Monday, September 2, 2013

Deering Barn & Inhabitants

The real people from Deering Farm sleep in a graveyard in the woods.  So I thought I'd try some double exposures with the graveyard & the structures.  I think this idea can be a bit cliche, but I'd like to try and find a way to make it work.  And then I thought living people should be photographed as well.  I feel I need more experimentation with the living people idea.






Thursday, August 1, 2013

Sculptures at Home

So I took my sculptures to their home and photographed them,  It's funny to me how much my barn and cabin sculptures blend into the environment that spawned them.






June 2013 Residency Summary



June 2013 Residency Summary
Amy Hagberg
     I got the most feedback this residency from Ben Sloat, because not only was he my semester advisor, but he also led the first critique in my group.  Ben talked the most about my copper house sculpture.  But then Ben has always liked my sculptures best.  Although he liked the copper house, he wanted to see ash and traces of the burnt wood under my house.  He asked what happened to the ashes.  I said I put them under the peonies, because peonies like wood ash.  He said he wanted to see ash falling through the floor of the house and peonies growing up. 
     Someone in my critique group suggested using the ash from the fire to make an image; perhaps for use in carbon printing or collaging.
      Ben asked if my work was about process, visual syntax, or the effect?  I think it is becoming about process and effect, because they are really two ends of a see-saw that balance each other out.  But I think I need to consider this more deeply, because I cling to visual syntax, the way I cling to language for concrete understanding and communication.
     Ben said there is a lot of space between where the photographs and sculptures exist.  This is something I will have to discuss with this semester’s mentor.  At least this semester nobody said the sculptures and photographs were speaking different languages, like was said often at the January residency.
     Ben felt I should think about the dual conversation in my work.  The light in my fire images he pointed out is both destructive and constructive.  I should think of light as the way of being, and going inside to greet the light. I should think about what is seen, and what is unseen.  He said I am interested in the distorted visual.
    Michelle Saffran also commented on the light in my work.  She said the way I’ve used light conveys a mediated sense of memory.  She said I have personified discarded remnants as beings both forgotten and disabled.  She considered them proxies for psychological landscapes.  She thought I held the tension well in my photographs.  And she also felt there was a sense of the organic as well as the human within my work.
     Ben liked my metaphorical conversation of the roof.  I said the human psychological roof is a construction of memories, thoughts, and beliefs that human’s use as a shield to feel protected from the world.  That was why the house’s roof was a book containing imagery of the house’s past experience.   Ben felt my house was a production of ritual.  I think that is absolutely correct.  And that ritualistic aspect is oddly very important to me, although I need to find the answer to exactly why.  He told me I should think about upending nostalgia.  He also said I should spend some time with my copper house contemplating it.
     Ben said I am letting the photography guide my voice instead of making it speak for me, and I am allowing the material to dictate me instead of me dictating the work.  He felt the urgency was not there.  He said, “the photographic confusion is not Amy’s confusion.”  He said I should think about how Anselm Kiefer and Doris Salcedo’s work coveys grief without any words necessary.  He felt there was too much terrain in my photographs, and this made them too explicit and over explained.  Ben thought I should think about cropping sections out of the images, and printing these cropped sections larger.
     On that vein, Molly Painter suggested I cut out portions of my photographs and reconstruct them into a larger house drawing.  She said I should piece them together like memories.  I like this idea very much.  And I have been thinking of constructing three-dimensional ‘memory houses’ from shreds of my photographs.  If nothing else I think will be an important exercise for me.
     Ben said the structure of the poem is assisting my work.  John Kramer said something similar last semester.
     In my next critique Matt Saunders and Michael Newman said I am trying to pack things into loaded images.  This harkens back to a comment Ben made.  And it also made me think of what Laurel Sparks said to me at the January residency, commenting that my sculptures were too packed with information.  I guess I still need to heed what she said: “Being literal is dangerous territory.  Being opaque is dangerous territory.” 
     Michael thought my images had more of a feeling of perpetuity than demise, like the forest was reclaiming the structure.  He said there was a balance between constructing and destructing. 
     Matt made the interesting comment that there was a resonance between the house as a chamber and the box of the pinhole camera. 
     They both said that in the photographs of the copper house burning I had successfully tricked the viewer into thinking the photograph was of something much larger.  And having the actual small structure next to the photographs gave the viewer a pleasant surprise.
