Looking at the Land From the Comfort of Home

5 minute read

Andy Adams works almost exclusively in the virtual world of contemporary photography. Whether you visit his photography website FlakPhoto.com, follow him on Twitter or take part in his daily Facebook discussions, you’ll find Adams diligently working as a young cultural anthropologist. Reaching far into the online photo ether, Adams always tries to present us with something new that he hopes you’ll be equally thrilled by.

Since 2006 FlakPhoto has grown to become a defining resource for anyone interested in the latest trends in photography online. Institutions like the RISD Museum of Art have recently taken notice of his work, calling upon Adams to curate an installation and accompanying online exhibition to complement its most recent massive show America in View: Landscape Photography 1865 to Now.

In the fall of 2010, Adams curated a similar project for FotoWeek in Washington, D.C. called 100 Portraits, which was a broad survey of contemporary portraiture. Beyond the physical installation Adams, of course, put the project in its entirety on the Internet. LightBox recently spoke to Adams about his projects:

[100 Portraits] was the beginning of my realization that you could bring the ideas of online publishing and art exhibition together to produce a public digital exhibition for everyone in the world that has access to the Internet.

The focus of the RISD exhibition curated by Jan Howard is an historical survey of American Landscape photography from 1865 till now. The parameters for ‘Looking at the Land’ were also very broad and the website component is an exploration of current photography in the documentary style with interviews that analyze and understand the evolving landscape photo tradition.

The constraints were fairly simple — I wanted this to reflect contemporary styles and current practice, and photographers exploring new directions. In the interest of serendipitous discovery, and hoping I would see something new, I put out a public call online seeking images ‘depicting the American Landscape since 2000.’

While curating the 100 Portraits project, which I coproduced with Larissa Leclair of the Indie Photobook Library, she impressed upon me the idea that this web site that I’ve been publishing every day was becoming a kind of archive and collection unto itself. In a way, the Web has become this giant collection of contemporary photography—portfolio websites, photo blogs, Tumblrs. That’s really interesting.

What I’ve witnessed in the last few years is this real anxiety about the abundance of images in the world, on the Internet. That’s one way to see things. I prefer to view the situation as one with infinitely more opportunities to discover new, interesting work. Of course, the hazard of what I did here is that you have to look through more than 5,000 pictures to make sense of it all.

I’m interested in learning why people photograph landscape so I asked each of the 88 photographers the same questions: ‘What compels you to photograph the land? What does that mean?’

One of the things that I’m trying to do is to foreground the perspective of the image-maker. This may be another way to add meaning to that huge abundance of pictures.

I also asked each photographer: ‘Why did you photograph this place?’

With landscape photography it’s easy to tell a pro-environmentalism narrative that shows the destruction of the land or how human alterations have forever destroyed that land. That’s all true, of course. But I don’t have an agenda with this project; I’m more interested in understanding why contemporary image-makers make landscape photographs to learn how that tradition is evolving in the 21st century.

If there is a dominant theme in the show it probably is the absurd juxtaposition of nature and culture, recognition that this is the way things are now, that we co-exist with nature. Rather than preach at the spectator, many of these images describe that disconnect with irony and humor.

One of the things that I think might be indicative of this generation is that you have all these photographers that grew up in suburban sprawl, so that whole concept of home and place is different. Maybe we’re not even lamenting development and the loss of wilderness anymore because we’ve come of age without it? I see a lot of these photographers coming to terms with those ideas and the place where nature and culture are colliding. That’s why some of these pictures seem humorous or ironic. They are less an indictment and more of an acknowledgment.

It was important for me to show the American landscape and real places. America looks very different than it did 100 years ago. It’s also important to remember that these images are not objective facts — they’re subjective interpretations, personal perspectives about how the world looks today.

This is very much a research project that I’m making public. The ideas that I’m trying to understand and the things that we are interested in have existed before this exhibition and they will exist after. I’ve attempted to tap into the new public sphere that exists in the global online photo community, to learn collectively what these things mean and to hopefully contribute to the history of things, so one day people can look back and learn from it. That’s the bigger picture goal.”

Andy Adams is the founder of FlakPhoto.com and curator of Looking at the Land — 21st Century American Views, a collaboration with the Museum of Art, Rhode Island School of Design. The exhibition is on view until Jan. 13 and you can visit the online version here.

