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Jan Estep is Associate Professor in the Department of Art at the University of Minnesota, Twin Cities. Selected notable past projects include Beneath the Surface (of language), 2011; Wittgenstein Project, 2007; The Antarctica Project/Because Snow Never Melts, 2004; and “Survival Wear,” 1996- 2001.

Jan Estep is currently working on two exciting conceptual-based projects. Most recent and ongoing is a collaborative interdisciplinary art and cognitive neuroscience project, titled Thinking Portraits. And this past summer (2011), Estep traveled to the Grand Canyon and performed Metta and Loving Kindness acts to honor those who had taken their lives there in the related projects, Grand Canyon Suicide Map and Metta Meditation, Grand Canyon National Park.

Photographically, Estep’s contributions expand the range and approach to traditional image-making. I sat down with her recently to learn about her refreshing process, but also about how her experience in life is ultimately one of her most used materials.

MPB: Your background has philosophical flavorings. Could you contextualize what your role and responsibilities are to the Art Department at the University of Minnesota?

JE: I am hired through the photography area, but honestly, I’m photo/interdisciplinary.

In terms of my teaching, I develop more conceptual-based processes rather than technically-based processes. For example, one of the photography classes I’ve developed is Performative Photography: Documentation of Artistic Acts and Social Interventions. The class parallels my own relationship with the camera. I’m affiliated with the photography area, but I use the camera, really, as a tool when it’s appropriate in my projects, usually documenting some other behavior.

MPB: Speaking of this approach, but stepping back to 2001, as part of the series “Survival Wear,” you trekked through a forest in Wisconsin and photographed yourself for the Hunter Dress images.

JE: Yes. I designed the dress, a simple bodice, a simple skirt; the skirt is made with a Realtree nature-print pattern that hunters use during hunting season, using a material that would help camouflage me but a bodice that is bright red, so I’m also a target. I hiked with my camera, tripod, and garment carried in a backpack. I made the dress the entire time with this particular image of me draped over a tree in mind, like a hunted, trapped animal in some kind of dark fairy tale. I hiked in the woods until I found a felled tree, and found a way to hoist myself on to it. In this case, I only took two takes: I put the camera on a timer. It just felt right. I felt I got the image.

This image is part of a series. In another image, I was on the ground; in the other, I leaned on the tree. But the point is that this is how I use the camera, to document an event or action that otherwise would go unnoticed, and also to be able to share it with others.

I have to rely on the viewer imagining what this experience would be like, of extending themselves into the situation: so in the case of this image, what would motivate me, what would it be like to be out in the woods like this, hanging over a tree. What other references does the image hold?

MPB: What’s compelling is the experience, the momentary time and context–the ingredients of life.

JE: Yes. I’m interested in the primary behavior, the trip event, the research, my experience, and as the artist, it’s always, “Can you share the experience with people? How can you share it with people? How can you make it interesting for the viewer?”

MPB: But it’s even the joy you express, or your curiosity–and sometimes the way you inhabit that circumstance, and how those qualities become communicated. The person in the environment.

JE: That’s how I got into the photography. I needed a way to document these things I wanted to do in the world. Lots of artists do this. It’s not a totally novel idea.

I think about this a lot, “How can I have these kinds of experiences, which I think are important not only selfishly, but how are they going to be shared to others—my audience?”

The dilemma is as the artist I always get an incredible amount of satisfaction and engagement from making the work, but others don’t have that creative, making moment. So the issue is, will anybody else get anything else out of it? In this case, documentation is not about replicating the experience or providing a way for someone to mirror it in some experiential way; that’s not possible, nor do I think it’s necessary for the work to have meaning or to communicate. Nonetheless, I wonder what the pay off will be for my viewers, and will what I’ve done translate when they’re not with me, they’re not in the forest?

MPB: But even so, you’ve exhibited the work with success. Moving to more recently–this past summeryou worked on quite the project!

JE: Yes! Last year I made a map of all the suicides that have occurred in the Grand Canyon—the valley of the canyon—the ones that have been recorded by the National Park Service, going back to 1900. There have been 59 known suicides, most of them from jumping or driving off the edge. Over 600 people have died, and some “accidents” could have been suicides, but only 59 suicides have been determined. Relative to all the deaths in the region, most of the suicides happen at the Grand Canyon National Park, clustering mainly around the South Rim of the Park.

