Interview: Raul Gutierrez
Raul Gutierrez in the house. Read on.
Liz: So as I mentioned to you, what I love about your blog is your mix of words and photographs. It’s unlike anything else I’ve found online, and in this day of everybody posting the same stuff, that’s remarkable. I’m curious about the role of blogging in artists’ lives. Why did you start your blog, and what does it do for you as an artist?
Raul: I started this particular blog to let friends and family know what was going on with a move I was making from L.A. to New York. It began as a typical “I ate cornflakes for breakfast” blog. But the move happened in the same year as the birth of my first child, and becoming a parent sparks all sorts of internal machinery, and soon I found I was writing posts about the emotional reality of being a new parent—posts like this or this. But the idea of turning into a daddy blogger horrified me, so I tried masking all the papa posts with other stuff—posts from old journals, random thoughts, and travelogues. Becoming a parent meant spending much less time in galleries and museums and more time looking at photography on the Web, which led to making posts about photographers I found along the way. The blog evolved and still evolves, but it’s getting closer to resembling me. A friend told me recently that she thought the blog was a decent proxy for the letters I used to write to her. That’s sort of how I look at the entries these days: as open letters to friends.
As for the role it plays in my life, it’s a creative outlet, but it’s an outlet that talks back. Through the blog, my circle has grown larger and more varied than it ever would have been offline, through the blog I can get instant feedback if I want it, and through the blog I’ve received artistic support that I never would have had otherwise. Blog audiences are self selecting, so if you write about photography, your readers tend to care about photography. So when you meet blog readers in real life they tend to become insta-friends.
L: Much of what I like about your posts is the minimalism—like the one about the lies you told your three-year-old recently. You reveal so much of yourself in these posts, in very few words. How do you see that approach applying to your photographs, if at all?
R: In L.A., I worked for a movie producer at Paramount. In post-production, he would often repeat that old editing aphorism “Arrive late, leave early,” and time and time again I saw scenes improved by cutting both the beginning and the end. So, in theory, I like the idea of economy in storytelling. And when blogging, it’s sort of a necessity, as people have no attention spans. But I’ve rarely been accused of being a minimalist photographically speaking—in fact, probably the opposite is true. I shoot with wide-angle lenses and often try to cram as many stories into a frame as possible.
I’m an emotional often undisciplined photographer. I shoot daily and have a variety of projects going at any given time. Most of my negatives never see the light of day. I file them in boxes and never even print contact sheets. Part of my initial urge to post photography online was to use the audience as a motivational tool to force me to make scans of work that had been unseen for years. The pictures I put online were essentially rough selects from rolls of film that were eventually edited down to a show.
When editing, I try to ask myself, “Where is the story here? Is this the best shot to tell this story? Does it tell the story well enough?” . . . and then the ultimate and most useful question, “So what?” If you can’t answer “So what?”, you should go home and call it quits.
L: What are you working on photographically right now?
R: I’m working on a long-term project taking environmental portraits of fresh-off-the-boat immigrants in New York (usually in their apartments). I’ve been at it for two years and probably have two years to go. I’m planning on doing the same thing I did for Travels Without Maps—scanning and editing in public. I don’t want to start look at anything until I’ve finished shooting. I rarely look at negatives until I’m finished shooting.
L: Your show at the Nelson Hancock Gallery was called Travels Without Maps, and that fits with how I imagine you living your life—seeing where things take you, with few plans or road maps. You seem really . . . I guess “whimsical” is the best word I could find to describe the impression I have of you. You see the wonder in life, which is why I think your posts about your kids are so magical. I guess this isn’t a question so far. Hmm . . . okay, so why photography? You’re definitely good with words, so what is it about photography?
R: I’ve been making photographs since I was in elementary school. When I show up in my hometown, old-timers always say, “Hey, you were that kid with the camera.” So making photographs comes naturally and easily. I think in images. My photographic taste is binary. I pretty much love images or hate them (most things I hate). Words are much harder. I enjoy writing, but it’s a struggle. I always doubt my words.
Six months after graduating from college, I lost my mother and youngest brother and then soon afterward I lost grandparents and some close friends. Tragedy can deaden people, but for whatever reason the opposite happened to me. You never realize how much a finger can feel until you have a paper cut and after all those deaths I had a thousand paper cuts. It was as if the world had been blurry before and had snapped into focus. It’s been years since then, and carrying a camera helps me maintain that feeling of clarity. I see more with a camera in my hand, and when I see something, even if I don’t get the picture, I see what the picture should have been and I imagine the story contained within the picture.
Don’t know about the whimsical thing. I’m a quiet man, who comes from quiet people. At parties, I’m the guy in the corner nobody notices.
L: Last question, one I’m asking of everyone: I just got a US$37.50 store credit from photo-eye. What one photo book should I put that money toward buying? And why?
R: For sheer formal beauty, it’s hard to go wrong with Andrew Moore’s Russia ($36), but then again you could also get a used copy of Helen Levitt’s Slide Show for $26.75, which would give you ten dollars left over to put toward something else like KayLynn Deveney’s The Day to Day Life of Albert Hastings, which sells for $17.95. Of course, if I had that gift certificate, I’d probably put it toward something like Watanabe Katsumi’s Gangs of Kabukicho ($60) or anything by John Divola.
Liz: So as I mentioned to you, what I love about your blog is your mix of words and photographs. It’s unlike anything else I’ve found online, and in this day of everybody posting the same stuff, that’s remarkable. I’m curious about the role of blogging in artists’ lives. Why did you start your blog, and what does it do for you as an artist?
