Katie West makes tough work. It’s tough to critique because it seems so personal, tough to look at for the same reason. Viewing a Katie West self portrait is like stumbling on a photo meant to be secret, a photograph taken for just one person. For this reason, her photography raises questions about private and public, of the interior lives each of us live and the face we show to the world. And what can happen when those two selves collide.
"Reflection in television, July 28th 2009" by Katie West
Greg Turner: Where are you from and what lead you to photography? How did you get your start, so to speak?
Katie West: I’m not sure if you mean where am I from geographically, or artistically, so I suppose I’ll answer both. I’m from a small farming village called Holland Landing. That description makes it sound much more interesting than it is; it’s about 45 minutes outside of Toronto. In Canada. I never took any art classes in high school because for some strange reason I thought I was supposed to take business courses and computer courses. I managed to sneak into the second part of a photography course in grade 11, even though I didn’t have any of the prerequisites. I did that because my friends were in it, and they were always using me as a model, so I thought maybe I’d like to take the pictures too. Also my school had a darkroom and I used to hang out with them in there, always wondering what exactly they were doing. Unfortunately, what they were doing was taught in the first part of the photography course, so I just sort of had to learn by experimenting and making mistakes.
GT: And why writing? It seems photography would be a thankless enough slog, but to add words on top of that?
KW: I always wanted to be a writer, for as long as I can remember. Unfortunately I’m not very good at it, but I really like it, so I keep at it. And I don’t find either photography or writing thankless – quite the opposite. The amount of email I get thanking me for my pictures or my words is often incredible to me. Now, saying that it pays off monetarily? No, not exactly. And I don’t think I’d want to depend on my photography as my sole source of income. I worry that would stress me out and force me to do things I’m not interested in which would make me like it less. I’m not interested in taking pictures of weddings, or babies, and so I don’t want to have to so that I can eat that month. Now, if I could make a living doing what I already do? Amazing. Perfect. And who knows? Maybe one day? Maybe…
GT: You and others have described your work as being “honest” (I happen to agree). What do you suppose this means? What about your process or aesthetic contributes to your work’s honesty?
KW: I think the honesty is my work comes across through my willingness to share many vulnerable moments in my life. I rarely plan a shoot (talking self-portraits here) in advance. The vast majority of my pictures are born of moments when I feel I just have to take a picture. It’s like I get this feeling from inside me that is like a small voice pestering me and then it gets louder and louder and the only way to make it go away is to take a picture. Whoa, that makes me sound crazy, but it’s also true. So the process – of never planning, mostly going on a whim – results in very real and honest portraits I believe. I mean, on the internet, we’re always in control of how much of ourselves we share with an audience; I just tend to share a lot. The honesty also comes through in that though: I share a lot. I have no problems with being who I am online. And I mean, I’m really nerdy and awkward, but that doesn’t bother me and I don’t mind if people know that sort of thing. Aesthetically, the honesty comes across in the use of natural light, the locations of most of my photos (which are usually in my house, or in the places I work, or places I frequent), the lack of elaborate set-up, or costumes or make-up. I’m not saying I never use those things, but those aren’t my more honest photos, you know?
GT: What draws you to self portraits?
KW: I sort of addressed this already, but I can say more. I think mostly two things draw me to self-portraits. The first is what I already mentioned, this compulsion I have to take photos. And this compulsion is usually born out of intense emotions I’m feeling. Often taking pictures, the entire process appeases me in some way, and that can be useful when you’re prone to The Crazy. Even the clean-up after I shoot – moving furniture back, putting lights ad camera away – feels very satisfying in my gut for some reason. And the second thing that draws me to self-portraits is having this immense photographic and written diary of my life. I really like history – visiting cities with me is horrible if you don’t like history because all I want to do is museums! and historical places! and oh! That’s the chair George Washington sat in! – and also really like the idea of the personal history. I love going to my grandparents and looking through all their old photos and newspaper clippings and just…old stuff. In addition to the historical aspect that I’d like to have someday to look back on, I also like getting glimpses into other people’s minds. I like reading other people’s diaries, I like going through their rooms, I like figuring people out. I like seeing the things that people usually hide. So I guess I like to offer that closeness to people, that look inside my mind, that open diary for people to find. I think that sort of thing is interesting, and I’d like to do something interesting, right? So yeah, basically craziness and creepiness draws me to self-portraits. Ha!
GT: You currently live in Toronto, correct? How do you think where you’re from and where you live now affects your work? Is there a particular aesthetic found in Toronto not found other places?
KW: I do not like Toronto. Of all the cities I’ve ever lived, or visited, it’s my least favourite. And I lived in Windsor! It’s not a friendly city. It’s a city obsessed with trying to be New York, and liking to think it is the Canadian New York, but there can’t be another New York, there can’t even be anything that comes close. Toronto is a city that just seems confused about who it is, where it’s going, where it came from even. One of my favourite cities is Philadelphia, and compared to Philly, Toronto is just, I don’t know, it lacks character. I’m not saying there’s no redeeming qualities about the city; the diversity of Toronto is unlike anything I’ve experience before. Forty-nine percent of the people who live in Toronto were not born in Canada, this results in a very rich multiculturalism that doesn’t exist anywhere else because in Toronto, you don’t need to learn to speak English. Toronto is still a Canadian city despite its wanting so badly to escape it. So if you don’t speak English, the Torontonian you’re attempting to communicate with will feel bad and apologetic that they don’t speak your language, albeit in their best impression of an unfriendly American. (It’s bizarre I know, because Americans are not unfriendly, but Canadians think they are. But! The rest of Canada outside Toronto is too polite and too apologetic; no wonder we never actually separated ourselves from Britain and the Queen’s head is on our coins.) But this amazing tapestry of people in Toronto means really great, diverse food options, easily accessible exploration of other cultures and some sort of cultural festival almost every weekend, especially in the summer. Often I wonder if I would move to the States if I could (which I can’t). But I love Canada. As much as Toronto is not the city for me, and as much as I believe there isn’t a city in Canada for me, I love being Canadian. I love being polite and apologetic and kind. I like my accent and how I say eh. I love the expansiveness of Canada, the extremities of our climate and terrain. I love our healthcare and our gun laws.
Wait.
What was the question? Oh yeah. So, where I am certainly affects my work, which is why I don’t mind moving, and why I like to visit new places. I’m very moved by locations, as I quite dislike studio shoots. I like to go places and take photos. The first thing I notice when I walk into an interesting space is where the security cameras are. Know what I mean?
GT: Finally, if you were going to show a single episode of STNG to someone to win them to the show, which episode would it be?
KW: Once, a bunch of people I know got together and formed the Council of Trek, in which we had very intense discussions about what would be the 10 episodes we would say were the best; that highlighted the shows strengths as well as demonstrated its range. (Though the list also kept in mind things such as “Riker’s beard”, “android banging” and “Wesley”.) The best episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation is, arguably of course, “Chain of Command.” But a good starting point, though still maintaining the quality of “Chain of Command,” would be “Encounter at Farpoint.” And then “The Inner Light.” And I could go on, but you said a single episode and I’ve already mentioned three.
"Untitled (53 and counting)" by Katie West
I can’t remember when I first stumbled on Katie West’s work. I’m sure it was via Flickr, but now I’m not sure how I would have found it. Glad I did? You bet. I didn’t know what to expect when I asked Katie to be interviewed. Maybe I expected the artist to be as tough as her work. She is, in a way, but she’s also generous and kind and clearly passionate about what she does.
“The Inner Light” happens to be my favorite.