Grace Weston, featured artist in As We Imagined, sat down virtually with AMcE’S Gallery Associate Jo Munsen to discuss her darkly funny, meticulously staged photographs.
When did you first pick up a camera? Do you remember your first photograph?
I don’t really remember my first photograph, but in high school I hung out with all the arty kids and we were always doing goofy, crazy things. I had a little Instamatic camera that I just treated like crap, but it went everywhere. My friends and I were all artists and now you could look back and say, oh, that was an installation. But you know, we were just having fun. I would document everything.
The funny thing about that camera was that it shot off-center. So I have tons of photos from those days of parts of people coming into a scene and things like that. It wasn’t until college that I got a 35mm camera and started developing a photography practice.
Your photos now capture something deeply human- but there are no humans. What is it that drew you to work in miniatures?
As a studio photographer, when I was first working, I didn’t really want to work with humans simply because I’m slow. I would feel very self-conscious. I wasn’t in the position to hire models, so it would just be people. And I just got very self-conscious about taking people’s time. And the practicality of props and sets. When it’s life-size, that’s a lot of storage area.
And, I think a lot of people are drawn to miniature items, you know, little things. As a kid I would always save the teeny tiny things I acquired, they became like my little treasures. So I’ve always been drawn to the miniature, and it serves me well in this.
The miniature does seem to capture something human.
I think so. Going back even before Venus of Willendorf, people have had dolls, you know? Figures that people have made as a way to cope. A way to handle, manage, and build their own little worlds. From the beginning of human existence, we’ve made figures in our image.
Do you think that lends a feminist quality to your work? Given that, in modern history, dolls have become synonymous with girlhood.
That’s interesting. My work has a very feminist bend.
“Boys have dolls, but they call them action figures.” You know, they don’t want to call them dolls because there is this inherent distaste for the feminine. So, using dolls to me is already a political statement.
Is there a particular photographer, or photographers, who have inspired your work?
Early in my miniature work, I was taken with David Leventhal’s work in miniatures. Andrei Cortege’s Satiric Dancer has been an inspiration to me as well, that’s such a wild image. It’s this cabaret dancer on a couch, and it’s just such a fun, wonderful, picture.
Something I’ve realized is that, sometimes, these powerful images that stick with us, they capture what’s happening outside of the lens. I mean Satiric Dancer captures that time, the 20s, in Paris.
Can you tell us any trade secrets about sourcing your objects? Where do they come from?
Well, it’s much easier today with eBay, Etsy, and these other places where you can find things. If I can’t find what I need, I’ll try to make it, but I always know I can get it.
Before that, I used to just comb through thrift stores, goodwill, and antique stores. It was a lot harder, and I didn’t have the making skills I have now. Now I can make a lot, but every time I turn around I have to learn a new skill. It’s stimulating and exciting, but it can be a lot. Recently, I had to learn how to make royal icing. I discovered that, with two to three layers of that stuff, you can make anything look like a cake.
I’m sitting in front of your work The Secret, which depicts a small red bird leaning into the eager ear of a doll. Can you tell us ‘the secret’?
No. I feel like that’s really for the viewer to bring to the image. It’s a very sweet and innocent image, I’m not always so sweet in my imagery. But what really drew me to create that image is just the optics of that intimate interaction and the contrasting colors.
Oh- I can tell you a secret. But it’s just for us.
Is there anything surprising about any of your miniatures, beyond the frame?
The cigarette-smoking man in the The Long Night series “Killing Time” is just an arm. It was in the bins at Goodwill, just a detached arm. I mean, how could I pass up on an arm with fully articulated fingers?
And I made the suit, which had to be a very tight weave, something like an eyeglass cloth or a handkerchief. A fabric you may think of as a tight weave will look like a burlap in miniature.
Your work deals with psychological themes, and delves into the dark side of human nature. What do you see as the role of humor in revealing those human paradigms?
I think humor is a coping mechanism. I grew up in a family with a lot of tragedy. I had a brother who passed away, another brother was sick, and my parents had their hands full. They both had this dark humor. They were very funny, very smart, and very witty.
In my work, I love humor, but I also like pointing out the contradictions in human existence. The things we have to confront, to not gloss over. So I like to find a balance of drawing the viewer in, with pretty colors, with humor and all that stuff, and then deliver a bit of a punch.
What do you hope viewers take away from your work?
I hope they think it’s smart.
I gave a Zoom talk earlier this week, for the Southeast Center for Photography where I have a solo show. During the Q&A section, a woman came on. She said something to the effect of “I saw dolls and I thought, this leaves me cold. I see nothing in there. This is impenetrable. But I decided to come anyway and oh my god, you have changed my mind so much”.
She had initially dismissed it. I think there is a population of people that do when they see dolls. But then she heard what was behind it, and totally got it. That was gratifying.
How do you think art, and your art in particular, can help us make sense of the world?
I think art must be doing something because it continues, no matter what. No matter who tries to stamp it out. It can help us cope; it can bring beauty and joy into someone’s life, even if just for a few minutes.
The act of creating is a positive, enriching experience. It’s the counter to destruction. So, it’s a way to reflect on ourselves and our world. For me particularly, in this moment, I feel a need to respond to what’s happening in the world. For me, it’s a way of processing not just the personal, but of poking the political bear and letting out some frustration in a humorous way.
When you look at past times of political turmoil, you always find artists doing that topical, political work. Artists can cross social lines in a unique way, and say things you may not be able to say out loud. It’s in a different language and not everybody always gets it. Sometimes it goes right over certain heads and that’s great. You can use that to your advantage and be subversive.
My art is a reflection on our world. It’s not just, oh, look at the cute doll. It’s, what else is going on here? And how does this reflect on the human condition?
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