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Something To Paint With: A Conversation With BlackLiq

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My stepfather had been good at taking photos. As a kid, I often saw zippered leather bags with the names Nikon and Canon on his dresser. Sometimes, there were rolls of film in the refrigerator. Sometimes, a loose camera on the kitchen counter. I knew not to touch these loose cameras because they were heavy, which meant expensive. Coincidentally, my father had also been good at taking photos, but this was before I was born. His old Minoltas were stacked in their leather bags behind an iron and a ceramic statue of Santa Claus in his office closet.

I’ve never been a photographer. The best photo I can take is with whatever Android phone I have that year. Basically, I know how to frame a shot, which doesn’t make me good at photography. I learned that fast.

Back in November, RVA Magazine sent me with BlackLiq, DJ Bando, and a Nikon COOLPIX P900, to document his performance opening for rapper and author Dessa (her book, My Own Devices, is available at Chop Suey) at the Black Cat in Washington, D.C. I was to conduct an interview and take photos for this article.

The first time I caught up with BlackLiq, I got more of an intellectual conversation than what I’d expected from a typical cup of coffee. Spend 60 minutes with Black and you’ll listen. You won’t be made to listen but compelled to. He is a direct (no bullshit) dude. I was in class and didn’t even know the bell had rung.    

Photo by Ryan Kent (not taken with the Nikon)

Using the Nikon is another story. It was a lesson in humility. Black would probably call this a blessing. 

I saw it once, maybe it was a scene in a movie [It’s in Beavis & Butthead Do America. No bullshit. –ed]. Some desperate man tried to hit the ground running out of the trunk of a speeding vehicle. You can guess how that ended. I was this man.

After a while, I just used my phone to take the photos.

People naturally gifted in the arts have this effect on others. They make what they do seem easy. Maybe it convinces someone sitting in a beanbag chair that they can do it better. Most of the time this has diminished results. BlackLiq disguises 16 bars as iPhone photography when he’s really working with a Leica Q2 Monochrom. At different times, he implements each of the fixed Summilux 28mm f/1.7 ASPH lens’ 11 elements to make that $6,200 camera worth every cent. So good, he makes you think you can reach out and touch those 16 bars. It may be black and white, but the detail is impeccable. You don’t become this good by accident. 

“I write rhymes for the reasons you don’t, you fuck,” Black spits on the first verse of “Endtro.” It’s the opening track from his Mopes-produced Strange Famous debut (the hip-hop label run by Sage Francis), Time Is The Price — an 18-minute masterclass on why naysayers should just keep hating in their beanbag chairs.

BlackLiq has been rapping in Richmond for years and years, and was once known for carrying self-released, handwritten CD-Rs in his pockets wherever he went. Sometimes superficial locals rejected those burned discs in paper sleeves as he handed them out. Then, BlackLiq started appearing on the bills with high-profile, national acts. His gloves-off lyrical content, coupled with a confrontational stage presence, maybe felt like a punch in the mouth to some. Audience members have even turned their backs on BlackLiq while he was on stage. I watched this happen once at the Broadberry when he opened for Styles P six years ago. All that performative shit just fueled the man. 

They had missed the message. 

BlackLiq was authentic. And he was coming from a hungry, desperate place.

If you’ve followed his story at all, BlackLiq’s past was grim for a number of reasons. A tough upbringing was only made tougher after his father was sentenced to life in prison. This would rock the foundation of any family. Yet, the emotional support from his parents didn’t stop. Even now, his father (who also goes by Black) calls weekly from prison, sharing the deep wisdom gained from being a man incarcerated. Always expressing pride in his son. 

BlackLiq’s mother, Heed, is his ride-or-die. Her health and well-being a top priority. Heed is a warm and lovely woman, who is an instantly fascinating conversationalist. She’s as likely to hold your arm walking down the sidewalk as she is to talk about the 1960’s in her kitchen. I know this because both happened to me.

Social media followers are kept current with how each is doing.

You could write a book about his parents alone.

BlackLiq pounds coffee before the set. Photo by Ryan Kent (again, not on the Nikon)

I took a few candid shots with my stupid phone. DJ Bando was relaxed in a chair before their set, while BlackLiq paced the floor of their dressing room, slugging coffee like he needed to stay up for a year. An intimidating, prowling presence – and wide awake.

I pressed record.

“I’ll fucking get up and I’ll do whatever,” Black began, “and I’ll connect with them. And they’ll see me as a thing. And that’s cool. That’s what I’m doing. That’s my fucking life. Some of the things, I mean. It’s not glorious. And it’s not… like, it’s not fun all the time.”

“Do you do it out of desperation?” I asked.

“Yeah, that’s the stuff that makes it real. A surgeon performing surgery is nothing compared to the surgeon washing his hands before the surgery. He’s gonna have to do it. Then the post-op. Those are the things that are part of the process. It would be impossible for the process to be authentic without it.” 

