Artist Spotlight: Phillip Jones

We have been lucky to work with Phillip Jones for the past few years. His experience of photography has been growing since he was young with his father being a professional cinematographer. An avid film lover, Phillip primarily shoots medium format black and white film and creates traditional darkroom prints.  While his subject matter ranges from each location he photographs, his rich tonal range stays the same. One thing is for sure, he has a style that is known and admired by many and it was great to get to know a little more about his process.

  • How did you become interested in photography? Was it something you grew up with?

PJ: Yes, photography was always there. My father was a professional cinematographer, filming documentaries out of Washington, DC. He also did still work and was so busy that the best way to see him was visit the darkroom or tag along on his photo shoots.

He landed a dream project filming the Cape Cod National Seashore for its new visitor center. If you ever wondered who made those films in visitor centers, it was dad.

The whole family stayed at a rental cottage on the Great Pond, in Easton, while he worked on the production. After about four days I was getting bored as only a 13-year-old can.

Dad fished an Olympus Pen-F camera out of his bag. Sleek and silver, it exposed 72 half-frame shots onto a 35mm roll of film. He said that I could have just one roll for the vacation and not to drop it into the pond. He'd develop it when we got back home, then we'd go over what I'd come up with.

So, my first roll of film was shot on a dare from my father, a master photographer.

At first, it was hard to commit to actually snapping the shutter, but just wandering around with my photo-radar jacked up changed everything.

It all seems quaint now, most children have taken thousands of iPhone photos before they're ten.

  •   Walk us through your shooting process – do you scout each place for the perfect time of day or is it more spontaneous where you walk around and see what inspires you?

PJ: When traveling somewhere special, with limited time or if a return trip is unlikely, it often takes longer doing the research than being there.

I study guide books, topographical atlases, Google Earth, Panoramio, "Things to Do" in Trip Advisor, Flickr, Pinterest and Google Images for a start. Then delve deeper into the more interesting locations and, by the flight, have a folder of images, maps, and GPS coordinates.

These are the "official destinations" for the trip, but serve more as back-ups if the free-form exploration fails. I try to be observant and not agenda driven. It's always seemed presumptuous to decide what to photograph first rather than consider incidental subjects as they're encountered.

It's easy to become complacent when working on home turf, feeling like Boston's given up all it's secrets. Then you remember that the city's still evolving and you've just been stuck on the same ant trails. I often check for the transitions of earlier photo sites to get warmed up. 

Most American cities are somewhat readable. There's often a river with a historical downtown that people are trying to revitalize. Downstream has industrial and utilitarian structures. Nicer residences are upstream or uphill, things like that.

It's that not difficult to sniff out regions that are pregnant with visual possibilities, but I can't really explain how someone knows that it's time to set up the gear. Guess you've got to be there.

  • You split your time between Atlanta, Boston, and traveling. Does one city inspire you to create your images more than the other? 

PJ: Other photographers have published excellent work on Atlanta, Mark Steinmetz for one. And as much as I love aspects of Atlanta, it's aesthetic of sprawling sameness doesn't jibe with the visual depth that I'm looking for. "The South", on the other hand, is a goldmine for subject matter. Birmingham, Macon, Mobile, Richmond and Savannah have yet to be completely retrofitted.

Boston is special, visually. It's like Philadelphia and Baltimore; important East Coast cities since colonial times. They've had robust industrial periods and are centers of international trade. In other words, they've had an accretion of character over generations that contrasts with their post-industrial rebirths.

When starting this 1100 mile commute between studios in Boston and Atlanta, I envisioned a kind of James Bond character with a dark suit and black attaché hopping on and off jets. It's ended up more like the Joad family in "Grapes of Wrath". The old truck with a mattress strapped on.

So, over a few days, I drive along the East Coast with my Toyota brimming with camera gear and supplies. The only stops I make are scheduled because the trip's just too long for meandering. 

  • Because you shoot at night you must have a lot of long exposures. What is the average night exposure you use? Do you remember what your longest exposure has been so far? 

