photography Archives - Page 15 of 18

Published August 3, 2017 by avardw

8 Questions for UK artist Debbie Yare

Debbie Yare is a visual artist based in the northwest of England. She creates wonderful drawings, paintings, and photographs that illuminate her relationship with the landscape around her. Writer Bill Bryson wrote of that area, “Morecambe Bay may be the most beautiful bay in Britain.” For a more in-depth view of her work, check out her website, Flickr, and Instagram.

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’m a full-time artist from a village on Morecambe Bay, Lancashire, on the northwest coast of England. This is also where I am living and working now. I’ve moved around a bit and lived in other places, but was drawn back here because it is a great place to be.

What projects are you working on these days?

I make drawings, paintings, and photographs about the landscape and places I visit near my home. This involves a fair bit of wandering around and making work outdoors, as well as developing ideas in the studio. Various themes keep cropping up, such as the history of the landscape, the memories that lie there, and the memories we carry with us; and also, the bonds we form with certain places and how they can draw us back time and time again. I spend most of my time flitting between Morecambe Bay, on my doorstep, and the limestone hills to the north. These are fantastical places to me with a seemingly endless capacity to inspire, lift the spirits, and allow the imagination to roam. I’m also self-employed, so I need to spend time looking for relevant opportunities to show the work and trying to promote myself. It is one really big project that isn’t just about making work, but also about building a better life for myself and doing things that are important to me.

You describe on your website how your work is closely tied to how much walking you do. I’m curious about that creative loop. Do you think you would walk just as much if you weren’t creating art based on what you observe? And would you be creating art like this if you weren’t also a walker?

I live in a particularly inviting area, the majority of which can only be fully explored on foot. There is a rich history of walking the landscape here, and webs of footpaths criss-cross the countryside. I’ve been wandering around the area for as long as I can remember, and the first thing I do if I visit other places is buy a map! There is still so much to explore and discover. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I can’t imagine a parallel universe in which I’d be making work about anything else. I hope that means I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing!

You’re such a talented landscape photographer, though you told me that’s not how you chiefly see yourself—it’s one aspect of your art, not the total. That makes me think of the gap that often exists between how others might see our oeuvre, or one part of it, and how we ourselves see the body of our work. Can you explain a bit about where your landscape photos fit into the whole of your work, and what those images mean to you?

Thanks very much; I appreciate that. I’ve been taking photos for a long time but have no real technical knowledge or training in that area. Photography, like walking and drawing, is a way I can respond to the landscape directly, connect with it, and record various aspects of my experience. It only takes a moment to take a picture, so if I’m out with my camera I can be quite spontaneous with it. I’ve never planned a photograph. I like those elusive moments when everything seems to collide when you press the shutter. I enjoy being playful with the camera. I’m interested in creating compositions, but I also wonder what can be expressed through photography that goes beyond describing the landscape as a collection of objects and surfaces next to the horizon.

If you’d asked me the same question about drawing I would have said something pretty similar. I guess photography is just another tool in the toolbox really, and I really enjoy making images with my camera. I’m still just exploring and trying things out. I’m not sure if all the work I make works together as a whole visually, but it has all been made in the same spirit.

We all explore different themes in our work, and these tend to evolve over time. What are some themes you are paying more attention to these days, or what are some you find yourself devoting less energy to?

I’ve spent a lot of time this year looking at various processes. I’m also looking at what I’ve done, what I am doing, and trying to be honest with myself about what I’d like to achieve. This slightly painful form of self-evaluation has naturally brought me back to the coast, and out onto the expansive mudflats to explore some of my feelings about this amazing space on my doorstep. I’m also facing some fears about my ability to express open space, atmosphere, and emotion in my studio work.

I like the Japanese concept of “forest bathing” (shinrin-yoku, or walking in the woods and enjoying their therapeutic benefits) and do this as often as I can near my home in eastern Canada. It is proven to be therapeutic in reducing stress and depression. Can you talk about the therapeutic benefits you’ve seen from walking outside, and the therapy of the creative process?

