July 2007
Amy Stein - Stranded
I've long been an admirer of Amy Stein's work. She has photographed kids during Halloween, women with guns and domesticated animals. Stein's images have an unusual tension to them. It is the tension that occurs when a gun is pointed at you or if you are faced with a large “domesticated” animal.
In her Stranded series Stein has photographed motorists who have been stranded on the sides of American highways. For Stein, the photos are a metaphor for where she feels Americans are at this moment, politically, spiritually and socially. For me it's another example of Stein's ability to draw out tension and fear from the everyday.
Stein's photographs are great because they not only describe what's happening in a scene but also leave you wondering what could happen. A good photographic series always leaves me wanting to know more. This has certainly been the case with Stranded.
Amy, your Stranded photographs terrify me. Have you seen the Australian movie Wolf Creek? It's about what happens to a bunch of teenagers when their car breaks down in the Australian Wilderness. The dangers of hitch hiking and meeting strangers are combined in your photos.
I have not seen the movie Wolf Creek. I think I'll save it until after the series is finished. I tend to always want to see horror movies, including the really gory ones like Saw and Hostel, but I never do because I'm too chicken. For three months last year I lived alone in New Orleans working on a project, and that’s enough to never want to voluntarily scare myself again.
How long do you spend with each stranded vehicle?
From a few minutes to over an hour, depending on how long they have been stranded and how they are trying to get out of their predicament. Many people are waiting for tow trucks; others are trying to fix their cars. I try to stay with them until the tow truck arrives, which can take up to a couple hours.
What precautions do you take?
I always try to survey the scene before I stop to photograph. This involves making split second decisions as to whether it is physically safe to stop at that location on the side of the road (i.e. is the shoulder wide enough, is the traffic too close, etc.) and whether the stranded motorists are actually stranded and seem safe to approach. I travel on well-travelled roads and never let anyone into my car. All this is not to say that I'm not a bit afraid while I'm travelling and that I know anything can happen, especially when I’m making myself vulnerable in such a real way.
What do you drive? And what music were you listening to?
I usually fly into the nearest airport and rent the cheapest, most fuel-efficient car at the airport. They often seem to be Ford Focuses. I listen to music from my iPod. My favourites are Johnathan Richman, the Magnetic Fields and Guide by Voices. I also listen to local talk radio which is usually pretty conservative. It amuses me and makes me angry at the same time and can be great fuel for my work.
When I drive for the series I tend to stick to the major interstates because that is where I find the most traffic and the most broken down cars. Travelling only the major highways in America becomes sort of a bummer after a while because they begin to look the same; faceless ribbons of road with the same fast food chains appearing every few miles. Perhaps for the next trip I'll venture off the major interstates and onto the back roads a little more.
Have you ever been stranded? If you were, would you make self portraits?
I was stranded while working on this series in Mississippi. I was travelling with my husband (luckily) and we ran over a very large pipe that punctured our oil tank. We stopped to investigate at a small service station off the highway, which was closing for the night so we had to stay in a local motel and get the car fixed in the morning. I was so consumed by the drama that I forgot to make a self portrait, although I wish I had.
How do you convince people to allow you to take their photographs?
Most people I approach don't need much convincing. They generally say yes immediately. When I tell them about the project and why I'm doing it many people seem surprised and amused, but readily agree to participate.
I don't mean to sound sexist but your photos often capture themes that aren't often explored by women. Guns, animals, road trips- has it been a conscious decision to give a female voice to these topics?
Interesting question. I approach every project with a curiosity and enthusiasm that I imagine--on some level--must be informed by my experiences as a woman, but my gender does not consciously dictate my choice of subjects. My voice is the voice of Amy Stein more than the voice of my gender.
I walked past a homeless man the other day sitting on the site of the road and thought of your photos. It occurred to me that he was financially stranded. Your photos seem to have some kind of moral or political commentary to them. Is this intentional? Can you comment on this?
I would say my intention is more political than moral. Politics is about asking questions and morality is about dictating answers. In my mind, the best art raises more questions than it answers.
Specifically, Stranded is a metaphor for where we are as a nation: politically, spiritually and socially. We have placed our faith in institutions like the government, the church, the media, and industry and in most respects they have failed us. From the abandonment of thousands in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina to abuses carried out by trusted religious figures to the disastrous and deadly policies our political leaders carry out at home and overseas, Americans find themselves stunned, stranded, and looking for answers. It's like the Talking Heads lyric, “how did I get here?” The people and places in this series serve as literal and figurative representations of this reality.
I have always felt Americans possessed a naive trust in their government and corporations. A trust lost long ago by people in other countries. What do you think needs to happen to restore this trust?
Actually, I believe most Americans have a pretty healthy distrust of their government and of corporations. It's how we have responded to that distrust and the conditions that led to that distrust that make us unique. Where other countries have taken to the streets and demanded accountability, we have taken to our sofas and demanded diversion. Where other countries petition their leaders for change, we continue to check out of the process in record numbers. For the average American citizen distrust and apathy have become a convenient excuse for their civic lethargy. Predictably, that same apathy has become a convenient ploy for those in power to maintain their power.
We are in a place where things are so far past rock bottom that it will take a generational sea change to restore trust. Or, maybe America's time is done. Maybe the idea of the nation state is done. There is an interesting book out now called “Are We Rome?” By Cullen Murphy that makes the comparison between the Roman Empire and the American Empire. That's not necessarily a revelatory comparison, but it does remind us that one of the only consistencies in human history is that power collects, power disperses, and the people move on.
What makes a good photograph for you?
That's a tough one. I refer you to an interview I participated in on Joerg Colberg's site, Conscientious.
“I've chosen two images. The first is Colorado Springs, Colorado, 1968 by Robert Adams. The other is a street shot by William Klein, Broadway and 103rd Street. They elicit very different but equally strong reactions. The Klein photo punches me in the face while the Adams photo grabs me by the lapels. I grew up in the quiet and isolating suburbs, so the Adams image brings back those memories. The Klein photo distils the anger and aggression of our time, even though it was taken a half-century ago.
When viewing a good photo you feel an initial visceral rush of excitement, but a great photo elevates that commotion and keeps pulling you in over time. A great photo continues to reveal deeper layers of meaning and intent that excite on both emotional and technical levels.”
How do you know when a project is finished? Or are they always on going?
I never know when a project is finished because I've never actually finished a series. The temptation is always to add just a few more images to a series because it's hard to finally be happy with the end result and say ok, this is it, I can walk away. In the case of my Domesticated series I have a book coming out next year of this work, so that will put some closure on this chapter of the series.
As for Stranded, I think I'll get to a point when I feel like I've covered enough of the US and photographed enough different types of people that I'll be ready to say all right...I've done it, it's time to make a book of this series and move on. I'm not nearly there yet.