PJ: Now that CMOS sensors are creeping toward a million ISO, digital photography is able to capture night images that we couldn't even imagine before.

Still, a mechanical camera can take eight-hour exposures, even in sub-zero weather. This is useful to record long-term transitions within a scene.

The moon and stars become arcs of light, bodies of water look like sheets of ice and a crowded plaza becomes a de-populated mist.

These visual aspects of long exposures complement the hard-edge linearity of the architecture and industry in my current series.

If it's windy, or even breezy, don't bother with analog night photography. Always using a tripod, I don't touch the camera while the lens is open. Even a cable-release transmits too much hand-vibration for critical detail. Instead, I block the light with an eight-inch card covered with black velvet. I open the lens, let the camera vibrations settle down and simply lift the card up and down for an exposure. Exactly like they did before shutters were introduced in the 1800's.

If there's time, it's best to set up before dusk and photograph the progression into full night. You want to catch the few minutes when the artificial light balances with the fading sunset to retain detail in the shadows.

Cities are not always that dark, especially when they're soft-lit by a glowing low-cloud canopy. Nevertheless, most nocturnal light levels don't even register on meters and film sensitivity drops off with longer exposures, so I estimate the luminance, based on previous sessions, and take a series of exposures, bracketing them in one-stop increments.

A typical set of exposures of an urban night scene might be 5 seconds through 8 minutes at f16, using Ilford Delta 100 film. So that would be: 5s,10s, 20s, 40s,1m, 2m, 4m and 8m. I finish the twelve-frame roll with best-guess exposures. Slightly over-exposed negs scan better than underexposed ones.

When staying at a hotel, I'll ask for a room with an upper-floor balcony, then check out the conditions for an extra-long urban night shot.

When it's gotten truly dark, I set the aperture at F 22–32, open the lens and set the iPhone's alarm for 6-8 hours; before the first light. When nothing goes wrong, there's been some surprisingly good results, especially in under-lit in cities.

  • Lets chat about the darkroom – how has your process changed throughout the years? Do you find it more difficult to work in film today versus when you started?

PJ: Film photography splits into two basic activities. First, you venture out to great locations and have adventures capturing the images.

Next, you seal yourself off in a claustrophobic black room with trays of smelly chemicals, turn out the lights and work there for days.

But, all those adventures are resurrected in your mind as you're creating the prints. The quiet darkroom intensifies the concentration needed to re-imagine those moments. This helps to create a print that pulls the viewer back into the original experience and makes them glad they visited.

Since your trying to transpose a real event into a flat b&w image, you've got to dip into the darkroom box-of-tricks for help. I try to get as vivid as print as possible without it seeming contrived or over-cooked. If the technique is evident, it's failed.

My darkroom methods have changed dramatically in the last 10 years, thanks in part, to the services of Panopticon.

The Panopticon team develop my negatives. Although it's a more technical than creative part photography, a properly developed negative is essential to the final print's success. Now I have beautifully developed medium-format negatives that I scan as huge 16-bit linear files, equivalent to a 500 megapixel capture.

Next, I process the scan in Photoshop and send the file back to Panopticon, who use their miraculous LVT (light valve technology) device and burn a 4x5 negative of the image. They also output any prints that are too large for my 20 x 24" darkroom trays.

The 4x5's are a dream to print in the darkroom. They still need some burning-in on the corners and edges (enlarger light drop-off)), but it's the same exposure for every negative. This way I have the versatility of Photoshop processing and the beauty of a selenium-toned gelatin-silver print.

  • What is it about a scene that makes you want to stop and take a photograph? 

PJ: Wolfgang Tillmans said, "If anything's worth photographing, then everything's worth photographing".

Well, sure, but my gallerist says, "You can photograph any crazy thing you want, but I choose what goes on the gallery's walls."  So I try to work within that polarity.

