INTERVIEWS
| Interviews |
| Double Exposure Sylvie Went Shopping – An Interview with Robert Herman By Robert A. Schaefer, Jr. | Education/Inspiration | Oct 15, 2009 Last year my friend Rikki Reich and I were at a photography exhibition opening, and she introduced me to photographer Robert Herman who told me that he was currently working on his MFA at the School of Visual Arts in New York City. I decided I wanted to explore why a photographer who already knew the processes involved with producing images would want to feel the need to get an advanced degree in the same subject. We agreed that when he had finished his MFA studies, we would talk about it as well as his life and work. Robert Schaefer: Recently you got your MFA at the School of Visual Arts in New York City. What additional information about photography did you want to gain by doing this? Robert Herman: Actually, the degree I received was an MPS-A Masters of Professional Studies in Digital Photography. I have been shooting for about 25 years, obviously mostly film: 35mm, I was shooting with Kodachrome and also printing from black and white negs. I also used 21/4 and SX-70 Polaroids to create bodies of work. I bought my first digital camera, a Nikon D80 in 2007. Eventually I started to realize that digital capture is only the beginning. A photographer needs a deep and wide skill set and understanding to make high quality final images. The world of digital imaging was changing so fast that I felt I needed to speed up the learning curve and catch up. Katrin Eismann's and Tom Ashe's program at SVA offered an amazing opportunity to get a crash course in Digital and a Masters degree at the same time. RS: Did you studies fulfill your expectations? Would you recommend further studies, which would provide a masters degree as opposed to say workshops in specific areas of interest concerning photography? RH: After meeting with Katrin and Tom, the assistant chair of the department my expectations were very high. Their enthusiasm and their belief in me was so refreshing after knocking around New York relatively unnoticed. What makes this program so unique and is the that on the one hand, there is the full immersion in all things digital: Image Capture, Adobe Lightroom and Photoshop, Dreamweaver, CSS, Java Script, Flash and printing to exhibition quality standards. Tom taught the Image capture class and Chris Murphy, the printing class. Both of them taught in a very scientific way. We made tests in the field, so to speak and then the results were evaluated. This is coupled with with classes in which one’s self-expression is encouraged and nurtured. Harvey Stein, the great fine art photographer was my teacher in Editorial Photography the first semester. I created my first narrative sequence Goodbye to Frankie which I presented as prints and then in book form by the end of the term. As far as a Masters Degree vs. workshops: If you can take the year off to do it, I would recommend the Masters Degree. You get a much bigger bang for your buck. Eight-week long workshops at $5000 each is $40,000. A one year program at SVA is approximately the same cost and at the end you have a degree and the experience of being with 15 extremely talented students and a world class faculty. it was great to see our work evolve over the three semesters. RS: How did you feel about the School of Visual Arts? Would you recommend it for an MPS? RH: It was intense, grueling, challenging and transformative. The MPS program at SVA was one of the best years of my life. The MPS Program in Photography offers each candidate in its program a mentor to work with the thesis project. RS: Did you have such a mentor? Were you pleased with your working relationship? My mentor was Peter C. Jones, the photographer and photography book consultant. I had met him at a Powerhouse Portfolio Review in 2007. His encouragement and insight into my work was invaluable. We discussed the direction of my thesis project, edited the images, developed a friendship and a mutual respect and shared our love for photography. He is very talented at looking at a group of images, sequencing them and he helped me put into words what they were about. RS: You created a film using Apple’s iMovie HD with still photographs and music. Why did you select this venue? Since it is composed of still photographs, would you also like to exhibit Sylvie Went Shopping as these photographs on the wall or in a book? RH: iMovie HD was relatively simple to master. I didn't have time to learn Final Cut. I edited and cropped all the images in Lightroom and then exported the jpegs for use in IMovie. Two of the photographs from Sylvie will be exhibited along with the movie at the SVA Masters Group show. The book I made of the images which was one of the requirements for getting your degree will also be available for viewing. Making the book was a fantastic exercise in sequencing, layout and design. Because it was a narrative, I had a breakthrough about letting go of a traditional presentation and used the tools of design to enhance the story and make it exciting for the viewer. Each medium created its own challenges for me and the viewer's experience of the images is altered because of the medium of presentation: be it prints on a gallery wall, a movie or a book. RS: Although Sylvie Went