Give yourself a photo assignment. A bit of structure can be helpful when taking photos; it gives you a set purpose.
There is something to be said for wandering around aimlessly with a camera looking for whatever grabs your eye. This is the mode I’m frequently in; to me it represents the ultimate freedom. Some of my more memorable photos, however, have come about as the result of a specific assignment.
When attending Ryerson in Toronto I did a project on popular culture. My assignment was to go out on Yonge Street and record as many instances of popular culture as I could find. It was a fun task. I photographed record shops, posters, cars, televisions, fashions, and fast food stores. It led to some interesting photos; shots I normally would not have taken—like this photo in a pinball arcade, for instance. I almost never went to arcades (one of my classmates was addicted to Pac Man) but the assignment gave me reason to go there.
So, if you find yourself in a creative rut, or simply want to try something new, give yourself a photo assignment. It could be stop signs, people wearing hats, triangular shapes, or environmental degradation; the list is endless. You may be pleasantly surprised at the results.
Arcade Scene, Toronto, 1981, is from the Facebook series: Toronto Days
Stacy Blint creates art that captures experiences, possibilities, and instances of the human condition. Looking at Stacy’s work is a visual treat. I am reminded that art is a free-flowing, organic force that combines everything life has to offer.I like her multi-disciplinary approach and her use of humour. You can see a creative mind at work. To see more, check out her website.
I asked her eight questions about her work and her current projects.
Tell me a little about yourself. Where are you from, and where do you live now?
I was born and raised in Waukesha, Wisconsin. Birthplace of Les Paul, inventor of the electric guitar, and home to three Nike missile sites during the Cold War. Waukesha also has long held the distinction of being part of one of the most segregated metropolitan areas in the country.
My father was a pharmacist and owned his own pharmacy. When I was young my drawings covered the walls in his store. A woman with a turkey on her head in the shape of a bouffant hairdo. Lots of princesses and cubes. It was my grandmother who taught me to draw three-dimensional shapes. Hearts, stars, rectangles, triangles; with my special power I could make any of them contain space.
In 1988, I moved to New York City to study painting at Pratt Institute in Brooklyn, situated between Fort Greene and Bedford-Stuyvesant. I arrived at the height of both the crack and AIDS epidemics. This is something I have written about extensively in a soon to be released manuscript.
Currently I live in Wisconsin and enjoy its rich and not so distant history of pioneers and settlers. Compared to other middle western states, Wisconsin itself is somewhat eccentric.
There are the serial killers; Jeffrey Dahmer, Ed Gein, Walter Ellis, David Spanbauer. The Green Bay Packers, beer, cheese, and proximity to Lake Michigan round out the offering. Family is also here. My father’s grandparents were the first generation in America, settling as dairy farmers in Wisconsin from Switzerland.
I also have an amazing and beautiful 16 year old daughter. My life partner is the brilliant poet Mike Hauser. Professionally I work as a creative director.
I have been impressed with your collages, photos, and poetry. What do you consider to be your primary medium?
Listening and being. For as long as I can remember there has been a dialog taking place within the work itself, often between the modalities of the written and the visual. There have been moments over the years that these forms have merged to become installation, video, or performance. For me it’s really about what the work requires independent of medium.
I attempt to create a dialog between the visual and the written, to capture experiences, possibilities, and instances of the human condition—its splendor, its vulgarity, and its weird and comic manner. I am interested in exploring the domestic, the daily, the mundane, the overlooked, dreams, family, love, death, and relationships in my work.
Currently I am in the process of documenting The Art Bunker, a site-specific environment that draws on a strong affinity with one of my earliest influences, the Wisconsin artist Mary Nohl.
Additionally, I cultivate a daily studio practice that includes writing, photography, and mixed media pieces. I like to make things with my hands and am fascinated by the hauntology present in the layering of these pieces.
Tell me a bit about your Disappearing Books project.
Based on the premise that with each breath we are erased a little, Disappearing Books is an ongoing multidisciplinary project that began about 7 years ago. A disappearing book is a one of a kind piece of art. As the reader ‘reads’ the book it’s original form is obliterated. It cannot be ‘read’ the same way twice.
There is a mail art component to these pieces. To date 19 books have been documented and shared with people in several countries, including Japan, Canada, England, Germany, Austria, South Africa, and America. As the concept evolves I find myself drawn to explore more performative aspects.
Nature inspires me, unexpected combinations or words and images inspire me, music inspires me. Inspiration can come from anywhere and is most powerful when informed by an acute awareness that time is short.
Many thanks to Stacy for doing this interview. I’m so appreciative of her thoughtful answers that provide insight into her work. Her art is always a source of inspiration.
Nostalgia can be described as a sentimental longing for the past. It comes from the Greek nostos (homecoming) and algos (pain) and is thought to have been derived from Homer’s The Odyssey.
With baby boomers reaching their senior years, nostalgia seems to be their drug of choice. Advertisers target boomers with Beatles music, retro fashions, and even long dead actors such as Marilyn Munroe selling perfume. While boomers seem to be lapping it up, not everyone is crazy about the nostalgia bug. Heather Havrilesky writes in The Washington Post, “While griping about boomer nostalgia has become a somewhat common art, the cultural impact of that nostalgia transcends mere annoyance. Through sheer repetition and force of will, boomers have so thoroughly indoctrinated us into their worldview that we all now reflexively frame most current affairs through the lens of another generation’s formative experiences.” Abbey Hoffman might say not to trust anyone under 50!
I myself am a baby boomer. Born in 1958, I was six years old when the Beatles came to North America. I sang “A Hard Day’s Night” in my Grade One classroom, watched the moon landing on a fuzzy black and white TV, and took my Diana camera to Expo ’67 in Montreal. While I have nostalgia for those early years, the time I miss most was when I was in my early twenties, studying photography at Ryerson in Toronto.
The photo at the head of this blog captures the time that I am nostalgic for. It was taken in my neighborhood in downtown Toronto in my first year of study. Everything was new and fresh, conversations were stimulating, photography was invigorating. Several of my classmates from that year became lifelong friends. Since returning to those days is impossible, I can make the journey with my retro photographs. It’s the next best thing.
Gerrard East and Ontario Street, Toronto, 1981, is from the series: Toronto Days
