Artist Lecture: Amy Stein

© Amy Stein

On Wednesday March 4th, 2009, fine art photographer Amy Stein spoke at Virginia Commonwealth University as part of VCU's Visiting Artist lecture series. The New York-based Stein spoke of her seemingly random decision to become a photographer and the bumpy road that has brought her to where she is now. It was very encouraging to hear her speak of the struggles and frustration that all artists are prone to. She said that it was the publishing of one particular photo-an image of a young girl laying on the beach on the 4th of July- that took her from almost throwing in the towel to feeling like she really could do something special with her art. Her casual, excited manner and the openness with which she spoke made the lecture both fun and enlightening.

© Amy Stein

Besides simply loving her work, it was the insight into her artistic process that I appreciated the most. I had never heard an artist speak so candidly about their inspirations and methods of producing work. It was interesting to hear how one project, the Women and Guns series, provided the inspiration for another body of work, the Domesticated series. While speaking of the Domesticated series, Stein made the comment, "I just knew this work had to be made." I love that she felt such a strong conviction to make her work. I also found it very interesting that she said she often works on two projects at the same time, approaching the work with different methods as to be able to go back and forth when frustrated with one or the other. It was while discussing the Stranded series that Stein made a comment that has truly stuck with me. She stated that, "Photography is about being vulnerable, opening yourself up to new experiences, taking risks." I think this is a beautiful, inspiring quote that challenges me to be the best photographer I can be and to allow my work to take me into the unknown.

Sametime 1:04

On January 1st, 2009, four VCU students embarked on a photographic journey. The participants, Amber Bender, Ben Hostetter, Morgan Cofer, and Rachel Rainer, have each committed to take a photo at exactly 1:04pm everyday for one year. The idea is not to plan a piece of art but to make a "spontaneous, artistic documentation." Each person must crop their image to a 5 x 5 inch square and upload the image to the group's blog (www.sametime.blogspot.org) with an accompanying caption.

A few of my favorite images.

I love the idea of making art daily, and a photograph at a specific time everyday is an ideal way to realistically make it happen. I believe that the blog is a necessary component of the project as it requires the participants to stay accountable. I really enjoy the cropping of the images to 5" x 5". I have always loved a square format photo and for this project it gives a small twist that keeps even mundane images from being completely generic.




Each person has their own style of sorts and it is interesting to see different personalities shine through in each person's choice of subject matter, framing (or cropping), and accompanying caption. The images that are the most compelling are the one's that seem to have a bit more thought behind them, not simply a random shot of where they were at the time. Each artist seems to excel in this at certain points but not in others. The accompanying caption is also an important part of any given image's success. Simple sentences describing the content of the shot is not as interesting as those that give insight or those that make one think. Thus far, Ben seems to be the most consistent in producing interesting images with equally appealing captions. I am inspired by the work and dedication of all four artists and intend to keep following the progress of the project.

Best of 2008 Photo Show

Photo by PJ Sykes, acquired via
www.myspace.com/bestof2008photoshow

On February 1st, 2009, a show entitled "Best of 2008 Photo Show" was mounted at Harrison Street Coffee Shop in Richmond, VA. Conceived and curated by PJ Sykes, the show featured the photographs of 24 Richmond photographers (both professional and hobbyists), including a shot by Sykes himself. The works were mounted around the small restaurant, directly above booths and tables, on both the top and bottom floors. The photographs on the top floor were fairly accessible as the tables are narrow and rarely populated. Those mounted on the ground floor were a little more difficult to view. Small photographs above a large booth required one to crawl in to take a close enough look. Booths that were occupied obviously did not allow for this and produced a few awkward moments as I hovered from a short distance, trying to get a decent glimpse of the photograph inside. Although not the ideal setting to view a collective show only once, I can imagine being a regular there, choosing a different booth every time to contemplate and enjoy a different work of art. (If money wasn't an issue I would be a regular there...)

Photo by Hassan Pitts, acquired via
www.myspace.com/bestof2008photoshow

In terms of content I felt like the majority of the images were well chosen. With a concept and title as loose as "Best of 2008 Photo Show," it worked for there to be a variety of images represented. Many of the shots seemed to capture spontaneous moments of life in Richmond. And even some of the obviously posed shots still seemed to capture that essence. This "snapshot" aesthetic united the show, giving it an almost "yearbook" feel... "The Best of Richmond 2008 Yearbook!" Made me want to join the club! It was also neat to see not only my professor, Hassan Pitts, have a photo in the show, but also two other friends/acquaintances. Michael Otley is a friend of a friend that I have met a few times, talked about photography with, and actually taken pictures of as he was playing with his band, Pedals on our Pirate Ships. Ian Graham went to my high school (in Northern VA) and while I don't know him personally, I am friends with his younger sister, Lydia, and have been meaning to have her get the two of us in touch. Randomly knowing two people in a 24 person show was an exciting reminder of how truly small the Richmond art community can be and how important it is to network, not just to stay in the loop but to make like-minded friends that will encourage and push me in my artistic journey, just as I will do for them.

First Fridays: Feb '09

It’s my first “First Fridays” in Richmond and I can’t quite put a finger on the way I feel. Can one love and loathe at the same time? I feel that I belong here, that it should be my work on the sanitary walls of these galleries, yet I feel out of place, as if the masses of people have already sucked all the meaning away from anything I might desire to contemplate. Bands play music that I don’t connect with (even if I like it); artist statements are nonsensical paragraphs that I read without taking to heart or memory. And it’s not because I don’t care to feel or know or comprehend–for that is why I view art and that is why I live… to feel and know and comprehend. It’s the humming of the crowd and the constant pressing notion that someone is looking over my shoulder, waiting for me to move on so that they can take a gander at any given work. “I must move forward, I must keep with the pace of the masses!” It’s unnerving, although I know it is probably more of a self-imposed hast than actual people tapping their feet impatiently behind me. Either way, I am somewhat of a “slow” person. I value quality over everything else, (sometimes to a fault, but I’m working on it). I like to take my time, especially when viewing art. I want to soak it in so that I remember, so that it makes an impact on me, so that it makes an impact on my art. Thankfully, my little digital Elph came to the rescue the next day, reminding me what I had found intriguing the night before but hadn’t had the time to properly consider.



















It was the paintings of Christopher Quirk at the 1708 Gallery that I truly found most interesting that night. They were like nothing I’d ever seen before. Paint used almost in a sculptural fashion. And not in the way that I’ve seen “sculpted paint” or defined brush or knife strokes before. This was paint as sculpture. Tiny orange buttons, green worms, scarlet-red nipples, multi-colored mountains, craters revealing layers beneath. I loved it at the time, snapping pictures of different paintings, close-up and farther away, and a quick snap of the artist statement as I was out the door. It wasn’t until later inspection of the pictures and a rereading of the artist statement that I realized I may appreciate the work more that I do what the artist has to say about it. I found the statement profoundly assuming and higher-than-thou. I feel as if all work is a proposed look at someone or something. As an artist, I can only say what I feel my work represents or what it represents to me and what I would hope others would glean from it. Quirk’s statements are so definitive, as if he is telling the viewer what he did and how they should feel because of it. A particular sentence of dislike is, “I use the language of painting in counterintuitive ways to further suspend resolution.” Nice lingo but let me decide for myself what your “language of painting” does.