
Interview: Joy
Garnett and Lyra Kilston
New York city, February 3, 2006
Lyra Kilston
graduated from the Bard
Center for Curatorial
Studies with a degree in Criticism. She has written for NYArts magazine,
The Brooklyn Rail, ArtLies and the Performa05 Biennial. This interview was conducted for a forthcoming feature on artists who
appropriate news images.
===
Lyra Kilston: You began doing this (downloading images from the internet) in 2001,
right? What keywords do you use when
searching?
Joy Garnett: Actually, for me the online searching began as early as 1997, when
I got my first email account; that’s when I
literally started to become an information
junkie. At the time, I had embarked on a series of apocalyptic landscape
paintings
based on declassified images of US nuclear
tests. I was shooting slides off my TV of rented videos (the last sequence in
Kubrick’s Dr. Strangelove, for instance), and mail ordering declassified
videos of nuclear tests from the US Department of
Energy’s Historic Films Preservation Archive in Albuquerque, before I
realized that one could easily access such source
imagery from online government
archives.
My online key word searches
vary according to what specific project I’m researching. Considering that my
projects have gone
from nuclear testing, to rocket science, surveillance and
night vision technology, to rioting and natural disasters, I’ve probably
been flagged for every watch list in existence. When I was
reworking images found in the news media for my “Riot” series
(c. 2003-2004), I used key
words or phrases including: "rogue states" "terrorists"
"insurgents" "freedom fighters" "rabble"
"rioters"
"revolutionaries" "head bangers" "guerrillas"
"anarchists" "demonstrators" "assassins"
"extremists" "special forces"
"SWAT teams"
"fundamentalists" "true believers" "imperialist
forces" "heroes" "martyrs" "suicide
bombers"...
LK: I am particularly interested in the fact that after you choose and
download images, you let them sit for a while until their original
context has sort
of evaporated. You mentioned this
briefly in your writing, but I think it's a key part of your process. Could you
comment on this?
JG: I love the image you chose of the
context “evaporating” because that describes it exactly: the straight jacket of
specific
meaning dissolves gradually, as memory
recedes. That describes perfectly how we respond to images – it is very of the
moment; once the moment passes, the
meaning of the image changes. To be frank, there are exceptions, sometimes I
see an
image online and download it, print it
out and paint it that night, or that week. But generally the process of
forgetting the source
and original context for the image is
very important to the painting’s open-endedness. It is also the underlying
factor to my
“critique” of representation. My
subject is not “rioters” or “explosions” per
se; my true subject is the malleability of the images
we see every day, and specifically
the use and mis-use of images that serve as
representations of real events, particularly in
the mass media. In
journalism and on TV. Images have no inherent meaning attached to them;
their meaning depends on how
they are captioned and contextualized.
The original intentions, say, of the photojournalist, are lost – begin to
“evaporate” –
almost from the moment they click the
shutter. The image may be disseminated on a newswire, and subject to all kinds
of shifts
in context and meaning, cropped and
recontextualized in a variety of ways by numerous editors and newscasters.
There is no way
to control how images are used or to
minimize the media’s or governments use of images to distort events, especially
now in our
world of infinite digital manipulations.
(I believe any attempts to implement such controls is wrong-headed and naïve;
such
controls would end up straight jacketing
everyone; they would also flat-out fail). And yet, we take the “truth” of
photographic
representations at face value; photographs and
video form our index to reality, whether we like it or not. And so, to take
such
photographs – news photographs, generally –
and subject them to re-invention through a subjective medium such as painting,
seems a good way to emphasize and reveal
their own inherent subjectiveness, their open-endedness. It’s a delightfully
perverse
enterprise.
LK: When you go back to choose an image later, why do you choose some and
discard others? Is it based primarily on
their ability to
make a compelling
painting?
JG: Mostly, yes. It’s tricky; there
are a number of factors. For one thing, although I want to reference the source
photograph, albeit
without making the specifics of its
content overt, I also want to change the photograph just enough by painting it. I understand that
photographs work on people in a certain way,
and paintings do so in a somewhat different way, even though the pictorial
baggage of
the two traditions is inextricably
intertwined; some images just don’t translate into paint, or else it’s me, and
I just can’t do them for
some reason. They might be too obvious,
or too iconic, or too trite. Sometimes it’s a really hard call. I want images
that are powerful
but ambiguous as well.
LK: I'm curious about the titles of your paintings… perhaps they are
related to the above question. You could
have made the choice to
include the source of
these images and even the captions. Instead
you title them in a straightforward way, sometimes even with the
shorthand so
prevalent on the internet such as "demo" for demonstration. What is your intention here?
JG: It’s as you say, part of the
previous question about discarding or letting go of context. I don’t want to
force specifics on the viewer;
I want people to be able to make their own assumptions.
