All right, let's do this. Peanut, if you're staying in the room, no talking. Hello and welcome to the Photo Work podcast. The talky and touchy feely version of my book photo work. 40 photographers on process and practice. Hello, everyone, I'm Sasha Wolf, recording from Woodstock, New York, and joined as usual by my very good friend and producer, Mr. Michael Chovan Dalton. Hello, Michael. Hi. So I hear it's a little chilly up there in Woodstock.
It's very chilly. It's very chilly. And there's no heating system in my recording studio here, so I've got many layers on. I'm prepared for an arctic expedition. Yes, you've got some cold energy I think going. We're going to make this very short because I can't feel any of my fingers or toes. How are you? I'm good. It's only, only in the 30s and 40s here. So much better. Yeah, I don't mind the cold, it's just hard in the, in the studio here. Yeah, I actually love it. Love the change of seasons.
Yeah, me too. I don't even mind when it gets dark early. I'm one of those people that I'm.
Not really all in on that. You know, one thing I love is, you know, when it is staying light out is, you know, you get to the end of workday and if you've been sitting at your desk for a long time, it's just so nice. I mean, I start every day with a long walk with Peanut and sometimes a little hike. But I'm really dying to be outside again for a second time and running around and challenging when it's pitch black at 4:30.
But yeah, and I don't love driving. Driving at home at night all the time, but there's something about it. Yeah. By the way, I also don't love driving at night but I feel like if I say that out loud it makes me sound really old. So. Yeah, I know. I hate that glare to a friend and was really concerned that I like in their mind maybe launched myself into a different category. I was like, fuck, why did I say that? Exactly.
So today's show is another show that's on the long side. So let's get to some announcements and then we can get into the show. What do we got?
Yes, well, first of all, shout out to our great sponsor, Picture House, the small darkroom. If you are still looking for gifts for someone, they do gift certificates and you can call or email or just stop by@phtsdr.com or 437 W 16th St.and really if you know a photographer and want to give them a kind of first class experience with a photo lab, that's the place to go because they roll out the carpet for you. Yeah. And also thank you for those who have donated. And please, please, please keep those donations coming. We really want to keep the. There are some big plans in the works. Really exciting things are happening, including I think soon an announcement of the fellows. Is that right?
Yes. So really just so many good things happening. So many good things that we want to do. So please keep those donations back. Yeah, we really appreciate it. To everyone who did donate, thank you so much. But we know there's more of you who could just throw in. Absolutely. A little here, a little there, so please do. Thank you. We appreciate it. So today's show was with the wonderful Ed Pinar. And it was a blast to talk to Ed. If every guest had Ed's energy. Oh, my gosh.
Well, I was going to blast. So funny. I was going to say if you regularly listen to podcasts at one and a half speed. Turn that off. Oh, yeah, definitely, definitely turn it off.
You're going to miss things if you listen sped up. Because Ed has this high energy enthusiasm when he talks about his practice, which is just fantastic. And also his optimism. I love, love his optimism because it's not like everything has been easy for Ed and Melissa, Melissa Catanesi. And he has this incredible just spirit about photography. I really loved listening to it.
You know, you and I didn't talk about this ahead of time. I didn't know you were going to mention that about Ed. But, you know, that's what I took away, that if everyone could sort of get something from this talk, it's how important having, you know, trying to maintain that sense of excitement and wanting and optimism because, you know, there's so much you can't control as an artist. And if you can carry on and just love what you're doing and not worry so much about how it's being received, I mean, I know that's incredibly difficult. I understand that. What I'm saying is talk about. Easier said than done, but it is so important. And anyway, I was really moved by Ed and his. Yeah, just general outlook on things and the way he just keeps plowing along. Anyway, it was a wonderful conversation, so why don't we get to it? Michael, as we said, it's a little long, so if you don't mind, please take it away.
Yeah, let's do that before your teeth start chattering. Two ways that ship sailed after the first 60 seconds. All right, well, warm vibes. And here is your conversation with Ed Pinar. Ed Pinore, welcome to the Photowork podcast. It's great to have you on. I've wanted to have you on for a long time, and so we finally got you. So thank you so much for making the time.
Absolutely. Sasha. So happy to be here and also an honor to be part of this and have also been looking forward to being a part of the conversation. So thank you so much.
I love enthusiasm. Occasionally I have a guest on who I welcome, and I feel like I can tell immediately that they'd rather be at the dentist. And I'm like, okay, this isn't going to go well. I'm not going to name names. So, Ed, before I get to my barrage of questions, tell folks about yourself and where you're from and what your journey's been and where you are now and all that good stuff.
Sure, absolutely. I grew up in Johnstown, Pennsylvania, a small Rust Belt town about an hour east of Pittsburgh. You know, my origin story with photography, I believe, is similar to many amateur origin stories. And I consider the amateur element of photography kind of a essential kind of, you know, element, actually. It was the, you know, the kind of naive idea that the camera was going to capture reality, capture memories. You know, I remember distinctly actually in high school when I was first beginning to, you know, I had like a little point and shoot camera. I think I was a hand me down and I was like, oh, wow, I can take some photographs of my friends. And, you know, I just remember having this automatic assumption that it was going to capture and record reality as I had experienced it. So, of course, it was that kind of rift and starting to notice that rift between the moment in a photograph and the action that had, you know, spurred the creation of the photograph was, you know, kind of a strange and fun, you know, there was moments that we were like, oh, my gosh, this is like the best time of our lives. And you take photographs and the photographs were so boring or uninteresting. And then there were photographs that were like, wait a minute, did someone pick up my camera in between classes and take this picture? I don't know where it came from. I didn't remember it. And there were most interesting images. So, you know, I remember that feeling distinctly and I constantly go back to that feeling and, you know, even go back to my old photographs for that reminder. And, you know, this is what, this was the 90s. This was an analog era. We were, you know, there was only Film, you know, so the idea of like seeing the image instantly was only possible with a Polaroid cube, which, you know, felt very fancy, very expensive at that time, especially, you know, as a high schooler. So those, you know, there was this kind of delay, there was this sort of lack of feedback that you wouldn't have immediately. So that, you know, I remember that distinctively as well. And I, you know, I kind of mentioned this because I feel like when I give talks to younger students, obviously you may not realize I forget these things, you know, so I'm reminding myself as well, like how, oh yes, this was a, a very, very different moment.
