Trees have been the subject of my photography. I am overlaying hair (mine and my partner’s) onto black-and-white negatives of trees in my neighborhood. I am also making self-portraits. I scurry up trunks in my underwear and hang off of branches, a full-grown man still playing in the trees.
Trees communicate with one another through tangled fungal networks, passing nutrients and warning each other of danger. These interspecies, symbiotic relationships have convinced me that I am more connected to trees than I previously contemplated. After all, humans have depended on trees for food and protection throughout our evolution as a species.
Deforestation and climate change have led us to the brink of environmental collapse. While my attempts to embrace my woody neighbors are by turns weird, unsettling, and slightly comical, this does not detract from the seriousness of the endeavor. I am investigating my connection to trees and the medium of photography in earnest. Communing with trees and acknowledging how essential they are to my life is deeply personal, and as important as it gets.
Hair on Twisting Mesquite at Historic Y, 2023, pigment print, 30” x 38”.
Legs and Logs, 2020, pigment print, 9” x 12”.
Tighty-Whities, 2021, pigment print, 10” x 13”.
Hair on Mesquite Branch at Historic Y, 2023, pigment print, 10” x 12”.
Hair On Trees In Front of My Home, 2020, pigment print, 32” x 23”.
Magnolia Branch, 2021, pigment print, 15” x 20”.
Arboreal, 2023, installation view.
Arboreal, 2023, installation view.
During the beginning of the pandemic, I started making self-portraits in my studio. I didn’t have anywhere to go and no one was available to sit for me. So I put my camera on a tripod, with a self-timer, disrobed and stepped in front of the lens. I worked in the basement or outside (away from the dog walkers and passing cars). I initially thought of these awkward, weird pictures as something to keep me occupied, in the meantime, while I was waiting for the world to open back up.
In Waiting for Godot, the characters Valdimir and Estragon kill time while they wait for something important to happen – the arrival of Godot. As the play progresses, it becomes clear that Godot isn’t going to show up. The substance of the play is what the characters do in the interim. This story strikes a chord deep inside me. I have often felt dissatisfied with my situation in life, waiting for something in the future that will be better than my current set of circumstances.
I am reconsidering the photographs that I made while waiting out the pandemic, in the unfinished spaces in and around my studio. Maybe these pictures aren’t just artwork that I was making in the interim; maybe they are worthy of further consideration; maybe they are the stuff of life itself.
Door and Limbs, 2021, pigment print, 36” x 27”.
Duct Work, 2021, pigment print, 24” x 30”.
PVC, 2021, pigment print, 11” x 14”.
In Situ, 2021, pigment print, 24” x 16”.
Step Ladder, 2021, pigment print, 18” x 24”.
Hose Off, 2021, pigment print, 8.5” x 11”.
Leg and Floor, 2021, pigment print, 24” x 30”.
Odd Room, 2022, installation view.
Odd Room, 2022, installation view.