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Richmond, VA Culture & Politics Since 2005

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Walled In

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RVA Mag #38 is on the streets now! Here’s another article from the issue, a photo feature in which photographer Heaton Johnson and model Jessi Rosenberg explore tiny spaces as a metaphor for the arbitrary limits people attempt to place on art.

“When I approached Jessi to do this shoot, I didn’t have a clearly defined concept or purpose. While touring her home, the first thing that caught my eye was a wooden alcove in the master bedroom. The tightness of the space immediately evoked feelings of claustrophobia and discomfort.

“The feeling of being boxed in, confined to an area or even a category, has always made me incredibly uncomfortable. Most of my life has been spent trying to overcome real and perceived pressures to ascribe to certain parameters. I’m slowly overcoming these limitations; it felt right to have her do the same.” —Heaton Johnson (@heatonjohnson)

Photos by Heaton Johnson. Model: Jessi Rosenberg

Finding Freedom

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Through his camera lens focused on motorcycles, photographer Liam Kennedy makes his home on the open road and inside the bike community.

Candid but clear, and often colorful, the photos of Norfolk’s Liam Kennedy tell a visual story of life on the road in modern motorcycle culture. His photos follow Virginia’s subculture throughout the Old Dominion and across the country.

“I think motorcycles attract someone who wants to be free,” Kennedy said. “A motorcycle, from the outside, looks like a violent activity — but in reality, it’s nothing like that. It’s the closest you can get to feeling like you’re flying.”

Kennedy came to the profession through his background in the military; he was a photojournalist for eight years, and did his formal training as a Mass Communications Specialist in the U.S. Navy. On the heels of his years in the service, he’s found a calling for his work within his own subculture of motorcycle enthusiasts. Between planning cross-country trips and traveling back and forth to Richmond, he’s made a place for himself in the statewide community of riders and builders.

“In Virginia, people are very interconnected with each other,” Kennedy said. “The culture is the same from Norfolk to Richmond. We all know people in each area, but there isn’t one scene over the other — there’s a competitive aspect to what we do, I suppose, but you’re hard-pressed to find that around here. There are no real bike shows where people are winning big awards (at least with our kind of choppers, anyway). It’s hard to explain; we enjoy riding, we like unique bikes, and there are a lot of talented people in Richmond, Portsmouth, and Norfolk. I don’t build bikes, but I can appreciate what some of these people are doing.”

Kennedy plans to make his official move to the River City within the next few months. While he’ll make Richmond his home base, much of his time will still be spent on the road, working as a freelance photojournalist and documenting his travels from coast to coast.

“It just so happens that Richmond has been my landing base for the last two years. I really found a sense of community there,” Kennedy said. “I wish I could tell you what it is about Richmond — in my whole life, I’ve never lived in a place more than five years, but for what I enjoy doing, for my lifestyle, Richmond fits the bill. It’s a very transient town, so someone coming and going is not unheard of.”

It’s been five years since Kennedy found his love for motorcycles, and he purchased his first bike shortly after in 2015. While he’s started learning the mechanics of the bike and doing its maintenance work in the last year, the main thing he operates on a motorcycle will always be his camera.

“I am operating my motorcycle while I’m shooting photos. I’m shooting from the hip, I’ll take my arms off the bar. I’m an idiot,” Kennedy laughed. “I grew up in Indiana, I took high school film and digital classes and was big into filming skateboarding when I was 16… I still skateboard, and I’ve been skateboarding since I was five years old. I do photo and video work for Cardinal Skate Shop down in Norfolk.”

Filming skateboarding videos was Kennedy’s introduction to working with photo and video media, and he pursued it through his younger years until he came to the end of high school. When he was faced with the decision to either be kicked out of his house during school or join the military, he chose the latter — and with an interest sparked by high school photography classes and filming his friends skateboarding, he joined the Navy with a rank concentration in Mass Communications. Later, through the military, he enrolled at Syracuse University in New York.