Oh yeah.
So I think it was just that basic kind of, you know, my initial photography practice or excitement came exactly from that pure analog or amateur and analog kind of experience. And, you know, and it was also a tool of playing. You know, in this time period in the 90s, you know, it wasn't quite so easy to participate in culture. For example, you know, like there was like underground music and you could have a band, but, you know, making videos, making pictures, making sort of other forms of media and feeling like you were able to participate in that world were, you know, felt there was a much higher ladder, you know, there was more of a barrier of access. So it was very exciting. And so it was, you know, it was thrilling to make your own photographs, even if you decided like a 24 exposure roll and you wouldn't see them for a month later, you know, so it's kind of like, you know, these simple pleasures that sound, you know, as I'm saying, it sounds archaic and ancient, you know, already in this kind of strange moment. But I consider all of those kind of things like an origin point that I hold very close and dear to remind me of that kind of excitement of, you know, I think I'm just rooted in this analog reality, you know, I feel very analog as a human and I feel like kind of a stranger in the digital realm in so many ways. So I feel like that kind of, you know, the pure joy of being able to see the world recorded in an image is still something that I just find so exciting and mysterious as well. So, you know, in high school, so it was just me and my friends and it was like playing games with the camera, you know, it was like, it was fun, it was play. It was like a way to feel like you were empowered to kind of create your own media. I guess I should also mention there was a brief moment into my senior year of high school when my interest in photography was Starting to bud that we also had a public access show at our local cable network. So, you know, there were some other mischievous kind of playful teenage antics happening as well, which I think all kind of fed into this sort of, you know, I think maybe my irreverent and playful nature when it comes to photography, which I tried to continue that theme, I think. And, you know, so it was, you know, after high school, there was, you know, I'm okay. I'm getting. It's like, you know, mid-90s. I'm in Johnstown, Pennsylvania. There's no Internet. There's no tether to the outside world other than music and magazines. You know, those were, like, the most contemporary thing that felt like you were reading about the moment, you know, felt like it was coming from magazines. Music was huge. You know, we were blessed with, like, a wonderful little record shop that somehow had this incredible collection of a very obscure vinyl and cassettes from all over the world. I found, you know, my love of heavy metal music in this shop. You know, these strange albums and bands that. With names that just made no sense and album art that just was like, whoa, what is this? You know, seemed completely the opposite. You know, again, this is a moment where I feel like at least my memory feels like this, you know, alternative culture was like an actual thing because it was such a dominant kind of. Like everyone was watching the same channels, everyone was watching the same news. Everyone had the same kind of upbringing. You know, like, it was maybe the last moment of this sort of, like, you know, 1900s era of, you know, we all had a very similar media upbringing until maybe the end of the 90s in a sense. So it felt like underground cult and underground media maybe were the beginnings of, like, those other threads. So I was instantly and always attracted to those movements and those areas of activity. You know, the fact that, you know, these bands would be creating these strange and esoteric musics and sounds, that at that point, you know, I had this imagination, of course, that there were these grand audiences and there were places in the world where these things were celebrated. But none of this was near me. So, of course, it was all my fantasy of, you know, there weren't even much live music or shows. You know, I'd have to travel out of town for most of that. So, you know, again, it was sort of this bubble of many things and somehow I was able to plug into some other, bigger things, I guess. And that kind of sustained me during those. That period. And I also. I kind of do think that kind of an interest in fascination with underground music, for example, has kind of prepared me for a lifetime of working in obscurity, you know, or just like that, you know, being okay with that, you know, just sort of like, that was just great. Like, I thought that was wonderful and just something kind of just exciting about that, actually. So, you know, after. After high school, you know, I had no real. You know, I don't know. I didn't have much of a plan. I took a year off after high school, actually. I really did want to go to school. I wanted to learn about photography. But in my town, there was no art schools or places you could do that. Even in Pittsburgh at that time, there was only, like, the commercially oriented art institutes of Pittsburgh that, you know, which I really wanted to go. I have had the paperwork, you know. Luckily, my mom talked me out of it. You know, it was very expensive and maybe a dubious education because it was unaccredited at that time, you know. So luckily it just didn't really work out. So I ended up taking a year off. I'm working at McDonald's, you know, like I did through high school. And somehow I ended up applying for the state school that was near me. Indiana University of Pennsylvania is about 30 minutes away, and they had a communications media department. So somehow that seemed like the closest I could get to the areas of my interest at that time. This was a small. Or actually, it wasn't that small. It was about. It was the largest of the state universities in Pennsylv. And even though it was only 20 minutes away, it felt like I was transported to a different world. You know, it was completely different people. And again, I look back at this and it's easily to see that, you know, I'm growing up in my town. Johnstown is technically in the Appalachian Mountains, you know, so it's really like western Pennsylvania is kind of a continuation of the Appalachians that kind of cut through the state up into New York. So, you know, this sense of isolation and the sense of kind of, you know, you're kind of out there on your own and the world was elsewhere, you know, was certainly a big part of my upbringing. You know, like the. All the action was happening somewhere else. You know, there was a desire at that time to leave, you know, to get the hell out of there, to go somewhere. And, you know, so in undergraduate, I did have the opportunity to. There was one photography professor. Photography was always kind of the bastard child of the arts, as far as I was understanding it, because it was. You know, we had a school of the art, but Photography was not part of that, actually. Photography was in this communications department, which was also part of the school of education. You know, it was like a, you know, basement apartment in the basement of the basement, you know, so it's kind of a niche within a niche, which is a great way, again, I think, to understand photography, actually. And so, in a way, I think this outsider status always appealed to me as well. Like, there was this kind of misunderstood nature, you know. And again, this is, like, over time that I think I've appreciated more and more. So anyway, I. We had one wonderful professor at my undergraduate, Dr. Ron Juliet. And he was very encouraging, you know, and like, that pure joy as well. Like, I feel like he cultivated and encouraged, you know, like, he. I remember him, you know, just standing in front of the class and talking about light hitting the side of a building and how, like, exciting that could be and, like, kind of laughing at that moment. And then, of course, I find myself often now just. Just, you know, taken aback by the light. And he, you know, he was very encouraging and supportive. So there was ample opportunity for me and some of my classmates, one of which, I believe was on your podcast recently, Christopher McCall, who I had the wonderful opportunity of meeting with at that time. And we were fast friends and we were, you know, kind of both shared this enthusiasm for photography, and we would be the ones in