     Deb Todd Wheeler, my new advisor, was the next to weigh in.  She made the point that representing time in a still medium is a very difficult thing.  I guess that is true.  But I must note that my Dad used to repair antique clocks and tower clocks, so it’s difficult for me not to try to incorporate time in my work.  Every Saturday the clocks must be wound in our house, or time seems to stop.  Through my memories of mechanical time pieces, I am not just physically, but emotionally and historically, tied up with symbols of time.
     Deb challenged me  to just how far could I let the burn go.  She said if I’m going to burn something down I should go all the way.  She said I should be really experimental with the burning, and try a larger camera.  I should also think about more objects in decay.  She said the more objects I investigate the more interesting my story will be.
     Deb also made the point that when relying on a series its as if you’re afraid that one piece won’t say what you want all by itself, when actually one piece should be able to speak for itself.
     She also said that “House” is a little trite, and I should think about using something else for my visual stand-in. She thought I should try to make things that look less like houses and more like something falling apart and scary.  And I should think about not relying on photography.
      Much more was said on the structure and the symbolism of “house” during the course of the residency. Several people commented that maybe the house was too literal for all I’m trying to say.  It was said that I should create a form that conveys instability, and that is a little off kilter, like the security of a horizontal line put on rough waters, as opposed to a once structured home.  It was repeated that the images need more danger, like conveying the sense of things falling on on the viewer.
      Sarah Barr, who was in my very first AIB critique group, said that I am “stuck on architecture.”  That was an interesting comment, because looking back at my work, it’s all focused on the interiors and exteriors of buildings.    
     Molly Painter, again, suggested I think of the house as an act, and have the actual structures more physically involved in my interaction.  She said I should try making prints against the walls, and try putting cameras inside the structures or use a go-pro camera.  She said I should go treasure hunting.  And I should think about walking around the space while photographing it with my long exposures. She said I’m almost there.  And she reiterated what Deb Todd Wheeler said, that I must push it all the way.  After my last semester summary Ben told me I’m an action word person.  Molly is also an action word person, so I think that’ a big reason why I’ve retained many of her comments.
     Several people said my self-portrait was very piercing, and that I should do more self-portraits.  Mary Zompetti commented that some of my images had a little bit of “stock” quality, and seemed to rely on special effects.  She thought the successful images left more to the imagination, where the viewer wanted to get closer, but was a little afraid, creating a psychological dance.
     Nicole Daviau commented that my photographs were trying to disturb, while the sculptures were trying to fix. She said it was as if I want to make things whole again.
     When commenting on my barn and cabin sculptures, Nicole said I should be as authentic with the materials as possible.  And if the structure was falling apart, I should not use new wood for the armature (as I did), but use wood that was also falling apart.  Nicole suggested I take my sculptures to the places that inspired them and photograph the two together.
      She said my copper house was all very cleverly crafted.  Nicole wondered if anyone had faulted me for my cleverness.  I said, no, and that she was the only one who called it clever.
     Fia Backstrom said I should think about how both the image and the building were falling apart the barn photograph that had ice on the negative.
     She said analog works very well with the process of memory.  She could tell that process was very important for me.  But I need to figure out how can I edit my work down to say what it is I mean.  She felt the dangerous pieces were the most successful.  She said if I try to fix the work before the viewer sees it I don’t allow the viewer to experience what I’m feeling.  And I need to allow the camera process to speak of how it both shows and destroys. 
     My first semester advisor, John Kramer, said I need a way of saying more than just “old house falls.”  Pinhole says “dreamscape, memory.”  He felt that I am pushing myself into a genre with an old place and an old process.
     John suggested I try to photograph a real house burning.  He thought I should talk to a local fire department about photographing a controlled burn.  I have a friend who is a fire chief in a local volunteer fire department.  He said they are doing two controlled burns of houses in September, and he will let me photograph them.
     John also said I should try constructing a book, laying out my imagery to see what it says to me.
     Since this is the start of my third semester people at the residency began to talk about the thesis.  Jason Pramas said for preparation we should start thinking about what we are bringing to the pie that is new.  He strongly suggested that we start writing thesis ideas down.  Sunanda Sanyal made some great comments in our critical theory class.  He said art making may be therapeutic, but this program was not art therapy.  The discussion of the work must be outside of one’s self.  One needs to neutralize the construct one is working on in order to step back and see it.  If you see the whole thing as a construct you can break it down.  We should think about how to frame a body of work around our argument.  My favorite thing that Sunanda said was “Be irreverent to art, because if it’s sacred you can’t reach it.”