“It’s funny how much art you actually see when you’re in the military,” Kennedy said. “For instance, all the command logos — somebody had to make and design those. And generally, they’re by someone in their command, or someone who does my job. We’re trained to do photo, video, AP Style journalism, and graphic design… The military is one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. I learned a lot about life, not just in my job, but with the people and where they come from.”

Kennedy’s professional equipment of choice is usually a Nikon D4, and he uses a Nikon D610 for personal use as well as a Nikon f100 for 35mm shooting. His name carries award-winning photojournalism with his work, which has taken him from the continental United States to many small corners of the world.

“I did an article in the Philippines in 2013 after a bad typhoon hit the area, Operation Damayan. We went there to deliver relief aid,” Kennedy said. “I’m probably more reckless with gear than I should be, but the hardest part of those situations is having to detach yourself from the reality of what’s happening. Photographing people who may not be alive anymore, or who may have just lost their house; being respectful to them while getting the story, and trying to relay that information to people who have no idea what’s happening. Photographing protests is natural. I become detached when the lens goes up to my face — like I’m just watching a movie. I’m not happy or sad, I’m just there.”

These days, it may seem like Kennedy’s passion lies in the motorcycles themselves, but in reality it’s the people who ride them that provoke his affinity for the bikes. He rides a 1999 1340cc Evo Big Twin chopper.

“Choppers are so stripped-down and basic. Choppers are teaching me patience and how to work with my hands. We’re losing craftsmen every day,” Kennedy said. “We’re losing people who know these machines and how to work on them. [In photography], I’m trying to preserve these men and women who work on the machines in some sort of fashion. I don’t want some kid to forget and think everything is automated; sometimes you’ve got to work with your hands and get dirty.”

The adventure comes with the ability of a motorcycle to turn a simple means of transportation into a wilder experience of motor freedom. When society has come as far as it has in technology, Kennedy notes, we have a tendency to forget where we’ve been, and the foundation that was laid many years ago which allows modern tech to thrive as it does today. The functionality of older and antique motorcycles — especially Harley Davidsons — is simpler, but temperamental in ways unique to each bike.

“Breaking down is part of the fun,” Kennedy said. “It’s not really fun when the vehicle does it all for you. The motorcycles — I could take them or leave them. It’s really the people I enjoy. Without the people, we wouldn’t have the bikes. We wouldn’t have this kind of folklore around it.”

Kennedy’s Harley has seen many miles of open road, not only in Virginia but in trips across North America. He’s had breakdowns that forced him to leave his bike on the side of the road in Arizona overnight, and he’s been stuck on a mountain in San Diego as it started to snow. Riding cross-country from Virginia Beach to Mexico, he teamed up with a group of friends to begin a major trip crossing national borders.

“We were in New Mexico, and my buddy lost his gas cap. We had already pulled over four or five times that day, people were breaking down and losing stuff,” Kennedy said. “We couldn’t get out of Albuquerque for whatever reason, and while we were looking for the gas cap, my buddy Ethan found a $100 bill. So we ended up buying a new gas cap. We were trying to make it back through New Mexico, and the sky split in two — pitch black on one side, and bright daylight on the other. We were about to have a very bad time in a few minutes… everything just opened up with hail, wind, and no shelter to stop at. So we just had to keep riding through it.”

As long as there are folks still out there willing to take something apart in order to learn how to put it back together, craftsmanship stays alive. It’s kept by those with the due diligence required for the impressive skills, and Kennedy is one who keeps this brand of freedom alive and well-documented — providing proof that society might not have changed as much as we think. When it comes down to these individuals, after all these years, some still prefer to hear the pull and chug of an antique chopper over the hiss of modern mechanics.

Kennedy is set to head out on another cross-country trip in June, seeing the Pacific Northwest and traveling back through an outline of the United States. 

“I just do my own thing. I go wherever the wind takes me that week.” 

Below, find a collection of Liam Kennedy’s photos from the road. More of his work is available to view on his website and Instagram.

Written By Ethan Malamud and Caley Sturgill. Photos by Liam Kennedy

The Magic Of Slow Photography

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For Richmond photographer Emily White, primitive photographic technologies like tintype capture a deeper, more permanent truth than modern digital photography can ever produce.