the dark room, you know, after hours, many, many days. And, you know, so anyway, our professor was very kind and supportive. He would give us independent studies, which essentially just allowed us to gather credits for just doing what we were doing. And, you know, we created our small little community there and, you know, just kind of nurtured our interests at that time. You know, I have a very nostalgic feeling about college. You know, it was a very positive experience for me. Like, I didn't know what to expect. I didn't have any friends at this school. It was a very strange. And, you know, but again, it was this, you know, kind of this idyllic or again, in my memory, idyllic time. Pre digital. No one had cell phones. You know, like, you barely had email. It was like the beginning of all of that. So perhaps also, of course, you know, I can't tell now looking back, like, are these formative moments of a life and a time in life, or is it also this time in the world is also, you know, a bit of an anomaly in retrospect. The 90s were a relatively peaceful and prosperous period where you legitimately felt like you could have optimism for the future. You know, maybe the last time in this country's recent history where you felt like there was a universal perhaps feeling of optimism of what was possible and maybe what was to come. Again, maybe that was also a naive and foolish notion that I was allowed to have because of, you know, my position as well. But you know, so anyway, in college I gathered a lot of inspiration and you know, I felt like I was a sponge. I was just, you know, excited to learn. I loved a lot of my classes. I felt like I was able to explore a lot of different topics. There was again, it was no photo major, so but I eventually landed in a position. There was a, they called it an interdisciplinary fine arts major. So that ended up being my program where I was able to kind of pick and choose a few different areas. So I. It was photography, graphic design and printmaking were my three kind of areas of interest which kind of continued to fascinate me. And you know, so again it was a very naive moment. I didn't feel like I was, you know, because of this, all of these things and this lack of kind of overarching exposure. Like even in this time period I had very little awareness of contemporary photography. You know, photography was still only black and white as far as I could tell. You know, like there was, was very little exposure to the what was happening. I still had no. You know, actually I do remember in college like someone showing me a book of Stephen Shores and it was actually a strange one. It was like a catalog of his like baseball photographs or something. And it was very small and strange. And I remember looking at this book and thinking like I've never seen anything so boring in my life, you know, like. So that feeling of like or you know, which a lot of people describe. So this is why I can empathize with non photography people when they look at a lot of photography and they just don't get it. Because I remember that feeling very, very clearly like why are we looking at this? Or what am I supposed to think here? You know, like and then of course of being fascinated by that prompt to be questioned, to be stimulated into questioning what you're seeing and to think about it differently and of course to appreciate those who chose to work in these manners. So you know, it was a very self guided and piecemeal development and the most significant thing I think besides like all of the community and friends and just overall developing as a human in colle, you know, I kind of was embracing design. I was very interested in graphic design. I was seeing how graphic design was also everywhere. I think you know, somehow I was interested in maybe from some, you know, a small interest in media culture, media studies, this idea of how things were not just what they seemed or there were other systems behind it. And that could be something I, you know, growing up, my father was a sociologist. You know, he, he studied, he was a family counselor, but he had many books on sociology. And I have many fond memories of reading him my heavy metal music lyrics and having debates about what they meant. You know, so there was this kind of idea of how, you know, so I think I've always been interested in this kind of notion of the codes or the encoding behind things and then maybe perhaps how to use those things to creative ends for sure became of interest. So. But through my interest in design, you know, also. So this is, you know, ending college is sort of the end of the 90s, and so the Internet is sort of emerging as this reality. And so I taught myself how to do web design before there were any classes or anything. It was, you know, it was a very valuable skill to have. And so at this time I fortuitously had some, you know, again, I don't even understand this. Like, I'm looking at my, this weird, you know, working class college in Western Pennsylvania and I had these contacts and peers that somehow went on to do wonderful things, including another peer of mine was actually Chad Hurley, who went to found YouTube. He was also in the class in the group of people that I was in college with. And he was, you know, so there was people moving to California. I was very interested in moving to California. And, you know, one of the first job offers I had actually was at PayPal. So I almost would have been an employee of Elon's, I suppose.
Yes. Would have been a mogul. Yeah.
Yeah. So this is like one of those, the alternative life of, you know, entire could have been a very different one. But luckily I, you know, I had this job offer, but I had then received through a contact at my university, a contact at a graphic design agency. And it was much less pay, but I chose the design, the job at the design agency because I felt like it would have been more creatively rewarding. So of course I made the wrong move. I didn't pick the financial rewards or, you know, some people would have said that. Of course, I am sure I would have potentially had a, a house or two in Palo Alto right now. But anyway, no regret, but I did choose that deliberately, the path of creativity. I think, you know, I wanted to, you know, I think I was always very fiercely independent and Interested in kind of pursuing my own endeavors, whatever that. Not even not quite knowing what those were to be at that time. But, you know, my time in San Francisco, which was in the year 2000, I moved there and it was right after college, and I started working at this design agency again. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, it was right at the beginning of the pop of the first bubble of the dot com era. So I only had about a good year of prosperity. But, you know, that was again, a very, very, extremely formative moment. You know, it was my first real exposure away from Pennsylvania. You know, in college, I did get to travel for the first time. You know, flying and traveling out of state. Further away, you know, my family, we didn't really do these things. You know, both of my parents were from a small town about a half hour north of where I grew up. Both of my grandparents were coal miners. My mom worked in a rural hospital. My dad was a family counselor for, you know, people who in need in our hometown. So there wasn't, you know, there was a very local, very humble kind of origin in that sense. But, you know, I was. I had a desire to see the world and to go places. Somehow I was able to figure that out, I suppose. So in San Francisco, not only did I have the opportunity for the first time, I was able to experience some of the prosperity that I had heard so much about in America, but had never quite witnessed in my own hometown. You know, growing up in this kind of dissolving rust belt town, which, you know, when I was growing up, I still remember movie theaters and department stores in the downtown. So, like, I felt like I was still part of that memory line of seeing that change. You know, I think people that are now 20 years old have zero memory of any prosperity in these places, unfortunately. So that was the first thing that took me back, moving to San Francisco. The affluence and the prosperity and the possibilities that seem to be boundless, that kind of complete and total contrast to where I came from was very interesting and fascinating. In San Francisco, I had a lot of exposure to culture and things that I wouldn't have otherwise as well. So I had started to.