Yeah, there is plenty of research that supports the health benefits of walking and creativity, and I’ve worked with older people in a creative and therapeutic environment, so have seen some of this first hand. Art connects us with ourselves in a way we wouldn’t usually connect in everyday life, and walking connects us with places. So perhaps making art whilst walking in the landscape could be pretty therapeutic. It wasn’t until I hit dire straits with my own health in 2012 that I came to understand much more about this. I was in a situation where recovery wasn’t going to happen very soon, and I was trying to figure out what to do, and about the possibility of reviving my creative career. Whilst I was chewing this over I was walking up and down the coast with my camera, enjoying being creative for the first time in a while, and bathed in some relief at being back in my childhood home. I’d also been given some information about mindfulness, by my doctor, which I was reading and realising that mindfulness sounded very much like my photo walks and sketch trips. In fact my artistic walks had the added bonus of boosting confidence in the sense that I was making images, and also posting them online and receiving feedback. This really did set me on the road to recovery as well as eventually becoming part of my working practice. It completely changed the course of my life. Combinations of these activities could definitely help someone reduce their levels of stress and improve their mood, but given the right circumstances could also help someone in their recovery from a more serious health condition.

It is hard to summarise this so if any of your readers are interested there is a whole site dedicated to therapeutic photography here: https://theoneproject.co/

I like the beautiful muted tones in your paintings. Can you talk about the colour palette that you use?

Thanks; there are lots of earth colours in there that I really love. I don’t live in a particularly colourful area, so I hope the colour suits the landscape really. I also think these gentle tones are quite emotive, in the same way a faded photograph might evoke certain memories or emotions.

One final question: Can you tell me briefly about a couple of artists I may not be familiar with yet but you would recommend checking out?

I’ve been looking at these artists over the last few days: Sarah Shaw, and Sandra Senn.

Many thanks to Debbie for doing this interview. I’m so appreciative of her thoughtful answers that provide insight into her work. Be sure to check out her website, Flickr and Instagram.

Interview Photography

8 questions Debbie Yare Great Britian interview painting photography UK

Published July 31, 2017 by avardw

3 insights gained in my early days of photography

3 insights, Avard Woolaver — Newport, Nova Scotia, 1977 © Avard Woolaver

Whenever you begin something new, you tend to learn a lot in a short time. Here are 3 insights I gained in my earliest years of photography:

I learned to expect the unexpected.

Things sometimes happen quickly when we are composing a photo. There can be a lot of activity in the frame (or almost no activity), yet something or somebody new can suddenly become part of it. The photo above is from my second-ever roll of slide film. On the right you can see a man on a bicycle entering the frame. I had no idea he was there when I took the photo, and was so surprised much later to find this ghost-like figure in the photo. Photographer Gary Winogrand once famously said, “I photograph to see what the world looks like in photographs.”

I learned to pay attention to the quality of light.

Often, the quality or beauty of a photo is dependent upon the light. Take the same photo on an overcast day, and it may look drab and uninteresting. This isn’t to say that overcast days are bad for taking photos–good photos can be taken in a wide variety of lighting situations. (Notable, though, is that Lee Friedlander didn’t even take photos on overcast days.) It’s useful to pay attention to the intrinsic qualities of the light in order to optimize it.

And it takes so much time to figure out how various factors affect the final photo: is the light muted, diffuse, intense? Coming from one direction? Fluorescent, LED, neon? Is the sky pink, greenish, bright blue? Is rain or a storm on the way, or is there any haze in the air? All these elements, and more, mean we have to figure out how to compare the final photo with what was going on around us at the time, and observe what effects the quality of light can have. And find some way to remember the lessons the light has taught us.

I learned the value of the documentary photograph.

Looking at a photo many years later, you may not know exactly why you took it but still be glad you did. Among other things, photography has been a visual diary for me. It helps me remember the places I’ve been and things I’ve seen. Photos can also become valuable documents of things and places that no longer exist.

We never know the full significance of the photos we take. They’re a picture of a moment, and that moment is gone as soon as you’ve taken the picture. That place–or that person, or cloud, or animal–is already changing before you’ve even walked away. We don’t know until much later whether those changes will accrue quickly or gradually. We don’t know if we’ll ever be there again, ever talk with that person again. The relentlessness of change is masked by its ordinariness.

This has been so evident to me in hearing people’s responses to my Toronto Flashback series. Taken in the 1980s, they show a city that many feel no longer exists.

Film Photography Photography

3 insights Avard Woolaver photography

Published May 15, 2017 by avardw

8 Questions for photographer Michael Morissette

Toronto photographer Michael Morissette is equally at home photographing in the solitude of nature, or in a busy urban environment. His use of colour, light, and graphic elements make his images memorable. A middle school art teacher, he finds time for creative projects with his students as well as those he does in his own time. I have known Michael since 1980 when we started studying photography at Ryerson in Toronto. His amiable and contemplative nature has always been visible in his work.