Shopping begins with a woman’s shopping spree, it graduates into a very sexual direction. What made you want to explore this? Have you experienced any negative reaction to the ménages à trois relationship? RH: The genesis of this project, as it was with Goodbye to Frankie began with conversations with the lead actress. We talked about what her life and fantasies were and built a fictional story from that. Robin who plays Sylvie loves to shop and at that time she was exploring ways of meeting people through the internet. It was also an opportunity to connect the dots between commodity capitalism with the way people go shopping on the Internet for a date to have new experiences. "Sylvie" was a device to explore my own feelings about my sexuality. I created a space to grow as an artist and a human being. I realized recently that the piece is somewhat autobiographical. Making something like this I confronted my shyness as well as the part of my nature that is voyeuristic. Sylvie Went Shopping does make some people uncomfortable. It made me uncomfortable at the beginning. That is why it was so interesting to do. I was exploring my own feelings as I was making it. My parents owned porno movie houses when I was in high school and college and this created tension and conflicting feelings in me about sex, imagery and image making. RS: Could you have made Stefan Went Shopping with two men and a woman in the love triangle? Yes, I think so. But it has to have an organic origin. These pieces are on one level an in depth portrait of someone at a certain moment in their lives. If I encountered someone who was into that and the material was rich enough, it would be great. RS: Have you thought about redoing it as a motion picture in 16mm, 35mm or digital? RH: I suppose it could be redone, but I'm very pleased with the results. I went to film school at NYU for undergrad and I completed three films while I was there. It would be much more compelling to me to write something new with the intention of making a motion picture. RS: The background music is by a very well known rock group. Usually permission to use the music by such groups is very expensive. What has been your experience? Would you advise makers of small budget films to stay away from this direction? RH: My experience with licensing has been very disappointing. I waited all summer for Warner/Rhino licensing to get back to me with a quote. I ended up recording a piano piece and narration composed by Nina Maxwell. Nina's approach added an intimate texture to "Sylvie" and I'm extremely pleased with the results. The creative process always has bumps in the road and I can see now that "Sylvie" was in a holding pattern until the appropriate music appeared. RS: What is your background? Were you interested in photography, film or other art forms as you were growing up? RH: I was born in Brooklyn. My parents moved to Long Beach when I was six weeks old. I lived there until I was eight when the family movie business had a major reversal of fortune. My parents had to sell our wonderful stucco house and we lived in rental apartments and houses in different towns on Long Island until we finally settled in Plainview by the time I went to high school. I grew up watching movies. I saw Antonioni's "Blow Up" in 1966 when I was 11 years old. In those days my parents' theatre in Brooklyn was an art house and my father would take me to work with him. I loved being able to see the same movie over and over again. Drinking in the beauty of 35mm film projected on a silver screen was an incredible formative experience. Because my father owned the movie house, I could watch the same movie as much as I wanted. After a while, the story recedes into the background and you begin to notice other things in the frame. That was the beginning of my cinematic eye and an appreciation for light. Seeing Lászlo Kovács work on "Easy Rider", and Conrad L. Hall's on "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid" was a revelation. Music was the other big force in my life and still is. I worked after school to have money for concert tickets on the weekend. I was constantly going into the city to see bands. I was in a rock band, playing bass and doing little gigs around town. RS: Which photographers and filmmakers have inspired you? RH: When I was in Film School at NYU I took an intro class in black and white photography as an elective. I discovered Kertesz, Frank, Callahan and Helen Levitt. The Mirrors and Windows Exhibition (photography since 1960) that John Szarkowski put together at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City was mind-blowing at the time. It's still one of my favorite photography books. I read John Berger's About Looking and that was the catalyst; reading that book helped me find my voice, I was fascinated by the language of juxtaposition and the decisive moment. I went out shooting the late afternoon light on the streets of NY and made portraits in my home studio of my friends. My composition and eye for light came from cinematography too. In those days I went to the movies a lot: the Bleeker Street Cinema had a double feature that changed every 2 days for 3 bucks. Vilmos Zsigmond who shot McCabe and Mrs. Miller for Altman, Sven Nyquist who worked with Bergman and Vittorio Storaro who worked with