Interview: Greg Wasserstrom
One of my all-time favorite bloggers I’ve never met is Greg Wasserstrom. As I told him when I e-mailed my list of questions, I see him as part of a younger generation of photographers, many of whom seem Serious (with a capital S), and he doesn’t. I don’t mean that his work isn’t serious or that he’s not serious about his work; I mean that he doesn’t take himself too seriously, and I dig that.
On to the interview.
Liz: I love your project The Doldrums. It feels really cohesive in its disjointedness to me, like there’s a madness with a method underneath. Is that intentional, or does it just come out that way? I tend to be worried about drawing connections between images, and you seem not to be burdened with any of that, and it works so well. I guess I’m curious how you do it, if that’s even answerable.
Greg: I’m really happy to hear you say Doldrums feels cohesive. Having lived through all the moments the series presents, it certainly feels cohesive to me, but I’ve shown it to a couple gallerists who didn’t agree. But I do feel that these images are inherently tied together and that they are part of an ongoing body of work. The series is about the last few months before I moved from D.C., so I added the subtitle “A Fractional Portrait of the Nation’s Capital.” I think that helps make sense of it for people who don’t see what I’m getting at at first (or second) glance.
At the same time though, I kind of don’t give a shit about traditional organizing principles. Not that there’s anything wrong with creating work in a more project-based way. If that was a process that came naturally to me, I would assuredly use it. But I don’t think like that. I just shoot, and then the art is in the editing. So, in a certain sense, they all are just a bunch of one-off snapshots thrown together. But they create a sort of nonlinear narrative about me and the space I inhabit. If that doesn’t appeal, I don’t blame you. My life isn’t exactly the most fascinating.
But I hope to make work that that’s both personal and socially revealing. Looking at my life and what’s going on around me always makes me think that it’s totally insane that we live in a system that can support kids like me. So I want to try and do things that are sort of self-conscious chronicles of this particular historic moment; something that’s immersed in it all, but always cognizant of the giant thundercloud that’s hanging over this entire period of history.
But even if you don’t buy that, I think that my way of seeing comes across loud and clear. It all serves as a chronicle of depression if nothing else. So one way or another, I think it’s the autobiographical nature of what I do and the inescapable point of view I bring to it that links my work together—at least in my eyes.
L: How did you get started in photography? What made you want to be a photographer? And you write, too, from what I read on your blog, so how do you mesh the two interests in your life? Do you see yourself more as a photographer or as a writer? Do you want to find a way to combine them more directly?
G: Oh, gosh. I really have been using a camera in some form or other since I was a pretty little kid. I always loved taking pictures when we were on vacation growing up and practically begged my parents for my own camera. They were always really hesitant to give me anything of the sort because I’ve never been very good at keeping things nice. I went through quite a few. I have no idea what happened to all the pictures. I would love to take a look at them now, especially since my way of working has come pretty much full circle.
I got into stop-motion animation when I was 10 or 11, which developed into an interest in video art by the time I was going into high school. I got into still photography around the time I was graduating. The common thread here, I think, is that these are all ways to make art without having to have, say, fine motor skills or other abilities demanded by other forms of visual art. Also, I’m an incredibly analytical person, and I think I’m drawn to the photograph because of its capacity for symbolism. Photographs are interesting, I think, when they add up to depict something much larger than what’s within any individual frame.
That’s how my photography relates to what I write; I’m a political blogger, so my job is to provide commentary, which is what I also try and do with my pictures. So I don’t really see myself as some hybrid of a writer and photographer. I think of myself more as a kind of social observer working across a couple of different mediums. I would love nothing more than to combine these two things directly; they’re the same thing as far as I’m concerned, so I’ve been experimenting with different ways to do this in a kind of interesting or innovative way. To that end, I’m sort of looking to Wolfgang Tillmans and Dash Snow and the way both incorporate news clippings and other text into their work. I’m getting closer, I think.
L: When you think about photography, do you see it more as a craft or an art? I’m thinking of woodworkers, for example—they can make beautiful things, but they probably still see themselves as craftspeople more than artists. Maybe it’s a moot point, actually. I don’t know . . . scrap this question if it doesn’t do anything for you.