Grand Canyon Suicide Map, 2011, detail

This past summer I spent a week at the Park, both the North and South Rims. My agenda for the trip was to retrace and visit all the spots where people had taken their lives, and perform acts of Metta mixed with compassion. I had a backpack of Z-rests as a seat cushion, and in each spot I would meditate and reflect.

What’s curious about these sites is most people who go to the Canyon are blown away by the beauty. They’re there to gawk and awe and be amazed, and to be outdoors in that setting which is full of life. But there have been times where in front of the same sublime spot there are people who are so distraught, so alienated from themselves and life, they jump or take their life.

MPB: You were there as a tourist and interacting with the tourists, right? 

JE: Exactly. Yes, I was a tourist, but for some of my projects, there’s pilgrimage—it’s part of the experience.

For the Grand Canyon, each day I hiked my way out along the Rim trails, stopping by each of the sites to meditate, then at the end of the day I’d ride the shuttle back to the campground, cramped in the bus like sardines with lots of other talkative tourists. There were also lots of visitors around me as I meditated, and I just included them in my Metta.

Suicide is a serious thing. It’s about suffering and being in pain. A lot of us suffer in different ways. These two experiences—tourism and alienation—were happening simultaneously.

MPB: Tourism is a metaphor about life: in life, we’re visitorswe’re here, we come, then we go. The visitor theme is strong in the project because multiple dimensions about traveling are happening simultaneously in the parkvisitors in life, visitors to the park. 

Traveling to another project. Could you reflect on your Wittgenstein pilgrimage because it exemplifies your philosophical underpinnings and curiosities?

JE: When I visited Wittgenstein’s hut in Norway, the project was partially about this famous philosopher who built a hut in the middle of Norway, where is it, what is it?

MPB: To which you created a map.

JE: Yeah! I’ve been very enamored by Wittgenstein’s philosophy. He was the first philosopher I ever read, though I didn’t understand much of it. I can reread it, reread it and still discover new things.

In this project, I took the camera as a way to document the trip, though I didn’t know at the outset what kind of art would arise. I ended up making a map that literally maps where the hut is, which had never been done before. It’s a functional map that you can buy and if you want to visit his hut, there’s an essay about the trip, some historical information, and archival pictures as well. It will get you there.

Searching for Ludwig Wittgenstein, Lake Eidsvatnet, Skjolden, Sogn, Norway

Maps are interesting. They have this factual tie to the world, yet they are really subjective, an interpretation of the empirical world. In a way they are like photographs—at the same time they’re real and not real, natural and cultural. It’s a paradox. I think maps also play that role: they’re two-dimensional, they’re a schema, they’re not realistic, and yet they represent reality, too.

The maps were made with the support of a McKnight Fellowship. In the Wittgenstein map, the essay talks about two interrelated things about the hike. As I walked to the hut, in my head I had this narrative of who Wittgenstein was—informed by fame, informed by the legend and what he knew, his ideas about language and the world—he’s so smart and thoughtful—and then alongside this there was a really strong experience of the physical world: an embodied physical element. It was both of these things at the same time.

Wittgenstein lived in a particular social time, experienced a specific historical perspective, a materially and intellectually concrete location, which helped shape how his thoughts manifested. It’s curious to me how his ideas are taken up by contemporary readers, where they have resonance. And also how the embodied, lived experience relates to thoughts and thinking.

I return a lot to the connection between the mind and the body, in a very philosophical way. How do you make art about this? I don’t just want to write about it. I also look for opportunities that give my audience a different entry point. Is the body just a container for the mind? I think that concept is too simplistic.

(Moment of silence.)

I’m also doing a project called Thinking Portraits that’s a cross-collaboration with a group of cognitive neuroscientists in the Department of Psychology. Part of our research uses functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI), calculating blood flow, oxygen levels in human brains during specific thinking and memory tasks.

