As those familiar with my work will recognise, it has predominantly been rooted in the tableau style, often underscored by a cinematic aesthetic. This approach has allowed me to depict narratives drawn from personal histories and life in suburban settings. On occasion, I've also dabbled in crafting imagined narratives, creating a unique blend of the real and the fantastical.
In recent(ish) years, my creative practice has begun to diverge slightly from the tableau format, venturing into new territories while still maintaining a fond connection with my original style.
In my series, "Mediated by the Digital Lens", I explore the intricate relationship between humans and their ubiquitous handheld devices in the digital era. This body of work dissects our impulse to instantaneously capture and share our experiences, and how such constant interaction with technology moulds our perception of reality. Through a unique layering technique, I infuse still images with a sense of depth and movement, highlighting the transient and boundless conditions of the digitally tethered subject. This series is an invitation for viewers to ponder on the profound influence of technology on our lives and to balance the act of being fully present in a moment versus the relentless urge to document and share our experiences digitally.
Another recent venture, "The Sublime Beauty of the Imperfect", stands as a testament to my exploration of the sublime within the natural world. Here, my work draws inspiration from traditional landscape photography and painting, capturing scenes that evoke a sense of awe and reverence. Through meticulous attention to detail and careful composition, I strive to uncover the imperfect beauty hidden within natural landscapes. This series is a reminder of the fragility and ever-changing nature of our environment and urges viewers to immerse themselves in these mesmerizing landscapes, fostering a personal connection with the sublime and underscoring the importance of preserving our natural world.
While my recent works might suggest a departure from the tableau style, it's important to note that it remains an integral part of my artistic journey. I see it as an evolving path, a continuum where every new series I produce is a reinterpretation or evolution of my initial style, reflecting both my growth as an artist and the changing dynamics of the world around me.
Why did I shift from tableau to landscapes, you might ask? Well, in truth, it wasn't so much a shift as it was an expansion of my scope. Yes, it might seem confusing, and it was for me as well. My newer series, "Mediated by the Digital Lens," is heavily influenced by my relationship with the environment.
This connection to the environment became evident through my hiking, walking, and hunting activities. Yes, you read it right - hunting. But before you judge, let me clarify that it's a sustainable practice, and I eat what I catch. The intricacies of that could fill another essay!
I was simultaneously working on my tableau imagery and this newer series, which was still in its infancy as a concept and creative process. Tableau, though, is something I've always been involved in. It's familiar territory for me.
My inspirations for tableau come from various corners: painting, book covers (I even shot for Penguin books in my early days), cinema, TV, and more. But a significant part of my inspiration also came from my family's photographs from the '50s and '60s.
At the heart of most of my images, is a family photo, an object or story, that’s usually where it starts. It's a thread that ties my work together, a consistent theme running throughout my photographic journey.
My most recent and ambitious tableau series to date, 'Remembering What Never Happened', is a significant milestone in my artistic journey. This body of work, which forms a part of my PhD research, is more than just a collection of photographs - it is an exploration of memory, perception, and the fluid nature of truth.
In 'Remembering What Never Happened', I delve into the complex narratives of personal and collective memories. The tableaus, meticulously staged and crafted, challenge the viewer to question the reliability of their own recollections and the perceived realities they construct. They provoke a dialogue about the mutability of truth and the potential fallibility of memory.
The inspiration for this series draws from diverse sources, including paintings, book covers, cinema, and television. These sources have deeply informed my artistic approach, enabling me to create a series of tableaus that resonate on multiple levels. However, one of the most influential inspirations for this work has been the family photographs of my grandparents and parents from the 50s and 60s. These images, steeped in personal history and connection, form the emotional backbone of the series.
Beyond the imagery, this series embodies the philosophy that guides my work. At its heart, 'Remembering What Never Happened' is a study of connections - to our past, to each other, and to the world around us. This series stands as a testament to the power of photography as a medium to not only document reality but to question it, deconstruct it, and ultimately, to reimagine it.
The exhibition 'Remembering What Never Happened' premiered at MARS gallery on Thursday, 12th November 2015, a date that now feels like a lifetime ago. The opening was quite an event, as Andy Dinan sure knows how to hold an opening.