“It’s like going into another place,” I said. “The surgeon washing his hands. Sitting there, full of anxiety, thinking about it. People get stage fright, then they’re in it. It’s like, ‘Well, I have to do it. I’ve got no other choice.’ ”

If you’ve seen BlackLiq perform live over the years, you’d imagine stage fright isn’t something he knows a lot about. Backstage, he’s got the poker face of a neurosurgeon just prior to digging into the crowd. Someone who’s done this before with peers looking over his shoulder. If you were to make a Marvel thing out of it, you could get away with calling him Doctor Strange.

Nulla bubulum stercus (no bullshit) being the active ingredient here, and it could be the very antidote to all of our worldly problems.

“I go there every time,” he said. “It got to a point where I no longer had stage fright. And it sucked. I like to be nervous. I like to feel uncomfortable on stage. I’ll say stuff to people and connect with them in a genuine way. I [might] come out, like, ‘Yeah, bitch, I’m BlackLiq, fuck you.’ I might say that. But if I come out there and I’m like, ‘Yeah, I’m accomplished,’ that shit ain’t gonna be worth nothing, man. It’s gonna be performative instead of a performance. I get it, you’re numb and you don’t feel anything. And I got to that point. I opened for Fabolous, and it was like that. Except, a lot of things went wrong. My third show with DMX was like that.” 

“I forgot you opened for DMX,” I said. 

“Yeah, man,” Black continued. “Three motherfucking times, bro.”

“Did you meet him?” I asked.

 “Yeah, like, briefly. He was whoever he was at that time. Because he was whoever he was, 100% at that moment.” 

Impulsively, I interrupted, saying, “Damn, I remember where I was when It’s Dark and Hell Is Hot came out.”

He nodded, saying, “[At first] I didn’t like DMX. And I didn’t like ‘Get At Me Dog.’ I was like, meh. Then, my brother had left [It’s Dark and Hell Is Hot] in the crib. I decided to do my Algebra homework to that album, and I was like, ‘Oh my god. This is so incredible.’ This had nothing to do with, fuckin’ ‘Get At Me Dog’ and ‘Ruff Ryders’ Anthem.’ It’s like, everything else around that. That’s the shit nobody talked about. Like, ‘Let Me Fly.’ Nobody talked about songs like ‘Crime Story’ and ‘In The Air Tonight.’ The things he did were just so artistic, and so unique, and beautiful. It was always just like, ‘Yeah, he’s a blunt instrument.’”

BlackLiq with Armagideon Time. Photo by Ryan Kent.

Listen to Time Is The Price and you can hear what artistic, unique, and beautiful sounds like. A blunt instrument will simply bash a thing into no thing. Lack the proper technique and you’ll just rip everything apart. However, add some half-inch spikes to that blunt instrument and now you’ve got something to paint with. Something with teeth. BlackLiq is the same way on stage. He is precise and he will hurt you. His shows are calculated paintings of the dirty walls in this grimy town. 

Maybe that’s why he was asked to open for DMX, 1-2-3 times? 

People were desperate for that (no bullshit) approach. The antidote. Nulla bubulum stercus or whatever.

“I don’t like to meet my heroes but so much,” he said. “I made a decision a long time ago to say this is my peer. Like, I’ve been around artists who’ve played themselves as soon as they built up the respect. Blew it all on, ‘Can we get a picture, real quick?’ 200 likes isn’t more important than one friend, or maybe even just a meaningful moment hanging out with somebody and talking about life. That’ll last forever, because that’s between you and them. That’s all you need. You don’t need none of that other shit. Everybody wants so much icing. All you see in the game is icing. Then you find out icing belongs on a cake. Then, you find out the cake of this game is not so sweet.”

Back in August of 2021, I interviewed BlackLiq at WDCE 90.1 FM for an RVA Magazine (paid for by a grant from the VAABC) video series called My Sober Story. That September, I watched Black speak in front of a packed audience at Vagabond for part of the Richmond International Film Festival. In October, I saw him debut on lead vocals with his metal band, Armagideon Time, at a generator show under an overpass. 

“You’re certainly not a one-trick pony,” I said. 

He grinned at the comment. It was the same grin I saw him give to the audience at Vagabond. Someone seemingly in control of who they are as an artist and glad we’ve shown up to appreciate it. Pleased.

“You put yourself in a situation where you are the thing that you want to have for yourself. I wanted to be on the radio, so I became the DJ. I wanted to get shows, so I threw the shows,” he said.

You can sit that mentality right in the backseat next to the intro to the Busta Rhymes track “Gimme Some More.” Specifically, the lines: Knowing as a shorty / I was always told / If I ain’t gon’ be part of the greatest / Then I gotta be the greatest myself.

