“Hey. Actually, I’m in need of a restroom” were his first words to me in the hallway, before I gestured to the men’s bathroom behind him. I mostly looked at the coffee he had placed on a seat nearby until he was done.
White Bear Lake, Minnesota from “Pound of Pictures” by Alec Soth
Alec Soth, a photographer who has published over 30 books, has had over 50 solo exhibitions, and is a member of the prestigious agency Magnum Photos, was in Calgary to present two lectures as part of the annual Exposure Photography Festival. It is accurate to say that I was excited for a studio visit with him to look over my MFA photography work.
“Am I gonna do it? No. It looks like it will put my body in a position it doesn’t want to be in.” He was deciding between the five different chairs in my graduate studio. “I’m here for you.” Alec said as he sat down. It is a windowless room lit by lamps from below eye-level. The inline HVAC fan outside of the room generates a distracting hum.
The chair Alec Soth sat in.
The chair Alec Soth hesitated to sit in (don’t worry, it’s not the real thing).
I first encountered Alec’s photographs in 2013 as a customer at The Camera Store. I thought they were boring. The images didn’t fit into my aspirations of being a photojournalist or celebrity/street/boudoir/American Apparel photographer. They were probably in his book Sleeping by the Mississippi. I don’t even know if I cared about art. I probably forgot about his photos until I started working there and noticed that my coworkers loved them.
I wanted a cold read of my work from Alec. I had read and watched most of his interviews. Owned all of his major books. Watched and re-watched his online workshop. His YouTube channel generates excitement like Saturday morning cartoons, and I knew that we were on the same anti-depressant at one point. So, I asked him to look at the photographs I had on the wall and to tell me if he cared about them.
One of the photos from my MFA project, starring Sara, kick-boxer and massage therapist extraordinaire.
“I can do that, but the context around the work is inevitable.” He went on to say that things like the publisher’s blurb on the website, artist interviews, reviews of the book/show, were all going to inform his reading. Some books are published without text, yes, but there’s still the colophon and title. These “pure” photo projects only seem to get his attention when someone he respects puts it in his lap. Otherwise, like at a book fair, a photo book without a textual hook gets lost in the sauce more often than not.
I made a book once.
Before we continued, he had a preface: “No offence, but I don’t really want to look at photos right now.” He had said the same to the previous graduate student, Cerys Davies. “There are these phases and right now it’s like that.” I said I understood, and that my photo-saturated life between looking at my own, my friends’, and undergraduate images could tire me out also. I explained that my photographs were inspired by Zen Buddhist kōan and kōan practice. Alec said, “You see, you say something like that and I’m immediately interested.” I went on to mention that my serious interest in Zen came from his archived blog:
“I’ve always found it interesting that so many people try to link Zen and photography. Photography is anti-Zen. Photography is an attempt to stop time and possess the world. Zen is an attempt to live in the moment and relinquish the desire to possess. The two seem completely incompatible. ”
“I’m sure you found out that [Zen] was so much more than whatever stupid thing I said back then.”
He went on to look at my pictures, and we discussed giving the prints room to breathe in the gallery, problems of illustration and style, and photos inviting possibly tiresome comparisons to Jeff Wall. His favourites: the Buddha in front of the battered house and the keisaku spanking a butt—and ones that appealed less: the cow, Stefan with sandals on his head playing with his cat, the twins. I told Alec my working title. He said to work on it some more.
Working on stuff some more.
As soon as the conversation died down, I asked to make a photo of him (I had moved lighting equipment into the room and taken test images of my friend and coworker Alex Linfield the day before). Before I asked, I gave him my own preface: that I knew he didn’t turn down photographs for karmic reasons. His photographic work is known for photos of strangers, and his relationship to this skill of convincing people to pose for what ultimately gets sold in galleries and books has changed over the years, but guilt still lingers. I had several books for him to sign, and while I turned on the lights and setup my camera, he took my dull Sharpie to them.
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Damilare (another graduate student) and Cerys, Dona Schwartz, and some staff had lunch with Alec later. He had never had pizza with toppings under the cheese. I mentioned donair pizza and he had never heard of it. His talk at the gallery hall on campus was soon. He needed some caffeine, a Red Bull, specifically. “It’s just a before-lecture thing, really.” There wasn’t time to run and get one himself. I was voluntold. Too bad UCalgary is a Coca-Cola campus, therefore there are no (diet or regular) Red Bulls for sale on university property. I got Alec Soth a sugar-free Monster energy drink.
He came out of Dona’s office after a meditation session and saw the can on a plinth in the hallway.
“Oh! Great!” He said.