The fMRI machine gathers this information from each subject, and then scientists treat the data to algorithms mathematically, so that it is organized to create an image. The resulting visual presentation is as if we’re seeing another person’s brain, yet it’s not a contact print or direct X-ray. Rhetorically, it appears as a photograph, and the images seem to have all the evidentiary quality that a photo has. They’re anatomical, they’re realistic, it’s . . ..

MPB: But it’s not a photo made by a camera: the data is formulated, then manipulated to create an image like a graph.

JE: Yes. It’s called a “scan,” but it’s not a real scan. It’s very seductive. Not only as an image, but also what we think it’s showing us about the brain, direct visual access to the body.

Again, it’s this kind of photographic perspective here, I’m using it as a way to analyze what the fMRI data shows—how people respond to it, and take its truth-value as much more simplistic than it actually is. The image and data is a highly interpretable thing. Scientists disagree about what it means.

MPB: What is your role? How much longer is this project going to continue?

JE: We’ve been meeting for nearly two years now and our study is almost ready to begin. I’ve been part of the group as we research and create the scientific study, and also will be one of the test subjects. I’m hoping to use the resulting images of my own brain to produce some self-portraits and related works.

I’ve learned so much about science, the brain and mind, from working with this team; they’ve been incredibly generous to welcome an artist in the group, which as you can imagine shifts things a little bit. Artist and scientists ask questions differently than one another, and we can learn a lot from sharing our processes.

Again, I’ve taken up a project that poses a similar dilemma: how do I take my own interests in the world and how we connect our thoughts and feelings about our experience, and create art out of those interests? The art for Thinking Portraits is very much still emerging from the process, and pushing me in ways I’ve never experienced before.

MPB: Collectively, your projects are very personal.

JE: The great thing about art—when you put the frame of art around something, or when you’re in the right frame of mind—is, it shifts the way your perceive reality. You look at the world anew. And ultimately, it helps you understand something about the world that you didn’t quite know before, yet feels totally in sync with what your experience tells you.

Visit for more information about Estep’s work.

Metta Meditation, Grand Canyon National Park, Pima Point, 2011, photo documentation


Hunter Dress, Draped, 2001, from “Survival Wear,” color photograph, 30 by 41 inches

Hunter Dress series, Exhibition view, Donald Young Gallery, Chicago, 2001

Wittgenstein Project, Exhibition view, “McKnight Visual Artists 2006-2007,” MCAD Gallery, Minneapolis, July to August 2007

Wittgenstein Project, Exhibition view, “Out of the Comfort Zone,” Nash Gallery, Minneapolis, September to October 2007

Signs en route to Wittgenstein’s Hut, Norway, 2007, photographic digital inkjet print, 22″h x 48″w

Searching for Ludwig Wittgenstein, Lake Eidsvatnet, Skjolden, Sogn, Norway, 2007, illustrated folded sheet map, four-color offset print, 32″w x 24″h (unfolded), 3″w x 8″h (folded).

Grand Canyon Suicide Map, 2011, digital inkjet print, map pins, 39″h x 86″w

Grand Canyon Suicide Map, 2011, detail

Metta Meditation, Grand Canyon National Park, Pima Point, 2011

Metta Meditation, Grand Canyon National Park, Shoeshone Point, 2011


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Areca Roe self-describes her photo series, Natural History, as ongoing. However, the current 12 piece series is fresh and delightful, full of whim and surprise, and effective as it explores our personal and societal relationship with nature and our environment.

Take a look at her series in the image gallery as well as excerpts from recent written correspondence between Areca Roe and Tuc Hollingsworth.

Areca Roe is a recent MFA photography graduate from the University of Minnesota, currently a professor of photography at Arts Institute, and recently became an Artist in Residence at the Bell Museum.

MPB: Could you explain the origins and evolution of Natural History?

AR: This project emerged partly because I had to start producing images in grad school, and I was grasping for a project that I could have some more control over, particularly so I could photograph indoors in the dead of winter. It arose almost out of necessity. I also have a longstanding interest in the natural world—so much so that I actually majored in biology/ ecology in my undergrad studies and worked in that field for a while. I began thinking about how our connection to the natural world, or maybe I should say disconnection, could be explored visually. It has opened up a lot of visual possibilities, and I’ve now done a number of projects branching from this topic, including Natural History. Once I arrived at the idea of creating images from nature out of domestic items, and setting them in various environments, I immediately had a dozen ideas so I felt I had hit upon a project that could sustain me for a while. (Not all those ideas were good ones, mind you, but they were ideas none the less!)