Bertolucci and Copolla all made work what to this day still holds up as great cinematography in service to the narrative. Really good directors working with their DP's find the shot that acts as an amplifier of the subtext of the story at a given moment. It was a joy to discover that language. RS: What was the response to Sylvie Went Shopping in your thesis evaluation at SVA? RH: The class got to see it evolve and take shape through the editing process and at the thesis review I showed the book as well as the QuickTime movie. The response was very positive, although the reviewers were perhaps a bit surprised by the form and subject matter. RS: Do your future plans include more iMovie HD films? Are you working on any now? Are you interested in learning to make motion pictures? RH: I'm working on turning "Goodbye to Frankie" into a QuickTime movie and thinking about making a black and white narrative in stills that is in the style of a silent movie. I am always interested in making pictures. I've also been writing a feature length screenplay. I plan on finishing it soon and getting it read. -end 11211 Magazine Nov- Dec 2002 Authenticity The Photographs of Robert Herman interview by Robin Ross robert herman: Real is better than fake. robin ross-What do you mean real is better than fake? rh: You look good cause you’re not made up and you’re just being yourself. rr-Do you think that when you take photographs you try to capture that in people? rh: All the time. That’s the only thing I’m really looking for. rr-That real thing? I want a better description. rh: When people’s hearts are open to the camera and they are not self-conscious, and at the same time they are aware of getting a photograph taken, but it doesn’t bother them. rr-Whereas it does bother some people? rh: I always try to teach them how to get their picture taken rr-What do you do? rh: I tell them that it’s all about method acting. When you get a thought, a story, going in your head and you just let the story tell your face what to do. rr-Do you tell them a story sometimes? rh: I had to photograph Levon Helm, the drummer from The Band. I set up a little studio in the dressing room at the Lone Star with a backdrop and lights and I had an assistant. And when I was ready to shoot, Levon said to me “You know I can’t do this until after the first set and I’ve had a few beers.” So like two hours later he comes back up and he says “I’m only going to give you a minute and a half.” So I knew that I couldn’t get him to do anything. So I told him this story. The first concert I went to in New York City was to see The Band playing at the Felt Forum. And it was the first time I ever smoked hash. And all he had to do was listen to me talk. But I was really talking about him. And then he was just totally himself. I shot forty frames, and he was so fucking real. rr-Do you ever have to tell anyone a joke? rh: Sometimes. And mostly they suck! rr-Well I am going to ask you to tell me one right now. rh: Only half of them are bad!! rr-Why didn’t you say “only half of them are good?” rh: I wanted to show that I have some humility, some perspective. rr-I see that, when you’re trying to put that humility into your work, that perspective. rh: When I photograph people I really have a lot of respect for how hard it is to survive and be yourself in a world where not being yourself gets you things. rr-What do you think not being yourself gets you? rh: In New York it gets you a lot of attention in the beginning, and maybe you move a little faster in the economic world ‘cause you’re imitating what you think the powers that be are looking for. rr-What are the powers that be? rh: The people that run the corporations, that hire you, the curators, whateverâ.|you have to be very aggressive. All this is a projection of my personality, it’s not anything objective. For a long time I wasn’t very aggressive about my work due to a bad self-image. And I inferred that the people who were aggressive - that was my spin on it, which is probably not true - the people who were successful with so much crummy work up all over the place did it by hyping themselves and making a persona that wasn’t real, to make the system work for them. rr-Do you know differently now? Some people who have their work all over the place really have their work all over the place because they believe they’re work is good enough to have all over the place! rh: Right, that’s true and when I was younger I didn’t believe that. The thing that always drove me crazy was I knew my photographs were good from the beginning, the proof is that the pictures I took 25 years ago don’t look dated and they still work and people want to still look at them. The success I’m having now is because I really believe that the way I wanted my life to work out is to have success come from a healing place in myself... that when I was getting success, I could enjoy it and not criticize myself or divide myself in half, and feel like I’m successful and feeling fucking miserable at the same time...that I could be integrated when it all happened. So that I can take things for what they are instead of what I’m subjectively thinking they are. rr-How would you show that misery in a balanced and healing way? When you photograph other people are you intrigued by that? How do you choose subjects