I’m not interested in the viewer “knowing” or recognizing where the image
ame from, though this does indeed
happen from time to time, especially with images that I paint in a timely
fashion, such as the
xplosion of the Concorde, and the night
vision images from various recent wars; and yet, after many years, those
references will be
less timely, less important, less
obvious, and fewer people will make the connection between the image depicted
in the painting and the
original event. What’s left is a painting,
a loose, open-ended interpretation of a forgotten photograph of a real event
that in turn may or
may not be forgotten. In that way it is
history painting; it points to how history is constantly “evaporating.”
LK: A lot of your images show intensely dramatic moments. Do you think that painting them makes them
even more affective? Is there
something about
painting historically that you think creates a stronger emotional impact? (I'm
thinking of photographic “fact” vs. painterly
interpretation...)
JG: I think that the way I paint,
whether I like it or not, is fairly visceral, and I suppose to some extent
“expressionist,” and that the
effect they have on people is mostly
sensual/emotional. “Photographic fact” is also pretty visceral – the events
portrayed in the news,
however much the powers that be may
“sanitize” the images, are generally very disturbing; however the mode of
transmission makes for
less of an impact. The fact that we are
media saturated, and that an endless supply of such disturbing scenes stream by
us constantly,
makes “deep looking” impossible or just
plain prohibitive. On the other hand, looking at a painting is a particular
kind of looking: it’s
reflective and personal, an intimate event.
It’s something you set out to do actively; media images come to us when we are
at our most
passive. That changes everything
LK: The evidence of your brush strokes is very intentional,
it is because you are by no means trying to disguise the different temporal
lives of
the two images?
JG: I used to try to disguise – wipe
away – my intentionality (brush stroke). Check out everything I did up until
about 2002. I wanted
there to be more “distance” between my
emotionality and the viewer. I stopped trying to do that. I think it was
actually a question of my
own confidence in my stroke.
LK: How much (if at all) do you distort the images?
JG: If there is distortion it sort of
happens on its own. Depends a lot on my mood. Paint is
messy stuff; shit happens.
LK: Do you specifically look for images that have an iconic strength (like
the one that got you into trouble) or are the more overlooked images of
more interest?
JG: That’s an interesting question. I
look for strong images, and yet I don’t want the baggage that an icon carries
around with it –
basically, that’s context that won’t
evaporate no matter how hard you try to make it go away. But sometimes, as with
the contested
“Molotov” painting, you might find a photograph that you
personally don’t recognize, that once was famous – an icon – that’s been taken
and placed out of context, uncredited
on some website (that happens all the time). The photograph by Susan Meiselas that “Molotov” is
based on was incredibly famous when it
was released in 1979 or so. It became an instant icon to a generation of
Lefties. It signified
something very specific; and yet almost 25
years later I didn’t recognize it, nor did anyone I know who is under 40. So some
icons can
lose their “iconicity”, but still the
image doesn’t lose its power; that particular image, detached from its original
context, was powerful and
amazing enough on its own for me to want
to re-use it in a painting… But generally I do find myself grabbing images
before they “disappear”
from view and from memory.
LK: If the latter, are you interested in giving the images a 'second life'
of sorts-- do you hope that your paintings will perhaps encourage viewers
to break down some of
the callous distance we employ so very well when getting our news?
JG: I like the idea of images having
a life, any life at all. There’s something pathetic about stockpiling them in
archives forever where
they may never be seen again. (Sounds
like a melodramatic plot for a cyberpunk novel…) And I’m not interested in
encouraging viewers
do anything in particular, they
should do whatever they want, I don’t want certain kinds of reactions or
responses. The beauty of it is you
never know how someone is going to
respond, it’s very subjective. I certainly don’t want to encourage anyone to
break down the distance
between themselves and the horrible news
media. We need that distance; the onslaught of news and news imagery is
unhealthy and
overwhelming, especially considering how news
is reconstituted for our consumption. We should be as distanced and callous to
it as we
can while we watch it, because
otherwise we are merely going to be manipulated by assholes; think of what
happened with the Terry Shaivo
thing. Just a For
Instance. So: I don’t believe in the idea of art as social prescription
for societal ills. I don’t think of my art as being
“agitprop” in any way, or as
something to “Increase Awareness.” That’s a lot of bunk that people at
non-profit art institutions end up having
to put in grant applications. Community Awareness. I don’t for an instant think that
painting can be instrumental in changing the way people
deal with something so enormous, so
global, so efficient, as the “news.” That way of thinking about art comes from
an earlier generation of
art thinking; a previous generation’s
theoretical and political positioning within academia. I don’t buy it. Art
inserts itself in the world
differently now. If it wants to survive it
will recognize – we artists will recognize – how much a part of the culture
industry we are, and how
we function within it even while we
critique it or even seek to undermine it.
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