And are you shooting? Yeah, sorry, sorry. I was just wondering if you were photographing then.
Yes, yes, absolutely. You know, for me, like, pretty much in high school, I started, you know, and I consider my archives as the beginning of those first few roles. And I essentially had a camera at some point near me at all times. I did have this compulsion to make photographs all through college and onward. So absolutely, yes, I was taking photographs on a regular basis. And it was in, you know, San Francisco I felt like my photo education truly, really began because that's when I started becoming more aware of the contemporary. I started taking night classes at CCAC at the time it was called. One of the first ones was with Todd Haido. So it was very appropriate. Taking night courses with Todd Haido. I was learning color printing. I had no. I hadn't done any color darkroom work until the epitome. I was shooting color film, you know, just because I was shooting and processing it with commercial processing. But I had no, you know, ability to make my own photographs at that time. I always wanted to work in color because color seemed like the way the world looked. But I wasn't able to make my own color images until I moved to San Francisco and started color printing. I've always been somewhat. Especially in those days. I had very little money for most or all of my life. So I always was finding a way to produce and work within my means and within a format that seemed to have made sense. So many of the decisions that led to my practice at the moment were very practical, very economic. You know, I had one camera, or I had, you know, one camera of each format. You know, very, very few upgrades. I would stick to the same equipment. I was photographing a lot at that time. I was shooting because obviously it was all film. I was photographing a lot, but not necessarily processing it immediately. So there was a lot of lag time of making images and seeing the feedback. You know, there would be many periods where there weren't a lot of feedback. Especially, I mean, San Francisco, because I had. Sadly, the only time I had a SAL job was in that time period, you know, so I was actually able to, you know, pay for my film and go to take some night classes and, you know, kind of explore my education a bit further at that time. And then, yeah, Todd Heido introduced me to all the amazing contemporary world of photography. I remember distinctly it was actually a class on editing and presentation of your photographs. So it was a fascinating class to have taken with him. And it, you know, opened my mind to that possibility of, like, oh, wow. It's not just a. About an image. It's not just about making the photograph. It's about all of these other steps. It's about how you can bring these images together. You know, I didn't understand what sequence meant, you know, at that time in relation to photography. And I'm still figuring it out. But, you know, he took a copy of the Americans and like, took the pages all out and had it laid across the table so you could see it sequentially in order. And that was amazing, you know, to see it in that way and then again to sort of understand there was this sort of structure or scaffolding behind it. So, you know, I was in San Francisco for about a year and a half. I was the last one in, so the first to go when the dot com bubble popped. And I felt like it was distinctly at a bit of a crossroads, you know, wondering, like, what do I do now? Am I going to. You know, there felt like there was lots of work there, lots of opportunities, especially if I wanted to stay in the realm of digital.com or digital design of realm, you know, But I was interested. I always wanted to go to graduate school. So that was always in the back of my mind. And like I said, the entire time I was in San Francisco, every term I was taking classes if I could. And, you know, I had spent so much time in San Francisco, I kind of felt like I was ready for, I think, a new adventure. And I had a friend living in Los Angeles, so I was compelled to explore and check out Los Angeles for a short time, which is, again, I had zero experience with. I had. I had never been there at that point, maybe once quickly on a spring break tour through California, but had no real experience with Los Angeles and living in San Francisco. Of course, you hear many things about Los Angeles, mostly negative. So of course it got me more and more curious, like, what the hell is this place that everyone seems to say is so horrible and horrific, but there's like, you know, 10 million people live there. I can't. What's going on? So I left San Francisco and moved to Los Angeles sort of on a whim. And so that was also kind of a crazy, you know, that was basically. That was the moment I decided, decided I'm going to set out on my own. I'm going to do. Choose to do freelance work only and just see how this goes, you know, like, it was kind of like the beginning of this sort of trying to find my way, I suppose, you know. And again, I, you know, I feel fortunate it was still affordable at this time. I was able to find, you know, I found like a studio apartment in West LA for $600, which seems like crazy, you know, in retro. So I'm like. And of course, I shared it with my girlfriend at the time, so it was very cheap. So, you know, my M.O. has always been, you know, if I'm not going to make more money, which seems typically good to expect. I could always spend less, you know, so. Or finding ways to, you know, live on more modest means or stretch my dollars, you know, as far as I could. And then, you know, and again, when I was in Los Angeles, I really did have some financial struggle, so I was really not processing any film. So I was photographing and photographing, but I was very. Doing little film processing. And then, you know, after being there for a while, I did find my way to graduate school. You know, I had some opportunity. I could have went back to CCA in San Francisco for graduate school. But, you know, I was just at that time, interested in, you know, new experiences. And, you know, my. My hometown has always been a source of photographic inspiration. From the very beginning, you know, I was living in California. I wasn't there as often, but I would still go back. So I like the idea of maybe being a little more, you know, a little closer to home to continue that work. And that is where I managed to find myself. At Cranbrook Academy of Art in Michigan. I took a train from Los Angeles to Detroit with a suitcase full of my unprocessed film, waiting for those refund loan checks to come in so I could see what I had been doing those last few years. And then I was in Michigan for two years. That was also, of course, a very formative moment. It's where I met Melissa Catanese, my partner, who we now share our studio here in Pittsburgh. And then since that point, I had been more oriented towards the East Coast. You know, I kind of stayed in Eastern Standard Time for the most part since that time at Cranbrook.
