In my childhood, I spent many hours looking at the sky, studying clouds. I still love looking at the sky, but these days usually have a camera handy.
The sky is often the most interesting and dramatic before, or after a storm. This one was taken just after an October storm. The sky took on an amazing hue; there was a rainbow over to my left. And the clouds kind of blew my mind. I looked up the variety, and they seem to be stratocumulus–low, lumpy layers of clouds. They look more like sheep’s wool than any other clouds I have seen.
I recently watched Don’t Blink, a fascinating documentary on the life and work of photographer Robert Frank. Now 92, Frank is considered, by many, one of the greatest living photographers—and seeing this documentary reminded me that his ground-breaking photographs from The Americans are still relevant, nearly sixty years after publication.
It occurs to me now watching Don’t Blink that it is the emotional impact of his work that makes it special. His documentary photos from the 50s seem timeless, especially since the same social and racial issues he exposed then are still seen today.
Robert Frank was one of my earliest influences when I first discovered photography. I was struck by his photos’ emotional impact, their grittiness, their raw power.
In Don’t Blink, Frank is asked, “What makes a picture good?” He replies, “Mostly I get people when they are not aware of the camera. And usually the first picture was the best one. Once someone is aware of the camera it becomes a different picture; people change.” For him, art is a spontaneous and free-flowing process. It’s something we can apply in today’s digital world, where imaging making has become more glossy and contrived. It makes me want to take photos with my gut—pictures that have emotional impact.
If you have not seen Don’t Blink, TVO (TVOntario) is streaming the film for free until July 9 at the link below. I highly recommend it.
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.
