We Can’t Paint

In the same spirit as the New Topographics, Timothy Briner has been hitting the road solo and photographing his Boonville project. More information from his statement:

Since August 1, 2007, I have stayed in Boonville, Missouri (pop. 8,775); Boonville, North Carolina (pop. 1,122); The Village of Boonville, New York (pop. 2,082); And Boonville, Indiana (pop. 6,761). Over the next three months I will visit Boonville, California (pop. 800), and Boonville, Texas (extinct). Since the beginning of the project and continuing until the end, I am living in each of the six communities for five to seven weeks, while staying with families and residents.

The final product will juxtapose images from all six towns, and together, the images will create a fictional town named “Boonville.”

During a break from his traveling I got a chance to discuss Briner’s project before he left for the now extinct Boonville, Texas.

Noel: Before I get into your Boonville project I wanted to ask a little about your motivations in developing something of this scale. I know from other interviews as well as your statement that you had previously visited Boonville, New York. It seems like that trip was not only a turning point in your perception of what could be possible with photography, but perhaps it was, for the lack of a better term, a loss of your photographic virginity.

How had this revelation set the stage for your investigation into the broader issues of home, the vernacular, and even the state of traditional American ideals versus a post-9/11 sentiment?

Timothy Briner: Since High School I have been in love with photography. The act of it, more then the philosophy and history. My photography and my thinking were simple and mostly untouched by influence. After being a part of the art world for a few years, those things quickly changed. I began trying to create an idea that would set myself apart. I would say that was my motivation to create something of this scale. I quickly realized this was not a good reason to do so, and that the creation of art must come from a deeper and more meaningful place. The original scale of the project came from those side effects, but it has since become a necessary part of the work.

I had been creating small-scaled projects for a few years before Boonville, NY, but nothing that I was really happy with. The time spent in Boonville, NY was a turning point for me. I’m not sure how much it affected my viewpoints of the world or American ideals; Maybe indirectly. I didn’t start to think of my work with those things in mind until I began doing research on the other five Boonville communities. I started reading reports on migration, town and city planning, population loss and gain, and sprawl. Much of this is not obvious in the work, but researching the numbers gave me a better understanding of the current state of modernity in America’s small towns.

Nathan, Boonville, North Carolina, 2007© Timothy Briner

After all the research was finished and the funding was setup, I would imagine that you would simply just go to a town and begin shooting; entrench yourself into the rhythm of that particular environment.

I don’t think I need to bring up how terrifically romantic this all is, but from reading your blog one can tell that the road, or travel in general, definitely has an impact on you. What were your initial thoughts and expectations that you had as you drove away from home to begin such an epic journey?

I had worked on breaking down and understanding this idea since I walked out of Boonville, NY for the first time in 2003. So my thoughts and expectations were swirling around in my head for years. As I was driving from Brooklyn, NY to Boonville, MO in July, 2007, I was not thinking, but dreaming. The place I was in at the time was a daze. I still couldn’t believe what was about to happen, and although I didn’t quite know it at the time, I was very unsure of myself and my ideas. Looking back on it, I really had no idea what I was doing or what I wanted.

What is particularly interesting to me is that these towns in the Boonville project are spread all over the United States. They range from the relatively large Boonville, Missouri (Population 8,202), to the extinct Boonville, Texas. Was the inclusion of Boonville, Texas a symbolic one? It almost seems like it’s self-explanatory in terms of a proxy for the American dream. What role do you think that this abandoned town will play in the overall project?

With the “Boonville” project, I am using these six towns, their evocative name, range in populations, and diverse geographical locations as my muse in creating images and stories of small-town America. Boonville, TX, which I am departing for in a few days, was a turning point in my thinking, and is very symbolic. The original focus of the project was about the death and life of small towns — the population booms in the suburbs and the downfall of the American dream in the heartland. And when I found the details and status of Boonville, TX, I felt I could really be on to something. My ideas and work have shifted from that direction, but it is still an underlining.

You’ve stated that Duane Michals is a huge influence on you and your photography, particularly his series of photographs from his travels in Russia. Michals was essentially a “visitor” when he shot that project. You grew up in a small town in the US, the same type of environment that you are including in the Boonville project. How does this aspect change the way you have approached photographing a place that is familiar? Do you feel more at home in these small towns, or are you under the impression that you are an outsider?

It has certainly affected me. The philosophy of the project has shifted towards focusing on my experience of growing up in a small midwestern town. I’m thinking of the work as a representation of my own life — my past memories, fears and fantasies.

