Registering ... 
Loading... 
As a fashion photographer, David Field is engaged in an exploration of the dark side of fantasy— the velvety beauty of the shadow, both formally and in a symbolic sense. Painter and installation artist Jennifer Joseph explored the imagery of his work and what influenced it in a series of interviews with Field in August 2008.
JJ: In looking at your work, I sense that you are really engaged with the shadow— which speaks on a variety of levels. What does the shadow represent for you?
DF: You point out my obsession with shadows. Most photographers are fixated on how they light a particular scene or subject. After all, the definition of photography is the art of light. However, I’ve always been preoccupied with what isn’t being lit. It’s the shadows that I’m interested in, because after all, the unseen is the ultimate manifestation of mystery. Shadows are mystery. What lurks in the darkness is only insinuated, so one is forced to use imagination.
JJ: Also, your work has been pegged as “surreal,” which I kind of disagree with because I see more of the influence of Romanticism…sort of the struggle of man in the face of nature.
DF: You’re absolutely right about that. Other people have described my photographs as surreal, but it’s usually because they’ve only seen a narrow selection of my work. On the whole, I would rather go with your definition, which is a romantically sinister version.
JJ: What artists do you look at and how do they inform your imagery?
DF: My appreciation for this aesthetic principle stems from the early days of filmmaking. Before Alfred Hitchcock and before “The Twilight Zone” and going farther back to the age of silent films, and to a particular era known as the German Expressionist movement. In the 1920’s, Europe was in competition with Hollywood to fulfill the public’s desire for the silver screen. Unfortunately, they lacked the budgets of Hollywood films, so they were forced to cut corners. This led to some very creative approaches of alluding to a particular effect rather than creating it. Much of this was done with shadow play. There is a scene in Nosferatu, where the vampire is creeping up a staircase. Instead of spending money on building the actual staircase and having the actor climb it, they insinuated it by casting shadows with cardboard cutouts of the entire scene. Twenty years later, this method of filmmaking would lead the way to the age of film-noir.
One of my favorite directors from the 1950’s is Jacques Tourneur, who directed the films Cat People, I Walked with a Zombie and Night of the Demon. Tourneur created a trademark style of alluding to a particular scene rather than showing it. He knew the only way to actually show it would’ve involved serious compromise—thus looking corny. Instead, the audience is left to infer the whole thing. Not knowing whether the monster ever actually existed is so much scarier than seeing it. In Cat People, all you ever saw was the cat’s shadow on the wall. In Night of the Demon, the whole occult-like plot revolved around whether or not a demon actually lived on Earth. Tourneur’s vision was to never show the demon, thus making the audience come to their own horrifying conclusions. Unfortunately, the producer inserted some scenes with a cheesy rubber monster, and the entire effect was lost.
DF: I digress. The whole point of saying all of that was to illustrate my appreciation for shadows, and how they elevate a sense of mystery and imagination.
On a conceptual level, most of my influence comes from music. I feel like music is the most pure and expressive form of art. It bypasses anything visual and allows the listener to unlock many doors in their subconscious mind. For years now, I’ve been drawn to the work of 20th century avant-garde composers such as George Crumb with his piece entitled “Black Angels.” This piece evokes many of the same feelings that I try to convey in my own work. It is a bizarre and purely emotional portrayal of the Vietnam War. Without any words, this piece brings you to an exact place and time in which an unbridled chaos is unfolding.
JJ: Digression is welcome. I also see an examination of “the dark side” in your work.
DF: Some people wonder where my “dark side” comes from. My photographs are often mysterious, but as a person I’m the exact opposite. It stems from my childhood, when my dad would read bedtime stories to my sister and me. Being older, my sister had more influence on the types of books that my dad would read. For some reason, she always made my dad read us the most terrifying ghost stories and mystery novels. Immediately afterwards, I would lie in my bed, surrounded in darkness, and alone with my imagination. I would drift into sleep with creepiness lurking through every thought. This is probably why my imagination developed the way it did.
JJ: In looking at the models in your images, there is a sort of numbness, blankness, distance and disconnection. Do you direct them in that regard? If so, why? What is it that you are trying to convey in your work?
DF: When I am in the planning stages of my work, I use certain pieces of music as a starting point for my ideas. I’ve been in the habit of collecting film scores to movies that I have yet to see. This takes me on a complete mental journey where I’m able to devise my own plot and visuals to the soundtrack. Some of my favorite musical scores are Pan’s Labyrinth, The Exorcism of Emily Rose, The Fountain and recently, The Dark Knight, which is surprising for an action film.
During a photoshoot, if I want the model to act a certain way I’ve discovered it’s best to find a particular soundtrack for that emotion and just play it. Words can only do so much, but music has the power to transport anyone to anywhere at any time.
JJ: Have you ever looked at the work of Caravaggio? His paintings remind me of your work in terms of content and fascination with shadow, both literally and metaphorically. Now that I think of it, Caravaggio probably would have been a photographer if he had been born 400 years later.
DF: I definitely agree that Caravaggio would’ve been a photographer had he been born in modern times. He had such a good eye for light and for capturing a specific moment. His attention to detail and refined color palette would’ve been valuable assets as a photographer. Even though he rendered his paintings with great realism, I think his strength lay in directing his models and constructing the scene. Many photographers have taken influence from Caravaggio. If anything, they share the same aesthetic. Interestingly, these photographers are often the ones I most admire.
JJ: Can you name a few photographers that really blow you away? I see a little of Helmut Lang in your work.
DF: One of my favorite artists is a Spanish photographer named Eugenio Recuenco. Besides having a very painterly eye, he has an incredibly creative mind. Looking at his work, I know it’s also the product of a very strong team working alongside of him. The ability to pull together a brilliant team is a feat unto itself. Other photographers that have inspired me are Erwin Olaf, Gregory Crewdson and Gottfried Helnwein. All of these guys incorporate the talent of a master painter but apply it to real life, which is more impressive in my opinion.
Jennifer Joseph is an installation artist and painter living in Santa Fe, NM.
www.jenniferjoseph.com
Credits
Photography David Field
Stylists Yana Kamps
Makeup Mario Dedivanovic
Hair Rafael Jiminez
Photo Assistant Jason Walker
Digital Tech Alan Klement
Production Assistants Skip Terpstra & José Marquez
