Joel Sartore on RARE: The DarkTopo Interview

Photo © 2010, Joel Sartore.

I talk a lot about the state of current photography. Sometimes, this casts me in the dubious role of “critic,” which is not a hat I wear comfortably. It's not that I'm unqualified, and no one would ever accuse me of having too few opinions, but when it comes to National Geographic photographers, I have to ask myself if I'm really presumptuous enough to critique this caliber of work. Usually, the answer is yes. And if there's one thing that makes a critic, it's presumptuousness. If there's another thing, it's writing a review without mentioning the actual book for three paragraphs. So here we go.

Photography has reached its disco era. And by “has reached,” I mean, “has begun to wallow in.” Photographers are seduced by imagery that is not their own, emboldened by technology they can't control, and fixated on visual gimmicks they were never meant to produce. Photos have become a means to an end, a back-beat to lower our inhibitions and give us the thrill we're really after. Today's photography is fun to dance to, but the flashing lights and pumping beats will make your head hurt in the morning—next to the stranger in your bed.

My suspicion is confirmed by the percentage of retrospectives I've been asked to review. The Life of a Photograph, War + Peace, An American Family, Odysseys and Photographs. All by photographers I grew up admiring, because they used the camera to say something. But where is the new work? Good documentary photography is as rare as an acoustic guitar in a dance club, and when I look at the art mags today, all the photographers seem to be saying is, “Sorry, I can't hear you over the sound of how awesome I am.”

When I opened Joel Sartore's RARE, I was reminded of what Rolling Stone critic Greil Marcus wrote about Bruce Springsteen in 1975: “This is what rock and roll is supposed to sound like.”

RARE does exactly what photography was meant to do: Present the truth in front of the photographer's camera. There are no tricks, no collage, no overlayed texture layers. That's typical of Geographic photography, but Sartore takes it a step further: There are no backgrounds. These are bare-knuckle, hard-cold-truth photographs, captured without a hint of gimmickry. Each photo is a stark portrait of an endangered species, staring you in the face. Well, if it has eyes, that is. I guess the Pima Pineapple Cactus is pollening you in the face.

In any event, RARE is a sight for sore eyes. I can't tell you how refreshing it is to see new photography that doesn't lean on an alternative process and orbit around the photographer's feelings. This isn't about Sartore using sloppy photography to work through his inner turmoil: This is a collection of photographs made with such masterful skill that at times I really didn't believe it (see the crocodile question below), and then presented with such humility that Sartore himself becomes transparent.

And that, readers, is what photography is supposed to look like. You present the truth without claiming it as your own, and then—no matter what—you don't shy away from it. RARE never backs down from its mission. There are no excuses in this book, and no concessions. The only hint we get of the artist's process is a shot of a Woodland Caribou that uses an angle wide enough to show us the black velvet clamped to its wooden pen: An explanation, not an excuse, and in the end it only serves to emphasize the animal's imposing presence and docile countenance.

I've been a Sartore fan for quite awhile, and when I read the press sheet on this book, I was disappointed. I wanted monkeys swinging through trees and bulls kicking the teeth out of their riders' skulls, not boring old field mice on boring old studio backgrounds. But when I got the book in my fixer-stained fingers, I was struck by what a brave move it must be for someone who's known for over-the-top field photography to present something so solemn, and so great a departure from the style that made him famous. And of course, by about the third page, I was hooked.

I have so much more to say about this book (like the fact that it's available as a small hardback at mass retailers, rather than a double elephant folio like the work of certain other photographers who claim to care about endangered species) but if I drag this out any longer I'll really start earning the “photo critic” bullet on my resume. So, I caught up with Sartore over email, and he was kind enough to answer some questions about RARE:

MC: Tell me a bit about the book. How long did this project take? Is this something you planned, or did you start to collect pictures over the
years and realize you had a project going? Which species in the book is your favorite?

JS: I'd been photographing endangered species for years, but in the wild. For this project, in which the subjects are mostly photographed in a studio style (lit with a soft box) on black and white backgrounds, I've been going at it for about four years. The main sponsorship for the work came from a National Geographic story on the Endangered Species Act. I'd ended up going to several dozen zoos and had more than 60 endangered plants and animals by the time that project was done, which we figured was enough for a small book.

As for a favorite species, I'd always wanted to photograph a California condor and got to do so at the Phoenix Zoo just before the magazine's story deadline. They're a huge, ancient bird that was very nearly lost to extinction. I also have a very soft spot in my heart for the Columbia Basin pygmy rabbit as well, which actually went extinct while our book was in production. It's hard to forget something like that.


California Condor, Gymnogyps californianus | Population 356 | Phoenix Zoo, Phoenix, Arizona. Photo © 2010, Joel Sartore.

MC: When we talked last time, you said “the Internet giveth and the Internet taketh away.” It was not so long ago that photographs were rare, but now we see scores of images every day, many of them very good. Has this over-saturation diluted the power of a book like yours to change things? Can photography still impact people the way it did before the digital age?

