Two established artists. Two friends who have known each other since high school. Two careers that have intertwined for decades.
Q&A by Chan Marshall | Polaroids by Christy Bush
Chan Marshall, known as Cat Power on stage and in the studio, takes a minute to interview fine art photographer Christy Bush about the early influences on her work, where she finds inspiration, and what she wants to do next. The conversation weaves its way through a shared love of music, art, and mixtapes; the closeness felt watching local bands; and how winning a hula hoop contest created a lifelong friendship. They even hatch a plan to photograph Marshall, who has somehow eluded Bush’s lens all these years.
Shoes, Palm Springs, California, 2003. Sam Fogarino of Interpol, Death Valley, 2003.
This Q&A was edited for clarity and length.
Chan Marshall: When I write songs, it’s a stream of consciousness. Your images appear in the same nature: unplanned and unpinned. Am I right?
Christy Bush: For me, I dream up scenarios a lot of the time. I am always pulling from memory, the feeling that comes from memory, the nostalgia from my youth. I am not trying to re-create anything specifically. Just a feeling. Like you, my strongest work is unplanned and in the moment. If not, it looks forced. Stiff. Fortunately, my visual brain and visceral senses are so full that it’s easy to pull from as needed.
CM: When growing up in Atlanta, did you ever drive over to Athens to see shows? I’m sure you did, just as I got to drive up to Athens to see The Jody Grind, Opal Foxx [Quartet] …
CB: The only show I ever drove to Athens to see when I was in high school was the Rollins Band. It was amazing. I had never been to Athens. The show was at the Uptown Lounge. I was 17. I had on my friend’s neon-green ballet slippers [and] I sat up on a monitor by the stage. I remember Michael [Stipe] was there and had a Super 8 camera. He was filming my shoes.
CM: What were some of the bands you saw in Atlanta and Athens? Have you ever been able to photograph them later?
CB: Since I grew up in the suburbs of Atlanta, going downtown to see bands was exhilarating. I loved the local ones. Gardens of … — former members of Neon Christ; Phantom 309. Mac McNeilly — later, he joined The Jesus Lizard — was the coolest and treated me like a little sister. I just wanted to be around it. Be close to the music. I was underage, so I had a deal with the door guy at the Metroplex that I could go in as long as I didn’t drink a drop. I took it seriously.
I saw Sonic Youth, Opal (formerly The Jesus and Mary Chain), Jane’s Addiction, 7 Seconds, Bad Brains, Red Hot Chili Peppers, R.E.M., Echo & the Bunnymen, The Smiths, New Order …
I never photographed the bands, but I always shot the kids in the crowds. The crowd was visually appealing and became quite formative to me and my work. The music was its own thing.
Athens: So many bands, I can’t even remember anymore. Oh, wait, Hole! I saw early Hole. And early Nirvana at the 40 Watt. Krist Novoselic smashed his guitar and hit himself in the head that night. The Jesus Lizard. So punk.
Athens had cool local bands like The Bar-B-Q Killers and Porn Orchard that were big when I moved in 1988. There was so much happening all the time. I loved the local bands because they provided that closeness to the music I craved, and a creative community.
Amy Winehouse, Coachella, 2007. Daniel Kessler of Interpol, Glastonbury, 2003. Interpol, Amsterdam, 2004. Paul Simonon of The Good, The Bad & The Queen, Coachella, 2007.
CM: How did you and Michael Stipe meet and strike a friendship? Did you ever go to The Grit when you were young in hopes of catching a glimpse of him there, ’cause I did!
CB: Let’s see — we first met when I was 18, and then circled each other for a year or so after. Athens is a pretty tiny town. He and his sweet family used to come into a chocolate shop that I worked at on Saturdays. We would have little chitchats, and it didn’t feel intimidating because his mom and dad were so like mine. I think that by the time The Grit opened, I already knew him a little.
He bought a photo from a show I had participated in for $50. He wrote me a check. I was so thrilled that I impulsively invited him to a party at my house that night. We had a hula hooping contest. I won. From there, the friendship blossomed and grew into a lifetime. Michael was and is a very talented photographer. He has always been an incredible person to share work with. He gave honest feedback and nurtured my growth as an artist. Michael also has an amazing collection of photography and art. As a young student, I was able to see some serious art that I would have otherwise never have had access to: Sebastião Salgado, Sally Mann, Todd Murphy, to name a few.
Michael Stipe, Madrid, 1999. Taina, Hudson Valley, New York, 2004.
CM: Are most of your subjects people you know or people you stop on the street?
CB: Most are people that I know. I make my best work with the people I know. However, I also have the pleasure of getting to know someone new and creating intimacy because of my camera. And yes, I am always looking at strangers. Sometimes I do approach them. It makes my family so frustrated, but I can't help it.