However, the evening took a serious turn when I received a phone call. My mother, who had been ailing, was now in the ICU. The medical team recommended that I head to the hospital immediately. So, we exited the gallery and made our way to the hospital. Against all odds, my mother pulled through that night, and for several days it seemed like she was on the mend, on the 23rd of November, 11 days later, she passed away.
I was in the middle of casual drinks with my RMIT colleagues at Punch Lane when I got the news. The loss of my mother felt like the severing of my last tie to family history. My father had died when I was just 14, my uncle when I was 20, and my aunt had left when I was about 14 or 15. My grandparents had already passed away. While, my partner, Catherine, our two daughters Georgie and Ivy and I are creating new stories, I drew heavily on those old family stories in my inspiration and content. I don't mean to suggest that the well of stories ran dry, with my mothers passing, rather that I found myself hesitant or unwilling to tap into those memories, photos, journals etc. after my mother's death.
The exhibition 'Remembering What Never Happened' concluded on the 29th of November. A few days later, on the 2nd of December, we held a cheerful funeral for my mother, full of Jean Bourdy Cremant du Jura, numerous stories, and the occasional tear, especially when "I Vow to Thee My Country" or Blake's "Jerusalem" were played. Every so often, there's a sense of "they are all gone" that surfaces, even after all these years. As an only child (and I can almost hear the comments of "that explains a lot"), this feeling can be quite potent.
Following this, I didn't make a conscious decision to cease creating tableau - it just unfolded that way. I had a few ideas in mind, one being "The Ghost of Chopin and Other Dead Poles", which even reached the casting and production stage. But the drive was lacking, my work inevitably stagnated, and I drifted from what had been my core practice.
This decline in activity and my apparent disengagement didn't go unnoticed, and eventually, I parted ways with the two galleries that used to represent me. It was a tough pill to swallow, but I understood their standpoint - business is business, after all.
I've continued with the overarching series, 'Mediated by the Digital Lens', exhibiting at festivals in the USA, China, and Australia. I remain committed to this work and will persist with it, but... yes, there's always a 'but'... the tableau is beckoning me once more.
And so, I find myself contemplating the path back to tableau. A few years back, I taught a 12-week course: 'Telling Stories: The Tableau.' Surprisingly, I did not find it emotionally challenging, mainly because it focused on the development of characters and scenes rather than drawing from my personal narratives.
However, now, a few years later, I feel ready for the next challenge. The opportunity to teach another tableau class hasn't presented itself, so I plan to do it here online through the blog. This is a new venture for me, it will involve delivering a course, discussing how I like to develop characters for work that either doesn't directly draw from personal stories or does so in a very loose manner.
I'll also discuss approaches to propping, casting, styling, and of course, lighting. I might even delve into construction and retouching methods. Essentially, it's going to be a journey - one I'm excited to share and embark upon.
In undertaking this new venture, I aim to dust off an old idea that's been lying dormant in my mind for some time, "The Ghost of Chopin and other Dead Poles." I had envisioned a tableau photograph situated in a sophisticated suburban home of a Polish doctor. This image captures a poignant moment wherein the doctor's youthful wife, herself half his age and hailing from Poland, performs Chopin's nocturne in C sharp minor with an effortless elegance before a small, intimate group of friends.
This story borrows from the real-life experiences of my uncle. He had married a youthful and talented Polish woman who initially was charmed by his worldly experiences and wisdom. However, as time passed, her affections shifted. She became enamoured with a visiting Polish concert pianist, and together they ran away to England, abandoning the life she had built. The dramatic tale of love and heartbreak would played out against the emotive backdrop of Chopin's music.
This narrative, filled with its complex characters and their tangle of emotions, is calling out for attention. It's imbued with a weighty sense of melancholy and reflection, and it's this depth that I feel ready to explore. It's time to delve into these complicated emotions and bring the story to life.
In my upcoming post, I will delve into the art of developing characters with depth, complete with a compelling backstory. I will share the step-by-step process I follow and explain why this approach proves invaluable in various aspects, such as shaping their appearance, selecting the right actors, and effectively directing them on set. Without exaggeration, I consider this aspect of preproduction to be among the most essential and practical components.
I hope you will come along for the trip.
Bronek