Ben Goddard received his B.A. from Bard College in 2009 and currently lives and works in Los Angeles.
Can you discuss your connection to surrealism?
I actually don’t have a very strong connection to surrealism. I understand why you might think that though. I am influenced by the element of surprise and unexpected juxtapositions that artists such as Man Ray were working with, but I am not incredibly attached to many of the philosophies and ideas behind the Surrealist movement.
I am a big fan of Luis Buñuel’s films though, particularly The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie and That Obscure Object of Desire. I love the absurd sense of humor in Bourgeoisie and the substitution of different actresses for the same character in Object of Desire. By having multiple actresses play the same character, I think Buñuel really challenges the audience’s understanding of the people we see on the screen. It makes us wonder whether we could ever be sure of this character’s qualities.
In my own work, I am interested in questioning the validity of a self-portrait. Is it really me in front of the camera, or could it easily be anybody else? My face is very identifiable in many of my photographs, while at the same time I am very far away from the camera or hidden in others. How does it affect the meaning of the self-portrait if you’re not certain if it’s me or not? These are questions I’m very curious about and are ones that I think Buñuel was fascinated by as well.
Would you say that you are more interested in narrative or experience?
I am very interested in narrative. I love reading novels and I am a narrative film addict. I draw a lot of inspiration from books and films, but when it comes to creating my own work, I’d say that I am more interested in experience. When I am thinking of ideas for pictures, I rarely start with a story in mind that I want to tell within a single image. I do think about characters that I could transform into, but I think the final pictures feel more like portraits of these characters rather than a moment within a longer narrative. Some of my pictures certainly feel like staged scenes, but I think that they lack cinematic qualities that would suggest more of a narrative. A question I have for myself is if my various self-portrait series resonate as stories when viewed in sequence. I’m not sure yet what my answer would be to that, but it is something I’ve been thinking about a lot since I recently made the first couple books of my work.
Other than ideas for characters, a lot of my pictures begin with objects and materials I stumble upon. I love going to thrift stores and party supply stores to look for props to use in my pictures. I get a lot of inspiration from those kinds of stores. Very often I’ll find objects I’m fascinated by and think, “How can I make a picture with these objects?” Once I figure out what the picture is sort of going to be like, I begin the process of photographing, which is an experience I am having with these materials surrounding me. The photographs always end up looking different than I initially imagined. Rather than thinking of this process as inserting myself into a set that I built with these materials, I think of it as interacting with and playing with these materials. The final photographs to me therefore feel more experiential rather than narrative.
Can you talk about the themes, symbols and objects of photography as a medium with in the series and singular photographs?
I first started working on my Hey You, Yeah You, Reflecto Over Here series because I was obsessively Google image searching self-portraits people take of themselves with their camera phones. I was also starting to look at self-portraits people took of themselves in the mirror. I love how awkward it is to extend your arm out and turn your camera phone to face yourself. I find these kinds of self-portraits very compelling.
After the first couple of hours I spent on Google image, I realized that these are incredible examples of the most basic process of self-portraiture: photographing your reflection. This is how I began making self-portraits using mirrors. I wanted to make self-portraits that felt somewhat like the standard camera phone mirror self-portrait, but also had a big sense of humor about self-portraiture itself.
Rather than always hiding the camera in the mirror’s reflection, I include the camera in the picture as a way to actually depict the process and the technology that goes into taking a photograph. In other words, I make it visually apparent that I am taking a self-portrait of me taking a self-portrait. The viewer of my photographs is looking at me, but also looking at a reflection of me taking a picture of myself.
I got into using text in some of my self-portraits as a way to think about the potential of communication between photographer, subject, and viewer. Is it at all possible for me to directly communicate with my viewer as the subject of my own photographs? One of my pictures is of me holding a flashlight up to a mirror that has “wuz here” written on it, while another photograph is of a reflection of me with “hi!” written on my butt. In both pictures, I attempt to write messages to the viewer of my photographs only to discover that the sole reader of these reflected words is myself.
Photoshop is another technological object of photography that shows up in my pictures, especially the picture of me running to home plate on a baseball field. I am not only the runner, but also the 3rd baseman and catcher. I like how the basis of this picture is a very simple and obvious Photoshop trick. It is a very modern way of viewing your own reflection: clone stamping a picture of yourself over and over again. I also think making myself play all three baseball positions at once relates to how I am the only one that can read the messages I write. I simultaneously play on opposing baseball teams in the same way that I am both the subject and viewer of my photographs.
There are numerous reflections in your images, but would you say your
images themselves are reflections of something larger?
For me, my images are reflections of my own questions about how I choose to define and present myself. I think a lot about notions of failure and success in making art and living life. How would I define being successful in life as opposed to the definitions I’ve been raised to abide by? This is a big question that I continue to explore in self-portraits where I am confronting my own artwork. For example, in one of my photographs I am looking down at pictures I made a number of years ago while scratching my head. This picture is meant to suggest a moment of self-critique in which I am uncertain and confused about whether my newer artwork is more successful than my older work. Since I am looking at only photographs that are self-portraits within a self-portrait, I feel that this picture suggests a larger critique of myself and whether I am better or worse than myself from a number of years ago.
Another picture where I am confronting my own artwork is one in which I am setting fire to my own books. I got the idea for this picture after I messed up the first batch of Reflecto books I had printed. I was so frustrated by this mistake I made and I felt like a huge failure. I decided a way to turn this mistake into an accomplishment was to make a photograph about it. For the picture, I Photoshopped my eyes into the sunglasses sitting on top of the pile of books that I am setting fire to with a match I am holding. It is a ritualistic self-execution of my artwork and myself that makes me laugh about feeling like a failure.
I’d also like to think that my images reflect some of the new complexities that have been introduced to defining one’s self in a social world dominated by status updates and profile pictures. Web-based social networks such as Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram are all ways we project ourselves to others, but they are also ways in which we look at ourselves. They are reflections of our own images in the same way that a reflection in a mirror is. I hope that the many types of reflections in my images capture the confusion, excitement, and anxiety brought about by these new modes of human interaction.
What does it mean to photograph a mirror?
To photograph a mirror means to me a state of play by myself and to find humor in my own image. It means to photograph an object that is a phenomenon of photography in the same way that a dark room with light shining through is. When I am photographing a mirror that is not reflecting myself, I think about how the mirror is what is inside my SLR camera that enables me to take the picture that I am taking. It makes me realize that the mirror is a surface that can never be devoid of imagery.
What can be communicated through the distortion in your work?
I think the distortion in my work communicates the importance of embracing imperfection and chance.
If you had to choose between comedy and tragedy, which would you choose?
This is a tough question. Both tragedy and comedy are big influences on my self-portraits, but humor is more important to me personally. I love to laugh and prefer tragicomedies over tragedies. I am very interested in antiheroes and tragic heroes. Barry Lyndon, the antihero of Stanley Kubrick's film of the same name, is one of my all time favorite fictitious characters. Many of my self-portraits are self-deprecating and the characters I transform into are a lot like failed heroes. Yet there is always a sense of humor in the way I depict myself. In the end, I think that comedy is a stronger element in my work. I rarely get sad looking at my pictures. I mostly just smile.
Ask yourself a question and respond.
What kinds of pictures will I be taking when I am 82?
I obviously don’t know the answer to this question, but last weekend I saw Sonny Rollins, the legendary jazz saxophonist, perform up in San Francisco. He’s 82. Not to say that I could ever be anywhere near as great of an artist as Rollins, but I hope that I will be taking pictures that have as much youthful energy as Rollins has while playing his saxophone even at such an old age.
http://www.goddardben.com/
