┐ Donald Goddard and Hannah Wilke – Love made possible └

Picture2Picture1© Hannah Wilke, My Country tis of thee, 1975

Lil Picard: I see you are a collector of Art Deco objects. Why?

Hannah Wilke: I’ve always collected things. Objects have always been important for me. But the older I get the less I need things, especially since I am concerned with my work now. I haven’t been really colJecttng much lately. My work is my collection; the small sculptures replaced the objects that had been made by society, and my work is more important now than any objects I might collect. My own works are my icons.”

excerpt of Picard, Lil. “Hannah Wilke: Sexy Objects.” Andy Warhol’s lnterview, January 1973.

9174_1000© Hannah Wilke, Pink Champagne, 1975 latex with snaps 45.7 x 137.2 x 17.8 cms

h-wilke-neuberger-003-sm© Hannah Wilke, Landry Lint, C.O.’s, 1974, set of 12 sculptures, Lint, various colors, 13-1/2 x 13-1/2 inches

Goddard: In the beginning, she gave me a lot of direction. But then as time went on, she hardly said a thing. She would go from one place to another. She would go up a ladder, and I would take a picture from below. She would lie down with a gun in her hand as if she were dead. She would arrange herself in relation to the space she was in and how she wanted the composition to be. Eventually, I sort of knew what she wanted, so she didn’t have to say anything.
(…)

Takemoto: When did you start filming for the Intra- Venus Tapes? Did Hannah have a clear sense of what and how she wanted things documented, or did the filming become a more organic and ordinary aspect of your lives?

Goddard: In 1990 Hannah and I were in East Hampton. We had a rented house out there for the summer. We went to P. C. Richard and Son to buy some electronic equipment for our vacation, including a video camera and a TV set. Hannah just wanted to document her life and her friends. So that’s what we did. There was nothing planned about it. Of course, Hannah did a lot of performing – informal stuff, mugging and performing for the camera. Many of our friends and relatives are in the tapes, and we shot a lot of footage in the hospital. I remember when we went into the hospital for her bone-marrow transplant. I didn’t videotape the visit, but that’s when we started taking still photographs. Hannah was supposed to put on all these things that connected to her body for some kind of test, a cardiogram or something. The connectors were red with many wires and clips. Hannah thought they were wonderful against her skin and the blue-green gown and got very excited about the visual possibilities. That was one of the first pictures we took for the Intra-Venus still photographs.

interview_about Hannah
(…)

Takemoto: Making work about illness sometimes produces the feeling of agency, as if you are somehow fighting illness by transforming it into something else. Do you think this resonated for Hannah? Was there a sense of urgency around making these pictures or documenting as much as possible as a way of slowing down time?

Goddard: I suppose. It was a way of measuring time. The idea was that Hannah was going to show all this work, and the name of the exhibition was going to be “Cured.” So she was always thinking about the work that way. We also looked into therapeutic possibilities: macrobiotic diet, nutritional regimens of various kinds, and alternative doctors and treatments. She read a lot and exercised a lot. Perhaps, all of that is a way of trying to slow down the inevitable. You are doing things that fill your life. It’s as desperate as life is. Life is always desperate. But it was a matter of living rather than dying. Making art was really about living.

excerpt of Looking through Hannah’s Eyes: Interview with Donald Goddard, conducted by Tina Takemoto, in Art Journal, Vol. 67, No. 2, 2008

┐ Kathleen Robbins └

© Kathleen Robbins, Untitled, from The Hostess Project

“In an effort to further inhabit my grandmother’s memories as a young wife, I began an autobiographical, photographic record of my experiences with her recipe journal. This ongoing project is as much a social experiment as a nostalgic experience. I dress in her clothing, prepare meals based on her hand-written recipes, serve invited guests, and perform the role of hostess. I prepare dishes based on her hand-written instruction: her recipes. Aspics, croquettes, meatloaf with pickle and egg garnish . . . And I photograph the results.


In all of my work, I am interested in trying to create larger units of meaning through editing. With The Hostess Project, the photographs and the handwritten recipes are interwoven into sequences and pairs, which illustrate a more complex experience, divided in time and space. Tiny’s recipe journal includes details about intimate family gatherings. I prepare the recipes, not to recreate their associated events. (To recreate any of these gatherings, a deceased family member’s birthday celebration for instance, seems oddly irreverent; see Figure 2.) Rather, the performance of the meal is about inhabiting certain aspects of my grandmother’s memory. The recipe book reveals something compelling about Tiny’s friendships, her marriage, my grandfather’s suicide, and her subsequent years spent alone on the farm. Lists of ingredients are scrawled on the backs of envelopes and scraps of yellowed paper. The book is stained with drips of grease and drops of cream. If my grandfather enjoyed a dish, this is noted in the margin. Recipes are revisited and journal entries revealed first, the details of dinner parties and holidays and, later, why it was too unbearably sad to prepare my grandfather’s favorite dishes. In this respect, the food becomes almost beside the point.”

excerpt from Kathleen’s article on The Hostess Project

More of Kathleen’s work here

║ Valentina Bonizzi ║

© Valentina Bonizzi, Untitled, from the series Work and Intimacy, 2009

© Valentina Bonizzi, Untitled, from the series Work and Intimacy, 2009

“This project is about Italian women who emmigrated to Scotland. The photography research presents the way they view their job as the bridge which connects them to Scottish society. It explores the intimacy within their own houses. A space where objects and colours travelled with them, giving a foundation to their identity.”