Leading the charge in the modern-day photography revolution, Emily White’s work is a direct rebellion against the instant gratification generation’s predisposition to photo clutter. Instead of the latest digital cameras and editing software, White uses antique large-format cameras that rely on fairly primitive technology, by today’s standards, to capture unique, one-of-one images on glass or sheets of tin.

Hailing from a small town in Virginia called Bremo Bluff, White’s first experience with photography was with family photos. “I just always loved the stories behind them and was very drawn to them,” she said.

Photo by Emily White

White didn’t come to her current techniques immediately — she started out with more standard photography techniques. “My first camera was a crappy point and shoot camera,” she said. Throughout her teenage years, she progressed from digital cameras to film photography, but was hesitant to pursue photography as a career.

“I always daydreamed about being a photographer, but I thought I had to do something more practical,” she said. “I went to school and studied Spanish and Sociology, but I ended up accelerating my graduation to pursue photography.”

Once she’d accepted that this was the career path she wanted to pursue, she had to figure out how to get into the field. “I didn’t know how to become a photographer, so I just figured I had to work for a lot of people to figure out how,” she said.

She began her career working as a photographer’s assistant… for no pay. After two different unpaid assistant gigs, she was invited to an artist’s residency in rural Vermont, where she experienced an artistic breakthrough.

“The residency was fairly primitive and had the constraints of no running water and no electricity,” said White. “I took those constraints and applied them to photography — that’s how I found this process.”

Photo by Emily White

Modern digital photography allows a photographer to take hundreds of photos per minute, which can seem like a miracle. However, it creates a problem photographers of decades past never had to worry about — over-saturation. Rather than picking through literally thousands of different images in an attempt to determine which one best captures the moment, White prefers to work with the historic process of creating tintypes, a form of photography most widely used in the 19th century. The tintype process can take 10 to 15 minutes to create a single usable photo, which is a tremendous amount of time by modern standards. However, White sees the slowness of the process as a creative advantage.

“I like that it forces you to move slowly,” said White. “Having a slow process forces you to engage with a space or subject differently. If I’m waiting five minutes while my plate is becoming sensitized, I’m spending those five minutes looking at [the subject], thinking about it and how I want to represent it. For me, it’s a very intentional process.”

White also appreciates the self-reliance allowed by tintype photography. “I mix my own chemistry. I cut my own metal,” she said. “My camera is pretty elementary; there are no advanced electronics that I’m detached from knowing about. I understand how to do every step, from start to finish. I’m not reliant on a film manufacturer.”

Photo by Emily White

This is the core of why White prefers more primitive photo technologies. Where many see digital cameras as providing convenience, she can’t help but focus on the alienation from the artistic process that digital technology creates.

“I personally feel like the societal progression leans towards: ‘the more reliant you are on technology, the more successful you are,'” she said. “That gives me anxiety, because I don’t like being reliant upon something I don’t have a full understanding of. I like feeling capable; that, regardless of external factors, I am able to do this.”

White’s work captures a magical yet realistic feel that is hard to find in modern digital and film photography. The haggard, archival look of her photographs hint at a complex backstory. Unlike today, when people can capture their own image multiple times per day with their phone, having your picture taken in the early days of photography was a very big deal; depending on their income level, people of the late 19th and early 20th centuries might only ever be photographed one or two times. Perhaps it is this historical context that adds an alluring deeper layer to White’s work. When documentation of a moment or person requires as much time and effort as she puts into her photos, the connection between art and subject shines through, providing an experience that only comes from true artistry.

Photo by Sharona Cantor

More than true images, White’s focus is on representing moments. Her photographs go beyond stagnant landscapes to capture enchanting spaces, photographing them in ways that our eyes can’t perceive.

The length of exposure required for tintypes — often multiple minutes — creates an image that reflects time as well as space. And the result might not look exactly like what we’d see at any given second of time. “”You’re not ever going to have a solid reflection,” she agreed. “If you took a photograph of a tree on a particularly windy day, some leaves are going to be sharp and some are going to be blurry. It captures it differently.”

