Ryer Spann
Ryer Spann (Portland, ME) is a photographer and filmmaker who has been raised between the Balsam firs of Maine’s Acadian forests and the fishing wharfs of Portland, ME Atlantic coasts. In this space rests what could be a sort of theatrical play; something akin to a folkloric tale. Pulling from Spanns bio, furthering our relationship to playwriting, “the real dangers of the wild and the fear of losing your way are absent. Yet, an unsettling feeling creeps in, as if unseen eyes watch from dark corners. The distant crunch of leaves heightens this tension, reminding you that even in familiarity, nature's mysteries can provoke a lingering sense of vulnerability and unease.” In allowing us to enter the work Spann heightens our awareness of narrative tensions. Situating the viewer in a space of alienation and also being reminded that we have now become participants. It is as if we have stumbled across a ritual held seemingly in secrecy; unwelcomed yet unable to leave. One cannot separate this enchanting backwoods narrative that clearly pulls from the state's relation to cryptology, fairy garden myths, and legends of the forests and seas. A Prayer for the Deer in Velvet, encapsulates Spanns ability to situate us in a beguiling environment filled with tensions of presence and looming absence, similar to Rutigliano. The formal contrast between light and dark deepens this tension within the work. Cast shadows become a void where staring too long reveals our deepest secrets and stark white highlights spotlight surface textures in excruciating detail laying bare the peeling paint and the deer's antlers having shed the velvet stage. The tension we feel in Spann’s values reflect the heightened tension where grassroots movements thrive; placing pressures on the forces of the unseen eyes exposing the injustices by those who willfully destroy our lush environments and deeply connected communities. Spann seems to charge the viewer in questioning their roles in his stories in hopes they are able to question their roles in contemporary culture.In Conversation with Ryer Spann: “Walking the Lind between truth and fiction has always piqued my interest. ”
I want to thank you, Ryer Spann, for submitting work to our exhibition, Grassroots. I am happy that you were also on board to sit down (at your computer or on your phone) to complete an online interview with Easthaus. Let's get started!
Easthaus:
Ryer Spann:
To give us a glimpse into your life and practice as an artist, I think it would be great to hear you speak on your creative practice a little. How would you describe your time in the studio or during your experience of Maine's unique suburbia and vast wilderness [to quote from your artist statement]? What is a successful day for you? How do you approach a new project or artwork? Where do you start? Where do you know when to end?
EH:
Thank you, I am very excited to be a part of this exhibition and to get the chance to chat!
I would describe it as fast. When it comes to starting a project, I try to get it rolling as fast as possible. I tend to hate whatever I make two weeks after finishing it, so if I wait too long to start something, I will end up throwing the idea to the side and never finding out what it might look like. Knowing that about myself kind of forces me into this fast-paced, idea-execute-idea-execute studio process. Knowing when to end has always been a challenge for me though, I wouldn’t say any of my projects specifically end, I tend to naturally just put them aside, and then months or years later an idea will pop up, and I'll return and see if it works.
RSp:
I am immediately reminded of Diane Arbus’ work, specifically her exhibition, Diane Arbus: Untitled, at Cheim & Read from 2023, the work there has been referred to as “alienating, beguiling, and dreamlike”, all of which I would ascribe to your work as well. What draws you into making work with this enchanted backwoods aesthetic? I would also be curious to know who else you place in your artistic family tree. Who do you consider as your historical and current contemporary colleagues?
EH:
Wow thank you, that is a very generous comparison. I think growing up in New England, and specifically Maine I automatically had these roots in nature laid very early. When I think about my childhood many of my memories involve getting lost in the woods, eating bugs and other smaller slimy critters, playing on frozen ponds, and making stone soup, so that draw towards the backwoods is just automatic., I don’t know exactly how to articulate it but it feels natural, I’m personally still working on it.
Though less of colleagues and more of people I look towards, I would have to say fellow Maine residents Dylan Hausthor and Pia Guilmoth. Their book, Sleep Creek, is one of the best books I've ever laid my hands on, I don’t think there is a single image in there that doesn't make me want to rip out my drywall in excitement. Oh also Eva C and the documentation of her seances are something I look at a lot, I was shown them a couple of years ago and there's this beautiful early alteration of truth and rawness to many of those photos that grips me.