MPB: Do you stage your own sets?

AR: Yes, I generally use some part of my house as the setting, or a friend’s house, or another familiar locale. Staging the photo is great fun for me. I love considering all the odd details and textures that are present in the location and incorporating them.  In the image “The Den” I photographed in my brother’s house that he shared with two other guys. There was a strange old portrait on the living room wall of two people that none of them had any connection to. It was a detail I never could have planned, and I felt compelled to leave it up. I try to take cues from my environment like this, use what I have, rather than impose my ideas upon it too much. That keeps it more interesting for me. In some of the images, my kind friends and relatives allowed me to photograph them, and I find it refreshing to collaborate in this way. It’s less lonely, certainly! One of the more difficult images to stage in this series was “The Wallpaper.”  I had to put up two layers of wallpaper on one of my studio walls, and then after a few months I took it down… which took a lot longer than putting it up, as you might imagine.

MPB: Who are the first people to see your photos after they’re made?

AR: Usually it’s my husband. He’s got a good eye and is incredibly intelligent, so I usually seek out feedback from him about my work.

MPB: There’s comedy as well as curiosity in NATURAL HISTORY. What are your direct influences, even if they’re not visual influences?

AR: Yes, I do think there’s a certain absurdity and strangeness to the images, and I like that. One of my favorite artists right now is Nina Katchadourian—she works in a wide variety of media, and many of her pieces evoke a response of laughter. Her work is odd and surprising, but it’s definitely more than funny. She has some photographs of spider webs that she “fixed” by putting red thread into damaged areas of the web. It’s absurd act of course… the spiders can fix it much more effectively themselves, and they toss the thread out. So it’s initially surprising, but also gets at ideas about our bumbling interference with natural processes.

MPB: What genre of photography would you say your work is most often/if NATURAL HISTORY falls in? 

AR: I don’t think a lot about genres. When people ask me what type of photography I do, I’m kind of at a loss to pin it down, and I usually give some lame answer like “art photography.” Some of my photographs are quite constructed and staged, like Natural History, but I also do a lot of documentary style photography, of going out in the world to find my images. I think some of the Natural History images do act a bit like landscapes, or draw from that tradition, such as “The Flowers.”

MPB: How do you feel about your work being didactic — the title itself indicates that possibility, but the human figures have an allegorical feel?

AR: I don’t want my work to be too didactic, certainly. I’d rather have it pose questions, or evoke feelings, than to dictate. In thinking about a title for the series, I wanted something ambiguous, but hinting at the idea of our lost connections with the natural world. As in, we in the western world once had a strong connection with natural world in our daily lives, but we’ve largely insulated ourselves from it now. It’s history.

MPB: If it’s possible, can you describe the goal of NATURAL HISTORY?

AR: I basically wanted to explore the idea of desiring a connection to animals or nature, of ways that that desire might manifest itself. It’s certainly somewhat aesthetically driven as well– I wanted to make images that are interesting to look at.

MPB: What size do you present this work?

AR: I like these to be somewhat large since there are many details in the scenes, so they are generally 24” by 30”.

MPB: Do you make pictures everyday? Do you take photos for Facebook, iPhone library, for yourself to frame as memories?

AR: Not every day, but I do on most days. I love to take snapshots with my phone or a small camera, but I like to put these in a different mental category than images I make to call art. I try to keep that separation of the two image categories– it frees me up to take horrible or cheesy photos.

MPB: You have an opening tonight at the Nash Gallery. Congrats. What else are you working on?

AR: I am currently an Artist in Residence at the Bell Museum. I’m collaborating with them on an interesting project. We are asking for submissions of photographs  from the public to create an exhibit, with the topic being nature in winter. I’ll be a kind of curator, and will be making an installation based on the images that came in. I’m very excited to work with the Bell, and to do this kind of participatory and collaborative project.

