Exploring The Subconscious With Roger Ballen

October 24, 2016

Nothing is simple for photographer Roger Ballen. The artist has spent decades exploring the oft-dark inner workings of the mind, focusing on the nebulous, the twisted, psychological explorations that would likely draw up a hefty therapy bill in Manhattan. While New York-born, Ballen has lived in South Africa for decades, and he made his name documenting the country’s poor and crumbled fringes (the group Die Antwoord frequently cites him as their primary inspiration). His work has always probed at the subconscious, yet his latest, a short film (which premiered on The Creators Project) and upcoming book entitled The Theatre of Apparitions, takes it further than ever before. Apparitions finds Ballen focusing on a new technique, directly inspired by etchings he found on the blacked-out window of an abandoned women’s prison; he and his assistant, Marguerite Rossouw, spent years working on painting with chemicals to replicate the affect. The result is a carnival of ghostly figures that speak to the multitudes contained in the mind, especially that which we wish to repress. To sum up, it’s some spooky stuff.

Office previously spoke to Ballen regarding his collaboration with artist Asger Carlsen. We met again to discuss his latest project—and how there’s really no way to fully understand it.

Roger Ballen's Theatre of Apparitions (2016)

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Can you describe The Theatre of Apparitions in your own words?

The photographs were taken on window glass, and I used epoxies and paints and made these paintings. It was a technique I’m quite proud of, because I developed it myself and with my assistant Marguerite in Johannesburg. This project lasted eight years, and we were able to express a side of myself that I wasn’t able to get to in such a direct manner in my normal photographs. Each project I do in a way opens up a realm. This one opened up a deep, mysterious realm for myself. It was quite inspiring to work on this project.

What in particular opened up that realm, and how would you describe it?

I think it’s just the nature of the types of images I was able to capture. The luminosity of the images and the way the paint reacted and the content of the images, which can’t be separated from the form and the technique. These images have a kind of Rorschach, subconscious meaning in them, and they can stand on their own. It’s very rare that you take a picture of a drawing and the picture has any artistic merit. This is very difficult to achieve in photography, and I feel like I achieved that in these pictures. I was able to create photographs of drawings that had a presence of their own, and that’s very difficult to achieve in photography, because it’s very documentarian when you do that. This became an aesthetic.

The way that both mediums play off each other creates something very spooky!

It is very spooky, because it gets into the deep subconscious mind.

So you’ve broken down the book into seven different acts. How would you describe them?

The thing is that there can be overlap in the pictures. Some are more directly related to the name of the series, but others can be in a few different series. So it was sort of arbitrary in some ways, and in some ways it wasn’t. Eros, has something to do sexuality, there’s fragmentation, which has something to do with chaos. Then there’s ethereal in the bookends, which has something to do with the afterlife. I think everything in here has something to do with how the subconscious mind deals with the afterlife. Because that’s what an apparition is: it’s a ghost. And every culture in the world subconsciously, consciously, deals with the world of ghosts. What do you become after you die? Well, it’s very difficult for the mind to conceive of nothing, so we can try to sublimate nothing into ghosts, perhaps in some way. So ethereal deals with the heavens and afterlife.

Do you believe in the afterlife?

I don’t think one can make any determination, in any way. I don’t even think you can prove you exist, almost. Life is very enigmatic and mysterious, and so ultimately, the older I get, I really just understand that everything is nebulous. I can’t put my finger on anything, to tell you the truth.

I mean, it’s a simplistic question. The apparitions that you describe, at least to me, exist in and around us all the time, not just in some kind of afterlife.

Yes, as part of an archetypal subconscious.

The pictures are symbolic of turning your eyeballs around and seeing what’s in your mind.

Could you tell me about the inspiration behind the book?

I was in a prison because I was making a movie at the time, and I was in a small little room of this prison. The window was coated with some kind of paint, and a person had taken a knife or something and drawn figures on the paint. So there was light coming in from the door of the window and there was light outside, so the drawing lit up in the room. And that was the beginning of the project. I was working in a place where there were windows and I started painting in different ways and then scratching them, which was the beginning of the project. And then I took some pictures, and I got some good pictures. And I got really crazed about this project, and it went on for eight years, with many different sub-series. The technique developed in all sorts of different directions over time. So that’s what happened, and that’s why, and it took a long time to get the technique right, it really did. I had to invent everything.