G: I don’t think I could dare to classify an entire medium as one thing or another. I’ve seen wedding photographs that I’ve really loved. And I’ve seen photographs on the walls of museums that make me vomit in my mouth a little. I suppose it has a bit to do with what kind of pictures are being taken and the attitude of the photographer about her own work. All the boundaries are really blurry. But when I think of photography as craft, I think of the guy who takes pictures at Little League games for the newsletter or something, all the way up through certain approaches to photojournalism and some commercial photography. But things are what we make of them, really.
L: Do you have any specific goals for your photography? Where do you want to go with it? (I sound like a college admissions counselor all of a sudden.) I mean, are you thinking you want to remain in the art world, focus on gallery shows, maybe a book someday, teach, etc.? Or do you think you’ll go the editorial/commercial route and try to make a living from your photographs? Or maybe neither?
G: Yeah, I mean, I have all sorts of grandiose fantasies about where I hope all this will go. I was just at Ryan McGinley’s opening at Team Gallery the other night and it was ridiculous and, of course, I'm sitting there thinking, “I could see this for myself.” So that’s pretty silly and is akin to wanting to be Radiohead or something. In real terms, I don’t have a specific plan for where I’m going. I know I want to be in this for the long haul, I want to get an MFA, I want to teach. I would love to make books. Regular editorial work would be fantastic, though I’m not comfortable enough to start seeking it out just at the moment. And if someone were to pay me to do commercial work for them, I would have no qualms whatsoever. (McGinley just did a big shoot for Heineken, I hear.) But I feel like I have a couple of questions to answer before I go full throttle after my dreams of riches and international superstardom. As soon as I feel like I have a little more control of the kind of work I produce, I’ll be hot on the heels of destiny, or whatever it is they say. I hope to be on much different footing a year from now.
L: I just got a $37.50 store credit from photo-eye. What one photo book should I put that money toward buying? And why?
G: I flipped through Brian Finke’s new book, Flight Attendants, when I was at The powerHouse Arena the other night and I would probably pick that up. He takes some pretty well-established archetypes (the pilot, the flight attendant) and does a masterful job playing with them and looking at them in very fresh ways. Also, the images are gorgeous.
On to the interview.
Liz: I love your project The Doldrums. It feels really cohesive in its disjointedness to me, like there’s a madness with a method underneath. Is that intentional, or does it just come out that way? I tend to be worried about drawing connections between images, and you seem not to be burdened with any of that, and it works so well. I guess I’m curious how you do it, if that’s even answerable.
Greg: I’m really happy to hear you say Doldrums feels cohesive. Having lived through all the moments the series presents, it certainly feels cohesive to me, but I’ve shown it to a couple gallerists who didn’t agree. But I do feel that these images are inherently tied together and that they are part of an ongoing body of work. The series is about the last few months before I moved from D.C., so I added the subtitle “A Fractional Portrait of the Nation’s Capital.” I think that helps make sense of it for people who don’t see what I’m getting at at first (or second) glance.
At the same time though, I kind of don’t give a shit about traditional organizing principles. Not that there’s anything wrong with creating work in a more project-based way. If that was a process that came naturally to me, I would assuredly use it. But I don’t think like that. I just shoot, and then the art is in the editing. So, in a certain sense, they all are just a bunch of one-off snapshots thrown together. But they create a sort of nonlinear narrative about me and the space I inhabit. If that doesn’t appeal, I don’t blame you. My life isn’t exactly the most fascinating.
But I hope to make work that that’s both personal and socially revealing. Looking at my life and what’s going on around me always makes me think that it’s totally insane that we live in a system that can support kids like me. So I want to try and do things that are sort of self-conscious chronicles of this particular historic moment; something that’s immersed in it all, but always cognizant of the giant thundercloud that’s hanging over this entire period of history.
But even if you don’t buy that, I think that my way of seeing comes across loud and clear. It all serves as a chronicle of depression if nothing else. So one way or another, I think it’s the autobiographical nature of what I do and the inescapable point of view I bring to it that links my work together—at least in my eyes.
Copyright © Greg Wasserstrom
L: How did you get started in photography? What made you want to be a photographer? And you write, too, from what I read on your blog, so how do you mesh the two interests in your life? Do you see yourself more as a photographer or as a writer? Do you want to find a way to combine them more directly?
