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So here’s my thing. I’m a lady who was born and raised in Philadelphia, PA, with the exception of two years when I lived in Nevada as a child. I’m 37 and I live in South Philadelphia. I started to make photos when I was 30 because I was compelled to produce this long-term, gigantic-scale, yearly installation in my neighborhood. This project, "I-95," has spurred a number of other projects, most notably a series of slideshows. However |
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I-95 – Zoe Strauss
So here’s my thing. I’m a lady who was born and raised in
Philadelphia, PA, with the exception of two years when I lived in Nevada as a child. I’m 37 and I live in South Philadelphia.
I started to make photos when I was 30 because I was compelled to produce this long-term, gigantic-scale, yearly installation in my neighborhood. This project, "I-95," has spurred a number of other projects, most notably a series of slideshows. However, this installation has remained my central focus, and all of my other recent projects have stemmed from my work on "I-95."
Although I regard every photo that I make as an autonomous and complete image, all of my photographs are made with the intent of becoming a part of my larger body of work; a collection of photos made during the course of this decade as part of a large-scale public installation exhibited yearly in South Philadelphia. I am in the seventh year of a ten-year project begun in 2000. Once a year, for two hours on the first Saturday or Sunday in May, I produce an installation comprised of photographs adhered to the concrete pillars that support the highway, Interstate 95, which runs through South Philadelphia. I live in South Philly and it’s very important to me to construct this installation in the community where I live, work and produce most of my images. When I began this installation, the photographs included were made primarily in my neighborhood, in communities in which I have lived or else that I know intimately, but, within the last few years, I have included photos that I took wherever I was; the project is expansive and isn’t limited to a literal representation of place. Every photo included in the installation has to be a strong and evocative image that can stand on its own and fit into a larger, epic narrative reflecting the beauty and struggle of everyday life. The “I-95” installation is free and open to everyone.
The subject matter of most of my photographs falls roughly into three categories: portraits, texts and architectural/abstract images. I see all three categories as interconnected, in form and in tone. All of the portraits included in the exhibition are of strangers who I’ve stopped to ask if I could take their photo. I always ask the person to choose their pose. I also explain the “I-95” project. I regard the folks in the portraits that I create as active participants in the project.
The sequencing of my photos is as essential to my work as the composition of the individual photographs. The placement of images next to each other in a large-scale installation creates a synergistic effect that allows me to create an open-ended narrative that can be read in a number of ways. In order to get at the “beauty and struggle of everyday life,” there are some themes that I address when taking the photographs and in laying out their order: personal imagery (photos of places that have significance in my personal life), the construction of gender, addiction and desire, American identity, getting by, hope and pride and joy.
That’s right! That’s how I roll!
I focus on these themes, but I’m not limited to them. Many of my photos fit into several of these categories, and my decision as to where a photo is placed is sometimes intuitive and other times intellectual. I strive to have the installation read like a palindrome. So, one could start viewing the photographs from any beginning point and still read the central themes. The photos are arranged to reflect the movement of life, with pivotal moments and quiet in-betweens.
There you have it.
