For Memories Sake Response

All artists contain within them a certain insanity that eventually evolves into what becomes personal method. Angela Singer is a victim of this evolution whether she likes to think so or not. Being an artist and a photographer myself, I can appreciate Angela’s obsession of capturing what she simplifies as memories. Obliviously, these moments are more than just a memory as they hold enough value to be documented. This method of documentation allows oneself to introspectively review one’s life, one’s surroundings, and one’s thoughts. This process then allows for contemplation, review, and organization which leads to a greater grasping of one’s existence; a common attribute in that of the work of an artist, and even deeper, in that of the human condition.

There are extremes exemplified in this type of self exploration and I find Angela Singer’s search to be included. I find her method to be excessive in that, because of the quantity of images she has captured, she has removed herself from what she finds worthy of capturing. I say this for the simple fact that she does not have time to go through each picture for its individuality, rediscovering its importance; what I feel to be pertinent in the process that is art. I personally can relate to the love of capturing a moment in time, a situation I find worthy. I personally can relate to the expression of oneself through photo. But, I ask for whom were all these photos taken?

I find perspective in life and art to be a key component in understanding what is presented to us. The question is asked: What makes Angela’s collection important rather than just someone’s personal archive? My answer to that is perspective. What one finds interesting or important is defined by ones viewpoint of which is developed by one’s life experience. Angela felt the need to capture all of these memories in order to fulfill a need in her own experience; explained in the video, the fact that she was subjected to Southern societal order. People closer to her, i.e. her granddaughter, have a greater understanding of who Angela is, what she was capturing and why. Her granddaughter saw something special in Angela’s actions and felt a need to share her work with the world; an act Angela herself was afraid of but, later thanked her granddaughter for doing so. I feel this was a freeing experience for Angela; a relief of the obsessive insanity mentioned previously. This freeing legitimizes a gained personal experience for Angela, morphing her collection from a personal archive into a work of art. The story that is contained within is now able to be shared.

Angela’s images were nowhere near being technically perfect or formally correct. There was no predetermined conceptual element; no professional equipment being used. They are uninfluenced and untouched by a third party. The images are as raw as images can get. They are truly of Angela; her experience and her perspective. The compelling story is that of the untrained southern grandma reacting to the world, unknowingly, as an artist; capturing the human experience in the simplest way of doing so; achieving what all artists are striving to do.

What Remains: The Life and Work of Sally Mann Response

Sally Mann is what I like to call a lucky artist. By no means am I saying she does not work hard at what she does, or that she is undeserving of her acknowledgement and praise in the art world. I believe she is lucky due to the fact that she has the ability to take a simple love for something and then has the ability to capture this love and translate it into art, or in this specific case, photography. She understands her interests and passions well enough that the world then is able to embrace them with her and the world is able to share with her in this love. I am truly envious of Sally Mann does as an artist and as an interpreter. I believe she has a grasp on the human experience; the pain and the fears; the love and the hope.

With that being said, I can relate to Sally in her wanting to share her own experience of life. Existing in all of us is the need to tell our own personalized story. I often find myself, in a way, documenting my own life; the people I know, the people I love, and the experiences we share; going beyond that of point-and-shoot MySpace pictures of course. I have always been an avid observer and collector, of which I assume stems from my lack of ability to communicate through my own words. My introversion and distrust for the world has allowed me to embrace this “flaw” and use it to my advantage. With my mouth shut, and my ears and eyes open, I observe the world. Or as I like to say, you have two ears, two eyes, yet only one mouth. My photography has allowed me to share my own experience with the world.

Throughout my years of photographing, I have produced work that holds the same meaning to me, as Sally’s images do to her. I have always embraced my surroundings and have always made an effort to observe every nuance happening in front of me; the moments that affirm what it means to be human and alive. My friends and family will tell you that my camera is an extension of my existence. I never really minded the invasive and voyeuristic aspects of documentation. Unhindered, I was able to and am still able to capture all the moments I felt and feel to be important. These moments birthed my fiery passion for photography and even life itself. And until recently, I was only able to achieve this with a camera. This past summer, I decided to take a leap and I chose to invest in a digital voice recording device. Enthralled with my new purchase, I essentially left the thing on from the point I woke up, until I was fast asleep. This resulted in recording hours and hours of conversation with my friends, my family, the public, and sometimes my own self. I found most of the recordings to be useless and insignificant. Yet, there were moments I did record that happen to envelope my soul with emotion and memory every time I replay them. The struggle as an artist is then to take these findings and have an understanding of them, then being able to share them universally.

Documentation of personal experience can be seen as sacrificial. Often instead of living the moment and sharing in it, I find myself too focused on capturing it. The struggle is to find the balance, allowing the ability to observe as well as live. I am sure Sally, and all documentarians and artists alike, can relate to this conundrum. I often find myself lost in the third person perspective, detaching myself from reality. I take too much interest in what is happening environmentally and not enough interest in my own experience. Though, this sacrifice does have its benefits. By removing oneself from direct emotional involvement, one is able to capture emotion and experience in its rawest form, through use of a tool or my own mind. The risk of missing out is there, but the results yielded are that much more magnificent. Distance allows for complete absorption and a truer point of view, an idea I have come to terms with.
The observer has a love for life that I feel no one else can understand.

Why we have this need within ourselves to create our own testament, I am not certain. What I am certain of is the need. What is life without observation? Again, I am not certain because I have the need; the need to capture, the need to document, the need to observe; the need to share with the world my thoughts and experiences, my point of view.