We talked for roughly half an hour. Two-thirds of that conversation didn’t make it into this article. It’s difficult to select a handful of BlackLiq’s comments to print when all of it is worth reading.  However, if I just published a transcript of the entire conversation, I would’ve lost the job to my Android for a second time.

Preparing to head to the stage, almost as an afterthought, Black brought up carrying around burned CD’s to gigs.

“I went to see Project Pat [of Three 6 Mafia] perform at the Q Club,” he said. “I would test my enemies. If you’re not helping me, you’re an enemy. It doesn’t mean we have a personal beef, but if you’re not on my side, then you’re in the way. I gave him a CD and wanted to see if he’d do what I knew he’d do. Sure enough, I checked social media. He was like, ‘Some rapper gave me a CD tonight in a paper case with Sharpie written on it. Man, y’all rappers gotta come more professional than that.’ You want to shit on our entire community? Make [people] think paying somebody to burn their CD with a print label is going to make them better and means that they’re working hard? Like, I get the whole, ‘It’s all in how he presents his shit.’ But at the same time, I just felt bad he missed the opportunity.”

When BlackLiq walked on stage with DJ Bando to knock everyone’s teeth out, he was wearing his Richmond Is For Haters shirt. Hadn’t even opened his mouth yet and was already making it loud and clear. The truth stings. Maybe that’s the real reason people turned around at that Broadberry show way back when.

Nobody at the Black Cat turned their backs on November 21st, and I don’t foresee that type of thing making any kind of comeback. BlackLiq and DJ Bando turned the packed D.C. crowd into ground beef with old tracks like “RVA” and new dark magic from Time Is The Price. The entire room connected. Everybody needing dentures.

BlackLiq made it all look like a piece of cake. No icing.

I did the best I could with the Nikon COOLPIX P900. Anything worth keeping happened completely by accident. Like I said, it was a lesson in humility. This time I heard the bell ring.

Nulla bubulum stercus

(no bullshit)

Top Photo by Ryan Kent

Composing Nature: Ansel Adams at VMFA

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Pioneering American photographer Ansel Adams may be remembered today mainly for his prints on waiting room walls, but his work was crucial not just in establishing the way landscapes are photographed but in aiding conservation efforts across the USA. See a career-spanning exhibition of his work this month at VMFA.

Ansel Adams: you may know him from your coffee mug, the calendar in your cubicle, or the motivational print that once adorned the office wall of your school principal or dentist. No landscape photographer is as emblematic to the genre as Ansel Adams. His work encapsulates the chaos and majesty of the natural world. His life, which spanned most of the 20th century and took him through most of this country, was a dedication to pioneering photography and wildlife conservation. 

“Ansel Adams: Compositions in Nature,” a 70-photograph exhibit featuring many selected and printed by Adams himself, is a new exhibit at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts that surveys the work and motivations of the prolific photographer.

“[Adams] is not just this photographer of the grand vistas that may end up on a mug or a calendar,” said Dr. Christopher Oliver, curator for the show. “He’s an amazingly precise technical photographer who’s interested in what I often call ‘really concentrated hard-looking’… A lot of photography is just that.”

The exhibit explores three main occupations of Adams’s life: technical photographer, musician, and landscape conservationist.

“The perception of the American West, in particular, is shaped through the work of Ansel Adams,” Oliver said. “There are few artists whose name and works represent the extraordinary level of universal recognition and artistic achievement as that of Ansel Adams.”

Mount Williamson, Sierra Nevada, from Manzanar, California, 1944, Ansel Adams (American, 1902–
1984), gelatin silver print, printed 1973–1975. Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, Adolph D. and
Wilkins C. Williams Fund, 75.29.2. Photograph by Ansel Adams © The Ansel Adams Publishing
Rights Trust.

Ansel Adams is “revered as one of the greatest photographers of our time,” said Alex Nyerges, director and CEO of the VMFA, during a media preview of the exhibit.

Born in 1902, Adams grew up near San Francisco, California. His family took regular trips to Yosemite National Park, where he took his first photographs with a Kodak Brownie camera. Fixated on becoming a pianist, the young Adams saw photography as little more than a hobby. 

Adams spent his youth as the photographer for the Sierra Club. He regularly published photographs and writings in their bulletin, tended to their lodges, and eventually sat on their board of directors. 

His work quickly made an impact on the public, which fueled an interest in protecting these lands. The exhibit features a demonstrative series from this time in Adams’s life; his first portfolio, Parmelian Prints of the High Sierras, is a compilation of his best work from this period. 

“His prints especially in the postwar period, in the late ’40s and ’50s, became so much about celebrating the American landscape that they appeared in fine art museums and in very popular books,” Oliver said. “We’re now several generations deep of people thinking of Yosemite through the lens of Ansel, in so many ways.”