White also enjoys dabbling in spirit photography, a somewhat duplicitous process that was popular during the spiritualist movement of the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

“Photographers capitalized off of people’s interest in being connected with loved ones lost following the Civil War,” White explained. “Some in-camera trickery that would make it seem like there are ghosts.”

Spirit photographers of the late 19th century did their best to convince their clients that their cameras were capturing actual ghosts; many were later exposed as frauds, using double exposures and doctored negatives to produce the desired results. White has no desire to fool anyone, but still enjoys experimenting with the process.

“Spirit photography is something I do for fun,” she said. “I like to play with the truth behind still images, but then paying homage to my personal truths.”

White’s darkroom. Photo by Maggie Flanagan

Since she works with photosensitive materials, her process requires her to have a mobile darkroom with her at all times. This is true no matter how remote a place she might be visiting for photography purposes.

“I have a darkroom that is typically in the back of my car,” she said, “or I’ll go out into nature, and hike with my darkroom on my back.”

Today, White makes her living as a photographer, but as with any freelance business, it has its ups and downs. “It keeps me on my toes,” she said. “Sometimes I’m busy, sometimes I’m not.”

She fills the gaps by teaching classes on black and white photography and tintype photography at places like Studio Two Three and Visual Arts Center. They’re popular, too: “I’m teaching a workshop at the Visual Arts Center coming up, but it’s totally full,” she said.

Photo by Emily White

She thinks that, for those who want to learn about the type of photography process she uses, it’s much more valuable to take classes than to just watch an online tutorial about it.

“People think that knowledge is free because it’s all over the internet,” she said. “There’s this cavalier attitude of, ‘Everything you know should be game for me to know.’ I like the idea of collaboration in exchange, but there’s also a level of respecting the work that someones done to gain that knowledge. This person spent years learning their craft. I think it’s good to show that you respect someone’s knowledge.”

See more of White’s work at her instagram, @tintyperva, or at her website, emwhitephoto.com.

Top Photo by Emily White

RVA #37 Is On The Streets Now!

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Summer is alive in the River City, and the latest issue of RVA Magazine is here with it to tell the stories of arts, music, politics, and culture across Virginia.

It’s August, it’s hot, and it’s only going to get hotter here in the River City with the arrival on the streets of RVA Magazine #37, our Summer 2019 issue! This one’s bursting all around, with plenty of art, music, news, politics, and more. From the far corners of the Commonwealth to right here in Rich! Mond! Vee! Ay!, RVA Magazine is on point with the coverage of Virginia’s street-level culture that you’ve known and loved for the past 14 years.

The biggest news of the summer here in Richmond was the reunion of Avail, the band who defined Richmond’s music scene in the 90s and helped put the river city on the musical map throughout the country and beyond. After 12 years away from the stage, they brought a hotly-anticipated two-night stand to the National and blew fans’ minds all over again. In the run-up to that memorable weekend of rock, we had an exclusive conversation about their reunion with vocalist Tim Barry, and you’ll find it all in this issue of RVA Magazine!

PHOTO: Ken Penn

We’re also bringing you an in-depth profile of Trevor Frost, a photographer and Richmond native whose work with National Geographic and other world-renowned publications has taken him to every corner of the globe. You’ll learn what Frost has seen and discovered in his voyages, and why he keeps coming back to Richmond every time.

Photo of Trevor Frost by Melissa Lesh

We don’t just focus on Richmond, though — our reporting takes us to the farthest reaches of the Commonwealth this issue, where we learn about Tennessee-adjacent Lee County’s attempts to create a policy based on comments from political leaders about arming teachers to prevent school shootings. Why does this rural county at the very tip of Virginia’s panhandle think such a policy is a good idea? And how do they intend to put it into practice? We’ll give you a deeper look.

Photo by John Donegan

We’ve got a lot more in store for you in this issue as well, from a GayRVA report on the recently-released documentary capturing and honoring the life of legendary Richmond cult figure Dirtwoman to an exclusive conversation with up and coming postpunk band Unmaker. We’ll also learn about the hip hop and skateboarding connection with Richmond’s own Washington Avenue Skateboards, and take a closer look at the history of the city’s underground graffiti scene — a major influence on the mural boom RVA is undergoing today.