Plane, Las Vegas, Nevada, 2007 Curator Andy Adams of Flak Photo asked each photographer 'Why did you photograph this place?' "This image was taken in Las Vegas. It was one of those images that I had to take; it really jumped out at me. I was away working staying in this hotel, I woke up early the morning I was due to leave and came out of the bathroom where this scene was all laid out. I took two photographs from the same position, one with and one without the plane. For me it says so much about our relationship with the landscape and how we as humans stake our claim on the world and alter it for our own gains. Vegas is the ultimate artificial landscape and I like this alternative view, more intimate, the other side of the facade."Kate Peters
Baby With Tractor at Sunset (vandalized Cerney/Sun Kim sculpture) Phoenix, Arizona, 2009 "I made this photograph while working on my Transience project, a series documenting individuals who live in RVs — both moderately affluent 'snowbirds’ as well as those living off the grid and squatting on Bureau of Land Management (BLM) land and other lands in the desert Southwest. My research assistant and I had just left Quartzsite, Arizona and were driving to Phoenix to drop her off at the airport to start graduate school. On our way, we saw the incongruous Cerney/Sun Kim sculpture. Upon closer inspection, we realized the adult man’s head had been violently removed and an anarchy symbol painted on his chest. He appears to be running from violence while pursued by a driverless tractor as a supersized baby bemusedly playing with his own tractor looks on. Needless to say, this was not the reaction Cerney/Sun Kim intended. The scene is made more poignant by the vandalism that occurred after it was installed."Stephen Chalmers
Untitled, Toccoa, Georgia, 2008 "There's humor in this picture as well as a sense of wonder... what's happening here? I think you can read something about the nature of invasive species into the picture but that's not really my intention."Rob Hann
Western Auto Building from bridge at 22nd and Main, Kansas City, Missouri, 2010 "This picture is part of a series of photos taken along Kansas City’s Main Street. The building (now condominiums) was headquarters of the late Western Auto Company – at one time a chain of over 1000 auto parts stores. The building is curved on its backside to follow the curves of the nearby railroad tracks making their way to the adjacent Union Station, our once lively passenger rail station. In 1940 Kansas City’s urban core had 400,000 people but by the year 2000 the same area had a population of less than 150,000."Mike Sinclair
Untitled, Monroe, New Jersey, 2006 "This image was captured in Monroe, New Jersey in 2006. At the time I was located in Philadelphia and primarily photographing the suburbs surrounding the city in Pennsylvania and New Jersey. As one of the earliest images in this series it fundamentally sets the tone for the project as a whole. For me, this picture is a fantastic rendering of scale, juxtaposition, and monumentality. The project is constructed around utilizing the setting of the suburbs as a vehicle to create imagery and while I am interested in exploring notions of land use and environmental degradation, this image, for me, is primarily about aesthetic possibilities."Justin James Reed
Installation, Wisconsin, 2010 "I made this image in the rolling, lush hills of southwestern Wisconsin during an artist residency at ACRE. I had recently completed a gritty, difficult project about the interactions between humans and nature, and had been thinking about how we might try to exist in this world without doing so much damage to it. This part of the state is full of small, family-owned farms (many of them Amish), and the people seem deeply connected to the land they use. You don't see the methods employed by the corporate farms; instead you see herds of cows in giant pastures, protected watersheds, and farmland that has been in the same family for generations. Observing all of this, I began to think of how I could make a model of this symbiotic relationship — how I could depict nature manipulated, but unharmed, by humans. I spent two days sitting in this pasture, braiding grass, and trying to find the right topography, form, and time of day. As a gesture, the braid is gentle and impermanent, undone with the next windstorm or downpour."Jennifer Ray
Highway 14, Ucross, Wyoming, 2011 "I made this image while I was an artist-in-residence at the Ucross Foundation, about 20 miles outside of Sheridan, Wyoming near the Montana border. I spent a month there in March 2011 and I traveled around the area looking for various types of "disruptions" amongst the vast and somewhat monotonous brown rolling hills. A fellow resident had told me about a severed deer leg caught in the barbed wire fence she had seen on a walk, and I went out the next day and photographed it. After making that image, I would later see many severed part of animals that had been caught in the barbed wire. Now every time I watch deer jumping over barbed wire, I wince a little in fear that I might see it happen before my eyes. Clearly, there are messages that can be implied with the photograph — the intersection of cultivation and demarcation of land for ranching versus the wild herd of deer that traverse the terrain and what this could imply about what can and cannot be controlled in our environment. I want my work to function as a larger view, creating more nuanced or ambiguous narratives about landscape that allow viewers to construct their own internal dialogue about the sites I photograph."Nicole Jean Hill
