My ideas rarely appear fully-formed. I hope for successful images but never go out seeking them. It’s important that I remain open to outside influence while I’m taking photographs because I like to experiment and work with what’s available.
I’ve been following Amanda Elledge on Flickr for a few years now. Her gorgeous, ethereal photographs constantly surprise and impress me; not least because I can’t figure out how she makes them! Just recently, I got around to asking her about her work and inspiration.
Hi Amanda, please tell me a little about yourself.
I was born and raised in the USA but I have been living in northern France for 15 years now. Both countries define me and yet, neither feels like home, but I’m pretty sure it’s the same for most people in my situation.
I work in a laboratory for diabetes research, and more specifically, I am part of a cell therapy team that isolates pancreatic islets from donor pancreases in order to treat – and sometimes cure – fragile type I diabetics. Like most people, I love photography, reading and music, but I also love red lipstick, the smell of musty basements, good champagne and listening to podcasts about microorganisms and mental health.
How did you develop an interest in photography?
Of course, like a lot of semi-tortured young women, I went through a whole Diane Arbus phase (to accompany my Joy Division phase), but years after that, I had a French-New Zealander girlfriend introduce me to Flickr (online photography platform) and I was instantly hooked.
At first, I was one of those mommy-type bloggers, more into the community than into the imagery, posting mundane pictures from my daily life. Then, one day, I just kind of felt like a fake, only craving interaction and faves, losing myself in a world that functioned off of the “I like you/you like me” notion and – quite frankly – didn’t interest me at all. So, I decided to take back my own passions and life, and from that moment on, I only posted pictures that felt true to me and only faved photos that I genuinely liked. Of course, the transition surprised a lot of my followers at the time, but I didn’t care: I finally felt real and free.
Since then, I’ve always used photography as an intimate visual diary, a way to remember various moments from my life, as well as my own emotions. Whether the viewer gets it, or even likes it, is besides the point. Nonetheless, I do like sharing my photos online because I feel like it can act as a kind of filter and an SOS to other alike human beings out there; and from the messages I’ve received over the years, what I’ve noticed is that my photos generally impact the kind of person I was hoping they would impact. It’s always such a pleasure to discover and exchange with and/or inspire other people who seem to share the same inside joke as you.
What cameras do you prefer to use?
To be completely honest, I would love to use my Fuji Instax Wide all of the time (think: instant gratification), but since film is too expensive, I prefer to use my iPhone camera. It’s easy, it’s light, and most importantly – it’s always on me.
I’m not one of “those photographers”, that seems overly concerned by the technical aspects of photography and the size of the image. I’ve never had any formal training and I’m not that interested in having any – even though I have lost a few publishing opportunities because of my less-than-stunning image size and quality. I guess it would be more disconcerting to me if I was counting on photography to survive but luckily it’s just my passion. Furthermore, it’s never really bothered me, the idea that a digital image might change according to its printing medium or format. I like the idea that slight variations of the same image co-exist, depending on the computer screen used to view the image as well as the discrepancies in our own eyes looking at that same image. It makes me think of how an analog photo might change depending on its raw materials or who developed it, or how it may change with time and through its environment. And, even if this was not the photographer’s original vision, I think that all of these “imperfections” give the image life.
All that said, I do use other cameras, including a Canon EOS 7d, a Lomo LC-A and a scanner. My latest acquisition is Lomography’s La Sardina, but I have yet to use it. On that note, I have absolutely no qualms abouts mixing both analog and digital to create my final images.
Do you have a favourite photographer or artist whose work you admire?
I guess if you would have asked me this question a few years ago, I would have answered without hesitation: Daidō Moriyama, Takuma Nakahira, Jacob Aue Sobol and Anders Petersen (all while drowning in an amazing Godspeed You! Black Emperor album), but I think the real answer is merely an accumulation of everything I’ve seen and lived…graphic novels, music, art, fashion, cinema, language in all its forms, micro/macroscopic patterns in nature and in life, love, lust, loss, confusion, human relations and of course, the millions of photographs from both amateurs and professionals I’ve looked at in my lifetime.
At the height of my photography obsession, I was easily looking through 1000 images per day. One of my biggest joys is to quickly scroll through photography platform websites and find and fave images that move/touch/inspire/impress me. No contemplation necessary: it all happens within a split-second, either I find it aesthetically pleasing or I don’t.
A photograph is like a tiny magical portal into another world, and I don’t care about the techniques or the equipment used to create it. I only care about whether or not I want to be part of that world, and for that, I just follow my heart.
If you’re an artist, you’ll know it. How you make your living won’t stop you. You’ll work on your commute, during your lunch break or when you get home, even though you’re dog tired and your feet ache, because you’re compelled to, because it’s your passion.
Ryan Holiday says “art can’t be hurried. It must be allowed to take its course. It must be given its space – and can’t be rushed or checked off a to-do list on the way to something else.”
If your art doesn’t sustain you financially right now, give it space. Maybe one day it will, and if it doesn’t, that’s fine.
Think of your day job as your side gig. If your art is your true calling, no matter how you make a living, no one can take that away from you.
At the beginning of the year, I bought a week-to-view diary. It’s nothing special, black front cover with generic silver writing and wafer thin paper, it cost £1 but it’s one of the best purchases I’ve made, period. Rarely now, is it not to hand.
Growing up, I always kept a journal. Those hallowed pages bore witness to rants about boys I fancied, friends I’d fallen out with, things my parents did that made life unfair. For years I avoided writing one again because I thought it would be too boring. Full of the mundane, diaries smack of repetition and routine.
Mine isn’t like that. Full of sentences from books I’m reading, overheard conversations and half-formed thoughts. My journal has become a container for intriguing things, forever growing and expanding, much like this blog. It’s a place for snippets, not perfect content, where disparate ideas gather. I love writing and photography but it doesn’t stop there. Everything has the capacity to provide inspiration.
I think of blogs and journals as touchstones, providing the motivation to keep making work. They’re places to come back to again and again, no matter how stuck.
One of the great things about writing this blog is that it encourages me to learn about different artists.
Until recently, I had no idea that Nan Goldin’s older sister committed suicide at 18 and that her art is a way of coming to terms with this loss. I didn’t know Robert Frank made contact prints of 2 ¼” negatives and glued them onto cards while sequencing The Americans or that Charles Harbutt liked performing magic tricks.
It’s not just the famous ones either, I’m constantly stumbling across inspiring people who take photographs. All of us, for whatever reason, have chosen to look at the world through a viewfinder, and I find this fascinating.
I always forget how important the empty days are, how important it may be sometimes not to expect to produce anything, even a few lines in a journal. A day when one has not pushed oneself to the limit seems a damaged, damaging day, a sinful day. Not so! The most valuable thing one can do for the psyche, occasionally, is to let it rest, wander, live in the changing light of a room.
I’m getting better at accepting the empty days. The days when I don’t make anything, or if it happens, I let it happen naturally. Maybe I’m tired, run down or I just don’t have the energy to write or pick up a camera. Instead, I’ll read, walk or take a nap.
Empty days get overlooked but they’re so important. They’re days when the pressure to perform, lifts. Forced productivity all of the time is, ironically, not productive. It leads to burnout, ambivalence and exhaustion.
So, take a day off, if you can. Make time for yourself. Live in the changing light of a room, like May Sarton, and feel the pressure lifting.