work deals with an ambiguous area of idea and emotion-- a place somewhere between understanding. Is that a difficult mind space to work in? How do you continue to stay in that place and not stray into the literal? 

AM: It’s strangely a comfortable place for me, a place I seek out. When understanding is poetic and not limited to the literal or immediate, it becomes such a rich place to explore. The risk of straying into the literal is very real, and is something I’ve encountered when my (or a model’s) face is clearly visible – the image then becomes about that specific person in that specific place, and loses its poetry, its universality. By leaving physical identity ambiguous within the image, it’s easier to avoid other forms of literal content as well. When the images hover comfortably between idea and emotion, the truths that are revealed transcend the individual experience and speak more broadly. That’s important, because in the end I do want the images to resonate with others: to be derived from my own experiences, but not about only me. After all, we all are trying to find our way through this world, and to understand what it all means, what matters; to articulate how we see ourselves in relation to our pasts, our feelings of belonging and its opposite, and our ideas of who we are and who we think we should be. And when I make a photograph that can touch on even a bit of that, I’m satisfied.

Photo Friday: Hannah Texie Bailey

In the realms of the unreal, 2012

Hannah Texie Bailey was born in Houston, Texas. Growing up in the city, she was equally influenced by ideas of the art world and the romance of the Texas tall tale. She is a mixed media artist who works with found and reclaimed material. Currently, Bailey is working on a series of sculptures as she finishes her last year at Savannah College of Art and Design with a BFA in Painting. Her future plans are to move to West Texas, and continue to working in her studio.

You can contact Hannah through her e-mail: hannahtexiebailey@gmail.com

On her wedding day, 2012 

In this work, objects, settings and sculptures are creating an intimate environment of memory that is influenced by folk tales, stories, and storytellers. The objects in the pieces become artifacts that create personal and universal narratives.

The series is influenced by the temporal American landscape, and the haunting desire society has to preserve it. I am exploring the ideas of self-sufficiency and self-preservation through my works using reclaimed and found items. This combines with the influence of my personal American History that I am exploring with family heirlooms and the storytellers from my bloodline. Using family photographs from my parent’s marriage, I am preserving their life together while it is presently falling apart. These works are an alter into a different realm, that explore mystery and hope. 

Pam n i, 2012

Lipstick and Cigarettes, 2012

Ode to Texie, 2012 

Raised by a homecoming queen, 2012