Placards throughout the exhibit explained that from a young age onward, Adams was primarily motivated by his love for the wilderness. Everything he did in his career was in some meditation or reflection on retaining our ecosystems. 

“It is horrifying that we have to fight our own government to save the environment,” Adams once said. 

The exhibition features 47 of Adam’s “museum set,” those he dubbed as his favorite works, which the museum rented from the Turtle Bay Foundation. And while the exhibit features some of Adams’ portrait and lifestyle photography, the exhibit’s main focus is around his work as a conservationist. Adams believed the camera to be the best medium at the time to influence government officials and sway the public. 

Dogwood Blossoms, Yosemite Valley, 1938, Ansel Adams (American, 1902–1984), gelatin silver print, printed
1960. Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, Gift of Dr. and Mrs. Bernard J. Sabaroff, 85.1538. Photograph by
Ansel Adams © The Ansel Adams Publishing Rights Trust.

On the coattails of his prior portfolio, Adams traveled the country for the likes of not instagram but magazines and the U.S. government, photographing many national parks.

From misty moraines along the Tetons and the greening gorges of Yosemite to the pits of Death Valley, Adams lassoed the “elusive quality of nature” into every frame. He captured breathtaking scenes of wild Alaska, the Big Sur coast of central California, the mighty redwoods, the moonrise over Hernandez, New Mexico, and the Half Dome. He even photographed the Golden Gate — before the bridge. 

He wielded his camera like a lance, dueling developers over the symptoms of “resortism,” such as encroaching highways, overbuilt billboards, privatized park services, and concessions by the U.S. government to private enterprise. 

And today, many argue, much of America’s wilderness and the protections that still stand remain as a result of Adams and his camera. 

In 1936, the Sierra Club sent Adams to Washington, D.C., to lobby for a bill before Congress that would create the Kings Canyon National Park. He lugged his portfolios from the Senate to House, meeting with more than 40 members of Congress, telling his story and sharing his photographs. While the bill failed, Adams did not. His photographs were sent to President Franklin D. Roosevelt, who established the park the following year, putting half a million acres into wildlife protection. 

“Most people have the idea that there is nothing you can do with a camera in Yosemite except take another postcard snapshot,” Adams said shortly after. “I remind workshop participants that the national parks provide an experience, a mood, an incredible subject for the camera.”

Adams often compared photography to orchestra. He overlooked the ensemble of mountaintops, dunes, and forests, and thought of symphonies. The chaos of nature, he found, had a rhythm.

“I can look at a fine photograph and sometimes I can hear music, not in a sentimental sense, but structurally,” Adams once said. 

Visitors to “Compositions In Nature” will hear some of Adams’s own musical recordings — Beethoven’s “Moonlight” Sonata, Johann Sebastian Bach’s “Arioso,” and Alexander Scriabin’s “Prelude” — as they walk through the exhibit.  

Sand Dunes, Sunrise, Death Valley National Monument, CA, 1948, Ansel Adams (American, 1902–1984),
gelatin silver print, printed 1974. Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, Gift of Andrea Gray Stillman,
2018.584. Photograph by Ansel Adams © The Ansel Adams Publishing Rights Trust.

Likewise, Adams carried his musical understanding into his photographic work, where he strove for a sharper focus, deeper tone, and more contrast. As his career progressed, Adams reveled in the theory and practice of the camera. He coined many of the systems digital photographers today take for granted, such as the zone system, a theory used to properly expose photos in nearly any situation.

He produced ten volumes of technical manuals on photography, including The Camera and Basic Techniques of Photography, which are the most influential books ever written on the subject. Within his lifetime he played a key role in establishing the first museum department of photography, at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City. 

“In a career that spanned more than five decades, Adams became one of America’s most recognized and influential landscape photographers and one of its more respected environmentalists,” Nyerges said. “His works continue to inspire us to take a deeper, even meditative, look at our extraordinary natural surroundings and appreciate the profound beauty around us.”

Above all, Adams believed a photo was only as strong as the emotion it wrought. He came to find, in a career that spanned a century and a country, that the camera is a dangerous weapon, capable of moving mountains — but also saving them. 

“A great photograph is one that fully expresses what one feels, in the deepest sense, about what is being photographed,” Adams once said. 

The exhibition will be on view at the VMFA from September 25, 2021, through January 2, 2022. Tickets are $10 adults; $8 for seniors, youths age 7-17 and college students with ID; free for VMFA members. They can be ordered at the VMFA website.

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Top Image: Half Dome, Cottonwood Trees, Yosemite, California, 1935, Ansel Adams (American, 1902–1984),
gelatin silver print, printed 1979. Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, Gift of Andrea Gray Stillman,
2018.586. Photograph by Ansel Adams © The Ansel Adams Publishing Rights Trust.

