Jessica Auer

Interview with Jessica Auer Featuring photographs from her series ‘Chilkoot Portraits’ and ‘Looking North’

Can you introduce us to your way of working, how has your love of the outdoors found a way into your work? Why is working with 4x5 your preferred medium?

Photography came into my life when I was just a little kid in the mid-80’s, and somehow one event led to another. When I was 8 years old my older sister got married. She bought me a Polaroid camera and told me I could be the wedding photographer. I remember the pack only had 10 shots so I quickly learned how to budget my exposures, carefully selecting every image I wanted to take. 

Two years later when I was 10 years old, my parents got divorced and as a consolation my father took me on a road trip across Canada. He also gave me a 35mm Nikon camera. This was my first road trip, bringing landscape and photography together for me for the first time. Day after day, I experienced a cinematic view of the Canadian landscape from the front passenger seat, snapping photos of everything from roadside attractions to black spruce forests, and the sites I visited while exploring Canada’s National Parks. 

Eight years after that, I began studying photography as my major in University, and discovered large format photography. As soon as I started shooting 4x5, I never went back to using 35mm. That was over twenty years ago and I can tell you that time really does fly. One of the most significant things I’ve discovered about myself is that photography is my way of slowing down, and photographing in 4x5 helps to keep me working at a thoughtful pace.

How has your approach to your work and its narrative grown or shifted between your series Chilkoot Portraits and Looking North? As the viewer I can see how they might be related and i’d love to ask you to share how your passion for similar themes expanded over time.

Since I mostly photograph landscapes, the Chilkoot series was an interesting turning point for me in terms of changing up my photographic approach. It happened during a 14-day residency with the Chilkoot Trail AIR program, where artists are invited to carry out a project along the 53 km stretch of wilderness where in 1898, thousands of prospectors travelled by foot over the coastal mountains and into the heart of the Klondike. Known as the Last Great Gold Rush, this incredible event had been documented using large-format glass plate photography and what struck me the most about these photographs were the potency of the portraits. So I decided to hike and camp along the Chilkoot trail for fourteen days, from Dyea, Alaska to Bennett, British Columbia, photographing every person I met, from backpackers to wardens, with my 4”x5” view camera. Even though the series features very classic portraiture, it’s still so much about the landscape.

After the Chilkoot residency in 2014, I moved to Iceland and began a research-based project that has grown into five year survey of Iceland’s tourism boom. For this series titled Looking North, I began by setting up my camera at popular stopping-places, mostly capturing wide views of the landscape being invaded by people. I’m interested in the paradox of setting out into nature expecting to have an awe-inspiring and unique experience, only to become part of a crowd. So this project became about how we consume places, and the irony of giving particular sites a “hug of death.” After making so many images of this rather disheartening concept, I felt the need to get closer to people, talk to them and involve them in a discussion about the phenomenon. Having made the Chilkoot portraits gave me the confidence to photograph tourists, rangers, wardens, and locals for Looking North.

Although the style of portraiture may be similar between the two series, the relationships I built with people and the role of these pictures are quite different. With the Chilkoot series, these portraits were inspired by archival images from the gold rush, and were more about spontaneous encounters with people in the wilderness frontier. In Looking North, I am building relationships with the people I photograph, and have kept in touch with everyone hoping that their role in the project might evolve. I’ve photographed a few people more than once over the years, which has been fun because our reunions have been unplanned! That’s just how things tend to work out in Iceland.

Can you share how living in Iceland throughout the years led to your work focusing on tourism. What details did you notice in the Fjord that inspired you to research further. In what ways did you notice that the influx of tourism began to affect the land? Why was it important for you to document this?

Being a photographer, I was totally seduced by Iceland’s panorama of dramatic landscapes, so when I re-located to Iceland, I was motivated by this romantic idea of living and working close to nature. My partner and I ended up buying the upper level of an old decommissioned fish factory, literally 5 meters back from the fjord, and 2 kms from the remote village of Seyðisfjörður. It is my idea of living in paradise, with a view from the kitchen which frames the sea, surrounded by sublime mountains. This was in 2016, which was also the year that tourism peaked in Iceland, and cruise ships started to pass by my window each day in summer. I can‘t say this was not at all expected, but some of these ships could carry over 2000 people, stopping for day trips in our small port town with a population of 685. My feelings towards these cruise ships and other forms of mass tourism is what drives me to make work about the vulnerability of certain places when faced with tourism. But I also realize that my expectation of having The View all to myself was precisely what the tourists expect. It´s a complicated topic which makes it really interesting to explore, especially over the long-term. As the industry and the economy evolves, so do our attitudes. Likewise my own position shifts in relation to who I am there – foreigner, artist, or local. I think documenting this phenomenon could be significant within a historical context. 

What role have artist residencies played in your work? How did this inspire you to start your own with Ströndin Studio?

I’ve had the opportunity to participate in residency programs in Canada, France, Sweden, Norway, Iceland and Japan, and I know that these residencies provide precious time and access to incredible places and intimate experiences. Since my work is place-based, being able to live and work abroad has made most of my projects possible. When my partner and I bought the Ströndin fish factory and founded Ströndin Studio, our main goal was to offer courses and workshops, but residencies made their way into our programming as a way to share our photographer’s paradise with a few other artists as well.  

With Covid changing tourism for 2020, how has your project 'Looking North' shifted? 

When the pandemic hit in early March, I was certain that tourism would crash this year and was questioning how this would play out in Iceland where the economy is dependent on it. I was also thinking carefully about not adding insult to injury by pushing the discussion of what is already a sensitive topic under normal circumstances. I did continue to shoot this year, at first capturing vacant sites, parking lots and so on, but as the summer progressed, an interesting twist occurred – thousands of Icelanders started touring their own country again. I was forced to re-think so many aspects about this work, and I’m just glad that there’s still more to explore. It’s opened up interesting questions about the future – when the pandemic subsides, will tourism go back to its old ways? Won’t we have some catching up to do with our travel plans?   

 
A question I ask from my own experience of backpacking with the weight of a medium format camera, what it is like to take a 4x5 camera along on your adventure. Sometimes I imagine people think the extra weight isn't worth it, but there's a feeling that occurs when you're within the landscape looking through the viewfinder. How has that experience been for you? 

Some of the hardest challenges we face are the most rewarding! Spending two weeks on the Chilkoot trail carrying not only my camping gear but also a 4x5 and a medium format camera, was just a thrill. I look back on this photo taken just after summiting the pass. I look exhausted because I was, but through the exertion, I was able to find such clarity of focus with the landscape, the people I met, and the whole experience. It also helped to be outside of mobile of reception for two weeks, away from all other distractions. In 2020, I almost can’t imagine being “out of touch” with the rest of the world for two whole weeks! 

Photo by: Andreas Rutkauskas

 
Can you share what you think tourists overlook when they experience Iceland? I often feel it's the interactions with the communities themselves but i'd love to hear your perspective on this.  

 While I would agree that a lot of tourists miss out on the opportunity of getting to know and interact with communities, the reality is that with the growth of tourism, communities are simply outnumbered. This notion of intimate tourism is an ideal, but if I had one word of advice, it would be to take the time. The longer a tourist or traveller stays in one community or one area, the more likely they are to experience a genuine interaction, or even make a friend.  

To keep up to date with Jessica’s latest work follow along here:
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To view the trailer for Jessica’s film ‘Shore Power’ visit here:
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