So, one thing, when I think about you, Ed, I've known you for a long time, and I've known your work, obviously, for a very long time. One of the things that is really striking to me. I'm just going to get right into your artwork now. Your latest book definitely threw me for a loop in a good way. It's called Winter Nights Walking. And I really want to get into that book. But before we do, the thing I'm just dying to sort of understand is I've always thought of you as someone who's really dedicated to sort of the snapshot aesthetic. And you said in passing a few minutes ago that you were shooting in color because that's the way the world looked. The world is in color. And obviously that's a very specific choice. Right. Because the world is in color is a lot of why people shoot in black and white, so that things don't look the way they do to us and it forces us to look differently.
Yes.
So your latest book is in black and white and feels like a really huge departure. And I'm really curious about. I want you to set it up a bit more for folks like the way. The kind of style you'd been shooting in and really dedicated to for a very, very long time and the many books that came before this latest one, all of which are really wonderful and feel very ed to me and, and really whimsical. Really dedicated to a certain kind of demand from the viewer to find what's special here because it does look so seemingly ordinary. And then you move into something very, very different. So can you just talk about like your long term dedication to the way you were shooting? Let's start with that because I really associate you. It's like you're one of the. The people I most associate with that style, I mean.
Right, yeah, no, no, that's really nice to hear and that's. Yeah, it's interesting to reflect on that. I consider myself somewhat open ended in a sense that I don't. I don't consider or I don't feel like I'm necessarily tethered to any one way of working. And I'm open to changing it up. But at the same time I do think there is a very consistent thread of interest and motivations behind my choices with shooting. Like I said at the beginning, I think it was entirely practical. You know, like it was 35 millimeter point. Like the Olympus stylus was like my primary camera for many, many years. And that's like all of Golden Palms essentially, except for one photograph was made with that camera. And so I love that and I absolutely love the snapshot. You know, I'm a walking photographer. I've never, you know, when I lived in Los Angeles to this day, I don't have a driver's license. I don't.
Right. Which is really funny.
So I'm kind of. Yeah. So I just sort of, you know, I don't even know. Anyway, that's a different topic, I suppose. But you know, so I'm very interested in that activity of walking through, passing through, being in physical space with the camera. And so I love that snapshot, the quickness, the fluidity. You know, like I remember having. It was very difficult to switch from that camera because I just loved how, you know, there was just. To me, there was no thought. It was completely an instantaneous kind of action of like a feeling or a thought or a sight in an action. To make the photograph, you know, But I feel like I've always been interested in also very highly detailed photographs, you know. So I did move to medium format and I was shooting with my Pentek 67 for many years. And so, you know, and all of my projects to this point are somewhat of a mix of these things, I would say. And then eventually it switched to digital. Mostly for practical reasons, I just wasn't able to afford film. I actually just finished this year processing unprocessed film from like 10 years ago. So it was very practical to move to digital. So I had to, I felt like I had to train myself to use the digital tools in the way that I was comfortable making work. But I found that there was a possibility and I've always been intrigued by this possibility, you know, because I always, I always wanted to make very meditative, detailed images. But I felt like, oh my gosh, you have to have this 8 by 10 camera and you have to be so wealthy or you can't do this without this tool, you know. And I always really hated this feeling that like, oh my gosh, you can't do that unless you have this, this. And so I think, you know, my quest has always been to kind of find workarounds and to question those things. Is it the tool or is it the way the tool is being used? Of course, it's always both, you know. So I was always like, well you could have, you know, you could have that kind of. Why couldn't you have this mindset of an 8 by 10 view camera operator, but we working with a different tool, you know. So anyway, there's always sort of a question and I don't know if I answered that question or not. But you know, it's, it's the possibility that kind of kept me going. And my feeling is that the new digital tools and the way that I feel like I've been able to kind of adapt to them, feel like a hybrid to me because I feel like I'm able to now work very quickly, very fluidly, but I'm getting very high resolution, very highly detailed images. So I feel like at least in my mind, I'm kind of marrying these kind of different modes in a sense. And that's one of my objectives in a. To kind of keep that fluidity and the kind of open to the moment that I feel when I'm walking without a tripod. I think that at least to me there's not maybe quite as much difference. But I can see absolutely, of course, how winter nights walking in Particular could see like a bit of a. Of a departure. But, you know, I did. I had a previous book, Nothing Changes if Nothing Changes, that was also only black and white from 2013. So, you know, I've never shied away from black and white. It's always been, I think, part of my work. I love my black and white photographs. Like I said in college, I was only photographing black and white in the dark room because that was the only photographs. But I was still shooting color on the side. Right.
That you could process.
Exactly. I mean, I was taking my, you know, and it's, you know, of course, taking the color negatives as well and trying to put them in the enlarger, you know. So, you know, I was always interested in playing with the things and there were no fast and hard rules. It was always just kind of like what you could do and what you could do with it and what you could get away with. You know, I think I've always had that ethos in a sense, but I do, I do like the idea and I'm hoping that my current and, you know, recent work that I've been doing is in some ways kind of marrying these kind of things because that is certainly of interest to me. Like, I want. I kind of want both. You know, I want to be able to be quick and fast and fluid and light on my feet, but also be able to capture these images that in a different context or moment I can focus on or enlarge to a large scale or do things with them that you may not have thought to do with a snapshot. So I like the idea of having both possibilities. And also it's one of the.
That's interesting. Yeah, go ahead.
The last thing I'll say about that. That's also why I feel like almost all of. All of my projects are somewhat long term projects. So I'm able to mix and match. And I find that very satisfying because I do find I have a different mentality. I love the way I used to work with my film cameras. So I like to be able to bring some of those things into the current work by reusing those photographs as well. You know, I feel like the different tonalities of the different ways of making images enriches the work. And almost all of my projects actually, maybe without, with the exception of Winter Nights, is that that's happening. You know, Winter Nights is maybe the only project to this point where there's no film images in that project.