║ Nicky Bird ║

© Nicky Bird in collaboration with Mary Kennedy, Lethanhill, Dunaskin, Lethanhill old school 1940-1?, from the series Beneath the surface / Hidden place, 2008

© Nicky Bird in collaboration with Mary Kennedy, Craigmillar, Edinburgh Back Green, Back of Niddrie mains drive summer 1968, from the series Beneath the surface / Hidden place, 2007

“The history under our feet to the time when our own may be under foot in future: this was the central theme of this project. It set out to see how photography and archaeology could be incorporated in both literal and metaphorical ways to speak of ‘history’ – particularly history that is within living memory connected to a changed, erased or hidden place. The project worked in six locations across Scotland, in close collaboration with a range of individuals. The family snap played a central part in the process – see examples below of photographs of places that have undergone major change and in which personal history has been ambiguously caught.”

artist statement

to see more of Nicky’s work click here

║ Hannah Wilke ║

26-465-1-PB

© Hannah Wilke, Portrait of the Artist with her Mother, Selma Butler, 1978-81

659030_com_wilke

© Hannah Wilke, Intra Venus No. 4, 1992-93

“The motif of symbolic woundedness, as tied to the social experience of femininity, prefigured Wilke’s development of physical illness, a lymphoma diagnosed in 1987 and around which the Intra-Venus series was articulated. While Wilke’s work from the 1970s suggests that the “wounds” of femininity, as experienced in patriarchal culture, might one day be removed or transformed, the same could unfortunately not be said of her disease, which proved fatal in 1993. Besides the psychoanalytic connection between the sight of the female body and (the threat of ) castration, it is possible that Wilke’s visual association of womanhood with woundedness might have stemmed from witnessing her mother’s breast cancer. In effect, Wilke began to perform nude in 1970, after her mother’s mastectomy.12 Wilke’s exposure to her mother’s “real wound” may thus have inspired the analogy she drew in turning the hidden, psychic wounds of femininity into meaningful physical marks. That woundedness should appear as a motif to figure both visible and invisible pain is not surprising, considering the  ncommunicable nature of suffering. If pain, both moral and physical, is pre-symbolic,13 changing, and ungraspable in nature, then the transmission of such experience needs to be translated into a clearly identifiable form. From this perspective, the motif of the wound not only emerged in Wilke’s practice as the physical consequence of illness, but also was employed as an active, signifying mark, which visibly indicated the non-figurable pain that brought it into being.”

Tamar Tembeck

More of Hannah’s work can be seen here

║ Sunil Gupta ║

© Sunil Gupta, Pentamedine / Attitude, from the series From Here to Eternity, 1999


© Sunil Gupta, Chicago / Hoist, from the series From Here to Eternity, 1999

“I made this work partly in response to a period of illness brought on by the HIV. I thought that it might be time to thinks about how the virus affects my life…”
Sunil Gupta

To view more of Sunil’s work click here.

║ Judy Weiser – Photography as a verb ║

“[...] This, then, is the crux of phototherapy: photography as a verb – learning about people’s inner worlds as expressed not just in the passive-verb-sense of evaluating product-print, but also (and especially) in the very active-verbe-sense of learning valuable cues to behavior and perceptions by skilfully observing how and why an individual chooses to select a certain photographic solution to meet the requirements. [...]“
Judy Weiser

This is from the article “Phototherapy: Photography as a verb”, published in “The BC Photographer”, on the Fall of 1975.

To read full article click here

║ Jo Spence (Phototherapy) ║

© Jo Spence, What 1991 felt like… (most of the time)



© Jo Spence, Museum Specimens


© Jo Spence, from: Narratives of Dis-ease, 1990


© Jo Spence, from: The Picture of Health, 1982-86

“I am continually asked, “what is photo-therapy?” [To me] it means, quite literally, using photography to heal ourselves. ..I have been working on my stress and anxiety levels, reviewing my life in general and trying to understand the part that psychic life (fantasy) plays in my well-being, or otherwise…. Ways in which I have used the camera, therefore, include taking naturalistic photographs as things happened to me and around me, staging things specifically for the camera, using old personal photographs as a starting point and reinventing what they mean. The whole technique depends upon expecting photographs to help us ask questions, rather than supplying answers. Using this framework for photography, it is possible to transform our imaginary view of the world, whilst working towards trying to change it socially and economically.”
Jo Spence