http://faultmagazine.wordpress.com/2010/07/22/faultless-andrew-bruce/
Describe your style?
A year ago I would have said that my work was about
two themes; our growing detachment from the natural world, and our growing
detachment from the idea of our own mortality. I think for a while I felt lost
having these two strands in my work, that at the time I saw them as quite
distinct. But then I started thinking about how these two things are really
very interconnected and so I feel my work is about where these two subjects
intersect and collide. It’s something that I have resisted trying to verbalise,
it’s something I feel is best left as a raw emotion, as something quite basic,
best left for the work to say.
In fact, being led by that raw emotion is something very important to me. I
work very slowly and in a very considered way. From slowly cycling country
roads to find animals killed by motorists, to taking them home to be stored (for
the past year I’ve had a freezer in my room especially for this task – so I feel
I really can’t escape my work) and then even the production is slow; working
with a large 10×8″ view camera and then having my images printed (usually at
life-size) by hand on an enlarger. Most photographs take me months of planning
and waiting to realise.
When I find an animal, it’s so sad, as they are so beautiful – I hope people
can appreciate that (if nothing else) in my photographs. I’m still waiting for
someone to really misunderstand my work and take offence, maybe I’m
paranoid.
Describe your style?
A year ago I would have said that my work was about
two themes; our growing detachment from the natural world, and our growing
detachment from the idea of our own mortality. I think for a while I felt lost
having these two strands in my work, that at the time I saw them as quite
distinct. But then I started thinking about how these two things are really
very interconnected and so I feel my work is about where these two subjects
intersect and collide. It’s something that I have resisted trying to verbalise,
it’s something I feel is best left as a raw emotion, as something quite basic,
best left for the work to say.
In fact, being led by that raw emotion is something very important to me. I
work very slowly and in a very considered way. From slowly cycling country
roads to find animals killed by motorists, to taking them home to be stored (for
the past year I’ve had a freezer in my room especially for this task – so I feel
I really can’t escape my work) and then even the production is slow; working
with a large 10×8″ view camera and then having my images printed (usually at
life-size) by hand on an enlarger. Most photographs take me months of planning
and waiting to realise.
When I find an animal, it’s so sad, as they are so beautiful – I hope people
can appreciate that (if nothing else) in my photographs. I’m still waiting for
someone to really misunderstand my work and take offence, maybe I’m
paranoid.
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/photography/8139921/Andrew-Bruce-Interview.html
Aaron Schuman: Roadkill is usually something that people avert
their eyes from. What inspired you to look more closely at it, and what did it
represent to you both literally and metaphorically?
Andrew Bruce: For me, there’s a very important quote by
J.L.Borges, from The Immortal (1949): “To be immortal is commonplace; except
for man, all creatures are immortal, for they are ignorant of death; what is
divine, terrible, incomprehensible, is to know that one is mortal.” As a
species, humanity seems to be incapable of living harmoniously with nature. We
seem to have convinced ourselves that we are not a part of nature; that we are
‘above’ it. (Apparently, we have ‘souls’ while other animals do not, and we
can imagine and invent, while they cannot.) We suppress anything remotely
natural when it dares to interfere with our lives – animals are commodified
and domesticated, or caged, or used for their meat or milk. We divide the
landscape, and exclude nature from our day-to-day existence. We barely notice
the ‘thud’ when we literally come into contact with animals. My work takes
that ‘thud’ as it’s starting point.
I started to see roadkill as a potent symbol of humanity’s clash with nature,
both literally and figuratively. Of course people are going to avert their
eyes from roadkill; it’s horrendous. Seeing a dead body, be that of a man or a
beast, is understandably a traumatic experience. One minute we are a person,
with relationships and a personality, and the next minute we could just be an
object; our bodies are so delicate. So when it comes to that point of contact
– metal against flesh and bone – whether you’re man or beast, you’re
powerless. It doesn’t take much to turn a body into something unrecognisable,
something repulsive even. I find this the most horrendous thought; it pierces
through me, and it’s my worst nightmare.
In pushing through this fear, I have at times felt truly privileged to have
seen and touched such animals – to have looked really closely at the claws of
a bird, or the shades of fur on a foxes back, or to have felt the weight of a
badger. These are some of the most incredible, beautiful animals, and I am
saddened when I find them left to rot on the roadside. Going back to an
earlier point, the animals that I find are those that just don’t fit into
humans’ modern way of life – they are animals that we feel we have no use for,
and there is little respect given to them or their habitats. Looking at my
photographs, I hope that people can begin to appreciate the beauty of these
animals.
Aaron Schuman: Roadkill is usually something that people avert
their eyes from. What inspired you to look more closely at it, and what did it
represent to you both literally and metaphorically?
Andrew Bruce: For me, there’s a very important quote by
J.L.Borges, from The Immortal (1949): “To be immortal is commonplace; except
for man, all creatures are immortal, for they are ignorant of death; what is
divine, terrible, incomprehensible, is to know that one is mortal.” As a
species, humanity seems to be incapable of living harmoniously with nature. We
seem to have convinced ourselves that we are not a part of nature; that we are
‘above’ it. (Apparently, we have ‘souls’ while other animals do not, and we
can imagine and invent, while they cannot.) We suppress anything remotely
natural when it dares to interfere with our lives – animals are commodified
and domesticated, or caged, or used for their meat or milk. We divide the
landscape, and exclude nature from our day-to-day existence. We barely notice
the ‘thud’ when we literally come into contact with animals. My work takes
that ‘thud’ as it’s starting point.
I started to see roadkill as a potent symbol of humanity’s clash with nature,
both literally and figuratively. Of course people are going to avert their
eyes from roadkill; it’s horrendous. Seeing a dead body, be that of a man or a
beast, is understandably a traumatic experience. One minute we are a person,
with relationships and a personality, and the next minute we could just be an
object; our bodies are so delicate. So when it comes to that point of contact
– metal against flesh and bone – whether you’re man or beast, you’re
powerless. It doesn’t take much to turn a body into something unrecognisable,
something repulsive even. I find this the most horrendous thought; it pierces
through me, and it’s my worst nightmare.
In pushing through this fear, I have at times felt truly privileged to have
seen and touched such animals – to have looked really closely at the claws of
a bird, or the shades of fur on a foxes back, or to have felt the weight of a
badger. These are some of the most incredible, beautiful animals, and I am
saddened when I find them left to rot on the roadside. Going back to an
earlier point, the animals that I find are those that just don’t fit into
humans’ modern way of life – they are animals that we feel we have no use for,
and there is little respect given to them or their habitats. Looking at my
photographs, I hope that people can begin to appreciate the beauty of these
animals.
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