I am a collector. Past collections of mine have included postcards, travel brochures, and bottle caps. I have always kept diaries, made collages and scrapbooks, recorded home movies. I collect and keep these items because I feel compelled to document my life. This year, I have come to see photography as another tool with which to document life. What does that mean-to document life? To me, documenting life is not limited to recording daily scenes with an absence of sentimentality. It is not about taking straight photographs that illustrate what things may have looked like. To me, documenting life is about capturing the emotions and feelings that make up reality. It is about manipulating negatives and photographs to highlight the different aspects of reality that seem important to tell others. Why do I document life? It is because I am very intrigued with the past. By photographing the present, I am creating insights into the past.

Creating insights into the past has not been a trouble-free experience. When I think about documenting life, what I really mean is that I want to document my reality. This is not an easy task because I have so many different ideas about what reality is. I need to come to a definition so that I can apply it to my artwork. Secondly, because I am interested in documenting my own life, the audience that I am most interested in is myself and my family and my friends. I am not interested in the audience of gallery goers, the general public, strangers. And yet, this latter audience stills sees my artwork. The issue that I am having then is, what happens when an audience that I did not intend to view my art is viewing it? Another problem is that many of the images I have are either incomplete or fragments. I choose to print little fragments of events or seemingly meaningless scenes because this is how I usually recall memories. But, there has to be a cohesive way to present these fragments. I have spent much of this past year trying to discover a successful way to present my recalled memories. Throughout the year, I have experimented with how to resolve some of these problems, and I have spent much time looking at artists who deal with similar issues. This year I have looked at the work of Robert Frank, William Christenberry, and Betty Hahn for insights on how these artists address both the relationship between reality and photography, and recalling memory.

I want to document reality, but I have had so many questions about what reality is. For instance, does everyone have his or her own reality? Or are our realities the same? I believe that reality is made up of our thoughts and feelings and personal experiences. Because everyone thinks differently and feels differently and experiences different things, I believe that everyone's reality is different. Because I do not believe that I can successfully capture the reality of other people, I have focused on capturing my own reality in print.

And yet, how can I encapsulate my reality? I do not believe that the camera can capture reality because, as I said, reality is made up of thoughts and feelings. A camera very rarely captures a feeling or thought because feelings and thoughts are not objective. The camera is an objective tool that photographs how things look. It is both the photographer's intent and the audience's perception of the photograph that brings emotion into the image. Or, the photographer and the audience bring reality into the image. Sometimes this reality is not accurate. For instance, I used to think that if I am smiling in a particular photograph that I must have been happy on that day. This is not true. Here, the camera is shaping how I feel about my own past reality, but this does not mean that the camera accurately encapsulates reality. By manipulating my photographs, I can begin to capture reality. Instead of focusing on straight photography, or the untouched silver gelatin print, I play with my images. This gives me more control over the final result. I can make my final images represent reality by adding text, combining images, or choosing different techniques to display them.

Christenberry, born in 1936, has much to offer on this issue of the relationship between photography and reality. Christenberry is not only a photographer-he is also a sculptor, a painter, and a draftsman. He started taking photographs to capture the colors of the Alabama landscape as an aid to his paintings. Christenberry has continued to take photographs over the past forty years of that same Alabama landscape. Now, these photographs serve as sketches for his sculptures, or else they stand on their own. The sculptures that he builds are models of the buildings that appear in his photographs. What is interesting to me is that Christenberry's photographs show a progression of time, but his sculptures do the opposite-the buildings that he creates are left in one moment of time forever (Stack, 1996). Like Christenberry's sculptures, I used to think that a photograph leaves an image trapped in one moment forever. Now, I respond more to Christenberry's relationship with reality through his photographs. These photographs are not trapped in one moment forever-instead they show the progression of time. Change is such an important factor to the relationship-the buildings and the landscape are continuously changing. Thus, the reality in Christenberry's photographs is constantly changing. I am intrigued with this relationship that Christenberry has with his photographs-it is less concrete than my initial idea on the timeless reality of the photograph.

There are two ways that I explore reality when I print images. Sometimes I embrace it, and sometimes I do not. I like to piece together images so that they show the way that I feel, so that I have created an image for my emotions. Other times, I like to play with the idea that a photograph does not necessarily represent reality. I may get the urge to create fictitious scenes and stories, especially because I know that someone may believe them. Sometimes I create these scenes because I know that they cannot be mistaken for reality. They are a declaration against the idea that the photograph captures reality. There are other ways that I play with reality--I may make the photographed image inaccessible. I am interested in using mirrors to distort what is not real, and I may print reflections of figures. Or, I may print only the backs of people-you cannot get to their face to see who they are. I may play with the negative so that I am superimposing a figure from one negative over backgrounds from different negatives. Perhaps the thing that most excites me is when I see a negative that contradicts how I see reality. For instance, I may photograph someone looking very sad and serious when they are usually excited and carefree. I think that this is amazing-it directly questions my notions of reality. Did the photograph make a mistake? Or do I have a faulty perception of reality? I do not ever want the answers to these questions because I feel that any answers would take away from the magic of photography.