Link for information and for submissions (which begin Dec. 22nd):

I also have some work (from the Habitat series) in a show at the Nash Gallery currently.  (The Nash Gallery group show, titled “Regarding Place” opens this evening, Dec. 15th, and runs until Feb. 4th)

MPB: Where is NATURAL HISTORY going next?

AR: I plan to show some of the images from Natural History at Notre Dame University in the Art Department’s Gallery next March-April.

MPB: What do you look for in a photo series? (Your own, others)

AR: It’s hard for me to pinpoint… I get excited by the aesthetics as well as the ideas underlying the images, of course. Series that are innovative, that push boundaries, that are funny or odd in some way are also appealing to me. Series that make me ask questions.

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Occidente Nuevo: Recycled Tijuana

For years, The United States’ architectural waste has been recycled into Tijuana’s neighborhoods, a six decade export business still thriving around the country’s high profiled territorial south border.

Minnesota photographers Laura Migliorino and Anthony Paul Marchetti have partnered together to explore not only the architectural traces of these repurposed structures, but the city and culture that overwhelmingly clash inside the “border” of the city. To date they’ve taken five photo expeditions, and together, their documentation of Tijuana housing has arguably become a definitive collection of the iconic and infamous present-day border city.

In what is more than an architectural project, the collaborative team examines human and universal elements as well as themes of border relationships, commerce, and understated politics.

Both Laura Migliorino and Anthony Paul Marchetti teach photography at Anoka Ramsey, and recently they spoke with MPB about the background, scope, and process of their project.

MPB: How did Tijuana get on your radar screen?

LM: I was in a touring show at the Walker Art Center called Worlds Away. The show was about suburbia. One of the artists in the three museum tour was the architect Teddy Cruz. Teddy and I started chatting at a panel discussion at the Carnegie Museum, and he introduced me to this phenomena of Tijuana houses which had been literally flatbeaded, hoisted off their foundation–flatbeaded in total–and taken over the border.

I thought this was totally fascinating: that you virtually have an entire city built out of the debris–architectural debris–from the United States.

Anthony and I have shared interests and have worked together before. When I told him about this project, he said, . . .

APM: I want in.

(Both laugh.)

APM: I went ahead two times before Laura to get the lay of the land and contacts.

LM: Anthony did a lot of the preliminary reconnaissance; but the last three trips we’ve taken together. It’s a good collaborative project because, for example, I have to find people because I take portraits, and Anthony looks out for me.

APM: Like any photographic project it starts out as an exploration, a learning experience. But for both of our work, it’s the next interesting step because of the use of space and the way it fits in the conversation about suburban and urban housing.

LM: To some extent, we’re interested in architecture: in buildings, dwellings, and urban planning. We both have an interest in how architecture affects one’s life, one’s living environment.

APM: The series also shows the transmigration of waste, and how trash goes to an impoverished country, and the way trash–in this case architecture–influences culture.

LM: Yes! Architecture is made for people. Unfortunately architecture doesn’t always think about the people who are going to use the spaces–and that’s a disconnect.

MPB: There’s a range of housing styles found in Tijuana, correct?

LM: Yes, they puzzle together their housing–whether it’s shipped ranch suburban homes from California, or it’s spontaneous developments.

The history of United States architectural recycling is pretty old. The first flatbeaded pre-manufactured housing shipping began in the 1940s after World War II: a military housing development in San Diego was shipped over the border and planted in Mexico for reuse, and now it’s a Tijuanan housing subdivision. This process of moving American houses continues still in various forms–most of it is suburban housing now; it’s a thriving business, actually.

APM: But the houses sprinkle out, and it gets very undeveloped especially when you go out to the outlaying neighborhoods. It’s there you see the modular living environments. Tijuana grows quickly.

LM: You see houses in the outer neighborhoods that are entirely a squatter’s-ville, houses made from corrugated metal or cardboard. These spontaneous developments are actually hard to get to. There’s now a portion of the city that’s grown to a canyon called Moralez. It’s okay when the river is dry. But when it rains and the river swells, it becomes very problematic.

MPB: Your goal is to show the work at Concordia College in Saint Paul next year. Why show this work in Minnesota?

APM: Even though the content of this series is in Mexico, showing the work here is a noble and important thing to do.