After a few weeks in each town, I do feel very at home. The towns start to take on specific characteristics I was familiar with while growing up, and I continue to find myself becoming greatly connected to many of the individuals and families I stay with, as well as to certain communities and residents I meet along the way. In certain cases, I am trying to grab a hold of and document something that was missing from my childhood. But by definition, I am an outsider, and in many cases that does ring true in the work and within the communities.

Flags and Roses, Boonville, Indiana, 2008© Timothy Briner

Your earlier work, specifically Lycanthrope and Vacancy, are deeply rooted in a staged production of photography. How has the shift in thinking outside of this realm into a more documentary aesthetic shaped the way you photograph? Has it been a challenge to adjust to the lack of control you usually have had for your final vision, or even to find your unique photographic voice?

It has been difficult at times. But I am enjoying the challenge. I feel my vision is clearer now then ever. I think much of my staged work lacked a true voice. Although the transition was not easy to this style of shooting, it was what spoke to me; it was a natural shift. And in many cases, now that I think about it, this work is really a hybrid of the staged and documentary styles.

Within other photographer’s projects such as Joel Strenfeld’s American Prospects and more recently Alec Soth’s Sleeping by the Mississippi and Niagara, there is a sense of foreboding, even hopelessness. Has this shift in a different form of photography, a travel based approach, brought about a specific type of narrative or undertone in your photographs?

I would say the travel aspect of the project has brought on a type of narrative. I like to think of the work as a personal biography or journal. The project is dark and a bit ominous at times. Other times it is calm and soothing. It really depends on my surroundings, how I am feeling at the time, and how I connect to these communities.

This brings me to one of the most important aspects of any photographic series, editing. I noticed that at times you have shot around two hundred sheets of film, both 4 x 5 and medium format. Do you find it difficult picking out the truly great shots when you’re so familiar with the subject matter? Do you get a second opinion, or is it a personal endeavor?

I’m usually in the wrong mindset when I receive the contact sheets back from my film developer, and it is usually a disappointment. I guess any mindset is the wrong one when looking at new work; it is very hard for me to fall in love with something so soon after creating it. I’ll return for another look after letting it sit for a few weeks or even a month. This is not always the case. But I find that giving myself that break helps my mind separate the actual experience from the mere reproduction of it. It’s almost as if I want that moment to appear live and in 3D right in front of me again. And film just can’t do that, so I am usually disappointed, until I can fully remove myself from that experience.

I have shot a lot of film - for me, anyway. I received a call from my film developer the other day; he was telling me that the final tally for 4×5 film shot during my seven weeks in Boonville, Indiana could top 500 sheets. It is overwhelming to think of it in those terms, but I like to think I know every single sheet well, and it shouldn’t be too hard to edit down. The final edit of the project will surely be difficult though. I’ve gotten a few opinions on the work thus far, but ultimately I will make the decision of what makes the final cut and how it is arranged.

Tree, Boonville, North Carolina, 2007© Timothy Briner

Boonville is something you have been working at for a long time now. I’m sure there have been moments of complete joy and equal instances of frustration. How has the project evolved out of these experiences? What will the series eventually become in terms of the final entity, an exhibition, a book, or both?

There have been extreme moments from both ends of the spectrum, and yes, the project does evolve from those experiences. I’m about two-thirds of the way through, so it is still hard to put the evolution of the project into words. I guess what has changed most is the work itself, but also it’s how I am looking at the world, and the everyday happenings around me. The struggles that have manifested during the trip continue to recur in each town I visit. The hardest part is leaving a town, and arriving into a new one. There are always difficult situations I am faced with while in the communities, but it is usually self-inflicted and comes from my psychological struggles regarding the work and being on the road. Those feelings seem to get stronger and more difficult as the trip continues, but what I have learned along the way, and the support that I have been given by friends, family and the communities, has helped me understand them on a deeper level.

My hopes for the final product are not fully known yet. But I do think that both a book and exhibitions of the work will be included.

What plans do you have for the future? Also, will there be a blog for each new project?

After I finish the first round of shooting in May, 2008, I will look over everything, make some edits, and will likely revisit each of the communities for a week or so, depending on funding. I’m not sure yet about the next project. I have some ideas, but I am not thinking too much about them until this one is complete.

I was writing a blog a year ago while I was recovering from knee surgery. I decided to continue the blog during “Boonville” because I was enjoying it, and I thought it would be a good way for the Boonville residents, friends, family and the photo community to follow along if they liked. It has gotten in the way at times, but ultimately I have enjoyed sharing my stories and experiences. I doubt I will have a blog for future projects, but who knows.

Thank you for your time and I look forward to the final version of Boonville.

Thank you Noel!