I made a series of photographs entitled "Sister Where" that does not embrace reality. Instead of representing reality, everything is fabricated. The series consists of nine images of my sister arranged in a grid format, three images to a row. Each image of my sister is the exact same, but the backgrounds are different. I transposed her figure over a photograph of a house, some trees, an old chair, a tree, a parking lot, some graves, a lake, a couple kissing, and another parking lot. I did this by first exposing her image on several pieces of photo paper while the background was concealed, and then by exposing backgrounds onto the photo paper while her image was concealed. Her body and the backgrounds obviously do not go together-there are choppy white lines that show where some of the paper was not exposed at all. I did this because I wanted to heighten the sense that I had made up these images-that they were not real images in themselves. One image of the series, however, is the original negative-it features my sister in a parking lot. It is a bit disguised because I burned in her figure. This means that I exposed her figure longer than the background, resulting in her image being darker than the background. This technique created the same sense of choppiness that appear in the other images. I chose to include the original negative to further prove that the rest are not real. I chose this particular image of my sister because it differed from how I see her-in this image she is scowling at the camera instead of being her smiling self. To me this whole series is so fabricated-this is not really my sister, and she never has been to any of these places.

A straight photograph that embraces reality is "At the Flea Market, London." I have done nothing to alter this image of my father at a market in London. In the image, my father stands towards the right. The left side is occupied with metal scaffolding. The focal point is my father even though he is not in the dead center of the photograph. The organic shapes of his body and clothes contrast the harsh angles of the scaffolding. I think that his glasses are a bridge between the two-they are reminiscent of the scaffolding in terms of structure, but at the same time the lens' are organic in shape. Light filters in from above my father's head and makes me feel quietness. This photograph embraces reality because of the expression on my father's face. I know that he must have felt happiness waking up early and going to a market with his family, and the expression on his face sums of the whole experience. Interestingly, my father is not looking directly at the camera. I often print images like this, in which the subject does not look at the lens, because I feel it offers better glimpses of reality. If the subject looks at the camera, he is definitely aware that it is there, and therefore is often posing. If the subject is not looking at the camera, perhaps he is not aware of it. Perhaps then the photographer can capture a glimpse of truth.

Robert Frank's work gave me ideas on how I could play with my images to heighten this question of what reality is in terms of photography. Firstly, he believed that "people, relationships, even nature, were too complex, too ambiguous, too fluid to be summarized in one photograph." (Greenough, 1994) In his later work, Frank oftentimes combines images. When he does this, he moves away from straight photography-now he is making collages, using handwriting, connecting things with tape. To me, this creates a tension in reality because the audience is left to wonder what is real. Many of these images feature toys that resemble real people or animals-their unrealness heightens the disparity between reality and non-reality. Many include mirrors or picture frames or windows or television screens-these are all outlets to other places. Frank usually scrawls words on the images that either describe the images or else evoke a sense of melancholy. Examples of the latter are "Sick of Goodby's", "Symptom", and "End of Dream." I think that these words are what most evoke a sense of reality and truth-they seem to say what the artist feels, and they summarize the work.

In Robert Frank's work "Lookout For Hope" he juxtaposes two different images. The top image is much larger than the bottom image, and it features a New York City street scene. The focal point is of a girl standing in front of a statue. She is in focus, while almost everyone else is blurry because they are walking by. Frank achieved this by using a slow shutter speed. The bottom image is taken in Nova Scotia. There are no buildings or people in it. The only objects are a wooden post and a picture frame. This is the image in which "LOOKOUT FOR HOPE" is scrawled on. Visually, the top image is cluttered. A great white light in the top right corner balances the skyscrapers of the left top corner. Frank repeats the clutter of the top image on the barren landscape of the bottom image by text and pant-like splattering. This image is dark and gray-no bright light. What I respond to most is Frank's treatment of the images. In the top of image, he distorts the photographic emulsion around the edges of the print. He is changing the surface of the image. By doing this, he is reminding us that his images should not be confused with reality. In the bottom image it is impossible to decipher how he created the final image. Is the wooden post in the landscape, or is it a picture in the picture frame? Does the picture frame enclose a piece of glass, and did Frank splash paint on the glass, or did he somehow alter the final image? Is Frank taking this photograph through a window? Is that a reflection in the bottom left corner? Did Frank photograph the text, or did he scratch the negative? Frank is directly questioning reality.

When I make art, I do not want to be responsible for an audience. I am aware that the audience that I have in mind for my artwork is not the audience that will be viewing it. The audience that I oftentimes have in mind when I make art is my family, my friends. My photographs are personal-they are meant to evoke memories amongst my friends. Sometimes the audience is limited to myself. But it is very hard to not have any responsibilities to an audience of people other than yourself. One question that I have asked myself is: what could the non-intended audience get out of my artwork? The photographers that I am interested in have produced very autobiographical work. Even though it is about them, I am still interested. The work is visually pleasing-there is enough to look at in the images to keep me interested. The work that holds my eyes the longest, however, is the work that makes me think. It is the work that makes me think about my own life.