I'm surprised at how much you're talking about your process and practice and less about, you know, emphasis being on, for lack of a better word. Forgive me, but, you know, style. Because like I said, I think of you as so dedicated to even. Even in a project like Walking Home, which I really love and think is really beautiful, and there's a lot of very formal images in Walking Home, but there's sort of an equal number of snapshot aesthetic images. And I guess, for me, the snapshot aesthetic is so, like, powerful to me in a way that when. When it's there, even surrounded by a lot of formal imagery, there's a dominance to it. I've had to go back again and again and keep looking at your catalog for your show, Walking Home, that you had at Pier 24 to remind myself of how many formal images are actually in there. Because it's like. Yeah, like, I'm just thinking out loud, I guess, here. But then I get to Winter Nights Walking and it just feels like a full sort of dedication to a more formal imagery. And. Yeah, I was just really. That's the way it felt to me. Were you not thinking that? Is that just my take on it?
No, that's a good question. You know, I don't. I guess I personally don't. I don't really think of it in that way, per se. Maybe the difference that I can imagine what you. Maybe what you're seeing and what I would. How I would describe it would be that Winter Night's Walking was unique in the sense that I had. I did sort of, kind of come up with. I. I think I decided at some point that I would be black and white. You know, it seemed like it was a technical decision, but also an aesthetic one that I found satisfying. And it was a project that I was only photographing. The parameter for Winter Nights Walking was December, January, February and March. So this photographs in those months. So it was something that I would kind of put on hold and come back to. And I was just slowly building very tight parameters. Exactly.
Very tight parameters in this project. Yeah. And that may be what's doing it. And that's actually a real, really good point. Yeah, absolutely. And there was that feeling like, you know, it was many, many long walls. Although there's one color image. Sorry.
That's true. See, I always got to bend it a little bit. Of course. Of course. Yeah. So, you know, in that. That project in particular, I do consider a sort of a meditation project, I suppose, as well. You know, like. Like many of my projects, it's all in the title, I suppose, you know, because the title itself of course, is a reference to the famous summer nights walking. And so the idea of, like, you know, there's always been that interest in me, like, oh, wow, these things have been done here or there and you're always in the west or always someplace more interesting. So I've always liked the idea of, you know, bringing my home regions into these arenas. So there was that. But also winter, you know, focus on the season itself, the time of year, seasonality, really just wanting to meditate on that. And then, of course, the night. I've always been attracted to night photography. So this was also an ability and an opportunity to kind of, you know, basically, I guess, improve my chops or kind of work, decide or figure out what that meant for me. And, you know, and walking, you know, so the walking aspect was super important to the fact that I didn't use a tripod for a single image in that book, you know, and this is also, you know, I think my interest in, like, expanding the possibilities of the photograph. Like, I find myself excited by the technological possibilities of today because I feel like when I look at my old photographs from 20 years ago, I feel like I was trying to make images at that point that I can now achieve technically with the tools I have available, you know, in the way that I want, you know. So again, the new tools allow me to walk and make photographs of that way without using my tripod. So I was able to keep my fluid feeling of in motion through a space. You know, they do feel a little bit more singular, I think, image wise. So maybe there's that. But to me, they feel like snapshots because there is, at least in my mind and my memory of them, there's a kind of a quickness to them. There was a kind of immediacy to that moment. They were all sort of fleeting, kind of pauses along the way.
That's so interesting. I don't feel that way at all. That is interesting.
Well, let me just. I'm going to just read a little bit of. I don't know if folks listen to the show, subscribe to Collector Daily, but if they don't, they should. It's an online photography space of criticism, although it's really not about being critical, it's about being supportive and deeply engaged with photography. But it covers books and exhibitions, et cetera. And it was founded by someone named Loring Knobloch, who I personally am very fond of. And so Loring wrote this about winter nights walking. Back in 1985, Aperture published a thin volume of black and white photographs by Robert Adams called Summer Nights. As the title implied, the 38 landscapes inside were made by Adams while walking in the suburban foothills of Colorado. At night, the streets are empty, the glow of the sky turns vistas into silhouettes, and as the night darkens, the city lights come on in the distance, et cetera, et cetera. In 2009, Adams expanded and reimagined the photo book with Steid, creating Summer Night's Walking, which introduced a new generation of photographers to his modest but somehow sublime nocturnal wanderings. So armed with a little photo history, it doesn't take a genius to figure out where Ed Pinar found inspiration for his recent photo book, Winter Nights Walking, and the choice of his title. Pinar has made the photographic breadcrumb trail pretty explicit in case we might have missed it. And while Panara's project certainly has more than a hint of homage embedded in both its conception and its aesthetic, it smartly avoids a trip down memory lane or a deliberate following of Adam's footsteps. Panar is a contemporary photographer from Pennsylvania, so the landscapes that surround his life in and around Pittsburgh are quite a bit different than what Adam has found out west decades ago. And of course, Bernard has reversed the seasons, opting for the crisp, cold, and sometimes snowy nights of winter. I'm going to just skip down to the bottom now because I just. It's so wonderful and I sort of really feel like here, here, this is how I felt. In the end, I can say that I was genuinely surprised by Winter Night's Walking. I fully expected the photo book to recall Robert Adams in ways that would be obvious and predictably gentle and thoughtful. But Panora's book is actually much better than that, and I feel a little bit sheepish for not taking it seriously enough up front. Yes, it makes its overt, almost tongue in cheek nod to Adams, but it also creates an aggregate portrait of Pittsburgh that is quite a bit different than the three rivers belching steel factories, industrial has been that we have come to expect. Winter Nights Walking is lovingly perceptive in a way that makes me want to wander the same forgettable streets and be reminded of what it means to photographically pay attention to something with such care and openness. Panara's photographs feel fleeting and temporary in the best possible manner, their delights reveling in quiet, slow down, overlooked nuance. As such, I apologize retroactively for assuming this photo book would be overly easy, when in fact, it's awfully hard to consistently see the world with the kind of gracefully controlled patience displayed here by Pinar. Well, I don't feel the need to apologize because I figured it would be really good. But it's really beautiful and it's interesting how differently you and I feel about the pictures. But I will just say that first of all I think the pictures are so carefully. I mean I'm almost laughing because of the way you described making this series. But to me it's like they're so carefully composed and almost to a photograph you manage to do this really uncanny thing which is every photograph feels like a POV shot from a movie where we're looking from our characters through our characters eyes. Oh, wow. And so you feel like you're in this book, in this walk. I mean I felt so completely like I was going on this walk. I'm not trying to be to overstate yet I really felt that way. And it's really an uncanny experience to turn the pages in this book and feel so much like you're there. And I really, really, really recommend obviously that people get this book. I think it's a really important addition to the photo book canon. And I also really recommend that people go through it, if you can, in the winter, but definitely at night. It's really different going through it at night than it is during the day. So that's my recommendation. But I just think it's a really beautiful achievement and I've always loved your work and it's not a secret that I do lean a bit more formal, so I'll cop to that. But you know, it also feels like a departure in certain ways because some, some of the work you've done has been more sort of opaque. You know, if I think about like in the Vicinity, which is a project that it's one of those, if you don't read about it, you don't know what the heck is going on. I mean there's a couple of clues but mostly you're like where am I? What's happening? What am I supposed to get from this? And I think it's like what you said before about with summer nights, winter nights, walking. It's just there's so many parameters in some ways does feel different even though. And now I'm going to contradict myself because I know that like Animals that Saw Me, which is a wonderful two part book that you've done of animals seeing you, which is also obviously has very specific parameters. But I guess this one feels like it really like you put the most in place and I just think it's really interesting, you know, for someone of your, you know, everything that You've put out into the world and you're very prolific and you know, to sort of work, you know, in that way or, you know, at this point in your life. And I think it's really great. Anyway, I've talked a lot. Please.
