Sometimes it’s just nice to return to simple paper and pencil drawings. The immediacy and versatility of graphite allows for a range of mark-making that can range from crisp and bold, to light and ethereal.
These drawings are just a few that I did over a three month period before dismantling my life in Windsor and moving to a new city. Soon after, COVID-19 struck and things never quite got back to normal.
My goal for now is to just get back into the creative flow with the most basic of media.
MOODY, EMOTIONAL WORK is the core of what drives me as a content creator. I think, I write, I create in various media, yet the same aesthetic values invariably lead to similar processes and conclusions. There is only one muse.
My long-standing enthusiasm for digital technology has been a rewarding and fruitful journey. In 2012 I had a solo exhibition of artworks created exclusively on an iPhone. The device seems limitless in its creative potential. One of my favourite apps is Hipstamatic, which I’m currently using to replicate the look and feel of old daguerreotypes and tintypes. While the results are engaging in their own right, my usual habit is to push and explore – thus branching off in parallel directions, but still retaining the emotional impact of the original images.
As I explained yesterday in my blog post essay, in addition to the rich, imperfect appearance of daguerreotypes, what intrigues me most about early 19th century portraiture is that it was able to dissolve the protective masks behind which most people conceal their inner selves. This was due to the super-long exposure times required. Nobody said “cheeeeese.” They just sat or stood motionless until the photographer signalled that the process was complete. So without the aid of a practiced “camera smile” to camouflage their true emotions, the camera ultimately captured a more “honest” portrait.
AS AN ARTIST, I have often used myself as the model in my work because the themes originate from my own complicated, inner experiences. As such, using the tintype approach for this emerging body of work is the right fit because it conveys the mood so perfectly and unapologetically. To be genuinely authentic is to embrace and celebrate the beauty of our imperfect selves, and the tintype seems particularly suited for this purpose.
Applying a technique I’ve previously used to deconstruct and abstract photos of orchids, the series below (including the three images at the top of this page) was created by magnifying selected tintype images in order to achieve new and interesting compositions. The resulting portraits are confined to only partial views of the face, but enough is still visible to retain a sense of intimacy and the mood which informs all of the works in the Naked Truths Project. It will be exciting to see how all the pieces fit in the final completed ensemble.
Thinking, feeling, seeing
newness in oldness,
beauty in a soul laid bare,
freedom to embrace it all.
WHAT IS IT about old daguerreotypes, ambrotypes (collodion positives), and tintypes that still fascinates us nearly two hundred years after they were invented and replaced by more advanced technologies?
The daguerreotype was originally developed by early 19th century artists searching for a method to reproduce prints and drawings for lithography. The technique inadvertently contributed to the birth of photography, and we haven’t stopped taking pictures since – now more than ever before with the ubiquitousness of mobile technology.
But still, there is something arresting about antique portraits when we peer into the faces of people who are nothing more than strangers to us. The images have a certain depth and mystery that we rarely see in today’s fast-paced, social media, selfie-obsessed culture. So what’s the deal?
After much thinking on this, I finally realized a surprising truth that proves that technology shapes the content (and meaning) of creative expression. This happens because inherent physical and technological limitations have always determined the creative parameters and output of any technology. To use a modern example, the **selfie-stick expanded the previously limited photographic range of smartphones (from arm’s length selfies) to make it look like maybe somebody else took your picture and you’re not such a narcissist after all. Just kidding, but you get the picture.
Challenges in 1830s photography were different, but still had an effect on creative content. Long exposure times required the sitter(s) to keep very still while the plate was being exposed inside the camera. The process could take up to several minutes. Consequently, the body and facial expressions had to remain as still and relaxed as possible. Any movement, including blinking, would cause some amount of blurring in the photo. These types of poses were, out of necessity, the standard “look” of photographs at the time. But in analyzing this a little further, we observe a curious side-effect vis-a-vis content that completely transcends the physical or mechanical.
The effect that super-long exposure times had in portraiture was that it unwittingly dissolved the protective masks behind which humans conceal their inner lives. It peeled away the public persona we all unconsciously project to the outer world (think social media, where we carefully craft the best versions of ourselves). Like a microscope, it allowed the first cameras to peer inside the hearts and minds of husbands, wives, children, and others who had endured much – both good and bad. Nobody said “cheeeeese,” and without a practiced “camera face” camouflaging the features of these perpetually solemn people, we occasionally recognize in the photos a hint of something familiar – be it pride, bitterness, hardship, or whatever. We instantly know it by the set of the jaw, the tightness of the lips, or a twinkle in the eyes. There is nothing fake about the authenticity of these “leaked” emotions. In light of this knowledge, we should certainly be asking ourselves how modern technology is shaping content and meaning in our culture today, and how it may be affecting our values and habits.
I HAVE A CONFESSION to make. I’m not young anymore, and I’ve lived with depression for most of my life. When it comes on, it usually lasts for weeks and months at a time… and I don’t have a good poker face, if you know what I mean. On the positive side, I’ve learned to socialize more, rather than isolate like I used to, because it’s healthy and good for me (doctor’s orders.) My friends like to take a lot of photos when we’re together, which is usually fun. Anyway, (and this is the confession part) I’ve noticed in some photos a deep sadness etched across my face, especially in the eyes, and it’s almost too painful to look at. I thought this might be some unfortunate new development in my outward appearance, but oddly, it would appear that it was always the case (as you can tell by this professional portrait taken of me as a child the year of my father’s death). But then again, maybe it’s just that my adult mask has begun to dissolve as I transition slowly into a wise, but weathered crone. That might be it.
AS AN ARTIST, I’ve often used myself in my work because, well, I’m available 24/7, but mainly because my inner experience has always been the subject of my art – no matter the medium. Currently, I am using the Tintype Snappack from Hipstamatic to create pseudo-tintype photos, and creating double-exposure portraits as part of a new project. The combined effect of this medium + content is a good fit and creates exactly the right mood – honest and vulnerable in its naked truth. Stay tuned for updates.
Michelle LaRiviere 