All of that is in store for you when you grab your very own copy of RVA #37, available in all your favorite local businesses around town. Get yours now… they’re going fast!

Check out the digital version on Issuu here.

Future Perfect: The Art of Chris Smart

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*This article originally appeared in RVA Mag #35, on the streets now at all your favorite spots.

Chris Smart is a photographer, artist, and visual engineer based in Richmond, Virginia.

In Smart’s work, he brings to life the physical and metaphysical connections we all have with our surroundings. “We are constantly on the hunt for a connection, whether it be spiritual, physical, or technological,” he says. “With my ongoing project titled Future: Love, I’m trying to portray the way I personally view human connections; connections with ourselves, the universe and our place within it.”

“For me, the beauty lies in the fact that every person will have a different view of reality than the next,” Smart tells us. He’s aware that his work is very open to interpretation, and he embraces this reality, seeing it as fuel for the imagination of the viewer. “Everyone takes their own message, whether that is positive, negative or indifferent — and there’s power in that.”

Find Chris Smart on Instagram at @theartofcjs.

Photographer Phillup Lyons Gets “RAW” at Fresh Richmond Saturday

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In the wake of the #MeToo movement, photographers are reevaluating the portrayal of women in their work. Richmond photographer Phillup Lyons’ upcoming show, which is entitled “RAW” and will be on view at Fresh Richmond Saturday, is, according to Lyons, an exploration of the female form in a “tasteful way.”

Lyons, who also goes by Rouge Jungle, works mainly with female models. When men appear in the photos, they are clothed, but much of his work focuses on nude or almost-nude women, posing in sheets or bathtubs. One female model poses lying on the floor at the bottom of a staircase.

“I’ve always shot women, and I’ve always enjoyed the female form overall as an art form,” said Lyons. “I don’t want it to seem like it’s a fetish or anything, like ‘Oh my god I love women,’ I just appreciate them in a certain kind of way. I want to share my appreciation through my work.”

Lyons is concerned with the predictable way women are depicted in modern photography, especially in online media: “With the rise of social media, I think photographers in general have fallen into the same pattern of the ideal woman — portraying women in a certain way, and not portraying them in a variety of ways.”

He strives to represent women differently from other photographers. When asked how he accomplishes this, Lyons said, “What I think separates my art from other people’s work is that I study art. I study different forms of art, I think that translates well in my work, so it doesn’t become so sexualized.”

The low light, high contrast, and bare skin so often found in his work gives a sexual element to the pieces. “Sensual” is the word used most often, Lyons said, when he asks models and viewers to describe his work. “[The models] don’t feel like I’m objectifying them in a certain kind of way,” said Lyons.

In order to create his work, Lyons values collaboration and honest conversations with the models, although he prefers to use the word “subjects.” “I just have a really honest conversation,” he said. “I’m not perfect in my point of view, I know that. I can always grow. I want the models feel their point of view is valued — I don’t even use the word models. I prefer subjects, like a subject of my photography. I believe every person I work with has their own story, and their own experience that they bring to my art, and I try to bring that to the people that enjoy my art.”

As a male photographer focusing on the #MeToo movement, Lyons said, “I’m very conscious that I’m a guy. I’m not doing it from a guilty standpoint, or a male guilt standpoint, but I wanted to use my platform to continue this conversation.”

This exhibit will show Lyons’ “best work to date.” Lyons’ inspiration from this show in part comes from his good friend and musical artist, Suzi Analogue, who also curated the show. “Her music is inspirational,” said Lyons, “She has been a big inspiration for this stretch of my life.”

Lyons’ advice for aspiring artists: “Do what you think is dope. That’ll be what lasts the longest, what you believe in.”

See Phillup Lyons’ photography at Fresh Richmond, located at 213 E. Broad St, on Saturday, December 15 from 7 til 10 PM. For more info, click here. You can find Rouge Jungle on Instagram.