Sunday, June 16, 2013

Copper Bound Book Makes a Roof for My Copper House

The cover of this book is copper, but the folios are stitched to the fabric end papers.  The cover & endpapers are glued to a mat board sandwich.  The book has three folios of four color film images each, and sequence the burning of the house.  The house acts as a stand for the open book to be viewed, and the book becomes a protective roof for the house. 






Cabin Sculpture & Completed Broken Barn Sculpture

This Cabin sculpture is sided with clapboards covered with the actual dead leaves and dirt that was stuck to them when I salvaged them.  Nothing was rearranged.




Barn Sculpture mounted & Completed:


So here is my miniature Deering Farmstead:


Sunday, June 2, 2013

Final Mentor Meeting with Jesseca, June 1st

     I tried to get a lot of things from the semester wrapped up before I met with Jesseca for the last time.  I knew she'd be asking about about the following: how did the house burning go, how did double exposures work out, what am I bringing to the residency, how do  my images look big, how has my collecting gone, and do I know who lived in the farmstead.
     Jesseca liked very much that I used my 'collection' to build a broken barn.  She said she was very happy to see that my sculptures were much less literal than the ones I'd showed her from my first semester.  She said she liked that this sculpture inferred 'barn', rather than be a replica.  And she liked the way I let the materials be just the way they were, and didn't try to neaten them up or make them look perfect.  I told her some ideas I had for embellishing my barn, and she seemed to think that I should leave it simple and should keep it direct.  I told her I was still going to build a cabin, and she said she was sure I would.
     I had made a powerpoint presentation of the copper house burning to show her.  She suggested cropping some of the pictures in the powerpoint.  She said I had get in close to my sculptures so the viewer believes it exists in its own world.  This is a comment she has made repeatedly during the semester, and I think I should make a neon sign that flashes this statement so I remember.  She told me I should burn the house again, and take even more photos.  She loved the pinhole images of the burning. I told her for the next burn I would construct more cameras so I could take more pinhole images.  It handy to have more cameras anyway (although I may need a bigger house - or a camera storage barn).  She also said it was interesting that I came up with the idea to carefully built something for the purpose of building.  She said I should consider why I have this compulsion.  She said it's kind of like funerary practices that burn the body to set the soul free.
     She said in China Town there are these funerary papers people purchase to burn that are in the shapes of houses and cars and things.  She said I should look up what this practice is all about.  Well, in my preliminary investigation I have discovered that these are called Joss Papers.  Traditionally Joss Paper is spirit money that is burned to send currency to the deceased so they may have a comfortable afterlife, and hopefully in return protect the living through spiritual intervention.  There are three kinds of spirit money: cash (also known as copper), silver, and god.  Gold is to be burned for the gods, like the Jade Emperor.  Silver is for your own ancestors.  Cash (or copper) is for spirits of the unknown.  Wikipedia says "These distinctions between the three categories of spirit money must be followed precisely to prevent confusion or insults to the spirits."  Today Joss Paper is also constructed into the shapes of houses and material goods to send off to the departed in the spirit world for their comfort.  Joss paper must always be folded before burning.  So I think it's kind of funny that my house is of copper (I definitely don't know these people from the Deering Farm), and that the copper is folded in even divisions down each side.
     Jesseca also seemed intrigued with my book-roof idea for my copper house.  So I think I will move forward with this and see how it goes.
     Jesseca was particularly excited about my double exposure images, and said this is something I should continue on with experimentation, and should try to push the limits.  She said these images are really the ones that speak to the heart of what I'm getting at.  And she said they also provide mystery and ambiguity for the viewer.  Her two favorite were:


The second image is the un-inverted negative image of one I had printed out small but had not put on the blog.  The negative image was her favorite of all.  She said I should perhaps consider more images in negative form.
     Jesseca enjoyed looking at my large prints (which are 17" x 22"), although she asked if I could print larger.  I told her this is the biggest I can print at home.  We talked about how I was planning on presenting them, and she seemed happy, although she said I still had time to add or subtract images, or perhaps print more and switch them out at the residency.
    When I told her about the Deering Farm's history she told me that I have been like a miner this semester, digging, digging, digging.  I told her I felt like an archeologist, slowly uncovering things and piecing back together the past.  I wish I had met with her before I wrote my semester summary.  Oh, well.
     I brought her the book House and Home: Spirits of the South that has work by Max Belcher, Beverly Buchanan, and William Christenberry.  She enjoyed looking at the book.  Her comment was that Belcher's form of photography is reportage.  But she said Christenberry & Bcuanan's work is an act of listening to the people and places.  She said their work is a form of respect.  She said that is what my work is.  She said I have been listening to this old farm, and am giving it dignity, despite that it's falling down.  I was glad to hear that.  I've kind have grown attached to the place.
     And I've grown attached to Jesseca.  It's been a great semester working with her.  I feel quite fortunate to have had two excellent mentors so far.  I hope this trend continues.