I asked him eight questions about his work and his current projects. (Our on-line conversation has been lightly edited for length and clarity.) Check out more of his wonderful work on Flickr, Facebook, and Instagram!

Elliot Erwitt sums up my thoughts on verbalizing my photography: “The whole point of taking pictures is so that you don’t have to explain things with words.”

Tell us a little about yourself. Where are you from, and where do you live now?

I was born and raised on the West Coast, until the call of photography study took me to Ryerson, in Toronto, in my early 20s. After a brief stint in the oil fields of Alberta to help pay for school, I loaded up my Chevy van and headed east. And aside from a five-year period of work and travel away, I’m still calling Toronto home after more than 30 years. It’s a city rich in culture, and a wellspring of photographic material. There is much I still miss about Vancouver, especially the natural beauty, but my roots have gone deep in Toronto.

What subject matter attracts you, and why?

It’s not easy to define myself as a photographer, as I’m attracted to such a wide range of subject matter, but I would say that I’m a documentarian more than a creator. Virtually all my work is as I saw it, with little manipulation. However, I do shoot RAW, and really enjoy the process of bringing my images to fruition in Lightroom. Like you, I cut my photographic teeth in black and white, hand processed and printed. The computer is a way of returning to the craft of image making.

Can you tell us about the projects you are working on these days?

I’ve recently self-published a book titled Water & Colour, which consists of a series of photographs documenting the effects of rust and decay on well-aged automobiles from a wrecking yard near Toronto. Reflecting the Japanese concept of wabi-sabi, the beauty in decay, the photographs display a varied palette, degrading from the original vivid vehicle colours to the oranges and yellows of years of corrosion.

And presently I’m working on a series titled “Dia y Noche,” from a carnival ground in Baja, Mexico, taken in the early morning light, and in the darkness of evening. The intense colours of the shrouds covering each booth at a time void of human activity contrasts interestingly with the artificial light of nighttime. The human presence also adds another important visual element.

How has your background in graphic arts shaped your vision?

Studying graphic design prior to photography instilled in me an instinctive recognition of elemental line, shape and form, which lends itself well to photography. It’s been a valuable aid in the growth of my photographic composition. And, interestingly, I’m still using the same tools and techniques from that experience in my art classroom today.

What’s your state of mind when you’re taking good photos? Do you think there’s any connection between your mood or mindset and the results you get?

I believe my mood is clearly enhanced as I photograph. Time passes quickly and I find, at certain times when everything’s right, that I’m immersed in a zone of creative pleasure. It can occur deep in a forest, in the urban grunge of a back alley, or on a busy downtown street. There’s really nothing else quite like it. Creativity, in any aspect, is very important to me. This is a belief that I try to instill in my students.

Your photos sometimes contain funny twists. Tell me about the role of humour in your photography.

Humour for me is both a defense mechanism and a survival tool, particularly in my day job, attempting to nurture creativity in overactive adolescents. Without humour, life, at times, can be pretty grim. Thus, if I can find something out there that brings a smile to my mind, or my face, I try to capture it.

Who, or what inspires you?

Contrasts, oddities, contradictions, but most of all, light. Light is so important to my work. And beauty, in whatever forms that takes.

One Piano, Three Years © Michael Morissette

One final question: Can you tell me briefly about a couple of photographers I may not be familiar with yet but you would recommend checking out?

There are a few people I’ve been following on Instagram that are well worth mentioning. Mustafa Seven does some remarkable street photography in Turkey. Sefa Yamak, also working in that region, does some compelling street portraits; and finally, Paul Brouns does some really great graphic architectural work in Northern Europe.

I’ll close with another quote from Elliot Erwitt: “To me, photography is an art of observation. It’s about finding something interesting in an ordinary place… I’ve found it has little to do with the things you see and everything to do with the way you see them.”

Many thanks to Michael for doing this interview. I’m so appreciative of his thoughtful answers that provide insight into his work. His images are always a source of inspiration.

