I’ve had the opportunity to speak with Marcus DeSieno a couple of times over different collections and at separate times. Still, it was when he presented me with his latest and ongoing project, Geography of Disappearance, that I was immediately intrigued. This occurred with not just the imagery but the message behind it. This is a common direction of his work in that it employs an investigation and idea, causing the viewer to pause and reflect on the themes being brought forth in his art. Indeed, a clear instance where the artist brings necessary attention to a cause or objective that benefits from visuals to tell a story.

With this project, we see DeSieno’s examination of a dire and hostile situation at the US/Mexico border. Border policies result in the deaths and disappearances of thousands, creating a humanitarian crisis. So much so that this border crossing has been labeled the most dangerous on Earth by the United Nations. These photographs illustrate the story of many who have met a tragic end in the Sonoran Desert while looking for a better life. This significant body of work employs landscape photography of truly horrific consequences, but one that should be known to all.

His use of analog photographic methods in his photographs helps to illustrate and amplify his ideas, and seeing the work in person brings out a dimensionality not experienced through the typical monitor viewing method we use all too often when looking at photographs. DeSieno employs a host of processes and values this methodical approach to realize each print fully. As you’ll read in this interview, it is this time that helps to focus, reflect, and heighten the project as a whole. There is much to learn from his words and actions, so please take the time to read and absorb this interview with an individual creating thoughtful and vital work to bring attention where needed.

INTERVIEW

Michael Kirchoff: Every photographer experiences that spark that drives them in the direction of image-making. How did you get your start, and what were your early influences?

Marcus DeSieno: I started photography in high school, but it wasn’t until I went to college that I realized this might be something I do for the rest of my life. I credit my professor at Marlboro College, John Willis, with instilling a passion for the darkroom and helping me find my voice. My work started out deeply autobiographical and photographers like Abigail Heyman, Bill Burke, Duane Michals, and Larry Sultan were certainly early influences through their subject matter and how they combined image and text.

However, I found myself continually gravitating towards landscape photography. It’s such a broad genre, but when you look at art history there is a defined language. I constantly mine from this visual history in my work. I have always thought of a landscape photograph as a politicized space. Art Historian WJT Mitchell writes in his book Landscape and Power that landscape should be seen as a verb – not a noun. He asks that we look at landscape not as an object to be seen, but as a process by which social and subjective identities are formed. Landscapes are an instrument of cultural power. Artists like Brian Ulrich, Joel Sternfeld, and Lewis Baltz certainly influenced the ways in which we see through the lens in this regard.

MK: What is it that you get out of creating photographs? Is there an overriding theme in your work that you feel best represents you as an artist?

MD: Photographing is a way for me to make sense of the world. One of the reasons I love working in the darkroom is because I am forced to sit with an image for hours on end. I am thinking about the experience of photographing, what it means, the politics embedded in the image, etc. while working and re-working a print. The darkroom is a space for me to slow down and separate myself from the noise.

There are a few themes that continue to be central to my work. I am interested in interrogating institutions of power with the focus often on the military-surveillance complex of the United States. I am also deeply concerned with how visual technology is used as a tool of oppression and what our future holds as this technology continues to evolve. I often use, or misuse, these imaging technologies in my work such as surveillance cameras, facial recognition algorithms, and artificial intelligence.

MK: The work we are highlighting here today is called Geography of Disappearance: Migrant Deaths on the US/Mexican Border. Can you tell us about the project and what drew you to make it?

MD: Geography of Disappearance is an ongoing body of work exploring the consequences of draconian border policies put in place by the United States government that follow a philosophy of “prevention through deterrence.” This approach to hyper-policing the border in select areas redirects migrant routes into the most dangerous and hostile sections of the border like the Sonoran Desert. This guiding philosophy has not prevented migrants from crossing the border but has instead led to a humanitarian crisis where the United Nations has now declared the US/Mexico border the deadliest land crossing in the world.

Thousands have died and thousands more have disappeared crossing the border. This vast, open land makes it difficult to know exactly how many have been lost. Migrants are sometimes never found as nature reclaims their bodies. They disappear. Make no mistake – this is a deliberate outcome of US border policy. The dead are seen as “necessary casualties” by the federal government.