Would you say that your workplace played a big role in the creation of this work?

It was in a warehouse, but yeah. The office, or you might want to call it, “the room,” can be metaphoric for the mind. The office is your mind, your mind is the office, the room is your office, the room is your mind.

If the office is a metaphor for the mind, what does your office look like?

That’s a good question. So, what does my mind look like? The mind is made of infinity. The mind is not one thing. It’s not necessarily related to what you see. It has its own emotions. It’s a misnomer to say that the mind can see what it is, because sight is only one sense of the species. It’s made up of complexities. It just becomes big, black, blank. The pictures are black, and then there’s light coming off them. Some light sometimes comes. So the pictures are symbolic of turning your eyeballs around and seeing what’s in your mind. There’s a lot of black, and sometimes there’s just imagery, where feelings and thoughts come out.

So, in your last interview with office, you said that repression is the greatest problem we face in the world.

You see this in this election. This is a great example. With this Donald Trump behavior, you see how sexuality is repressed. He says something that most men think of in some way or another and may or may not say, and it becomes a big issue because that side is repressive, so that’s why it comes out the way it comes out. It’s true on every level in every society. It’s a problem with the species.

These are images made deep down that come up. I don’t know if I’d necessarily say they’re repressed images, they’re unformed images. The mind is so complicated, you can’t actually talk about the mind. It’s hard to make a real analogy. You could say that the mind is its own prison, or the mind is a prison of other forces, or the mind is a prison of itself. But the mind is the mind. So you start going in circles. The mind is its own prison, but what else is there? If there’s no mind, there’s nothing. You go in circles. Most of these questions, you go circular. There’s no real answers to them. And that’s what makes the process so interesting, because it brings out all sorts of aspects of the mind that are unanswerable. My movie Roger Ballen’s Theater of the Mind goes back to this concept. You’re nothing but the mind, as far as I can see. Maybe you become an apparition.

Roger Ballen's Theatre of the Mind (2016)

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In the past you’ve documented some really fascinating people. Are there any particular figures that inspired this work?

If you look at the work in the boarding house and the asylum, you do see a lot of drawings. I did this project—drawing became a part of the project in 2005. Pictures in 2005 are connected to the current work.

I think it’s important that these pictures came out of Africa, where there’s ancestral worship, spirit worship. A lot of them converted to Christianity, but it’s not the same type of Christianity we have here. I think that that belief in ancestor worship had an impact on my thinking. I think in New York the pictures wouldn’t have the same relevance. The fact that they came from Africa in a way makes sense, because there is a real deep belief in the spirit world. Here there isn’t. The belief in technology, in science, has dominance over traditional religions.

Do you think that has a negative impact on culture, or is it just different?

I think it’s just different. Culture is culture. People express themselves in different ways, but everything really goes in circles.

When you’re traveling, do you make work at all?

I don’t take a camera. I don’t do any pictures. Too much running around, I can’t concentrate. It’s fine, I don’t need to take pictures all the time. I need to focus. Everyone’s running around, snapping pictures for their Instagram or whatever. I’m just sitting in my sister’s apartment. You’ve got to focus on what you’re doing in the present, rather than trying to do to many things at once and get them all garbled up.

Do you concern yourself with what’s going on in the art world?

I don’t actually have to look at art anymore. There’s enough in my own mind. I always say I never have the same dream twice, so I don’t feel the need to go back to the world to find things to think about, I really don’t. I like more primitive art anyway. I don’t really need to go to look at other art to do my art. There’s plenty out there. A tree is greater than any sculpture, so why not focus on the tree. I don’t have a need anymore.

You’ve obviously had a very impactful career. How do you feel about up-and-comers who are directly inspired by your work?

I think that’s what any artist would like, you know? You’re trying to inspire yourself, but it’s very gratifying if other people react to what you do. It’s not just for one self. It’s a very positive feeling. Even if the pictures create anxiety for other people, it’s still positive because the pictures reach them. The worst thing possible is when the pictures don’t reach other people. They just walk by them. That has never happened to me ever in my life, because they’re psychological pictures. They’re strong, psychological statements, so they do have the ability to transform the psyche. Not that that’s the purpose, because I don’t have a purpose; I just do what I do, and I take the pictures that I react to. It has affect me in some deeper way.

