David Soffa
David Soffa is a photographer based in Philadelphia who recently received his MFA from Yale.
How do you feel about occasionally flirting with what could be labeled as sentimental and/or “pretty” photography?
I don’t necessarily reject these labels outright because the operative word for me here is ‘flirting.’ Many of my pictures tread in aestheticized territory, but I like to think they transcend the sort of surface level beauty associated with sentimentality. That being said, emotion is an inescapable condition of life, so to say there’s no place for that in art photography is misguided.
When I was first exposed to the medium in 9th grade, my photo teacher was kind of guy who read magazines like Popular Photography and preached the rule of thirds gospel. The great thing about him was he allowed our class to just go out and take pictures of anything and everything. I credit him for getting me hooked. If he had told me to go home and make a ‘self-portrait narrative’ (as I was compelled to do later in high school) I don’t know if I would have fallen in love with photography so easily. Although I quickly became bored while flipping through my copy of Pop Photo, I took his appreciation of sentimental pictures to heart. I know I risk being labeled nerdy or untrendy, but a rainbow is one of the most gorgeous things ever any way you slice it.
How do you interact with the world when creating one of your more labored pictures? What do you think about? What about obsessiveness or repetition?
I wanted to make the wrapped tree picture partially because of my love/hate relationship with plastic and my respect for nature. Construction sheeting is often used to conceal and protect objects that are destined to become angular and inorganic structures. There’s something so ominous about the way plastic can engulf and conceal, swallowing large patches of industrial landscape. I wanted to see what would happen if I applied this fairly common practice to something natural. I wanted to comment on the state of the environment today: urban sprawl, the detrimental effects of petroleum use, and the virtual suffocation of nature. I knew a picture like that had to be at once ominous and seductive. I spent three days wrapping that tree, using black plastic, a staple gun, and some well-honed climbing skills. Being so physically close to that tree, embracing it, becoming acquainted with every branch, I began to realize it was as much about swaddling as it was about suffocation.
In addition to my environmental concerns, this image means so much more to me. When I search for pictures in the world, I often photograph objects I’ve come to view as unintentional sculptures. The act of photographing is my way of pedestaling, or claiming authorship over my findings. I began to make the more labor intensive sculptural interventions like the tree picture because I can’t always stumble across what I’m looking for in the external world. I experience a quiet catharsis as I construct these pictures; they have proven to be effective psychic outlets for thoughts and feelings I experience when immersed in the landscape. The obsessiveness of these endeavors mirrors the way I approach composing all my photographs, always striving for formal rigor. It is the same compulsion that drives me to explore my surroundings searching for visual meaning, day after day.
You seem just as interested in unnatural and geometric forms as you are in nature. Can you talk about this?
I’ve always been drawn to basic geometric forms. Geometry was the only math subject I ever enjoyed and I remember creating intricate block structures as a child. Geometry is the foundation for all of civilization; it’s essential for the creation of any sort of structure or engineering feat. Despite this, perfect shapes almost never occur naturally. Perturbation from other natural forces always interfere. Trees would grow straight as a ruler if they weren’t subject to wind and rain. I think this lack of naturally occurring geometry is why humankind has always organized itself along engineered and mechanistic lines. In a way, this imposition of geometry into the landscape is our attempt at making sense of a planet that’s naturally fluid, adaptive and asymmetrical. In this vein, I strive to photograph with formal rigor, employing geometry and creating my own structured compositions using the frame, all in an attempt to understand and organize the world around me. I’m captivated by the countless objects and structures industry creates, some of them supremely bizarre.
What do you look for in a photograph?
Above all, I pictures to have affect and sincerity. If I’m moved, and I sense the photographer really cares, I’m down. My one exception to this are pictures that try to pass off nostalgia for content. Anything that looks old looks cool. It’s a cop-out.
What sort of burden do you take away from yourself or the viewer when you do not photograph people but instead photograph shapes and lines etc?
I’ve always been weary of the ethical implications that come with photographing people I don’t know really well. There’s an inherent power exchange, and although there are many who derive pleasure from being photographed, I can’t help but see the transaction as lopsided.
When I was 15 and wandering through the city, a homeless man asked me for money. He had a lazy eye and wore a bright orange camouflage print vest. I agreed to pay him on the condition I could take his picture. Why? National Geographic. He seemed to acquiesce, and after taking my dollar, he stood motionless in front of that brick wall. I squatted and hurriedly made several full length portraits and a close up. Standing in front of him, my camera in his face, I felt very uncomfortable. When I saw the resulting pictures, I was disgusted with myself. It wasn’t my place to photograph this man. It felt like exploitation and it was. As cliched as it sounds, I couldn’t help but think I had stolen a piece of this man’s dignity. Ever since then, I’ve been hyper-aware of that power exchange that takes place when I photograph a relative stranger.
So, in a sense the burden I relieve myself of is having to engage with the constant ethical debate in my head. I have long since given myself permission not to shoulder this weight. It’s a very different story when it comes to my viewers. I don’t think I’m unburdening them at all. People like looking at people.
Whether or not they look particularly attractive or unique is irrelevant. As a social species, our desire see other humans is hardwired into our biology. I’m challenging my viewers to make connections and glean meaning from my work without a familiar human element.
I do feel the need to qualify all of this by telling you that some of my favorite pictures ever are portraits. I have nothing but respect and admiration for many portraitists. From time to time, I do make portraits of people I’m close with and even people I’m not, but these mostly remain private.
What are you most concerned that your viewers should see in your work?
I’d like my viewers to see the poetry and allegorical possibilities that I’m attempting to show through everyday observations as well as ones that aren’t so commonplace. I hope they would recognize my collections of pictures are more than the sum of their parts. And above all, I want them to perceive that I’m a person who is trying to photograph, the best that he can, what it feels like to be alive.
Someone very close to me once described my pictures as “a considerate collection of moments discovered with the same gentle innocence and eagerness a kid has when turning over a rock--what's underneath is compelling, beautiful and bizarre.” I like that.
Ask yourself a question and respond.
Q. Will artistic integrity survive late capitalism?
A. Will we?
www.davidsoffa.com
