centritis

Missy Prince, 39

1. Despite your photographs being taken in two very different places (Oregon & Mississippi) your photographs retain very similar qualities throughout, despite the differences in the landscapes. Why is this?

On my recent visit to Mississippi I was able to explore to an extent never before available to me, and after driving around for a while I realized that in some ways I am looking for Mississippi in Oregon. The types of places that attract me in The Pacific Northwest share a feeling with places that caught my attention as a child in The South. I grew up in a subdivision and mostly visited nature in passing. My parents were not into camping or the outdoors, and I always wanted to explore things I usually only experienced through a car window: a bayou crossed on the way to the grocery store, rivers with exotic names like Tchoutacabouffa, dark forests along the highways. The best I had was the woods bordering my neighborhood. I think I’ve managed to retain that frustrated explorer’s sense of mystery and I respond to qualities of the Oregon landscape that speak to that sense. I often end up photographing places I am led to by thinking “I wonder what’s over there.”

2. Most of your photographs bear influence from the New Topographic photographers of the 70s, but some actually seem to deal with a contrary idea; like the old roads cutting through the country side in your photos will be taken back by nature. Do you feel this to be accurate?

Interesting. I never thought of it that way. Turning the New Topographic sensibility on it’s head. It’s true, I am drawn to the deadpan quality of those photos that treat everything on the land as just another part of the landscape. Humans are part of nature and the structures they build are in some ways not unlike bird nests and beaver dams. I am not intentionally reversing the land consumption theme, but there might be some of that coming through. I like places where nature has been allowed to run wild, and while that happens more completely in remote areas, it is the places where nature is pitted against civilization that that wild force is often most perceptible. I always think of The Zone in Tarkovsky’s film The Stalker.

3. How relevant is film to your photography? What will you do when your favorites are no longer available?

At this point film is 99.9% relevant. I have two digital cameras, a point-and-shoot and an SLR, but I have only a handful of images from them that I love. I don’t want to be anti-digital, I’d like to be able to embrace it, but I just can’t get the same experience I get with analog. I like the psychology of film. The risk involved makes me think harder about what I am doing. Then there is the suspense factor. Waiting to see what you’ve produced is a way of savoring the process. If film were to become extinct I’d have to give in, but until then I’ll be hanging out with the film snobs. That said, I would never deny myself the pleasure of enjoying a photograph just because it’s digital.

I’m not too picky about types of film. Right now my favorite is Fuji Pro 400, but I often use Fuji Superia, which is one of the most common and inexpensive ones out there. You can get it at Walgreens! So I’m pretty flexible.

4. What got you started taking photographs?

Nothing specific that I can think of. I was the creepy quiet kid who watched everything. Photography seems like a logical next step.

5. How do you feel one’s personality dictates who/what/when/where they photograph? What prompts you to raise the camera to your eye? 

Well, I guess you have to be interested in a thing to want to photograph it, and there are many ways to be interested. Photography both at its worst and at its best comes out of some kind of personal urge. I think there is a lot of projecting of self mixed in with the whole process that can get in the way of making work that is engaging. I guess it just depends on what you want to show people and who you imagine your audience is. Even then, you never completely know what you’re showing.

One of the things I love about looking at photography is sensing the mind behind it. Looking through the eye that is looking. When you view a person’s photographs you see aspects of their personality that you can’t see in any other way. You sense what they care about. It’s like the first time you enter someone’s house. You get a sense of them that is otherwise ineffable.

I really don’t know what moves me to raise the camera to my eye. I like a scene that despite being very straightforward prompts a little bit of wonder. The fact that a thing exists is sometimes enough for me to want to turn in into a picture. It’s a tipping of the hat to that thing, an acknowledgment. Congratulations, you exist.

Missy’s flickr.