Send It: Roanoke Photographer Creates USPS-Inspired Fashion Shoot

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Maggie Ellmore’s latest photo shoot was inspired by the United States Postal Service and recent efforts to defund it, as well as the ongoing lack of funding for community-oriented public spaces in her hometown of Roanoke.

What similar roles do fashion and the postal service play in public service? And what are the implications of the defunding of the postal service? Maggie Ellmore, a fashion photographer and set designer based out of Roanoke, set out to answer these questions in her newest photoshoot, “All I Do is Fucking Send It.”

The photoshoot features a model, Taia White, dressed in black shorts and a striped shirt with a U.S mail patch attached, posing in an abandoned skate park. The shoot was done all in one day, after Ellmore reached out to White, a good friend of hers.

“Both the USPS and fashion are connected by grand notions that are larger than life,” Ellmore said. “The postal service, of course, [is] is a lot more rooted in reality, where if the larger than life really shrunk, it would negatively impact a lot of people. I decided that the best way to show that was with some pretty fly style, so to speak.”

Many of Ellmore’s projects are based in fantasy, as she often explores the idea of what life would be like on other planets and how that would then mix with fashion. Therefore, she wanted the shoot to have a unique look that went beyond the traditional USPS outfit.

“[When planning the shoot] I thrifted clothes and ironed patches on, and made [the outfit] really quirky and flow together in a way that is pretty cool,” she said.

While the shoot is inspired primarily by the defunding of the US Postal Service, Ellmore also wanted to show the importance of government and public service on all levels, which is why she based the shoot in a skate park.

“Roanoke will not fund any sort of skate park, which is really chaotic for a town of our size, because we do have a skate community,” Ellmore said. “And so we’re left with having to create our own spots that aren’t necessarily safe, but still do look cool.”

The shoot critiques the lack of funding while praising the community effort.

“I just wanted to show the importance of [the lack of funding] in  a way that critiques it, but also embraces what we’re dealt with,” she said.

Ellmore also sought to call attention to other governmental issues. One shot of White features her with an open fanny pack with stamps flying out.

“I really wanted to raise awareness for [the USPS], as well as voting,” Ellmore said.

Ellmore’s favorite shots are the detailed ones, where she was able to highlight both the story and the fashion.

“There’s one [shot] where she’s sitting in a split across the railing of a skate ramp, and I love it because the ramps are made from road signs,” Ellmore said. “It just really adds another message of why public service is so important.”

Ellmore thinks work like this is important because of art’s ability to commentate on society without words. With that in mind, she is brainstorming ideas for future projects.

“I’m excited to see if there is anything else that I can connect together to amplify my voice in a positive way,” she said.

Photos courtesy Maggie Ellmore

Bedazzled Jockstraps and Iridescent Auras

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Diversity Richmond’s Iridian Gallery presents its first show since the pandemic, featuring Everett Hoffman and Nick Simko, two artists whose work redefine the ways queerness is represented, using found objects and abstract imagery.

Lovers of shiny things and psychedelic imagery, you’re in luck. When Diversity Richmond reopened, so did the Iridian Gallery – just in time to present Everett Hoffman’s Dazzling and Tremendous and Nick Simko’s Queer Dimensionalities. 

In the past, the Iridian Gallery has shown multiple artists’ work as one show under an overarching theme. This two-show approach is meant to give more agency to the artists. At six feet apart, viewers can enjoy two separately spectacular shows (and search for hidden similarities, too).

One of the great things about art galleries, Iridian Co-Chair Michael-Birch Pierce will tell you, is there’s no right way to experience them. “There’s nothing specific anyone’s supposed to get out of any art show. I think that there’s a lot of power given to the viewer in art,” they said. 

With that in mind, know this: Hoffman and Simko, who both hail from rural America, make work that penetrates normative structures associated with queerness. Simko focuses on photography, Hoffman on craft. At the show, you can expect to find bedazzled steel jockstrap cups that light up from behind and manipulated cell phone photos that defy the laws of gravity and time itself. That’s a pretty good reason to get out of the house for a while.  

Image: “Little League,” Everett Hoffman

Everett Hoffman

Hoffman resides in Richmond, but grew up in conservative rural Idaho, where he played little league baseball and watched his grandmother quilt. These experiences would later influence his choice of materials and subject matter.

His artist statement reads, “My work reimagines the function of ornamentation and its relationship to the body. I approach new materials and found objects with the eye of a jeweler, highlighting and exploiting the subtle, and often invisible, links between material histories and their connection to identity.”

While it might help, you don’t have to know the history behind Hoffman’s work to feel its impact. His materials are familiar, like that old dusty chair in the corner of your grandma’s house, and certainly aren’t anything you’d expect to see re-imagined as a jockstrap. The masculine collides with the feminine, or on the contrary, the outside goes on the inside. Rough upholstery sitting against skin, symbolizing how our environment has an intimate role in shaping who we become. 

