I found a real good Will Steacy interview over here on Bomb Magazine that you should check out.
I love an interview with good questions- one where you can tell the interviewer really knows the interviewee’s work well, and has all sorts of in-depth, prodding questions that go beyond skin-deep. Will went to Tisch a couple years before I did, I think he left the year before I came in (and then left a year later), but it would’ve been cool to work in that tight space on the 8th floor at 721 Broadway for at least one year together; me a tiny and quiet freshman and him a senior.
But anyway, I’ve never met the guy but I keep up with his blog from time to time, and love his writing and alot of his work. He’s a real street kid, and I mean that in the most endearing way possible. The guy is full of grit and passion and loyalty and intensity that transfers over to his writing and photography; he’s on a clear quest to understand humanity in this crazy and tensioned world we live in- especially in the ‘forgotten classes’… people living in poverty, those who have worked steady blue collar jobs in medium sized industrial towns their whole life, the working classes, those small American towns with vinyl-clad, fourth generation run diners that serve up cheap coffee served in those off-white mugs with the brown ring around the top.
In the interview, Alec Quig asks, “I want to know why you’re pulled towards seedy places. Is it finding humanity in the inhumanity of it?” to which Will responds, “My work is about living. The camera allows me to ask questions, to truly see and think. And best of all, it is my connection. It allows me to penetrate the surface.” Alec: “But the homeless, the dangerous, the cheap strip joints, the ugly parts of town—is it because it’s what you know, coming up in Philly? Or instead, because it’s foreign?” Will: “That’s just where I am right now, perhaps it is where I have always been, perhaps it is all I know, I don’t really know. But those words can mean so much more. What might be dangerous might also be thrilling. There is guts, heart, passion, love and death in the dangerous.”
I also see a big, big (and maybe even ironic, considering how much he talks about violence?) theme of ‘love’ in all of Will’s work- love for the people he photographs, love for these tough locations, love for the many classes of Americans who keep on keeping on, or are living a constant struggle to stay up. This sincerity, Will’s alliance to the people and locations he shoots, is what really makes his work stand out and stick with me.
I’m especially interested in Will’s newest project, Down These Mean Streets, which he has worked on for 2 years, through the funding of a Tierney Grant he received in 2008. In this project, Will walks from the airport of a major city into its town center in the early hours of the morning, with his large format camera on his shoulder, photographing his journey. As Will explains, “The route that I take is very important. I’m choosing to focus on the areas in between. “The rough part of town,” as opposed to the central business district and airports themselves. The relationship between the CBD and airport, the geographical placement of each, is very important… my current project examines fear and the abandonment of America’s inner cities. I am interested in the parts of the city you don’t want to be in at night; the part of town you drive through – not to – with the windows rolled up and doors locked…
…The work has been fueled by America’s preoccupation with national safety, protecting our country from foreign forces, while we’ve lost sight of what it is we’re fighting for. We have forgotten our own cities, neighborhoods, and streets. By addressing the overwhelming loss and despair that prevail in our urban communities, I want to make a modern day portrait of the American inner city.” It’s a pretty damn brilliant and timely concept, and the photos I’ve seen really back up his vision of the project. I’ll be at the opening, for sure.
Alec and Will also touched upon another interesting issue that writer/photographers and photographer/writers grapple with: how to successfully integrate their own (involved and lengthy-ish) writing with their (powerful and involved) imagery, in a way where viewers that call either “writing” or “photography” home can devote the necessary time to understand art outside of their realm. Will explains it better than I just did: “At almost every gallery show I’ve had, the curator is not interested in the words. And this is understandable. Their focus is to sell photographs. Text for them gets in the way, becomes a distraction. And in terms of journalism, my photographs are too abstract, or deemed “too-fine art.” My work comes from both places, but sometimes feel like it’s fragmented. Maybe I haven’t yet figured out how to create a blend between the two that works, or I haven’t yet figured out a way to live with that fragmentation. There is always more work to be done, new stories, new ways to show this or that, and perhaps when it does feel finished and complete and there’s no more work to be done, and then I’ll be done, and it’ll be time to put down the camera.”