The "Photo Alert!" light is always blinking "Stand By" in the back of my brain. Just when you feel that your best work is behind you, suddenly there's a vista that takes your breath away. Or, more likely, you catch something out of the corner of your eye and go back for a second look. Then, while in heightened photographer mode, the more nuanced opportunities are spotted.

I often approach a scene by taking digital shots to experiment with lens lengths, frame lines and positions before breaking out the film camera. That also produces a light reading, timestamp and GPS coordinates for later. Next, I imagine the optimum light and weather conditions for the subject, even the dreaded "first light of dawn" option.

Also, considering the content of my work, I balance how dangerous or illegal my being there is against the promise of the image. Some subjects have been so compelling that I've accepted pretty high risks, like being held for questioning. Still, it's easier to apologize than get permission, which you never get. Helpful hint: Never photograph the military.

Now, later in my career, I have to push back against déjà vu's that say I've taken similar shots before. I probably have, but the current one might be an upgrade.

If all systems are go, I set up and begin trying to get a definitive shot. Don't count on coming back or that conditions won't change. Woody Allen may have said, "80% of success is just showing up", but "seizing the moment" is the other 20%.     

  • What are some tips/advice you would give to someone just starting out in photography?

PJ: At this point, seems like everyone's already started out in photography. We're in the midst of a technological revolution that we can't fully grasp.

It's a shock to see the century-old giant Nikon reeling from loss of sales to smart phones that didn't even exist 10 years ago.

The iPhone's easy to use and already in your pocket. You can send your creations immediately to Facebook, Instagram and YouTube, then sit back and wait for the "likes" to start cascading in.

If you have a poetical vision, why can't a smart phone serve your needs?  It's quite possible to shoot a feature for Vogue with an iPhone, but the looks you'd get from the art director, stylist and models might be wilting.

Now, more photographs are taken each day than in the first fifty years of photography. But there are qualitative differences, like there is between the Gettysburg address and a grocery list.

The basic questions remain, like for a start: What do you choose to put in front of the lens and how do you interpret its image? Is the photograph telling the story you want it to?  Do variouscomponents support or contradict this message? The list goes on. Some of it's intuitive, but mostly it's a craft that requires training.

The serious photography student is fortunate to have excellent schools in Boston. The New England School of Photography and Mass College of Art are both good places to study. NESOP has courses in commercial photography and MassArt a great fine-art department, although neither are limited to just that.  After some experience, assisting professionals on the job is a crash-course field and studio techniques.

When you feel ready, sign up for portfolio reviews. Get as many crits as possible and if certain observations keep coming up, it's kind of a litmus test.

For me, photography is the key way to connect to life first hand, rather than through the interpretation of others. It's also given me the impetus and license to explore everywhere. That's why I try hard to make my photographs worth seeing. 

 

Artist Spotlight: Suzanne Revy

Suzanne Révy grew up in Los Angeles, California. After high school she moved to Brooklyn, NY where she earned a BFA in photography from the Pratt Institute. While there,  she was immersed in making and printing black and white photographs. After art school, she worked as a photography editor in magazine publishing atU.S.News & World Report and later at Yankee Magazine. With the arrival of two sons, she left publishing, and rekindled her interest in the darkroom. She photographed her boys, their cousins and friends, and built three portfolios of pictures over a fifteen year period.  The first,  a black and white series,  explored the culture and nature of childhood play. The second, made with a lo-fi plastic camera and color film,  represents her own emotional response as mother and witness to their growth and development. The third, a series of color pictures made in her home as her teen sons seemed to retreat into their rooms while she studied for her recently earned MFA at the New Hampshire Institute of Art.

  • You have been photographing your two children for the past (how many?) years. What are their reactions to your work? Do they like the photographs you have taken of them throughout the years?

