Baking Mixes brings to mind recipes. The recipe for this photo comes via Lee Friedlander. That is: organize a large amount of information in a dynamic composition. Friedlander is a master of this approach. For documentary photography, it seems the more information, the better. It tells us a lot about the culture and society of a specific time and place. I shall keep on photographing the social landscape with a few different recipes, and hopefully learn some new ones before I’m done.
For me, nothing beats a straight photo of an unusual scene. I’ve never had much interest in image manipulation after the photo has been taken. I’d rather see the scene and try to record it in an interesting way–a sort of truth is stranger than fiction approach.
There are plenty of famous photographers out there who have a knack for recording oddball scenes. Lee Friedlander, Martin Parr, and Elliott Erwitt are three that come to mind. Their images can make you laugh out loud, or shake your head in wonder. You ponder how they were able be in that place and capture that fleeting moment. Part of the answer, I think, is natural ability, but the bigger part is just practice. They were out shooting everyday, honing their skills, and sharpening their eye.
My photos of unusual scenes are mostly things I come across in everyday life. Seeing them sometimes makes me chuckle, or makes me think that the world is , indeed, a strange and wonderful place.
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Hi! If you’re new here, my name is Avard Woolaver, and I’m a photographer based in Nova Scotia, Canada. Many of you have probably found this website from my one of my social media platforms. I’ve recently stopped posting photos on Instagram but hope to spend more time posting on this site. So here’s an introduction to my work!
A lot of the people who follow me are especially interested in my Toronto photos, taken mostly during the 1980s. (The above photo, previously unpublished, is an example.) I did a lot of street photography and urban landscapes during and after my photography studies at Ryerson University. The negatives sat sorted in files on a bookcase for thirty years before I started scanning them in 2016. The photos are very nostalgic for me–a blast from the past.
One of my main interests is New Topographics–the human-altered landscape. With the rapid advance of the climate emergency, our mismanagement of the environment is becoming more central to my work. I want my photos to be visually interesting, but also carry a message.
Another one of my interests deals with visual perception. My Wish You Were Here series aims to challenge the viewers’ attention in a subtle way by finding everyday scenes with elements of whimsy and surrealism. Emulating artists like Rene Magritte and Lee Friedlander, I want to make the familiar seem a little strange, but without Photoshop or image manipulation. These photos come about through observation, using juxtaposition, reflection, typography, and scale.
My travels have taken me various places in the world. In the late 1980s and early 1990s, I worked in Japan, which gave me a chance to visit southeast Asia. Travel photography is exciting because nearly everything is new and interesting, and you may never be in that place again.
Along with photographing the unfamiliar, I do a lot of revisiting familiar scenes during different times and seasons. A familiar scene can seem so changed under different lighting conditions. I pass the scene below on a daily basis and have photographed it numerous times. It never gets old.
Finally, I like doing self-portraits, and also incorporating humour in my photos when I can. I saw some Lee Friedlander self-portraits when I first got a camera, and they made a lasting impression.
Bee kind. Bee aware. Bee the change.
In some way, I only know how to take one photo. I just do it at different times and locations. It brings to mind a quote from blues harmonica legend Charlie Musselwhite: “I only know one tune, and I play it faster or slower, or I change the key, but it’s just the one tune I’ve ever played in my life. It’s all I know.” There is a particular photo by Lee Friedlander that I believe may be the basis for my photographic approach. I discovered it in 1978, in a book titled Concerning Photography. At that time, I was just learning how to use a camera and was very passionate about this new endeavor.
The black and white photo, titled “Albuquerque, New Mexico, 1972,” shows an intersection cluttered with a hydrant and various poles. There is a car tire in frame on the right, as well as a high-rise apartment building. In the centre, there is a small house (or small bank building), and on the right—the pièce de résistance – a dog sitting on the sidewalk, partially obscured by a pole, looking like it’s waiting to use the crosswalk. So much information, and wonderful balance of so many elements. And such beautiful, creamy black and white tones. The photo is bursting with creativity, intelligence and deadpan humour–and seems to be the visual equivalent of jazz music.
Over the course of forty years, I have taken many kinds of photos—landscapes, portraits, documentary, editorial, but I keep returning to this wonderful Lee Friedlander photo with its delicate balance of design elements, its visual humour and social commentary. When I go out into the world with my camera, the most satisfying moments come when I know I have taken a quirky photo, one that makes the viewer do a double take. It may be the only photo I know how to take, yet I was there, and I saw that!
These are some documentary photos taken in New York in 1983. Documentary photography can be defined as style of photography that provides a straightforward and accurate representation of people, places, objects and events, and is often used in reportage. It can be both significant and relevant to history and historical events as well as everyday life.
For me, documentary photos are ones that are taken without manipulation, or staging. My urban photographs from the 1980s, taken in Toronto, New York, Japan, and Asia are largely street photographs, but are also documentary in that they capture life as it is. And the passage of time makes them more interesting, and valuable, as documents of another era. The above photo, for example, shows a man sitting at the entrance to B. Altman and Company on 5th Avenue. It was the flagship store of a luxury department store chain that opened in 1906 and closed for good in 1989. It’s nice to have a record of this iconic store.
A recent article by Authur Lubow in the New York Times titled, Life As It’s Seen, Not Staged makes the point that documentary photography, which fell out of favor with the rise of manipulated images, is making a comeback. An exhibition at the International Centre of Photography highlights young photographers share “a commitment to portray life as they discover it in the world at large, without staging or manipulation; and by so doing, find and express themselves.” Lubow also makes the point that “nothing is weirder than a straight photograph of an uncanny subject.” In short, truth is stranger than fiction.
In my early sixties, I sill find everyday life endlessly fascinating, and continue to capture it with my documentary photos. They help me make sense of the world we live in, and also help me remember the places I’ve been, and people and things I’ve seen.
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