Image: “Rose Bud,” Everett Hoffman

Antiquing is a favorite pastime of Hoffman’s. He gravitates towards needlepoint while browsing, because, he explained, “Needlepoints are on everything from purses to chairs to wall dividers. And a lot of them have a narrative quality to them.”

If you look at the careful quality of Hoffman’s handiwork, it’s clear he has as much love for the original creation as he does for the new one he’s making out of it. “I’m interested in how I can enter into a dialogue with the person who made that needlepoint, or made that cross stitch, in creating something new.”

There’s something inherently tongue-in-cheek about Hoffman’s work. If you laugh, that’s okay. Whatever your reaction, he’s here for it. “For me, I think the work that interests me as an artist is the work that sticks with me afterwards,” he said, recalling a chair made out of woven belts by artist Hector Garcia. “Every time I see a woven belt I think of that chair that he made. And I kind of hope that my work does something similar.”

Image: Nick Simko

Nick Simko

Up until recently, Simko’s work has been mostly figurative, but when he started going for walks around his neighborhood in Kansas, that changed. To be honest, given the delightful variety of Simko’s work, it’s not surprising he’d explore a new direction.

“Queer Dimensionalities explores the possibilities of what it might look like if I took a chance to author myself in the terms of my own deeply personal vision,” reads his artist statement. It continues, “Departing from figurative representation, this project considers how queerness might be represented in textural, spatial, and atmospheric ways.”

Queerness is more complicated than most over-simplifying media representations make it out to be. “And so I was like, ‘How would I visually approximate that feeling?'” Simko said. “It’s a really complicated feeling!”

The answer didn’t come to him instantaneously. Instead, it snuck up on him in between projects, in the space he had dedicated to himself. Simko took thousands of cell phone images of grass, concrete, and his own shadow. When he started to manipulate the images in Photoshop, he was pleased to discover how they might be transformed. The process, he described, was more like working “with” the computer than telling it what to do.

“They’re not images of me, they’re images of my shadow. I’m there, but I’m not there, and I’m also an instrument in my own illegibility,” Simko said. After a brief detour on the illegibility of ancient Greek poetry, he concluded that the images weren’t exactly self-portraits.

Image: Nick Simko

Instead of presenting the viewer with an obvious subject, Simko’s images invite them to tumble through the rabbit hole of glittery, grassy gook. They’re more intangible essence than they are a thing, and I believe that’s the point. 

“Photographs, especially straight photographs, have the privilege of being something you look through, as opposed to looking at,” said Simko. “It’s more of a systematic way of looking that I’m pushing up against, as opposed to any one subject.”

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For pandemic-related safety, Iridian is allowing five viewers into the gallery at a time and offers hand sanitizer to those who enter. Opening night last Friday was a minimal affair, without the wine and cheese, but judging by the gallery’s Instagram story, still very spirited. 

Pierce made sure of it. “It’s such an important part of being an artist, when you’re baring your soul out there with a new solo exhibition, that I couldn’t imagine depriving the artists of that opportunity,” they said.

Thirty percent of the proceeds from Everett Hoffman’s work will be donated to the Black School, an experimental art school teaching radical Black history.

You can stop by Wednesday through Sunday from 9am to 5pm until September 15. Do it!

Top Image: Left side by Nick Simko, right side, “Young Buck” by Everett Hoffman

The Faces of St. Mary’s Hospital

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A day in the life of an ER physician: unlike most of us, photographer Chris Johnson knows what goes on behind the scenes in the emergency room. Lately, it’s been a bit… quiet. 

Between the emergency room and his kids, ages 6 and 9, Chris Johnson doesn’t have a lot of free time. That’s what makes photography the perfect side hustle. As an Emergency Medicine Physician at St. Mary’s Hospital in Richmond, his shifts can last from 7am to 3pm, from 11pm to 7am, and even from 7am to 7pm. Usually, his spur-of-the-moment photography takes place outside of these hours, but when the pandemic hit, the hospital revealed itself to be a welcome, empty landscape. 

PHOTO: Chris Johnson Photography

“When all this started in March, we had a pretty big decline in overall patient volume that would come through the ER,” Johnson said. “I think a lot of that was because people were scared to come to the ER; they didn’t want to be around sick people. It was very interesting to walk around the hospital. It was just empty, and that’s not how it normally is.” 

Johnson, who studied theater lighting design during his undergrad years, saw potential in the hospital’s gadgets. 

“All of our rooms have an overhead light that you can move around, and it makes for some dramatic lighting,” he said. “I feel really silly about it, because I don’t think I’m a very vain person.” 