I photograph along the border and go to the exact locations where the bodies of unknown migrants have been recovered using autopsy reports and data collected by humanitarian organizations. These landscape photographs act as a space for somber remembrance and an examination of the cruelty of white supremacy woven into the fabric of the United States. Our colonialist history and imperialist ambitions permeate this land in every mountain and valley. The sites of death are representative of the horrors attached to these oppressive ideologies that continue to guide the US forward into the 21st century.

This project started by chance while I was in Arizona photographing the electronic surveillance fence as part of a longer-term project documenting our larger surveillance state. I stopped at a gas station in Southern Arizona one evening and there was a man in the parking lot calling for help in English and Spanish. People were coming and going in their cars while ignoring this man. I called 911, but he had apparently been there for over an hour crying for help. I stayed with him trying to do something. He stopped breathing by the time the paramedics got there and they took him away trying to resuscitate him. One of the officers at the scene told me “illegals die out here all the time” and not to worry. That comment itself was deeply worrying. The police didn’t take down any notes and left this man’s belongings in the middle of the parking lot. The casual indifference to someone visibly in distress – to someone’s suffering – sent me into a spiral. I started researching migrant deaths after this and the more I read the more I realized that these deaths are a key feature of our federal border policies. I started volunteering to assist some humanitarian organizations and began to photograph. Eventually, it led me to the creation of this project.

MK: Is there a long-term goal for Geography of Disappearance?

MD: Americans have such a myopic understanding of the border between the United States and Mexico. The focus in the media in the US is often centered on the wall while a larger history is ignored. Immigration laws and restrictions have historically been a tool of white supremacy built into this country. They have led to the death and suffering of countless innocent people across these borderlands of the Southwest. We must uproot these systems of oppression. I believe that it is an artist’s job to point. We hold up mirrors for society. I make art to move an audience and offer up questions in the hopes for a better future.

Ultimately, I don’t have a defined ending to this project. Human migration will continue to be one of the most important issues of our time. The number of refugees and asylum-seekers will continue to rise around the world as globalization and climate change wreaks havoc on our global ecosystems. There are so many layers to unpack as I continue to make work and volunteer with humanitarian organizations in the borderlands. There is still work to be done.

MK: I just want to make sure that I have this straight. You are out there in the sun and heat of the desert photographing collodion-coated glass plates, processing on location, and then making lith prints from those, correct? Just the first part alone seems difficult and problematic, so how do you deal with such a demanding process in a less than ideal location?

MD: I actually enjoy the difficulty of wet-plate collodion in the field. There is a great deal of experimentation and problem solving that you need to undertake to pull a good plate in the 100+ degree heat of the Sonoran Desert. “Do I need to add more alcohol to the collodion so it doesn’t dry out? How much is too much? My developer is adding aggressive pour marks. Do I need to add some sugar to the developer?” Each day, each shooting location, each plate is a dance with the chemistry. This slows things down and allows me to really take in the environment and landscape that I’m in at that moment. I start seeing differently.

I originally created a darkroom backpack for hikes, but it is too cumbersome for longer hikes. I eventually rigged a darkroom for my SUV that includes multiple portable refrigerators that I hook up to the 12-volt socket. This makes the workflow a bit easier but does prevent me from getting into some locations. I am still problem solving to find new solutions.

Working with collodion in the desert is difficult. Outside of the chemistry, it becomes a physically demanding process. I take my time to ensure I don’t hurt myself or make mistakes. I might be in a remote area for hours and I will take breaks. I have had border patrol stop me multiple times. They are more amused by my antics than anything else, but sometimes they will stay and talk to me. I have encountered migrants multiple time while out in the field. Many times they need help. I always carry food and water in my car. I have encountered right-wing militias. All these experiences and the conversations I have had with these individuals has shaped this series. The act of taking a photograph is only what part of my practice. Slowing things down in the field allows me to listen and learn.

MK: Geography of Disappearance is not the only body of work you’ve made with alternative/historical processes. What is it that you feel these methods brings to the work to help solidify their message? Also, what is it in general that you love about them?

