Disrupting images | Teresa Williams
It’s rare that my pictures make it to the finish line without being dramatically altered in some way. Ever since I became interested in photography I have been transforming images.
For me, the process of making is just as important, if not more so, than the finished image. At its most crude level, the physicality of touching and feeling the work is cathartic, and the act of this cathartic physicality is self-perpetuating.
Impression #6, 2020 – Composite of artist’s photograph with vintage newspaper
Home is not a Place, 2020 – Digital composite of artist’s photographs
Using both digital and hands-on techniques (often a mixture of the two) involves me so intensely that I often have difficulty in knowing when to let go. The image that I am involved in at that precise moment becomes an expression, an extension of myself, an obsession. It is a process which is so integral to my idea of self, that being able to withdraw from it takes self-control.
"I often have difficulty in knowing when to let go”
The disruption of images is perhaps most widely known through the surrealist, dada, expressionist, Bauhaus, and pop art movements; all of which to some extent used collage techniques. The trend to cut, rip, paste, and assemble continues to this day as a means of self-expression and political satire. The process is used in thematic explorations of history, memory, and trauma.
Paddling, 2018 – Light on found photograph
In the last few years, I have been hugely influenced by work which is literally and metaphorically punctured; where meanings, associations, and lived experiences are pricked directly into the image.
Jessa Fairbrother’s beautifully delicate and intricate stitching, Amy Friend’s light perforations, and Adriene Hughes’ embroidery all resonate with me, deeply and viscerally.
Evidence of Working, 2021 – Reworking of found images, vintage newspaper, foil, and crotchet (using my Grandmother’s thread)
During a visit to New England towards the turn of the new millennium, I became acquainted with the tradition of quilting - intricate collages in their own right - intending to set my hand to it when I returned home. It’s a piece that as yet remains unfinished, but the process of embroidering on to it was the first time I can recall making something by embellishing it through intervention (rather than making for its own sake). Unlike the quilts of the early American colonies, mine was made from fabric and thread purchased solely for the purpose of making something new. Theirs were made from used material, leftovers.
Nowadays, when I am making, I prefer to use or re-use what is already at hand.
Crowds at Bouley Bay, 2020 – Digital composite of images sourced online
Digitally I have reused small fragments of images sourced online, adding props and other techniques to create populated landscapes, which are in fact seamless digital quilts. This was a new way of working, which came out of necessity when I was unable to travel in 2020.
Crowds at The Cobb, 2020 – Digital composite of images sourced online
Phyllis, 1922; from the Travels of two Ladies in Dorset and Jersey in the 1920s, 2021 - Found photograph with crotchet and foil
In my work every stitch, every shred of newspaper, every new layer added transforms and suggests a different narrative from the one before. I would like the viewer to look beyond the surface, to create their own interpretation and meaning. At that point my work is done.
by Teresa Williams
All images shown are the artist’s work
www.teresawilliamsphotography.com
@teresa_williams__
Teresa is a photographic visual artist. Her work, often playful, explores and reimagines the ordinary. She intervenes with the image, layering to weave threads that are both literal and metaphoric.