  

Thursday, May 30, 2013

Broken Barn Sculpture

     Jesseca suggested collecting things from the abandoned places I've been photographing.  After looking at Beverly Buchanan's Shack Works I got the idea of gathering material and constructing sculptures that make me think of the place.  This Broken Barn is my first attempt.  All the parts, except supporting frame & fastening (for construction integrity reason) have literally been cast off from the barn.  It's not complete yet; needs a proper base and details, but the idea is there.




     I have also learned some interesting facts about this farmstead's history.  The original settler on the site was twenty-two year old William Deering in 1770.  William was born in Scarborough, Maine.  He was raised primarily by his Indian fighter maternal grandfather, Charles Pine, after his parents died.  William left Scarborough for logging, cutting trees for the King's masts.  William built himself a puncheon bark structure that he lived in for three years while he cleared land at the farmstead.  Eventually neighbors helped him build a log cabin, on the site of the current farmstead structures, and in 1778 he married Sarah Rumery of Biddeford, Maine.
     It was William and Sarah's grandson, Isaac Newton Deering, born 1831, who built the structures I have been photographing  The old cabin was a joiner shop.  The shingled barn next to it was a carriage house, with storage for lumber on the second floor, and a blacksmith's shop in the back.  The large, now broken, barn stored corn in the second story and stabled horses in the long attached section where the roof is peeling away.  Isaac married Elmira Guptill of Limerick, Maine, in 1856, and they had seven children together, three boys and four girls.  Elmira taught children in a one room school house not far from the farm.  The golden years of the farmstead were during Isaac's industrious lifetime.  Isaac passed away in 1895.
    Isaac's fourth child, Abraham Lincoln Deering, took over the farm.  A. Lincoln sold milk to H. P. Hood, and harvested, stored, and sold ice.  He built a sawmill, and during World War I sold lumber for the construction of ships.  A. Lincoln's wife, Mary, also taught school in the one room schoolhouse, and they had two sons, Noel and Roger.  A. Lincoln was quite prosperous and became very wealthy.  The farm came to be called the Deering Royal Oaks Farm, because of it's history of selling lumber to the crown.  But the farm began to fail in 1930 when A. Lincoln's health began to fail.  He died four years later.
     A. Lincoln's son, Noel, became a lawyer, and moved to Boston.  His son Roger, who became an artist, stayed on the farm with his mother Mary until about 1940.  They were not successful farmers.  They had to keep selling off livestock to keep things running, and eventually they gave up farming and Mary and Roger moved to Portland.  They would return to the farmstead for the summer months until sometime in the mid-forties.  Here is where the written history ends, and my conjecture begins.
     Obviously, I have been spending a lot of time at the Deering Royal Oaks Farm, poking into places and scavenging pieces.  The boarded up house has boards loose in the back now, and I have discovered, much to my surprise, that the structure is gutted.  It's a testament to its original construction that is still is standing.  Also, there are burnt timbers falling off from the end of the barn closest to the house.  I have wondered how and when this barn obviously burned.  And I wondered what happened to the house.  But I think this is also why I was never attracted to photographing the house, for its guts, or heart, are gone.
     What I believe happened to this farmstead was the great fires of 1947.  That year there were many historical fires all over the state of Maine.  But the fire I am concerned about started in Newfield, Maine, on October 17, 1947.  For 180 days there had been no rainfall in Maine.  This fire spread and raged until finally extinguished on October 25th  Ninety percent of the towns of Shapleigh and Waterboro (where the Deering farm is) burned, a total of 20,00 acres.  I think the fires hit some of the farmstead structures, gutted the house, burned a portion of the barn, and ended the summer stays of Mary and Roger.  But I have not verified this.
     Roger Deering went on to be a successful landscape painter.  He moved to Ocean Avenue in Kennebunkport.   From 1945-1975 he was director of the Roger Deering Art Gallery and the School of Outdoor Painting in Kennebunkport Maine.  Roger Deering passed away in 1980.