Johnson is a nice guy. He has a round, gentle voice. He is humble — excessively so — and genuine. He believes in what is right, and is annoyed when people don’t do the right thing. His portraits have an ominous, almost medieval darkness that paints mask-wearers in a new light. They are to be taken seriously. 

“It’s not a political issue. It’s a safety issue,” he said. “And it’s a safety issue for other people… you’re not doing it for yourself, you’re doing it for other people. So the fact that people don’t want to do that is very confusing to me.” 

PHOTO: Chris Johnson Photography

St. Mary’s is fully stocked with masks, but Johnson still hears about hospitals in the country that are facing shortages. “It’s July,” he said. “We’ve known about this since January, and it seems like someone — I don’t know who that someone is, whether that’s the federal government, state government, whoever — someone should have prioritized, ‘What are we going to do to make as many masks as possible?’” 

He continued, “The fact that we are, A: short on testing, and B: [testing] is not even standardized… it makes it hard to contain this thing when you can’t even accurately detect it. But now in [Virginia], we’re in Phase Three, and as people have become more comfortable, they’re starting to go back out. People have started to come to the ER more now.” 

Since the COVID-19 outbreak, Johnson and his colleagues have worked around the clock to stay on top of the most relevant data surrounding treatment, diagnosis, and protocols for how to adequately care for patients (and each other). Their meetings happen virtually now, which has also been an adjustment. 

“I think initially there was a lot of anxiety, at least amongst the people that I work with, because people didn’t know what to expect. There’s so much unknown, because it’s not something that anyone’s ever dealt with before,” Johnson said. “Now we know more, and we are lucky to work in a health system that has adequate supplies and backs us up. Everyone works together as a team. The anxiety level is still there, but it’s less than it was when all this started up.” 

PHOTO: Chris Johnson Photography

The hospital staff featured in Johnson’s photos, smiling beneath their masks and protective equipment, don’t seem too frazzled. What’s more surprising is the sheer number of them. 

“If you’ve ever spent any time in a hospital or an emergency department, you would realize that a lot of people have to be there to make everything work,” Johnson said. “A lot of those people were not necessarily being recognized, so that’s what prompted me to post the pictures originally.” 

Johnson couldn’t photograph patients, of course, but he could photograph the people we rarely get to see: nurses and behind-the-scenes workers. He wants these people to be seen.

“I learned photography first, and having actually studied light was very helpful,” Johnson said. “Even though I didn’t study it in the context of photography, light is light. Lighting a scene is very important; in terms of the mood conveyed, or the overall feeling of the photo. You can’t necessarily alter that in nature, but you can use it to your advantage.” 

The photos were spontaneous, prompted only by a quick “Can I take your picture?” The staff happily obliged, likely because Johnson, recently-elected president of his medicine group, knows most of them by name. 

“In the ER, geographically, we are in the same space,” Johnson said. “We get to know each other really well. Certainly, we know the nurses we work with, the secretaries, the people who do environmental services, the people who register the patients — you’re around them all the time.”

PHOTO: Chris Johnson Photography

In addition to his COVID-19 series, Johnson frequents the Lee Monument, Black Lives Matter protests, and the James River at every time of day, from sunrise to sunset. Now that it’s summer, he goes all the time. Johnson isn’t a morning guy, he says, but some scenes are worth it.

“Right now, sunrise is about 6 in the morning,” Johnson said. “If you’re going to get up to watch the colors — which is typically about a half hour before the sun comes up — you’ve got to be up at 4:45 or 5 in the morning. Once you get there, there’s usually no one out, especially on the river. I spend a lot of time on the river; it’s very relaxing, it’s very peaceful. I joked that that’s my quiet time, my time that no one’s going to bother me. It’s worth getting up early to do that.”

Johnson continued, “We’re so lucky to have the James River here. There’s people who don’t know that there are so many points you can access the river from, and the extensive trail system. I’m just showing people, ‘Look at this amazing resource we have! Don’t take it for granted.’” 

Between the hustle and bustle of the ER, Johnson makes a point to find time for photography — and it’s not just for himself. He’s compelled to document everything from the James River to Richmond’s Black Lives Matter protests to ensure all have a chance to see them. 

“There’s a lot of things happening that other people, for whatever reason, can’t witness themselves or can’t be part of,” Johnson said. “I think that’s part of it… to actually see what’s happening is very important, and pictures can be a powerful medium for that.” 

Find more of Johnson’s photography during COVID-19 below, and galleries from Richmond and the James River at his website. 

PHOTO: A small chapel inside St. Mary’s Bon Secours hospital. 

Top Photo by Chris Johnson Photography

Car Photography Races Through Richmond

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At high-speed or on the street, Richmond photographer Wayne Hunter captures the unique aspects of each car in his lens. 