Do you have any qualms about people misinterpreting the work? Or is it not possible?

There’s no way interpretation anymore. This happened in my early days, when people thought [the work] was just a criticism of white society in South Africa, when really it was about the human condition. That’s why the pictures are still relevant. It’s very hard to decipher, so I find that a lot of people stab at it, but it’s a hard thing to get to the core of. It’s about this, but it’s about that, and the opposite of the word. It’s a philosophical, poetic undertaking to get there.

Do you think you can get to the core of them yourself?

No. The pictures have their own life. And if they’re like life, you can’t get to the core of it.

Interview by Jocelyn Silver

The Theatre of Apparitions is available for pre-order here.

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Pamela Sneed’s Speaking Tongue opens at Dashwood Projects

November 15, 2024

Pamela Sneed’s latest exhibition, Speaking Tongue, will be on view at Dashwood Projects from November 20 to December 21. The show features twenty watercolor and ink paintings inspired by her recent trip to Kenya, where she was deeply moved by the elegance of giraffes, the landscapes, and the energy of Nairobi.

Blending her background as a poet and visual artist, Sneed’s work reflects on themes of identity, nature, and connection. Her paintings capture the beauty and spirit of the animals she encountered, alongside reflections on her own experiences as part of the African diaspora.

This exhibition marks Sneed’s first solo show with Dashwood Projects and will be accompanied by a new book, also titled Speaking Tongue, to be released in December.

By Enzo Holdt
Artworks by Pamela Sneed

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Tiebreaker - Alvin Armstrong

November 15, 2024

There is a moment of silence right before the play. Just before the racket strikes the ball as it hangs weightless in the air, breathless and charged. It’s the fleeting yet decisive instant that can alter the course of the match, determining who wins and who loses.

Alvin Armstrong depicts this crucial moment in his new exhibition Tiebreaker, symbolizing the risks and rewards of competition. It’s an implication of something else at stake, where athletes push not only their bodies, but their spirits to the absolute limit.

The dynamic figures embody the strength, grace, and agility juxtaposed by the vibrant color palette evoking not just the joy of competition but the charged energy of the court.

Tiebreaker is opening Thursday, November 16th at Anna Zorina Gallery.

By Rea Brayshaw
Artworks by Alvin Armstrong

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The Things People Are Ashamed To Take Photos Of: The Photography and Films of Yuhan Cheng

Yuhan’s latest exhibition of photo and video work titled 窗子外 Outside the Window, Inside the Tank 鱼缸里 takes its namesake from what could’ve been a mundane encounter. A month after moving to New York City from Chengdu, China, they stumbled across an abandoned fish tank left curbside. It reminded them of “the rotating fish in a tank that faded into the background of their mother’s home in Chengdu”, a thread connecting childhood familiarity that transformed into a symbol of greater significance in adulthood. A tank is a world within a world; a microcosm secluded from the broader chaos of the outside. Since then Yuhan has captured the other kinds of “fish tanks” closest to them in their photography and short films. Not literal ones necessarily– but intimate confined spaces in Chengdu and NYC where time stands still.

In the midst of taking snapshots of loved ones, Yuhan decided to turn their tender but examining lens on themselves. They realized shooting self-portraits unraveled a deeper understanding of their own nonbinary gender and queer sexuality. Yuhan admits in one of their short films “I hide from looking at my own body.” Yet, in the seclusion of their room which doubles as a dark room, Yuhan began to develop their first nude photos chronicling the subtle wounds; bitten cuticles, bruises, and scrapes they’ve accumulated involuntarily, once again documenting the things people choose to hide.

窗子外 Outside the Window, Inside the Tank 鱼缸里, debuted at FAR-NEAR Studio Hours a gallery in Chinatown focused on expanding the art world's view of Asia and Asian artists curated by Lulu Yao Gioiello. The event merged Yuhan’s works from the past three years, including 70 photographs, three short documentaries, and one installation. There was something uncanny about the gallery’s atmosphere – from the dollar store teal green curtains obscuring every window to the clusters of framed photos mimicking how photos of relatives are displayed in one’s childhood home, to the darkened lighting that was both disorienting and cozy. All these details were meticulously chosen to imitate the rooms depicted in Yuhan’s films and photography. In other words, the audience was invited to Yuhan’s “fishtank”, to share the odd balance of comfort and unease of being known intimately. We talked to Yuhan at Cafe Reggio to understand how their latest body of work came into being.