I am most satisfied with my photographs that make me feel the same way that I feel when I look at the work of Robert Frank. When I look at his work, I feel things like awe, astonishment, clever, and moved. But most importantly, I feel that his works could be expressing my own feelings, thoughts, and emotions. I feel that his work helps me to understand who I am. I like Frank's work because it seems to speak for my innermost emotions. Frank says, "I am always looking outside trying to look inside. Trying to say something that's true." (Greenough, 1994) By looking outside, Frank is gaining a universal perspective of life. Perhaps this is why his work speaks for my emotions. If I could look out like Robert Frank, I would automatically be connecting with the audience of strangers.

Recently, I have come to see my work as fragments, or as images that should be displayed together. Before, I did not consider how I would present them. I only knew that to display them flat, matted, and behind glass did not appeal to me. It seems a too concrete and fixed way to display little fleeting fragments of the past. So I played with the mode of presentation without even being aware I was doing this. I glued images to a black background. I pinned images on a wall. I mounted images to boxes so that they would stand out in space. I made a structure to house some prints. While I was experimenting with different techniques, I discovered that Robert Frank and Betty Hahn were very aware of the importance of presentation-both knew that the photograph is not as important as what is done to it. They are interested in adding more to the photograph through presentation to give it additional contexts.

The reason that I respond to Hahn's work is because of its presentation. In work from her earlier days as a photographer, such as Girl By Four Highways, she would repeat similar images to make up the picture frame. Individually, the images are often nondescript. Seen together, they are much more interesting. She reverses one negative out of the four contact prints. She prints two positives and two negatives. She applies yellow watercolor to the final image. These discrepancies offer much more visually to the audience than one black and white print of a woman standing on the side of the road. With four images, the eye sees differences in shape and space, and is continuously comparing the individual images. Another example of Hahn's presentation is seen in Envelope from Letter from the Chelsea Hotel and Page 1 from Letter from the Chelsea Hotel. The work is more of a display-it shows an envelope and letter addressed to Betty from one of her friend's stays at the Chelsea Hotel. The envelope and letter are photo silk-screens, and they are printed on Arches. I am interested in displaying letters and other mementoes because they emphasize the idea of collections, of objects. Instead of exhibiting the actual object or a photograph of the actual object, Hahn has silk-screened the letter. I find this solution very effective because the notion of making a replica of an item plays with reality. She is making a replica of an original, and this replica is not the real thing, but it is accepted as the real thing. Finally, in the series A Case of XX , Hahn is telling a story. She leaves the sprockets from the 35mm negatives on the images that she prints. This declares that these are photographs, and it also has connotations of filmstrips-it sets up a narrative. All of the work of Hahn is fairly large-20x24, 15x22, 30x21. Perhaps this larger scale gives a prominent and therefore finished feel to work. Hahn's presentation techniques inspire me to continue experimenting.

I consider my work to be a type of collection. This collection includes portraits, manipulated series, and a hand-sewn work. I do not intend for all of it to fit nicely together, but I do see it as realizing the same goals-trying to document what is real in my life. This year I have explored reality through straight photographs and through manipulated photographs. I have discovered that both can represent reality, but that the artist has more control over what is said with manipulated prints. Lately, I have been moving away from straight photographs. Even the non-manipulated images are mounted on metal. This gives an object-quality to the work. In the future, I would like to create objects that could be held and played with. These objects would represent my reality, while gaining their own history and reality due to their object-ness.

Works Cited

1. Barthes, Roland. Camera Lucida: Reflections on Photography. Richard Howard, trans. New York:Hill and Wang, 1980.
Non-photograper's view on photography, Stadium and Punctum discussion to give interest to a photograph.

2. Brookman, Philip and Sarah Greenough, eds. Robert Frank Moving Out.
Washington:Scalo, 1994.
Quotes from the artist, insights into different approaches taken by the artist.

3. Frank, Robert. The Americans.
Frank's first highly acknowledged work, Jack Kerouac introduction, criticized for negative reproduction of America.

4. Frank, Robert. "Statement, 1958." Photography in Print. ed. Vicki Goldberg, University of New Mexico Press, 1981.
A statement by Robert Frank talking about The Americans and how the public may have been dissatisfied by this collection of photographs, says influences are Bill Brandt and Walker Evans.

5. Frank, Robert. Flamingo. Goteborg:Palmebads Tryckerai AB, 1997.
A collection of Frank's later works, highly emotional, altered prints, use of text.

6. Ginsberg, Allen. Photographs. Altadena:Twelvetrees Press, 1990.
A collection of photographs taken over the span of many years, includes Beat characters, snapshots vs artworks vs documentation.

7. Goldberg, Vicki, ed. Photography in Print. Albuquerque:University of New Mexico Press, 1981.
A collection of artist statements by photographers.

8. Stack, Trudy Wilner. Christenberry Reconstruction. Jackson:University Press,
1996.
The artist's photographs and sculptures, influence of the south and memory.

9. Yates, Steve. Betty Hahn-Photography Or Maybe Not. Albuquerque:University
of New Mexico Press, 1995.
Issues of being a woman photographer, manipulated photography, use of materials.