G: Oh, gosh. I really have been using a camera in some form or other since I was a pretty little kid. I always loved taking pictures when we were on vacation growing up and practically begged my parents for my own camera. They were always really hesitant to give me anything of the sort because I’ve never been very good at keeping things nice. I went through quite a few. I have no idea what happened to all the pictures. I would love to take a look at them now, especially since my way of working has come pretty much full circle.
I got into stop-motion animation when I was 10 or 11, which developed into an interest in video art by the time I was going into high school. I got into still photography around the time I was graduating. The common thread here, I think, is that these are all ways to make art without having to have, say, fine motor skills or other abilities demanded by other forms of visual art. Also, I’m an incredibly analytical person, and I think I’m drawn to the photograph because of its capacity for symbolism. Photographs are interesting, I think, when they add up to depict something much larger than what’s within any individual frame.
That’s how my photography relates to what I write; I’m a political blogger, so my job is to provide commentary, which is what I also try and do with my pictures. So I don’t really see myself as some hybrid of a writer and photographer. I think of myself more as a kind of social observer working across a couple of different mediums. I would love nothing more than to combine these two things directly; they’re the same thing as far as I’m concerned, so I’ve been experimenting with different ways to do this in a kind of interesting or innovative way. To that end, I’m sort of looking to Wolfgang Tillmans and Dash Snow and the way both incorporate news clippings and other text into their work. I’m getting closer, I think.
Copyright © Greg Wasserstrom
L: When you think about photography, do you see it more as a craft or an art? I’m thinking of woodworkers, for example—they can make beautiful things, but they probably still see themselves as craftspeople more than artists. Maybe it’s a moot point, actually. I don’t know . . . scrap this question if it doesn’t do anything for you.
G: I don’t think I could dare to classify an entire medium as one thing or another. I’ve seen wedding photographs that I’ve really loved. And I’ve seen photographs on the walls of museums that make me vomit in my mouth a little. I suppose it has a bit to do with what kind of pictures are being taken and the attitude of the photographer about her own work. All the boundaries are really blurry. But when I think of photography as craft, I think of the guy who takes pictures at Little League games for the newsletter or something, all the way up through certain approaches to photojournalism and some commercial photography. But things are what we make of them, really.
Copyright © Greg Wasserstrom
L: Do you have any specific goals for your photography? Where do you want to go with it? (I sound like a college admissions counselor all of a sudden.) I mean, are you thinking you want to remain in the art world, focus on gallery shows, maybe a book someday, teach, etc.? Or do you think you’ll go the editorial/commercial route and try to make a living from your photographs? Or maybe neither?
G: Yeah, I mean, I have all sorts of grandiose fantasies about where I hope all this will go. I was just at Ryan McGinley’s opening at Team Gallery the other night and it was ridiculous and, of course, I'm sitting there thinking, “I could see this for myself.” So that’s pretty silly and is akin to wanting to be Radiohead or something. In real terms, I don’t have a specific plan for where I’m going. I know I want to be in this for the long haul, I want to get an MFA, I want to teach. I would love to make books. Regular editorial work would be fantastic, though I’m not comfortable enough to start seeking it out just at the moment. And if someone were to pay me to do commercial work for them, I would have no qualms whatsoever. (McGinley just did a big shoot for Heineken, I hear.) But I feel like I have a couple of questions to answer before I go full throttle after my dreams of riches and international superstardom. As soon as I feel like I have a little more control of the kind of work I produce, I’ll be hot on the heels of destiny, or whatever it is they say. I hope to be on much different footing a year from now.
Copyright © Greg Wasserstrom
L: I just got a $37.50 store credit from photo-eye. What one photo book should I put that money toward buying? And why?
G: I flipped through Brian Finke’s new book, Flight Attendants, when I was at The powerHouse Arena the other night and I would probably pick that up. He takes some pretty well-established archetypes (the pilot, the flight attendant) and does a masterful job playing with them and looking at them in very fresh ways. Also, the images are gorgeous.
Labels: artists, blogs, books, Brian Finke, Dash Snow, Greg Wasserstrom, interviews, music, photographers, Radiohead, Ryan McGinley, Wolfgang Tillmans
posted by Liz at 8:13 AM