Initially, I was exploring my friends’ identities through the lens, but slowly, it became a tool to confront and understand my own queerness and gender identity.

Ora Margolis— Were any memories/childhood experiences you had in Chengdu important to how you've developed as an artist?

Yuhan Cheng— Growing up in Chengdu, especially in a military household, shaped and gave me a source of contention how I understood my identity. There was always a sense of conflict when it came to my body and feeling like I didn’t quite fit the expectations around me. This tension has been a driving force in my practice, pushing me to explore identity and belonging in my work.

Tell us a bit about your latest exhibition Outside the Window, Inside the Tank at Far. What headspace were you in when taking these photos?

YC— Outside the Window, Inside the Tank is about the fluidity of self; our bodies, our environments, and our identities. The idea of water as both a symbol of confinement and freedom is central to the photos and film that comprise the exhibit. This fluidity much like how I see my experience moving between Chengdu and New York, where similar feelings follow me no matter where I am. Water mirrors the body, the frame, and the room, which are all containers of the self.

Previously, you’ve said you wanted the exhibition space to look "like your room". How did you make that happen and why is your NYC room important to you?

YC— My room in NYC is an extension of my identity. It’s where I feel vulnerable and where I explore myself most openly. It’s a manifestation of my sense of self. I recreated certain elements in the exhibition—the green sheer curtains, the dollar store shower curtain with bubbles, and the center installation depicted a self-portrait deteriorating in water, reminiscent of a fish in a tank. This room, like any other room or container, magnifies the tension of self-exploration.

Has your idea or comfort with your gender identity and /sexuality changed since you’ve delved into photography?

YC— Yes. The process of photography and filming has been a mirror to my own understanding of self. Initially, I was exploring my friends’ identities through the lens, but slowly, it became a tool to confront and understand my own queerness and gender identity. The process of photographing my queer friends and then myself allowed me to come to terms with who I am.

How did you and Lulu Yao of FAR-NEAR Studio meet, and what makes her a good collaborator?

YC— We first connected when I reached out with my series Princess of Funan River. Lulu understood the struggles and complexities in the work and she invited me to expand on those ideas with her. Our collaboration has worked because Lulu truly resonates with the themes I’m drawn to, like fluidity, transformation, and the intimacy of navigating belonging.

After completing Fish Tank and Remnants of an Amateur Film, what kind of movie do you want to make next?

YC— Right now, I’m more focused on writing. I need to understand what I want to say before making another film. Writing helps me find clarity;it’s a crucial part of my process.

What kind of camera do you use and why?

YC— I use a Canon AE-1. I started with it and I still love it. It's small, spontaneous, easy to use, and light. It allows me to capture moments naturally without overthinking.

What's your biggest fear?

YC— Being disconnected from my sense of self, from others, and from the things I love.

When do you feel most like yourself?

YC— It’s during those fleeting moments when I complete a project. That feeling fades quickly, leaving me searching for the next project to reconnect with that sense of fulfillment.

How do you want people to feel when they interact with your art?

YC— I want them to feel whatever resonates with them. I don’t want to prescribe the experience; it should feel right for each person.

Your work focuses on the close knit communities that surround you or various metaphorical “fish tanks”. What communities do you feel closest to?
YC— The queer artist community, both in Chengdu and NYC, has been a source of comfort and understanding for me. There’s something about shared struggles and shared creative language that feels like home.

What's the biggest difference between living life as a queer artist in NYC and in Chengdu?

YC— In both NYC and Chengdu, I’m learning more about myself. NYC offers a sense of freedom, while Chengdu is home, a place of comfort and history. Neither place defines me but both are significant parts of my path.

What are your next moves/goals?

YC— I want to continue exploring both film and photography, expanding my narrative style and experimenting across mediums. During my show, I found new ways of seeing my photographs such as by adding a window screen between frames or letting a self-portrait fade and grow mold in water. These approaches allowed me to see my work not just as 2D images but as 3D objects.

I want to keep pushing the boundaries of how photo and film can interact, and I’m also interested in trying photojournalism. My focus remains on collaborating across mediums and continuing to accumulate experiences that I can translate into sincere honest work.