SR: I’ve been photographing them seriously since about 2003 when I built the darkroom, so it’s been about thirteen years. When they were quite small, the camera was simply present during a lot of their outdoor play time. I’d observe them, how they handled, say… leaves or rocks or twigs, how they’d move while at the playground. I’d watch how light illuminated their gestures, and make pictures without interrupting their play. As they grew older, I’d need more of their cooperation, and as teenagers, I generally need at least grudging consent to make a picture. To some degree, I think they are quite happy that I’ve made this work, but the act of making pictures for them at this point, I think may feel like a tedious chore they do for me. In the long run, however, I think they will appreciate this work, especially when they have children.

  • You work in film weather it is color or black and white. Is there a specific reason why you haven’t made the switch to digital?

SR: When I began these projects, which weren’t really conceived as projects, I was using a film 35mm SLR with all the bells and whistles. It was a Nikon F100, great workhorse of a camera. In late 2004, I bought a Mamiya 7, and though the camera at first was harder to use, I found the pictures became more interesting, and I concluded that the Nikon was just too helpful. The focus points somehow forced me into a kind of repetitive use of the rule of thirds, and though the pictures I made weren’t bad,  they weren’t unexpected or surprising either. The ones I made with the Mamiya 7 were more interesting images, and far more fun to print in the darkroom than my 35mm negatives. As digital became better, I was committed to sticking with my medium format cameras, so I could keep seeing and recording my world with cameras that inherently slowed me down. I knew I didn’t want all those helpful bells and whistles. All that said, I did buy a mirrorless digital camera recently, but have rarely used it yet, though I love my phone camera and have been actively posting to Instagram with those pictures.

  •  When you are photographing how much of it is instinctual versus planned?

SR: More often than not it is intuitive and springs from my observations. Occasionally, I’ll see some bit of light, and I’ll ask one of my kids to just stand in that light or I’ll see them do something, and I’ll ask them to let me make some pictures of whatever they are doing, but I might need to have them move to a better spot of light. I don’t construct or plan pictures ahead of time.

SR: It had been a long time goal of mine to get an MFA, but the various stages of my life prevented it until my kids got a little older. There’s something to be said for going back to school in your early 50’s, I feel so grateful that I was able to pursue it while maintaining a semblance of family life with two teen boys. I think my work became better while studying.  Taking an extended period of time to think about the intuitive process I employ and how my work fits into the conversation of contemporary photography was invaluable.

  • You have recently attended quite a few portfolio reviews! Which reviews have you attended and what was the feedback you left with?

SR: I went to Foto Fest in Houston back in March and just recently attended Review Santa Fe. I got some excellent feedback on the work, and some good ideas for places to show it, and interesting ideas for how to start thinking about organizing it into a book. The best part of going to reviews, however, is connecting with other photographers. I’ve made great friends at these review events. They are expensive, and exhausting, however, so I won’t be attending anymore until I feel like I have another solid body of work ready to present.

  • What artists influence you and how do they influence your thinking, creating and career path?

SR: As an avid student in the history of photography, my influences vary widely. While at Pratt in the early 80’s, I was influenced by classic street photographers. Garry Winogrand was a particular favorite of mine. Then in the early 90’s, I became aware of the photo-secessonist Gertrude Käsebier’s work along with Emmet Gowin and Sally Mann who all made pictures close to home. Frustrated that their images often looked so set up, I felt that my medium format allowed me to photograph the children in the way I had made street photographs, but still provided a large negative to make beautiful prints. More recently, I’ve been looking at a lot of color photographers, William Eggelston, Larry Sultan, and a few more contemporary photographers such as Melissa Ann Pinney, Jessica Todd Harper and JoAnn Verburg.

  • What are some tips/advice you would give to someone just starting out in photography?

SR: It’s most important to do the work. Make and study your pictures everyday until you understand your own eye and your own voice within the medium.

 

 

 

Artist Spotlight: Heather Hobler

Heather Hobler came into the office a year ago when she started photographing her backyard seascapes. Keeping her tripod in the same location, she shoots color negative film during different times of the day. Each print holds luscious colors ranging from cool blues to warm sunsets. The meditative quality of her images invites the viewer to linger and explore every seashell and wave.

