“There’s a lot to be said for just waiting.”
The former printmaker felt “amputated” by his one-click digital camera. So he turned “back in time” from speedy pixels to slow, analogue grain – large format, transparency and 35mm film.
“Waiting until someone leaves before you take the picture.”
His domestic and social portraits demand patient negotiation of boundaries. Creating distance in parental intimacy to make beautiful nudes, or “infiltrating” groups to learn what makes them tick.
“I’d rather sit and wait until the cloud was gone than remove it digitally.”
In analogue photography, as in the gradual piecing together of a relationship, mistakes are inevitable. Beyond God and Everlasting Entropy (2011) captures flaming pink and orange sunsets and sea, accidentally, in black and white.
“It’s very rare to see anything hand printed anymore.”
A sort of sorcerer’s apprentice, the young photographer whose practice circles around “wanting to belong” finds inside acceptance with “geeky men obsessed with paper” who chat in terms of developing tanks, acetic acid, print squeegees and texture screens.
“From beginning to end I want my hands to touch it.”
The darkroom’s “alchemy” completes a manual process, marked by waiting, begun months ago when a stubborn cloud, or resistant body, paused shooting. Finally, a picture emerges in the dark; it’s not unlike the delicate matter of getting to know someone.
This is the sixth and final text in a series of experimental exhibition texts commissioned by Platform A Gallery for the group show Fuze, 2011. Quotes taken from a conversation between Kraig Wilson & Becky Hunter, April 2011.