MD: There is an expressiveness in alternative process that brings the hand of the artist into play. If you’ve ever taken an art class, then you know that painters will talk at length about mark making. We never talk about that as photographers, but we should. Using alternative processes allows me to creative emotive and intuitive marks on a composition that elevate the narrative content of the photograph when finished. I’m always looking to use process to create visual tension in a photograph – whether that’s a purposeful pour mark on a wet-plate negative or an excessive brushstroke of beeswax on a salt paper negative. I merge wet-plate collodion with the lith print process for Geography of Disappearance to create unsettling landscapes where the grit of the lith print and the marks of the collodion negative work in concert to obfuscate the perspective and hint at implications of violence. I am fascinated with this act of transformation. How can materials and process radically transform how we read and perceive a photographic image?

MK: Do you find that certain images work better in an exhibition vs. a book project or even in an online capacity? Do you ever leave any out because you feel they might not be as strong in one venue compared to another?

MD: Absolutely. The intimacy of a book and the linear sequence allow for a different means of communication. Whenever I photograph, I always consider in the back of my mind where the image should be housed. When working on a book, I often have images that I think of as “b-roll” to help the sequence and narrative structure. There is more control I can exert over the narrative of a book.

MK: Has failure ever been a benefit to your process of making images? Is it a necessary part of any endeavor?

MD: Failure is an essential part of my practice, and it should be for any artist. My studio is like a laboratory filled with failed experiments crammed into every drawer and covering every wall. I need to work through ideas in my camera, in the darkroom, or on paper. I might not create a finished product, but this propels me forward. Failure is only one part of the equation. The other is work ethic. You can’t learn and grow from your failures unless you get up and try again. That requires you to actually put in the work. This is something I preach endlessly to my students.

Failure also has a particular appeal to me as an artist interested in alternative and experimental photographic processes. I am drawn to using volatile photographic processes that are notoriously hard to control like Wet Plate Collodion, Lith Printing, Mordancage, etc. I research materials and methodically test formulas. I try to look over every possible variable. And then I let go. I learn the rules so that I can break them, and it is a liberating experience to see the results. This leads to unexpected surprises and new discoveries which become ways for me to complicate my photographic language. I willingly give up control to, as Sally Mann calls it, the “angels of uncertainty.”

MK: Beyond your role as a photographic artist, you are also Associate Professor of Photography at Central Washington University in Ellensburg, Washington. In speaking to future generations of photographers, do you have any words of wisdom for those setting out to make their mark in the photographic world?

MD: Embrace failure, work hard, and don’t stop making art despite the rejection you will inevitably find over and over again. Just keep shooting. And follow what Jerry Saltz always says and “make an enemy of envy.”

MK: Before we wrap this up, I wanted to mention your book, No Man’s Land, via Daylight Books. I’m wondering what the experience was like making this book, and if you found the process fulfilling and helped you present the project to a wider audience.

MD: It was a privilege to collaborate with Daylight and I am so happy to have No Man’s Land exist as a book in its finished form. From start to finish, it was a rewarding experience as I went through drafts of sequences and layouts to a finished product. I learned so much by working with such involved editors and designers at Daylight. And I had no idea that the reception would be so positive once No Man’s Land was published or that it would have such an international audience. I have been contacted by individuals around the globe from Scotland to Japan who found the book in a local bookstore. There is something truly special about the democratic nature of books that allow for so many more to participate in conversations about art. I want to continue to find new ways of making art more accessible to a wider audience as I move forward with my practice.

MK: What’s next for your photography? Any new projects you have in the works?

MD: I just received a sabbatical for the upcoming year to continue my work on Geography of Disappearance. I will be in the borderlands for the rest of the year shooting, volunteering, and expanding the project in some new directions that will include some video and interviews with migrants.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Michael Kirchoff is a photographic artist, independent curator and juror, and advocate for the photographic arts. He has been a juror for Photolucida’s Critical Mass, and has reviewed portfolios for several fine art photographic organizations and non-profits in the U.S. and abroad. Michael has been a contributing writer for Lenscratch, Light Leaked, and Don’t Take Pictures magazine. In addition, he spent ten years (2006-2016) on the Board of the American Photographic Artists in Los Angeles (APA/LA), producing artist lectures, as well as business and inspirational events for the community. Currently, he is Editor-in-Chief at Analog Forever Magazine, Founding Editor for the photographer interview site, Catalyst: Interviews, Contributing Editor at One Twelve Publishing, and the Co-Host of The Diffusion Tapes podcast.

 Connect with Michael Kirchoff on his Website and Instagram!

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