  • What is your earliest memory of art?

HH: A large dark abstract Grace Hartigan Wedding Dress painting. This painting hung innocently on
my great-aunt Francis’s dining room wall in an old whalers home in Mattapoisett. It was among
a Joseph Cornell Shadow Box, a Rembrandt etching, a Picasso scarf and many more hidden
treasures. These were true works of art living an ordinary life among the wallpaper and salt air.
Francis lived and worked in NYC in the world of art and museums. She took the train up for
holidays and weekends. Certainly quite exotic to my small town girlhood.

And along with these examples of high art I grew up in a house that my father and mother built
from the foundation up, sailed on boats that my father and brother built, wore handmade wool
garments from both grandmothers and mother, ate from the gardens of my grandfather, have a
handmade doll my sister made me.

In each object, aesthetics and use played equally important roles. What makes art “art” has
always intrigued me.

  • What is your background? Did you go to school for photography?

HH: I went to both SMFA Boston and Tufts University, finishing with a BFA from Tufts in my 20’s and
then back to get my certificate from SMFA in my 30’s. In my 20’s I studied film, video and
drawing and in my 30’s mostly painting and drawing. I have no formal training in photography.

HH: This all started innocently as snapshots and quickly built into a reflective rhythmic journalistic
ritual. Taken from the same place daily and most often multiple times per day I stand facing
south over Buzzards Bay to document the pageant that is my front yard. As this work grows so
does my interest and dedication to what I feel is my most successful body of work.


“The adventure of the sun is the great natural drama by which we live” -Henry Benson, The
Outermost House


I had cancer 8 years ago, and it changed my life (of course and so what), and so too it changed
my belief in the validity of my art making. It was in the building of this collection it became
obvious this was a continuation and distillation of my art. Concepts of systems, comparisons,
suggestions of what came before, the play of edge-to-frame and the basic question of “what is
art?” have always been my concern.


Varying from colorfield paintings to romantic photorealism to pure abstraction, this work plays
with the formalism of the square and the minimalism of a controlled composition. This work is
both poignant and potent as they also engage in the contemporary issues of climate change,
the incessant barrage information and the dwindling amount of natural space. These, too, are a
nod to my 30 year devotion to yoga and meditation. and so the name where lines meet.

  • Throughout the exhibition you will be having interaction days of conversation & contemplation, yoga, and evening talks. How do you plan to work these events into the
    exhibition? What made you decide to do the interactions?

HH: These photographs together as a unit, a collection, a study, each and every time thrill and bore
me, equally. Kinda like, so what? so, so what? or who cares? so, who cares? So selfishly, I want
to discuss that play/work that we do to make sense of what makes us who we are. This is a
project because of just that: I do not have fully formed ideas around these photographs and
look to explore thru interactions. With where lines meet I will be in the space during all
opening hours inviting people in from all supports and interests of my life for contemplation,
conversation and community. Events range from Wednesday evening talks, Thursday and
Sunday yoga and Saturday suppers. I look to make this more than a purely aesthetic
experience.

  • What artists influence you and how do they influence your thinking, creating and career path?

HH: Colorfield painters, Morris Louis, Helen Frankenthaler, Abstract Expressionists Rothko,
Rauschenberg, to more contemporary and conceptual artists Gary Hume, Richard Prince, Hiroshi
Sugimoto, Doug Aitken, Lisa Yuskavage. I believe all of the mentioned see the trueness of life
and portray it with such high esteem. Their integrity and complexity will forever be of
fascination to me along with their regard for beauty. Surely, by looking at how they are looking
influences and fine tunes my eye. As far as creating, I have forever been creating maybe just
not under the guise as an artist.

  • What is the best piece of advice you’ve been given?

HH: Listen.

  • When you are not taking beautiful photographs what are you spending your time doing?

HH: I prefer to be outside as much as possible for both work and leisure. I have been practicing
yoga for over 30 years and now teach. And I spend much time contemplating the horizon.