This pandemic winter was dark on many levels. Aside from the continued lockdown and cancellation of all holidays forever, it was also one of the greyest, wettest Seattle winters in recent memory, spent in smaller relational circles than many of us are used to. I spent the bulk of my work days by myself in a dark studio, diving deep into self-portraiture and avoiding the internet by flipping through the piles of books on my floor (I’ve run out of room on my shelves). I now keep a pile of books made by people I know close by and separate from the rest of my collection.
This winter, I found myself referencing these books more often when seeking inspiration or stimulation than books made by artists I don't personally know, no matter how accomplished. This is likely a behavior rooted in deep longing for my friends after a whole goddamn hug-less year, but honestly, reducing this feeling down to baby-rhesus-monkey-psychology seems beside the point and doesn’t really interest me. What DOES interest me is the recognition that getting to know my friends through their art, words, and public-facing selves is not only an act of service, but also a deep comfort in the face of 4:30 PM sunsets. It is not only my work as a photographer—to continue finding new facets and ways of seeing the Nouns I’ve grown accustomed to—but also as a friend. It is also a basic statement of my values that I give friends (of all intensities and durations) my attention and the space to evolve, free from the limits of my own ingrained perceptions of them. Spending time with their art is one version of the quiet maintenance work I’ve committed to in my relationships but let it be quiet no more.
Here are 9 books from the pile on my floor, made by people I’ve known but have also come to know better - through a small amount of creative voyeurism and a pretty significant amount of behind-the-scenes adoration.
Click on any of these images to purchase a copy for yourself and/or a friend!
(From top to bottom, left to right)
• The Portland Book of Dates (Eden Dawn & Ashod Simonian): Years ago I would have been bummed at a book whose sole purpose was outing all of the best secret spots in my hometown. But then Yelp happened and, frankly, it behooves all of us to get over the idea of Old Portland (or Old Seattle, Old Austin, Old Brooklyn, etc.) and just get comfy with the idea that good secrets never stay secret for long. Just be glad you got to sit there for a few quiet minutes before it got all butts-to-nuts-standing-room-only. Now that I haven’t lived in Portland for 7 years, I can’t claim to know where the cool spots are anyway—nor am I as concerned with “cool” as a descriptor as I once was. Cool’s relative. I’m now a tourist in my hometown and I’d much rather take tips from these two romantic, creative and socially-engaged contenders for Best Dressed 2021 than just about anyone—especially anyone with the time, drive and thumb-strength to write elaborate Yelp reviews. A night out with Ashod and Eden is something I fantasize about regularly. This book is the closest I’ve been able to get to one in over a year without endangering public health (which is the least romantic thing I’ve ever put in written form but I stand by it, nonetheless).
• DO/PHOTO/Observe. Compose. Capture. Stand out. (Andrew Paynter): I met Andrew for the first time in 2006 but because I have the memory of a goddamn goldfish, I only remembered once I saw the proof - a photo he took of me backstage that night, a good 15 years younger, all bird-boned and wearing an intact Calamity Jane t-shirt (since retired, due to its current resemblance to a pirate ship flag). My general love of Andrew stems squarely from his kindness and willingness to share. He’s the least proprietary person I’ve ever met with regard to photography but also just about anything else he’s into (skateboarding, family life, dressing himself very well, etc.). He was the first photographer who told me to not try to conform to what others were doing or expected of me—to just do my thing my way, no apologies. I’m the kind of person who sometimes needs to be reminded of that. When he gave me a copy of this book he said, “There’s nothing in here that you probably don’t already know.” And my response was, “Yeah, but I want to hear YOUR version of all of it.” And if I’m going to continue needing reminders of things I “already know”, I’d rather them come from Andrew ten times out of ten.
• Mug Club Issue 2 (Joan LeMay): At this moment I wish I was plugging Joan’s forthcoming book about Steely Dan, but I have seen any artwork yet and I don't know when it’s coming out. In the meantime, I have been enjoying the 2nd installment of Mug Club, a full color zine containing stories about different artists’ favorite mugs, accompanied by Joan’s original paintings. There is no better example of Joan’s whole vibe than Mug Club. There is no one I know with a more comprehensive contact list, with which to gather so many contributions for this project, than Joan. She is beloved by everyone who knows her. She’s able to tease out so much meaning in small, common objects (especially the ones that contain coffee). She lives for the ridiculous, where no idea is too small or silly to take to its fullest, farthest, and most colorful iteration. She took the time to write thoughtful, earnest bios about every single person who contributed to Mug Club Issues One and Two. She’s also donating the profits of this project because, again, that’s just the kind of woman she is—a matryoshka doll of goodness.