No, no, no, that's. I mean, I appreciate that. I mean, you know, I had a brief moment actually where I was studio assisted with Paul Graham in When I lived in New York. Oh, wow.
And, you know, I think, you know, he's always been a massive inspiration and his way of kind of simultaneously making. Exactly, exactly. And that always felt natural to me. It's always made sense. I mean, I don't know how much I really do that, but in my mind and in my process, I'm really kind of exploring the medium in those. I'm very interested in photography's possibilities. I get. And I think that's maybe why those things come up as well. You know, like, I'm very, you know, so I really appreciate hearing that and noticing those differences. And also sometimes I think I certainly get confused because, you know, much of my work is. Or, you know, I'm a voracious image maker, so I'm constantly making new images and kind of sifting and order organizing and editing in the background. And so it's easy for me to lose track of what's kind of publicly seen and shown and released. And also the kind of the churn of things that I'm doing kind of in my studio. So I kind of. I can get mixed up as well or forget that there's actually a disconnect or maybe like some things could appear out of sequence or there's missing pieces perhaps. But anyway, the interest in just playing with and exploring all of those different modes and more is definitely something that I am interested in doing and hope to expand upon in my work. It always makes made sense to me as an artist that you're, you know, not only doing the thing that you're doing, but you're learning and you're growing and expanding into. And hopefully, you know, I've always felt like, you know, hopefully your one's best work is always ahead. Right. You know, you don't want to feel like you're, you know, so there's that, you know, I've always kind of moving in that direction or with that sentiment of like, well, what is possible is always going to be more interesting than what has been done prior.
Well, that's a hopeful. Exactly. Yeah. I do hope. I do hope it's so interesting that you worked for Paul, because he's really so dedicated to letting himself go and just play with whatever sort of form he wants to and whatever concept is front of mind at any time, which I really. Yes, I don't think I could work that way necessarily, but I really admire it. Absolutely. Me too.
I'm a very predictable person, I think. So let me ask you before, before we wrap up, I want to talk a little bit about because I'm endlessly fascinated about this in general and about with you and Melissa and the way you've sort of structured your lives and your collaboration. How do you think about this is a really open ended question. So just deal with it however you want. But how do you think about your place in our community in the photo world? And I mean, you've had big shows. I mentioned Pier 24, but at other places as well. And you know, everyone who I know who's in the fine art photo world knows who you are and respects you tremendously. But as you've mentioned many times, of course it's a struggle and you and Melissa have produced many photo books and both with other people and through your own studio, Spaces Corners. So how do you think about where you are and what the journey's been and do you feel positive about the photo art world? Do you feel blah about it?
Yeah, that's a good question. I mean, I generally, I think, hopefully have a bit of a sunny disposition when it comes to most things, you know, so I definitely, you know, tend to see, I see positive things, you know, I see the, you know, I do. I feel very grateful to be part of such a wonderful community. I feel like, you know, anytime I speak to others, friends or colleagues in different professions or fields, I feel like, wow, I'm in a great arena, you know, because the photography community, photo book community, you know, it's of course a niche within a niche within a niche kind of thing, but it's a wonderful little niche and I love it. Definitely I feel very gratified and grateful for the community, you know, the energy and enthusiasm that people put forward. I feel very inspired by, you know, Spaces Corners certainly was that. I think Melissa did talk a lot about that in her conversation with you. It was a way to engage. I love the idea of, you know, flipping hats. It kind of just goes along with all these other things. It was nice to switch from, you know, going in front of the tables trying to show someone your work to being behind the table looking at other artists were. And, you know, and through that process and I learned a lot from Jason Fulford and working with my first publication, Golden Palms with him, you know, like that.
Yeah, Jason's awesome.