I think it's all in the storytelling. The world is hungry for good stories told well. And with Cable and the Internet, there are now more ways than ever to get the word out. So in a way it doesn't matter what the medium is. Of course I prefer stills because it's what I know and it's about all I've done since I was 18 years old, but I've tried my hand at video and it's fine too. It's really a matter of trying to get the word out. In other words, I'm not worried about getting
out-competed when it comes to telling the story of our vanishing wildlife and habitats. Indeed, I wish there were many other people who were doing the same thing, trying to get the word out before it's too late.

". . . What will happen when we lose a vigorous and thriving free press, what the Founding Fathers called 'The Fourth Estate' of government. This worries me more than anything, really."

The big rub is that if it's on the Web, which everything will be eventually, it has to be free. How will professional journalists make a living? I don't think they will unless they're backed by grants or the very wealthy who are afraid of what will happen when we lose a vigorous and thriving free press, what the Founding Fathers called 'The Fourth Estate' of Government. This worries me more than anything, really.


St. Andrew Beach Mouse, Peromyscus polionotus peninsularis | Population ≤ 6,000 | Panama City, Florida. Photo © 2010, Joel Sartore.

MC: How did you get the American Crocodile to stand still?

JS: Crocodilians often lie in wait to ambush their prey, so once we got him into
position at the Omaha Zoo, he stayed there--pretty much.

MC: When Kodachrome was discontinued last year, I lamented its loss on the blog, but also criticized photographers that put all their faith in one particular type of film, lens, or camera, asking “what fool would shoot a magazine assignment on film?” One of my readers answered: “Joel Sartore.” But now you've gone digital. For a book like this, how do you feel about the archival aspects of digital versus those of film? You've got images that no one can ever shoot again—are you comfortable with them existing only as ones and zeros? What is your backup regimen like?



Leatherback Sea Turtle, Dermochelys coriacea | Population ≤ 3,000 | Southern Bioko Island, Equatorial New Guinea. Photo © 2010, Joel Sartore.

JS: No, I am not comfortable at all as we move forward into the digital age. Note that I do not shoot any film anymore, and haven't for many years, but this truly is the elephant in the room. Any archivist will tell you that if you want your photos to last out beyond 100, 50 or even 25 years, you better print them out to film or an archival print--something that can be viewed without the aid of a machine. Nothing, and I mean nothing, is rated archival when it comes to digital storage, and yet we continue to go head long, pretending this problem doesn't exist. In a very real way, it's the same problem I face in trying to get the word out about our natural world coming apart--it's unpleasant and there is no realistic answer. So, why should anyone care? If we don't have to, we don't. We're a short-term species when it comes to our memory. We evolved on the African plains, looking around at the end of the day, making sure that our kin were fed and uninjured. That's it. Why worry about things that are going to happen down the road? It's only going to bum us out.

"Nothing, and I mean nothing, is rated archival when it comes to digital storage, and yet we continue to go headlong . . . We're a short-term species when it comes to our memory."

MC: Your photography is masterful and your cause is noble. Which motivates you more? If you woke up tomorrow and all the endangered species were safe, would you still take pictures? Or, if you decided that photography was indeed too common a medium to effectively bring change, would you switch to something else?

JS: I love the still image, the way that a common moment can transcend time and become so much more iconic. So if all the endangered species were tucked away, safe in their beds, you bet I'd still be shooting. I had an NGM story on America's State Fairs just last summer. Garrison Keillor wrote it, and it was an absolute blast once I got past the daily diet of grease.

So, you bet, count me in, I'm not going anywhere.


Photo © 2010, Joel Sartore.

Gargoyle

Light Leaks . . .

. . . I has them.





My struggle with the Konica Auto S2 is well documented. Eventually, I decided I'd take it apart myself and try to clean the lens, which really wasn't all that bad. But I was never able to reach the elements with the fungus, though I did have success at putting it back together.

I don't know the first thing about camera repair. I have no idea how the rangefinder could possibly still be alive after I broke the camera all the way down, but apparently it was. The light seals, on the other hand . . .

In any event, I'd decided to use the camera as a beater, and the first thing I did when I put it back together was clip it to my belt and go on a hike (read: fall) with Cpt. Destructo. So perhaps it wasn't the seals, but the abuse. (I bet ten bucks I get comments from PETA about "seal abuse.")

As much as I love film, this is one thing you never have to worry about with digital cameras. Even if there was a light leak, you'd know it pretty damn quick. Certainly before you shot pictures of three different people on three different days. But that's what makes film so interesting: No matter how good you think you are, every roll is a surprise.

AshevilleHDR @ The Green Sage!

Images from AshevilleHDR are on display at The Green Sage, on the corner of College and Broadway in downtown Ashevegas. I know this is not a very self-promotional thing to say, but I've had more negative comments about this work than any other series. I think that's likely because people don't want to be impolite when they're talking about capital-A Art, but if they get the sense that your images are just photography, they'll say right to your face that your work is crap and your mother's a whore.

Fortunately for my fragile ego, I've also had more positive reactions about his work than any other. Apparently, some people like photos that aren't dark and creepy. Takes all kinds, I guess.

Love it or hate it, it's at the Sage til June 13th.

New work in F-Stop!

I've got two photos of my smoking hot and incredibly patient wife in F-Stop Magazine's Group Exhibit! I'll save you the trouble of looking through all the thumbnails.*




*Though you really should, because there's some good work in there, including photos of headless naked women.**

**Which is about the only thing more interesting than a headless wolf.