CM: When you are in your life, moment to moment, and you aren’t on a scheduled shoot, when do you decide to pull out your camera and take a picture? Is there a voice inside you that says, “now”?
CB: Gosh, this is a tough one to put into words, and it happens all the time! I am constantly saying, “Wait, I need to shoot this.” It’s always need. It’s a flower, a color, a face, my child’s freckles, the light, a vignette in a room. It never stops. This also drives my loved ones crazy. I have to remind myself to be present and just take in the moment as it’s happening, but it’s really hard because I am constantly compelled to capture and preserve that moment.
Sierra, Key West, Florida, 1997. Joshua Tree, 1997.
CM: Who are the Southern photographer icons/greats for you?
CB: Sally Mann, William Eggleston, Clarissa Sligh, Carl Martin, Nydia Blas, Gordon Parks, William Christenberry, Maude Schuyler Clay, Michael Ackerman.
CM: What are a couple of examples of Southern photography you would have loved to be a fly on the wall for or feel you are already inside of?
CB: Well, they aren’t Southern photographers, but the images that Bruce Davidson and Steve Shapiro did during the Civil Rights marches also stay with me. Powerful, powerful images.
I recently discovered an incredible photographer called Clarissa Sligh. There are two series that really spoke to me: “Jake in Transition,” which documents Jake’s physical transformation from female to male. The pictures span from 1996 to 1999. Think about that. This wasn’t a topic of conversation for most people. And there wasn’t digital photography during the years she was making these images. The trust between Jake and Clarissa is so evident in these images.
During the same time period, Clarissa did a series called “The Masculinity Project.” The standout image in this series for me is the father braiding his daughter’s hair. Clarissa is a force, and I would love for more people to know her work. She takes images that I wish I had taken. But they could never exist with me behind the lens. It had to be Clarissa.
Tippett’s Mercantile, Vienna, Georgia, 1994. Wilson’s Soul Food, Athens, Georgia, 1999.
CM: Do you have a darkroom in your house? If not, do you miss the smell of those chemicals, the red light in the room from the bulb, the enormous projector lens on the enlarger, the rubber-tipped tongs, the image revealing itself like a song? What would be the record you would play when printing your own photos?
CB: I don’t have a darkroom in my home, and I miss it. It’s funny, I was thinking the other day about how much I would love to build one. Your description is so visceral and perfect. I remember I used to rub my fingers on certain areas of a print to raise the temperature in just that one spot so it would go dark in the areas I wanted. I could stay in that room all night, and often did. It kept me out of trouble — printing all night. I did my best thinking in that room.
Music was the key to being able to stay long hours. … When I was printing in school, I had mixtapes to play. Some were total ’70s and “yacht rock” before that was a term — I called it valium rock. There was also a cool one with Meat Puppets, Sonic Youth, Massive Attack. … Man, I wish I still had those mixes.
If I were printing these days — your “Covers” record on repeat. And some Nick Cave. Always Nick Cave.
In the darkroom years and even now, I still shoot Polaroids. It scratches that itch for me — watching the image come to life, the colors that can’t be duplicated digitally, the specialness of it being one singular image as well as an object you can hold in your hand.
CM: Have you ever taught photography to kids?
CB: Yes, the summer of ’93, before I moved to New York, I taught kids with special needs at a summer camp. I taught them how to use the darkroom and make prints. Teaching them that what they could envision and bring to life in a darkroom was absolutely magical. I have always been inspired by the work that Wendy Ewald did with her students in the Appalachian Mountains.
PBS did a documentary about her and the students’ project, “Portraits and Dreams,” that moved me deeply. Someone gave me the book in college, but to see the film and listen to Wendy's students, now grown adults, talk about the experience they had through their camera moved me to tears more than once.
Michael Stipe, Madrid, 1999. Joshua Tree, 1997. Radiohead, Glastonbury, 2003. Lily Allen, Coachella, 2007.
CM: Do you have any spiritual experiences with your photography that you would be willing to share?
CB: I would say teaching the kids at summer camp was one of the greatest ones. Being able to spend time and the relationships that have been built with members of the 9th Ward Black Hatchets is another one.
I am honored and grateful to be so warmly invited to participate in people’s lives. There is a vulnerability to this. And anytime I am gifted with someone’s vulnerability and the trust that comes with capturing their image — it becomes spiritual. I am always deeply aware of the gift I am being given.
CM: I would love it if you could take BW pictures of me. Can we do that sometime, in an old house, in the South, in the daytime, just you and me?
CB: Absolutely! I would be thrilled to. I can't believe we have known each other this long and haven’t done this yet! I know the perfect place way outside of Athens. A magical house with a secret garden. ◊
Chan Marshall
Christy Bush