Blogging Interview Observation Photography

8 questions interview Michael Morissette photography Ryerson

Published May 1, 2017 by avardw

8 Questions for Toronto photographer Mark Hewitt Johnson

Mark Hewitt Johnson, photography, interview,, — © Mark Hewitt Johnson

Mark Hewitt Johnson is an accomplished Toronto photographer who has been active for over forty years. He is a life-long student of the photographic medium who has wide ranging and eclectic interests. I enjoy and admire his work, not just for the strength of the images, but for the thought behind them. With his images, Mark goes deep.

I asked him eight questions about his work and his current projects. You can see more of his images on his Instagram page and on the project “Images from the Belly of the White Whale.” Our online conversation has been lightly edited for clarity.

“A photograph is neither taken or seized by force. It offers itself up. It is the photo that takes you. One must not take photos.” – Henri Cartier-Bresson

Tell us a little about yourself. Where are you from, and where do you live now?

I’m from Red Head, New Brunswick. Growing up beside the ocean, on the edge of a forest, there was a brook running through my yard to the sea. I was consumed by nature, where early on, the invisible becomes visible to your mind. Through nature, the interconnectedness of everything made a lasting impression. I lived there in the shadow of Alex Colville–an artist who looms large in my understanding of the visual arts. With my first camera, my subject matter was nature and landscapes. Later, when I moved to Toronto to study Photo-Arts at Ryerson, my landscapes became cityscapes, and nature became human nature. My studies at Ryerson exposed me to the masters of the craft of photography; also to the observations of Marshal McLuhan on what makes humanity civilized. One thing that keeps coming to mind is the modern idea of “not seeing the forest for the trees.”

“It is an illusion that photos are made with the camera… they are made with the eye, heart and head.” –Henri Cartier-Bresson

What subject matter attracts you, and why?

For me it’s important to realize my images are ruled by my eyes. I see something, I stop and hope for a chance to make a strong image. The rules of every artist are practiced on two levels–images based on perception and chance. I’m concerned with truth, and the subjective nature of beauty, street images, and a degree of chance that happens with perceptually based portraits. I’m concerned with images that are conceptual and take time and thought to develop. Time and thought form the discipline of all visual artists.

Can you tell us about the projects you are working on these days?

I like to explore projects that are on my mind. I’ve been exploring conceptual images for climate change awareness. I have returned to taking landscapes on Leslie Street Spit—the local landfill. I’m always conscious of the staggering images of the environment that Edward Burtynsky is producing, and the thought behind them. With my “Industrial Primitive” series, I’m exploring ways to understand the zeitgeist of modern times and the shift from an industrial society to an information society—always aware of the foresight of McLuhan’s theories.

What themes are you exploring in your photos?

My themes are the environment, and the mystery of the journey that is every person’s life.

“Making your unknown known is the important thing–and keeping the unknown always beyond you.” –Georgia O’Keeffe

In my readings, I discovered that Henri Cartier-Bresson’s favourite book was “Zen in the Art of Archery.” I had been carrying that book around for some time before I found that out. In this eastern philosophy, the archer is both the target and the shooter. Cartier-Bresson said, “It is the photo that takes you.”

It implies ridding yourself of your ego, remaining humble, and believing that all things of value come from craft and hard work. For art to move me, there should be no description–the work must stand alone. In the art of archery, the shooter makes thousands of shots that are ignored until one day the master bows deeply and acknowledges that, yes, the shot is true and worthy of the target. I can understand why Cartier-Bresson would understand that many images fall short of the target. What makes someone a master of anything?

What’s your state of mind when you’re taking good photos? Do you think there’s any connection between your mood or mindset and the results you get?

I like the photographs where I was chasing my eye, and not my mind.

There is a strong sense of symbolism and allegory in your photos. Can you expand on this?

The images that touch me and motivate me to keep practicing my craft are ripe with symbolism and allegory. If symbolism and allegory are not there in my photos, I am just scratching the surface, and they fall short of the target.

Can you tell us a few of your influences?

I’m influenced by images that put me back on my heels, the history of the photographic artist, graphic painters, poster art, primitive artists. I try to look at a bit of everything. You never know where the next shot is—that’s why I delight in chasing them. And I acknowledge the importance of light. The light.

One final question: Can you tell me briefly about a photographer I may not be familiar with yet but you would recommend checking out?

Check out Haruka Sakaguchi. She is a master beyond reproach; she is where humanity lives.

Many thanks to Mark for doing this interview. I’m so appreciative of his thoughtful answers that provide insight into his work. Be sure to check out his thought-provoking photos.