Absolutely. And there's this. I feel like there'd be a, you know, probably a beautiful survey that could be written about photography in general. Like all of these different kind of self initiated programs, you know, from Stieglitz and camera work to J and L, you know, to every era. You probably find artists app. All of these organizations that are now steadfast in their presence started with these notions of, you know what, we're photographers. The world doesn't understand what we're doing, but we do. And we're going to create this space and make that space and kind of celebrate it in our own way. So I love that. The DIY ethic that's always there and this kind of like pushing it forward and sharing it in these kind of micro ways. I love that. You know, and again, being in Pennsylvania, being in Pittsburgh is of course I love it here. It's a wonderful place to be based, but it's also, you know, it is a little, and, or historically it's been felt a little isolated, but now in the more connected world, that seems less of an issue. But also then maybe an advantage to be in a somewhat kind of a different position to be thinking and working on these things from. So I, overall I feel, you know, mostly optimistic because of those things as well. I do somewhat feel a bit of an outsider in my own ways, I think. You know, I feel kind of, you know, I'm somewhat reclusive perhaps, you know, to a fault. I remember in graduate school critics saying, you know, one of his words of advice was hustle and hide, you know, and I think I'm much better at the hiding part than the hustling part, you know, so, but you know, I love, you know, so again, there's this kind of, you know, so maybe it suits me maybe too well to be kind of of like kind of hiding in the corner where I am in Pittsburgh here. But so overall I feel a sense of optimism. Like, I mean, since we started Pacers Corners, which was in 2011 to now, it feels like, you know, despite all of the premature announcements of the death of photography or the death of the book or this, this that, you know, it feels like it's been thriving nonetheless. And, you know, all it takes is attendance at any of the recent book fairs to see the energy and enthusiasm orgasm continues and persists. So generally I do feel optimistic. I feel like, you know, I've been very fortunate to receive a Guggenheim fellowship A few years ago. And that's been kind of stabilized me and enabled me to kind of, you know, basically turbocharge my image making. Now I feel like I've maybe tipped the scale a little too much where I've been. So in a certain moments that I'm not, I haven't been and doing as much as the reflective aspect of kind of stepping back to see what those things are, which. That is what I'm looking forward to doing in the next, you know, in this next coming year. I mean, and I've, you know, I've never had too many, I think, illusions about it, you know, so maybe that helps as well. You know, I think I've always been somewhat, you know, optimistically, maybe naively optimistic in terms of what might be possible, maybe stupidly optimistic, you know, but also somehow able to continue that without becoming totally worn down by the harsh reality of the world itself, you know, but in that sense, it has liberated me because I never felt like, oh, well, this will happen, or this should, you know, like, to me, it's all a gift. It's all amazing. It's. I can't even believe anyone gets to do these things. It's a miracle that these things are able to, you know, knowing as the, you know, as someone who makes things and has worked with others making things, you know, you know, the challenges and the strange pathways, the convoluted journeys that everyone takes to create something of this nature is just so. It's almost unbelievable that these things even happen, you know, I can't even believe it sometimes. I'm like, wow, like, all the things that had to align for these strange and cryptic and esoteric objects to kind of make their way into the world, you know, but that's the joy of it. And I think the fact that that is still possible. I don't feel as much on the pulse of anything. I don't even know what that means anymore. It feels like maybe things have fractured in such a way, but I think of that as expansion. Like, I feel like that means there's just all these different pockets and all these different areas. And, you know, I always tell students, like, you know, the photo world is what it is, but wherever you're from or wherever you're at and wherever you want to be, like there's some other little world that you could interact with. And photography's ability to be part of the world and to reflect upon the world and feels to me like there's always a way to appreciate it and to insert it or to activate it in a different place. And that's one of the most exciting things about it, I think. You know, I see only possibilities moving forward in terms of what could be. It's just a matter of, you know, the challenge is always the work itself. And, you know, getting to that point, I don't. I guess I have less trouble with optimism than I do with, you know, the actual getting through it to see how it all turns out. But, you know, I think that's just part of the process.
Well, I agree with so much of what you just said, and one thing I just want to underline, because I so agree with it, is I hear people. People say all the time about their work, well, it's not what's popular now, or, you know, somehow I'd be doing better if the type of work I was making was more, you know, in vogue or whatever. And I think that there have been times where there have been very powerful waves of a certain type of work. I do not think that's where we are now at all. I think right now there is not a dominant right strain of work. And I am so happy for that, personally.
Yes.
And I don't like it at all when, I mean, I think it's sort of the antithesis of art is, you know, when things constrict right. To me, that feels terrible. And I think we're in a very open, expansive time with photography. Now, I don't know about the other visual arts because it's not my area, but speaking to photography, I think there's really room for anyone making good work to have their work be celebrated and appreciated. Now I think the just explosion of photo book producers, publishers has really insisted on that. And so there's a reason why all the bumper stickers on my car are nice. The only bumper stickers are photo. Photo book publisher bumper stickers, including having recently added a spaces corners amazing sticker to my car.
Wonderful, wonderful.
Thank you so much because I think you guys have insisted upon expansion and plurality and I love it. So, so grateful to folks like you and Melissa and all the other other wonderful photo book nerds out there. My good friend and artist I work with, Brian Skipmott, was texting me the other day and talking about nerding out with photo books and wrote like, sorry, Sasha, but I think that includes you. You're a major nerd or whatever. And I wrote back and I was like, oh, yeah, totally proud of it, 100% man. If that's being nerdy, I'm in. Like, absolutely. Just. It's been so great for all of our. All of us folks who love photography. So, anyway, Ed, thank you for being a part of that. Thank you for being on the show. Thank you for your wonderful work you've been doing all these years. Thank you for your latest book, winter Nights Walking, which I have just treasured and will continue to treasure. And yeah, thanks for hanging out with me today.
Oh, Sasha, thank you so much. And as well as you, you know, your contributions are massive and so influential and I'm so, so glad to have been a part of Photo Work and the original publication. And absolutely the same goes to you. And thank you so much for your inviting me here and I'm so glad to have been a part of this. Thank you.
All right, well, stay warm and dry. We talked about that. We're both in sort of grim, rainy days today where we are, but stay warm and dry. Send my love to Melissa and see you soon. Thank you so much, Sasha. Have a great day. Okay, thank you. Thank you, Ed. Bye.
Photo Work with Sasha Wolf is a production of the Photowork Foundation. Executive producer is Sasha Wolf and the associate producer is Taylor Selzback. The show is also produced and edited by me, Michael Chovendalt. In a real photo show. Music is by J. Walter. If you like the show and wish to find out more about the foundation, please visit Photowork foundation and be sure to subscribe and review with all the stars on your listening platform.