and how do you show misery in balance with that harmony you’re talking about? That kind of acceptance of oneself? Is your work about acceptance of oneself? rh: It’s always been about that. Well, let me give you an example. One of the first places I lived after graduating college was a loft in Little Italy, and the landlord was this guy who changed tires for a living. He had the tire changing place downstairs since the 20’s or 30’s, he was in his eighties and he was still changing tires. Everyday I’d go down to photograph him and I’d buy him a sardine sandwich for lunch and do little errands for him so he would let me hang around. For 2 or 3 years I would do this and he became this icon to me - “the great American self-employed business man who braved the elements ...” He endured the cold in the winter and the heat in the summer and just persisted and I really respected his persistence and endurance. He had this craggy face, he was still doing physical labor every day. His name was Harry Budofsky. He became a symbol about what hard work was all about and his face looked like he had been through everything you can possibly go through, and still he was functioning really well. And I just loved him. I photographed him working, these kind of Paul Strandish portraits in color. I saw an ambivalence about him, I saw the pain he was in. rr-What kind of pain was he in? rh: Maybe it’s just the general pain we all feel going through life. You can’t always do want you want, I’m projecting. rr-You’re a photographer! Photographs are projections! rh: Yeah! And the really great thing about Harry was that the things we’re talking about were totally visible on his face. So he was a fabulous subject, I really identified with him. Plus the fact that I saw in him a little bit of the father I was always looking for. You know, not the one with the clay feet, the one who is the real thing. rr-Oh, that’s what we were talking about in the beginning of this interview.. rh: Yeah! When everything is so real! When I was photographing at the beginning maybe I saw the harder parts of life, the sadder things. As I’ve started to heal I started to see the joy and spontaneity, and now identify with that more. rr-You kind of see the full circle. rh: I now see both sides a lot better. It’s really important to find that thing , that spark or starting point that makes a good picture. It’s that realness. The inner invisible heart that comes out when people are themselves. rr-So is that your inspiration? rh: That’s what I started out to do at the very beginning, how to get something invisible on film. You make the invisible visible...The formal things like framing, light, composition, texture and color all become a little microphone. Like an acoustic guitar amplified by a mike and a PA system putting out this really really small jewel, bringing it out so people can recognize it. And they do. They just get it! And that’s a real pleasure, you know you’re speaking to the human being, the humble vulnerable person inside of the viewer. That’s what I look for in every picture that I take, it becomes very powerful. rr-And when you literally amplify a coffee cup? rh: This piece? rr-Are you showing me that the coffee cup had been through some kind of vulnerability and joyousness. A coffee cup’s life? Maybe that coffee cup shared it’s life with many people. Or a coffee cup in someone’s kitchen maybe only shared it’s life with a few people - the cashier who sold it, the person who unpacked it in the store, and maybe with someone who lives alone. And they drink from their coffee cup three times a day. They drink tea, and they’re drinking from this beautiful lonely coffee cup and the coffee cup resonates with the human’s loneliness, emptiness, the empty cup, the full cup. The mystery of the cup is that I don’t know if it’s empty or full. When you show me a photograph of a person I pick up more fullness from them Of course, it’s your take on them, and it’s only my take on your take of them. Is the coffee cup’s intrigue telling me a story about a human being. rh: The coffee cup is the perfect metaphor for the spirit of a person. The body is the cup and the coffee, or whatever liquid is in there, is the spirit. rr-Is the blood! rh: No! Is the spirit! And when I see a coffee cup that’s lit, the lighting is what strikes me and causes my impulse to take picture, and when the light is right on an inanimate object the light itself is an animating force, like the idea of God animating human beings, creating the first two and all that stuff. rr-A little part of you gets to play a little part of God? rh: No, I’m just recognizing it, I’m seeing something that’s already there |and reporting on it. I saw this light on this particular coffee cup on this particular moment on this particular day in this particular place. I think that by bringing it back alive it is like a hunter bringing back an animal to show it to people who’ve never seen it before. Look how beautiful life can be. The camera is a metaphor for focused attention on that particular moment, within all this sadness and misery and unhappiness that we all feel, we have to be reminded of that moment when life itself is so good. And the reminder is in the details. § Robert Herman’s photography exhibit at McCaig-Welles runs from 11/02 - 12/03/02. |
 |