Raul: I started this particular blog to let friends and family know what was going on with a move I was making from L.A. to New York. It began as a typical “I ate cornflakes for breakfast” blog. But the move happened in the same year as the birth of my first child, and becoming a parent sparks all sorts of internal machinery, and soon I found I was writing posts about the emotional reality of being a new parent—posts like this or this. But the idea of turning into a daddy blogger horrified me, so I tried masking all the papa posts with other stuff—posts from old journals, random thoughts, and travelogues. Becoming a parent meant spending much less time in galleries and museums and more time looking at photography on the Web, which led to making posts about photographers I found along the way. The blog evolved and still evolves, but it’s getting closer to resembling me. A friend told me recently that she thought the blog was a decent proxy for the letters I used to write to her. That’s sort of how I look at the entries these days: as open letters to friends.
As for the role it plays in my life, it’s a creative outlet, but it’s an outlet that talks back. Through the blog, my circle has grown larger and more varied than it ever would have been offline, through the blog I can get instant feedback if I want it, and through the blog I’ve received artistic support that I never would have had otherwise. Blog audiences are self selecting, so if you write about photography, your readers tend to care about photography. So when you meet blog readers in real life they tend to become insta-friends.
L: Much of what I like about your posts is the minimalism—like the one about the lies you told your three-year-old recently. You reveal so much of yourself in these posts, in very few words. How do you see that approach applying to your photographs, if at all?
R: In L.A., I worked for a movie producer at Paramount. In post-production, he would often repeat that old editing aphorism “Arrive late, leave early,” and time and time again I saw scenes improved by cutting both the beginning and the end. So, in theory, I like the idea of economy in storytelling. And when blogging, it’s sort of a necessity, as people have no attention spans. But I’ve rarely been accused of being a minimalist photographically speaking—in fact, probably the opposite is true. I shoot with wide-angle lenses and often try to cram as many stories into a frame as possible.
Copyright © Raul Gutierrez
I’m an emotional often undisciplined photographer. I shoot daily and have a variety of projects going at any given time. Most of my negatives never see the light of day. I file them in boxes and never even print contact sheets. Part of my initial urge to post photography online was to use the audience as a motivational tool to force me to make scans of work that had been unseen for years. The pictures I put online were essentially rough selects from rolls of film that were eventually edited down to a show.
When editing, I try to ask myself, “Where is the story here? Is this the best shot to tell this story? Does it tell the story well enough?” . . . and then the ultimate and most useful question, “So what?” If you can’t answer “So what?”, you should go home and call it quits.
Copyright © Raul Gutierrez
L: What are you working on photographically right now?
R: I’m working on a long-term project taking environmental portraits of fresh-off-the-boat immigrants in New York (usually in their apartments). I’ve been at it for two years and probably have two years to go. I’m planning on doing the same thing I did for Travels Without Maps—scanning and editing in public. I don’t want to start look at anything until I’ve finished shooting. I rarely look at negatives until I’m finished shooting.
L: Your show at the Nelson Hancock Gallery was called Travels Without Maps, and that fits with how I imagine you living your life—seeing where things take you, with few plans or road maps. You seem really . . . I guess “whimsical” is the best word I could find to describe the impression I have of you. You see the wonder in life, which is why I think your posts about your kids are so magical. I guess this isn’t a question so far. Hmm . . . okay, so why photography? You’re definitely good with words, so what is it about photography?
R: I’ve been making photographs since I was in elementary school. When I show up in my hometown, old-timers always say, “Hey, you were that kid with the camera.” So making photographs comes naturally and easily. I think in images. My photographic taste is binary. I pretty much love images or hate them (most things I hate). Words are much harder. I enjoy writing, but it’s a struggle. I always doubt my words.
Copyright © Raul Gutierrez
Six months after graduating from college, I lost my mother and youngest brother and then soon afterward I lost grandparents and some close friends. Tragedy can deaden people, but for whatever reason the opposite happened to me. You never realize how much a finger can feel until you have a paper cut and after all those deaths I had a thousand paper cuts. It was as if the world had been blurry before and had snapped into focus. It’s been years since then, and carrying a camera helps me maintain that feeling of clarity. I see more with a camera in my hand, and when I see something, even if I don’t get the picture, I see what the picture should have been and I imagine the story contained within the picture.
Don’t know about the whimsical thing. I’m a quiet man, who comes from quiet people. At parties, I’m the guy in the corner nobody notices.
L: Last question, one I’m asking of everyone: I just got a US$37.50 store credit from photo-eye. What one photo book should I put that money toward buying? And why?
R: For sheer formal beauty, it’s hard to go wrong with Andrew Moore’s Russia ($36), but then again you could also get a used copy of Helen Levitt’s Slide Show for $26.75, which would give you ten dollars left over to put toward something else like KayLynn Deveney’s The Day to Day Life of Albert Hastings, which sells for $17.95. Of course, if I had that gift certificate, I’d probably put it toward something like Watanabe Katsumi’s Gangs of Kabukicho ($60) or anything by John Divola.
Labels: Andrew Moore, blogs, books, Helen Levitt, interviews, John Divola, KayLynn Deveney, photographers, Raul Gutierrez, Watanabe Katsumi
posted by Liz at 11:35 AM
3 Comments:
Interesting interview!
Thanks for the great interview Liz. I'm one of those parents who started reading Raul's blog because I love his writing about his kids. But over time, the blog opened me to the beauty and power of photography in a way I had never experienced before. Now I see everything differently. Gracias Raul.
Thanks for the interview. I've been semi-obsessed with Raul buying a print from his gallery on a visit to New York and then finding his blog, videos, and so on. Interesting to see behind the veil a bit.
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