Nicole, Monument Valley, Utah, 2009 "I made this picture while on a road trip through the American West. Nicole and I had awoken at 5 a.m. to watch the sunrise over "The Mittens" and the photograph was made as an intuitive response to the light as it slowly emerged into the morning. It wasn’t until later, after the film was processed and I was going through the proofs, that I was able to see the potential in the photograph. The image evokes a sense of loss, both psychologically and metaphorically. Here, the majesty of the iconic American landscape is beyond reach — separated from us by a barrier — and only available as a distant view to look upon. The subject confronts us with this realization with her direct gaze. A sense of disconnection with the landscape is something not unfamiliar to Australians. White Australians live with the knowledge that we reside here in our country having dispossessed indigenous Australians from the land, and the process of reconciliation remains ongoing and unresolved."Graham Miller
On The Run, Nebraska, 2008 "This image shares with the viewer the emotional and visceral experience that I personally had witnessing this phenomenon. I am called to tell stories about our planet that we don’t often think about. It is important for me that people know that we live on a magnificent planet."Camille Seaman
#6097, Washington State, 2007 "I photographed it because it's awesome! Look at the light and fog mixing! And it also reminded me very much of the little country roads I road my BMX bike down when I was a kid."Todd Hido
Cheshire, Ohio, 2009 "I worked on this coal project because it was an immediate way to understand something abstract (where does energy come from and what does it look like? What is my relationship to its origins and what does it say about power?). By setting out to photograph this industry from start to finish, I, by default, established a process to explore many different aspects. Photography affords a unique ability to research in this way. Needless to say, the process is mediated and thus produces a very specific result that can actually be very limiting in terms of narrative and conceptual possibilities. But the compulsion to photograph in order to understand makes a lot of sense."Daniel Shea
Slack Water, Gulf of Alaska, 2010 "At the time, I was spending 2-4 months per year at sea working as a commercial fisherman or photographing others working. I spent countless hours admiring the sea and weather in its ever-changing form."Corey Arnold
Camp Pine Grove II, Cumberland County, Pennsylvania, 2009 "The photograph was taken just outside of Gettysburg at a former campsite, which was built to house German POWs between 1942 and 1945. Foundations of the camp's facilities are still visible underneath the overgrowth. As I was walking through the dense terrain I came upon this striking carcass of an animal, a display of evidence, if you will. Its relevance to the series was not clear at the moment, except that I responded to the way the skin and skeleton appeared. At first I reacted to the violence of it. At closer study, I was moved by the gentleness of how bones and fur revealed the outline of the animal, which triggered a level of acceptance of the inevitable forces of nature. I saw it as a trace of constant change always taking place within the landscape, brutal shifts but at the same time, symbolic of renewal. These remains were also part of the history of Camp Pine Grove."Dana Mueller
Rose Room, Orange County, Tustin, California, 2008 "I started driving around in some of the areas I had lived in my youth (mostly suburban North Orange County, California). It was strange because my memories didn't quite match what I was seeing, so much had changed in the last 20 years — it was bit surreal. In this context, I started seeing things that interested me. At first, it was buildings, and then I began photographing surrounding shrubbery in the same formal, symmetrical compositions. The buildings and shrubs seemed to work together, and that’s how the Southland project started."Brad Moore
221.05.1.250, Roanoke, Virginia, 2005 "Normally I search for a particular location, light or structure, but this was spontaneous. Big clouds mesmerize me, so I was looking in that direction and as I rounded the corner I saw this image. I slammed on the brakes in the middle of the road to get a better look and promptly found a place to park as I scurried for my camera. I do most of my shooting in the evening, but I happened to have my camera with me that day, just in case."Christine Carr
Pep Boys 3, Columbus, Ohio, 2009 "There was a dead bird in the broken front windows and I spent nearly two hours making a picture of it. In the process I set off the store alarm, which was surprising since the store had been empty for some time. While packing up to leave at about 3 a.m., I looked up, saw that the whole facade was lit by the store itself, cursed, and got back to work."Brian Ulrich
Porcupine Wash, Joshua Tree National Park, California, 2012 "I created this particular image in a dry river bed (wash) and angled the mirror towards the stars. This area is at a high altitude around 3,500 feet and has very little light pollution, so the night sky was particularly vivid. While I was making the photograph I remember thinking how strange it seemed to see the cosmos restricted by the edges of the mirror. It's impossible to hold a frame to something as great and vast as our universe."Daniel Kukla
Sunburned GSP#410, Yukon, 2010Chris McCaw
Metropolis 40°47' N 73°58' W, New York, 2007Christina Seely

More Must-Reads From TIME

Contact us at letters@time.com