• At Home (Brian Paquette): Brian is a friend, a world-class interior designer and a sneaky accomplished painter. He’s also a huge fan of 90’s emo and east coast hardcore and the aesthetic incongruity between the art he enjoys and the art he creates makes me laugh all the time. This book highlights what Brian does best: creating the most calming, comfortable, art-inspired interiors. I am a devout maximalist (I love stuff!) but the bones that hold up my spaces are often made of well-crafted, subdued furniture and textiles. Brian is the friend who always helps me find the missing thing that makes a room feel complete (it’s usually a rug or a pillow, I’ve learned) and has a way of compromising between what you think you want and what he definitely knows will make the room better. An expert friend willing to indulge my lack of expertise until I come around to his side of things? Be still my heart.
• It’s Raining… I Love You (Jenny Riffle and Molly Landreth): I don't know Jenny super well but I had the pleasure of taking her 10-week narrative class right before the pandemic. It wasn’t until the 2nd to the last class that we found out this book she was making needed to be funded. In fact, I’m not sure she would have said anything if someone in the class hadn’t outed her, humble as she is. When I heard what the book was about and then saw a few preview images, I was overwhelmed with… not nostalgia… is there a word that describes longing for something you never had? Anyway, I got weirdly choked up and almost started crying when I told her I had pre-ordered the book. This book makes me remember my own teenage friendships and life before the internet. It makes me wish I had someone back then tell me art school was an option, that all my intensity and childhood trauma could be channeled into making art with my friends and transformed into something restorative. More than anything this book is a reminder that my most meaningful life experiences don’t often happen in public view but rather within the secret world I’ve created with another person.
• American Motel 1950 - 1980 (ed. Zack Bolotin): Zack is my favorite neighborhood curmudgeon. He owns Porchlight Coffee & Records and I refer to him as a “Slip Mat Mogul” because his bestseller for the longest time were slip mats for your record player (before he started his show poster and enamel pin empires). I admire (read: am jealous of) Zack’s hustle. He’s just, like, always doing stuff and making stuff, despite talking to customers all day (I, for one, turn into a shell of a human if I have to interact with that many pre-caffeinated strangers). Zack takes great photos himself but he’s also the son of a historian and lately has been heavily involved in curatorial projects (usually about midcentury architecture or Seattle’s visual history). My favorite of his recent projects is a book of found slides of motels. I’m a sucker for the warm, saturated tones of old film from the 60’s and 70’s and this is basically a book full of the warmth that only amateurish vacation snapshots can give you.
• Us/Then (Robin Laananen): I’ve had the pleasure of knowing and running into Robin all over the world, both of us tour managing with cameras in hand. This is the book she made about her years on the road with Warpaint. Every time I look at this book, I feel a deep knot of jealousy that there are touring parties made up entirely of women and I have not yet gotten to be on one. The best I’ve had was a 50/50 split and I consider it the most fun I’ve ever had on the road. There are many things I love about Robin’s photography but the variety in her choice of vantage points always inspires me to try photographing from angles I wouldn’t instinctually think of. She captures the intimacy between the band members, the mundane details of tour and she always takes advantage of an adventure on a day off. She’s got insatiable energy for exploration. I would say she probably never sleeps but I did photograph her napping sitting up, shrouded in black like a ghoul, on a flight from Santiago to Buenos Aires. So I know she has gotten at least 2 hours of sleep in her life, which makes me feel only a little better about not yet having a book published myself.
• Death Cab for Cutie (Autumn de Wilde): This is an older one but I’ve been spending a lot of time with it recently. A photo book about my friends made by my friend? A dream. I consider Autumn a mentor, someone who has both hired and encouraged me over the years. She’s easily one of the most naturally artistic people I’ve ever met, always inspired, always making, always hunting for perfect things. I got to see a proof of her Elliott Smith book when she was putting it together and I’ve enjoyed seeing every book she’s created since. It is a true joy in life to know her and witness her evolution from music to fashion (with Rodarte) and now into feature films (Emma.). Autumn’s document of this earlier chapter in Death Cab’s history will forever be a tough act to follow and yet it inspires and fuels all the work I’ve made with them in this new iteration.
• Pine (Eirik Johnson): I remember the campaign of getting Eirik’s book funded and how I definitely wanted to buy it, but definitely did not want to appear like I was attempting to buy favor with the guy in charge of giving me my Certificate of Fine Arts. So I resisted (because ethics, I guess?) and planned on buying Pine without anyone knowing. But then I lost track of time, Eirik and I became friends, and he ended up gifting this to me anyway. Not sure what the moral is here but I’ve been enjoying this book since it came into my possession a few months ago. For one, it’s got a musical component and an LP is always a big hit of dopamine for me. This book is a great example of how photographers are able to imbue meaning in things that most people might overlook or accept at face value. Eirik is especially good at this (he has a lot to say about holes in the ground). The photographs in this book expose a vast array of emotional and physical intent behind tree carvings, from the earnestly romantic to incredibly creepy. For me, the more grey area, the more room for darkness, the better.
If you’ve read this far, I am in awe of you. Thank you for spending time with me and some of the talented people I am privileged to know. I hope these books send you or inspire you or save you the mental anguish of finding a birthday gift when we still can’t really go shopping.
xo
Rachel