RSp:
EH:
I think as artists we all have different views about what it means to be an artist and to hold a creative practice. In our contemporary moment, it's seemingly even more important now to be a creative person. Would you mind telling us what your overall philosophy about art is? What keeps bringing you back to the studio? What do you feel is your role as an artist in this greater societal grassroot movement we are living though?
Oh god I think I’m still working on figuring that out. It’s just something that I can't live without. Having to go through periods of time without creating is like hell, but honestly I tend to get my best ideas when I’m in those places I consider removed from my creative spheres. I could be working, have not taken a photo in three days and am in the middle of eating a scone and those are the times when my most passionate ideas appear.
Not just my role, but we are entering a scary time so I think now more than ever it is important for artists to be creating and putting work out into the world that gives their own local people pockets of hope and happiness and can be used to comfort or keep those most affected safe, whatever that might mean to you, just go do it.
RSp:
Your writing and work for me speak to a sort of theatrical play; something akin to a folkloric tale and when thinking about Maine’s relationship to the elusive fairies I cant help to see a possible connection between your work and folklore. There is a tension in your work that, to touch back on an earlier question, is both alienating but also enticing. This tension seems important both in thinking about your work but also hints towards how imperative it is to hold close ties to grassroot movements and the tension that exists there as well. Is that connection present for you in your work or is it something more on the periphery? What are some of the ways that you have noticed a grassroots embodiment come up in your practice?
EH:
I am definitely drawn to that tension, and I feel it comes through to me in very mixed ways. Sometimes there's that intention and want for a photo to have it and other times I won’t see it until revisiting shoots weeks after scanning my film. Ain't that the beauty of it all! Regarding folklore, I am interested in the way that it works as a boundary between truth and imagination. Someone that comes to mind is a favorite director of mine Robert Eggers, specifically with his work in The Witch and The Lighthouse. These New England folklore tales and walking the line between truth and fiction have always piqued my interest and I don't think many do it like him. I think the connection between grassroots and folklore is tied at the hip, so much of the traditional European folklore that laid roots in New England follows the struggles of the local person, not much about kings and queens much more about the real everyday people in a community.
RSp:
As a staple question we ask exhibiting artists. I find it always interesting to see what artists have pinned up on their walls; deadlines, to-do lists, art inspiration/mood boards, ect. It says a lot about how the artist's mind works and how they connect the dots and how it all feeds into the work. Do you have any images from the studio you would like to share with us? What do you have up on your walls currently?
EH:
For sure, my little home station has a small string ‘mood board’ I put up a while ago with some of my favorite images. I also have this large cowboy print with this beautiful wood frame that I am in love with. I like cowboys, I have three cowboy hats somewhere around here, I don't wear them out of the house though. It’s not efficient, but I tend to use my brain to keep track of deadlines and to-dos, and the last time I let someone in there they stole a couple of thoughts, but I can tell you I am in the midst of shooting a short narrative commercial for a friend and I have to go grocery shopping today. Those are the only to-dos I can think of.
RSp:
EH:
Ryer Spann, thank you for your time contributing to the conversation for the exhibition, Grassroots, which is on view from January 30th until February 28th here at Easthaus. For a closing dialogue on this interview we welcome you to plug any ongoing projects, events, upcoming thoughts, inspirational quotes; anything that you would like to share with the Easthaus and greater art community we are fostering.
Again thank you for the questions and the exhibition, I am thrilled to see the work presented by my fellow exhibiting artists and see everyone at the reception. I am currently working on a couple of film projects with my very close friend Spencer Sisselman which should be great fun. Whatever comes out of that I am excited to show the world. Lastly, I've been watching a lot of movies recently. The latest was Frances Ha by Noah Baumbach, very good. I highly recommend it and the next on my watch list is Taste of Cherry by Abbas Kiarostami, I can already tell it will be great. Thank you!
RSp: