The landscape that surrounds my home in Sweden can be misleading. The bird activity it holds is diluted and disguised by the vast flat open land and sky that offers an impression of little going on.
In January 2015, with an inkling of bird activity being more prominent than at first met my eyes, I decided to try to pull them out of the sky. I set up an 8cm diameter stage in the form of a wooden pillar that was around one and half meters in height, and opposite it another the same on which I mounted a camera that was triggered by motion.
I visited the camera a few days later and, to my surprise, it had worked. The pillar somehow managed to funnel the birds from the sky by offering them a place to rest, feed, nurse their young, and observe. I was captivated immediately. The images were often unsettled, the birds awkward like contortionists, completely off-beat and the shapes and soft lines created were so arresting.
From my kitchen window the pillar could be seen in the distance like a matchstick in the flat distance. My absence in turn somehow allowed a greater mental presence during the making of the work. I was frequently there though only in my mind, wondering what was happening at that very moment as I sat on a local train, or went about my daily routine. Even when I was out of the country I would be imagining the activity on the stage.
Stephen Gill’s passion for photography was sparked by his father’s quiet influence and fuelled by an early fascination with insects, birdlife, and the tiny pond creatures he’d gather to examine under a microscope. Music, too, has long been a steady companion. Together, these early obsessions nurtured a sense of wonder, and image-making became not only a way of exploring such curiosities, but a means of responding to his surroundings and to the subjects that intrigue or move him. Over time, it has become an essential form of articulation and expression.
As the years have passed, Gill’s relationship with photography has continued to evolve. While he values photography’s strengths, he remains increasingly aware of its limits, how straight descriptive photographs are often unable to convey more elusive emotions, feelings, or ideas that lie beyond the glass wall of clarity, projection and control. He works outside those limits, developing a quiet trust in chance and what can be withheld. In reducing information, he often finds that something vital — a presence, a spirit — can remain, allowing the subject to breathe without interference.
Gill continues to explore the idea that even the most abstract or ambiguous images can carry a truth, sometimes more illuminating than clear visual description, however factual it may appear. In a time when images flood every corner of life and certainty feels harder to hold, he chooses to relinquish much of the authorship and control, seeking instead to honour his subjects by handing much of the authorship back to them. He is often drawn to finding ways to collaborate with his subjects or to assist them to fully speak for themselves, without the images being suffocated by the medium or the maker.
Eenvoudige ideeën zijn het beste. Stephen Gill sloeg een houten paal midden in een stuk weiland en plaatste er een bewegingssensor camera tegenover. Over een periode van vier jaar fotografeerde deze camera vervolgens alle vogels die op de paal waren geland. Een verbluffend simpel concept met een magnifiek resultaat. Bekijk een mooi gesprek met Gill hierover.
Probably the most interesting typography book ever made. Speaks a lot to the exploration of the camera as its own entity, with the ability to make work on its own. In a strange way, it reminds me of modular synthesis, how the system itself does the exploration while the "controller" is merely an observer, there to ensure that the system's musings are found by others.
I am pretty sure I found this book through a Tumblr aesthetic post. Lovely photographs and text.
Also super weird to have read it the day before pandemic lockdown began, and then to return to my office in late August and find it still there waiting for me.