The sun begins to set on I-95, one of Richmond’s busiest highways. Colors of gold and amber cascade onto the pavement as a black Subaru contrasts the scene, carefully staying out of the way of cars making their way home. Photographer Wayne Hunter doesn’t have much time left, as his light slowly disappears. He leans out of a second Subaru adjacent to the photo’s subject car, hood scoop and minimal decals in frame, and snaps a rolling photo of the automobile in its natural environment. For this Richmond photographer, getting the perfect shot means catching the car at its best; wherever and however that may be.

PHOTO: Hunter‘s Eye Photography

As car enthusiasts fix up and modify their vehicles to perfection, often spending thousands to get it just right, photographers like Hunter bring in a new level of admiration by capturing each driver’s masterpiece. For Hunter, falling into the specialty of car photography came by accident. 

“We were taking pictures of all our cars,” Hunter said, “and [a friend] started teaching me a few things.” He decided to pick up a camera for himself, and started playing around with new ideas in photography. “I ended up picking up a camera from Best Buy a year or two later — just an entry-level Canon — which I still use a lot.” It sparked the beginning of a talent he carries into today’s car culture in Richmond.

Car photographers can learn and develop in the local environment, with a thriving community that dominates Richmond’s roads and parking lots. Within the ever-growing groups, photographers have ample opportunities to take stunning photos of many types of cars. But as the community increases in numbers every year, sometimes there’s only room for photographers with the right style of talent. 

PHOTO: Hunter‘s Eye Photography

“There has been a huge influx of photographers. Cameras have gotten cheaper, even brand new entry-level [models],” Hunter said. “Everybody’s trying to get into it; it’s been a very competitive market if you’re actually trying to make decent money from it. My thing is that you have to value the work, value the equipment — everything costs money. Everything takes a lot of time as well.” 

For most freelance photographers, the best-case scenario is making a somewhat decent wage while working unique schedules and hours. An increased public interest in car photography brings more eyes onto the work, and Hunter’s photo shoots have brought him attention at car events. After a few years of hard work and dedication, he’s been given the opportunity to be the official photographer for one of the East Coast’s largest car shows.

PHOTO: Hunter‘s Eye Photography

“The biggest [car show] I have coming up is Spring Fest,” Hunter said. “Before that, I show a local car show in Lynchburg for charity.” Although Spring Fest would have taken place in Ocean City, MD this year, it has been postponed due to Covid-19. 

Hunter noted that, as far as individuals interacting with photographers at car meet-ups, he’s seen a slight difference since quarantine began.

“I still have a couple of shoots coming up. I’ve only had one cancellation, but as far as the car meets, the work has been a little slow,” he said. 

Even as groups are banned from gathering and individuals stay home, Hunter is still finding ways to continue doing what he loves. As photography is already a socially-distant activity, he’s focused on many kinds of shoots, and he chases opportunities to get back out there. When it comes to the photos he loves to capture, there are a few aspects he looks for in makes and models of cars to capture his eye the most. 

PHOTO: Hunter‘s Eye Photography

“I enjoy the cars that have a lot of customization,” Hunter said. “I like to get a lot of the little details, and things like that. I prefer a lot of the [cars] you don’t see in the States, like [Nissan] Skylines.” With a variety of importers at work in the Richmond area, cars like these show up on local highways more often than you might expect.

Car photography is a niche subject. It’s often a difficult type to shoot, but for Hunter, the reactions from the people make it worthwhile. His favorite elements about working with drivers is to keep them involved even after their photo shoot is over. 

“I try to work with them as much as possible,” he said. “I try to have a one-week turnaround once I start editing, and I’ll keep them involved in the process.”

PHOTO: Hunter‘s Eye Photography

Knowing the tough nature of competitive photography in the area, many photographers are expanding their horizons, including Hunter. 

“I don’t want to be pigeonholed into just being a car photographer. I love doing portraits,” Hunter said. “That’s another aspect I’m trying to get into, doing some other creative stuff. Maybe even getting more into composites, or superimposing a subject or car from one photo and putting it onto a background from another location. It can sometimes be hard to stand out, so you don’t want to end up getting stuck with the only thing you can count on.” 

Although he started off shooting cars and modified vehicles after a day with friends in the past, he noted that being well-rounded as a photographer could be beneficial as he looks to expand his opportunities. 

PHOTO: Hunter‘s Eye Photography

“I want to continue to progress, and probably invest in some lenses. You have to learn that it increases the quality of your finished result,” Hunter said. “I would like to grow more with car photography, but I don’t want to just be a car photographer.”

Photography is not only important work for the car community to get the word out about events and meet-ups, but for the individuals that want to showcase their vehicles that took months of hard work and dedication to complete. As long as Richmond’s car community keeps growing, and as long as people are interested in modifying vehicles, niche photographers will always have something unique to bring to each driver.

To check out more of Hunter’s work, find him on Instagram and Facebook.