Past the Blue Mailbox
It's just like those podcasts with actors talking to other actors about how they work, how they live, and whether or not they were allowed to ride their bikes past the blue mailbox at the end of the street when they were kids - the main difference being you don't know me yet unless you're really into live performance in the PNW.
We’ll talk about whatever we talk about — likely with lots of passionate overthinking — plenty of serious and plenty of funny — uncovering what the life of an artist looks like when nobody’s looking.
Past the Blue Mailbox
Robin Crookall: Billboard in Tokyo
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Robin & Rhonda talk about utilizing the work of others as artistic inspiration, the beauty of parking garages, leaving your mark, carving out time for the work, looking forward to a winter residency in Maine, the power of dance, the magic that can come from cardboard and a glue gun, and so much more. Please take a moment to share Past the Blue Mailbox with your friends, and be sure to follow on your favorite streaming service to be notified of new episodes!
My work is a blend of sculpture and photography. The subjects of my images are assembled sets of exteriors and interiors. With a collage of elements, my work creates scenes consisting of part fact and part aspect. I construct architectural models which I photograph, and print. For these models, I primarily use cardboard, tape, and hot glue; unsophisticated materials that retain a certain cogency and drabness when captured in a photo. Focusing on subjects like the corner of a room or the facade of a house, the images showcase environments that are at once familiar and safe, underwhelming and routine. What the audience sets out to experience in the photograph changes in perspective from visualizing the subject as an actual photographed place as opposed to seeing what is really its scale-model counterpart. The experience results in the viewer questioning the preexisting notions of time, memory, and place. The photograph is the ideal pedestal for these concepts, for its singular capacity for both depiction and deception. If you can’t trust your own eyes, then you can’t trust your own definition of place. And where are you supposed to exist at the plane of the image if all that grounds you, is slowly dissolving away?
The pursuit of the uncanny drives me to accentuate the absurdities inherent to representation. By building and photographing models, this further creates the disorientation of space, time and scale, to create a particular kind of illusion. Not the big flashy kind, where an elephant disappears right before your eyes, but the subtlety of the card-counter, the sleight of hand, and unnoticeable graceful dance of the pickpocket. I am not a wizard, there is no real magic here. The best tricks are the ones we don’t even see.
