Not too long ago, I caught up with my high school photography teacher, Cynthia Katz, and was excited to learn about her pursuit of Slow Photography with cyanotypes, a photographic printing process that produces a cyan-blue print. She explained to me that the advent of digital photography changed the way she engaged with the medium and she discovered that the Slow Movement echoed her desire to live more deliberately and purposely. And so she turned to cyanotypes, one of photography’s earliest forms. She writes:
Artist’s Statement, Cynthia Katz
“Time has played a pivotal role in photography since its inception in 1839. Exposures, the decisive moment, the notion of history, all conjure time in photography. The advent of digital photography has changed the way I engage with the medium after many decades. Gardening has also framed my life since I was young, and it too has time at its core. Gardening forces us to contend with a process-oriented approach that requires patience and a respect for the elements of nature. Contemporary “slow” movements echo my desire to live at a more deliberate pace, resisting the ‘faster, bigger, more’ aspect of today’s dominant culture, and thus I’ve returned to cyanotypes, one of photography’s earliest forms. Drawn to their tactility and the serendipity of the outcome, I mix my favorite chemical recipe and collect objects around my home and garden in anticipation of imaging. Cyanotyping, like gardening, is slow and timely, ethereal, spiritual and ultimately ephemeral. Happy surprises, and the promise held by chance keep me at it, while failures propel me toward new possibilities. I mark time with cyanotypes along with the garden season.
These pieces reference rituals and cycles though intersect with current politics, which I’m unable to dismiss. The very nature of process is central to this work, and the fragility of the forms, of alignment, of cross over, of containment, of reaching to connect across boundaries, are all at play. Drinking tea, marking time, making work, recording a present moment into a fixed tone or image, grounds this work on paper. Each cup of tea, each seed, makes something possible.”
Photo by Cynthia Katz
How did you become interested in Slow Photography?
CK: I guess it happened well before “Slow” was a movement. For me, photography has always been about process, careful observation, and tactility. My dad was a photographer, so I have early memories of being in his darkroom with him, making photograms, watching the image come up in the developer. Later I would watch the precision with which he’d frame his images. In my own practice the quiet, contemplative search for images, attention to details of light, frame, juxtapositions of elements, or with my cyanotype work, conceptualizing and putting things together during a printing session, and after the images are made making further decisions, is pivotal. Moving to medium and large formats in grad school as well as doing my first non-silver process workshop were all with the same motivation and love of slowing down, and absorbing the experience and the process. Since digital photography has taken hold, it’s a great antidote. And it’s great to see the resurgence of 19th century processes.
How do you convey this interest in time to your students through your teaching?
CK: Time and the (decisive) moment is at the heart of photography and how I teach it, so it’s something that comes up early in my Photo 1 classes. Looking carefully, and deeply at pictures, and getting kids to self assess and talk about photographs is also at the heart of my work with students. When I show slides, or talk about work with students, they get it that I love (good) photography, and the power it has to move us.
What is it about cyanotypes that you find most compelling?
CK: Umm, everything. Again, process takes center stage. From weighing and mixing the chemicals, to measuring and tearing the paper, to thinking about what I want to work with (objects), and to conceiving ideas I want to work with, I love the process. I have to think about the weather, because I don’t use a light box (yes, a conscious choice). Just like I have to hang laundry out on sunny days. A day of making cyanotypes starts days before, considering sizes, tearing paper, thinking about what I want to accomplish, and then coating paper starts early in the morning. I find myself printing after the sun has left my “easy” spots, so I’m chasing the sun. A good productive day is immensely satisfying and even bad ones, oh well, gotta chalk it up to process.
Anything else you want to share?
CK: Like getting good at anything, it takes practice and consistency, but you also have to do it because you love it. Otherwise, find something else to put your attention to, and dig deeply into.
Also, do you have a reference for that article you have tacked up on your studio wall?
CK: The magazine is called Photograph, probably 4 or 5 years ago at this point.
“Technology has taught us to consume media of all types at a breathtaking pace … No wonder some photographers (the blog istillshootfilm.org is but one example) have re-embraced analog formats – they have realized that instant gratification isn’t always so satisfying.”
About The Slow Movement and Slow Art
Since the 1970s, the principles of the Slow Movement have expanded to touch all areas of our lives; from its original tenet of taking the time to enjoy our food to how our cities impact our moods. As the pace of our lives quickens with ever more sophisticated technology, it makes sense that more and more people are embracing the Slow Movement.
To clarify, the Slow Movement does not mean that we go back in time or that we literally move more slowly. Rather, we savor life in a conscious and deliberate manner. As Carl Honoré, author of In Praise of Slowness, describes it, Slow is “calm, careful, receptive, still, intuitive, unhurried, patient, reflective, quality-over-quantity. It is making real and meaningful connections – with people, culture, work, food, everything.”
More recently, the Slow Movement has touched upon the Art world. Museums noticed that their visitors spent an average of just 17 seconds looking at a piece of art. So they created Slow Art Day, held annually in early April, to encourage their visitors to linger and contemplate a piece that speaks to them. This is to encourage a more profound level of engagement and connection.