LM: We’re a border state. Exploring the border relationship south of the American border and showing how radically different our border relationship is to north of the border is a strong comparison.

We hope to show our project in tandem at Concordia with two Mexican artists who have similar interests, Ingrid Hernandez and Alejandro Cartagena. We also have a show scheduled in Tijuana in September 2012.

APM: Laura and I feel it’s valuable to immerse the work in the community we’re photographing.

LM: It’s a big deal. It’s a new international, two person show. There’s a lot of work to present. But to go back to the question, three of my Tijuana portraits are being shown for the first time in a show at the MPLS Photo Center. Having the resulting exhibition in our home-state is very much on our radar.

MPB: Do you know of any other artists working on documenting Tijuana at present?

LM: Renee Palmalto’s book Tijuana Now is a rich resource.

MPB: Where in the project are you now?

LM: We’re still collecting examples of this phenomena. There’s maybe a point in the future when we have enough to speak about this, but when we’ve collected enough we need to do with Tijuana, I know I will want to trace the architecture in San Diego or wherever else it came from.

We could photograph Cleveland or Detroit, but the border elements fascinate me.

APM: Me, too.

What do you think: is photography in a growth spurt, a gangly adolescent? Is photography still in its infancy, hoping to realize its potential? Or has the camera blossomed technically, stylistically reacting to its established archetypes of documentary, fine art, landscape, portraiture, topographical, avant-garde styles?

If still growing, which directions will the camera’s enthusiasts direct the genre? If fully formed, are the camera’s practitioners engaging with the form’s legacies? And will the future participators in this form document their own circumstances similarly to how the photographers of yesterday decided to create an image? What is the future of non-camera processes? What technological discoveries will enable or make it possible for tomorrow’s photographer to expand the genre and therefore the capabilities of this presently teeming art form?

If these questions are interesting to you, or if you think you have answers to them, then this blog is for you.

MINNESOTAPHOTOBLOG.COM hopes to stir debate and conversation, allowing the photo-enthusiast and perhaps the random e-visitor the possibility to reexamine his or her definitions of photo-making, enhance his or her enjoyment of the photographic index, connect with others who share a fascination and appreciation for the lenses and bodies that facilitate this work, and to explore work from the photo index that more generally expands our awareness of things photo-related and a result the scope of our physical world.

Expect the following:

  • Continuous interviews of photographers, heterogenous in content and ambition, moderated inventively.
  • Discussion topics. (First theme will be: whether a photograph is made or taken)
  • Events board about photography happenings throughout the state of Minnesota.
  • A free-submission, bi-monthly photo competition decided upon by a rotating crew of judges, along with monthly winner decided by the followers of the blog.


MINNESOTAPHOTOBLOG.COM is a forum for the celebration, exhibition, and discussion of great photo-making influenced by Minnesota (as either made by Minnesotans, made in Minnesota, or made because of some legit Minnesota connection).

Presenting contemporary, nostalgic, and even non-camera processes, the hope for this blog is to explore, examine, and interrogate as many diverse approaches, purposes, philosophies, and techniques there are in the field of photo-making.

This site’s goal is to celebrate the entirety of the photographic traditions from the past, allowing this forum’s readers to celebrate and better understand the contemporary photography of own time, and therefore foster a public discussion about relevant and critically interesting work via a digital interface.

Even if this hub favors a Minnesota vibe–that doesn’t mean we won’t travel or check the driver’s permit all the time.

Expect to peruse continuous paradigm-expanding selections of work; accessible curatorial writing; new artists and series; curated submissions; discussions involving photographers.  Collectively, the published content and the way the content is presented strive to foster a culture of interaction.

So without ado, I christen a new forum. MINNESOTAPHOTOBLOG.COM is an attempt to offer a community platform; to raise awareness and create discussion about photography’s ability to contextualize our surroundings; to explore unique and powerful techniques for the pioneers of film and now in the digital camera-making processes, allowing enthusiasts, professionals, and students to exchange ideas and celebrate picture-making techniques as a tool for self and community expression.

Please follow and converse!

Read the creator’s statement about this project on the ABOUT page.

Explore the creator’s personal practice: