What was your everyday life like before you identified as an artist or a photographer? Did your initial environment influence your perspective? Was there a distinct catalyst or experience that pushed you towards an artistic path?

Sara Silks (SS): I was a very visual child and my mother encouraged this with art classes at our large city museum when I was quite young. There is a story I tell about being taken to the museum class when I was five years old by my grandfather, who then forgot to pick me up. I can joke that I immersed myself in the galleries in the museum from that point on, but it’s true!

My father owned hundreds of acres of rustic land on the Lake of the Ozarks that we explored most weekends and lived on every summer. We lived in log cabins and later an old farmhouse that was original to the land before the lake was created by the Corps of Engineers in 1931. Because many locals were original families to that land, I was aware at an early age that communities in the Osage River Valley were displaced, and I became what I consider a conservationist because of that.

I was left alone in my described renegade youth to explore the land, the water, the caves, and the glorious treed miles of undisturbed land, and this experience has found its way into my work.

Tell us something about your educational path and if it has informed your journey? You received your BA in both Visual Arts and Art History, and your MA in Art History with Honors. Has anyone been instrumental in guiding your visual consciousness and practical evolution?

SS: I attended a large liberal arts college so I could take classes in everything that interested me. I focused on the sciences for a few years, thinking that I would go into medicine in some capacity as a healer, influenced by my mother’s and sister’s illnesses. I was admitted and attended the medical center here, but realized that hospitals were not a great learning environment for me. I do believe that the years of scientific training and observation have helped the way I work, adding to the systems that I employ and think about in my research.

Fortunately, I had a place in school to return to, and the means and resolve to follow my current path in the arts, my first love.

© Sara Silks, "Light Ahead" 2021 from "Kaizen"

I remember my excitement taking my first art history survey class, and feeling the cogs falling into place. It all made sense to me in a way that regular history courses could not. I was the only visual arts major in the master’s program, and I found that my knowledge of the mediums and direct experience with the artist’s hand helped me differentiate my research and interests from others.
My graduate work included a dozen or so hours in advanced printmaking with John Talleur, who was a master intaglio printer. I made my own copper etching plates and mixed ink from dry pigment. I am so thankful for his professionalism in this field. I still think in layers like a printmaker, even in my photographic work.

About ten years ago, I took an Advanced Alternative Processes workshop with Christopher James at the Santa Fe Photographic Workshops. His mentorship and the fabulous alternative photographic work that I saw at the Verve Gallery (Josephine Sacabo, Elizabeth Opalenik, Jennifer Schlesinger, Caitlin Soldan) inspired and motivated me to continue my studies in alternative processes, and I credit that with where I am today.

What are the themes that interest you, what generally attracts your observation?

SS: I started my current path with portraits of my daughter. As time progressed, and our world dissolved in pandemic isolation, I have turned more to landscapes that are regional. There is much to see in my own backyard!
I love to travel and have lots of interesting images that mark my time in a place, like Paris, or Moab. I think my interest is eclectic, but I would say that my images all have a certain quality of light and mystery when I release them.

You are known internationally for your work in alternative and experimental processes. Talk to us about your approach to the medium? And how do you envision or conceptualize the projects?

SS: My teaching years gave me experience with Cyanotypes, Van Dyke, Platinum Palladium, Salt, and silver gelatin printing. Through my mentorship with Christopher James, I learned gum printing, wet-plate collodion, and albumen printing. I have taken multiple workshops with others over the years that have built a warm community.
My approach to a given project is to determine what process might enhance or increase the impact and meaning of the work. I am a firm believer that process is a complimentary addition to work and should never override it; to stand alone, there must be meaning to it.

© Sara Silks, "Warming Effect #3. Pigment Print on Unryu Washi, handwaxed 2019" from "Warming Effect"

My projects tend to articulate themselves into the world after a burst of creative energy. An idea that I have is explored without thinking too much about it. The act of production, play, and exploration opens up a conduit that is hard to explain. There is a time shift, and the world falls away when I am creating work, much like the celebrated diner scene in the movie GoodFellas, where the background of the scene in a diner moves slowly while the subject stays the same, in a tension of push and pull that changes our perception of time.

Have you undertaken projects or tasks that required you to venture into unfamiliar territories, physically or emotionally? If so, how do you cope with the uncertainties and daunting photo ventures? What have been some defining challenges or milestones on your artistic path?

SS: Being in unfamiliar territory is a description of my life, really. We are all born with fresh and tender sensibilities, and when coping with uncertainties in my artistic choices, I try to regain that perspective and not be jaded or discouraged with perceived failure. I think courage and a sense of humor are vital tools in any artist’s toolbox.
Some personal milestones, like leaving teaching to be a full-time artist, took courage and belief in myself. Pushing myself to do something with an uncertain future has led to personal growth, valuable experiences, a great network of like-minded artists and friends, and a great sense of accomplishment.

Two thoughts:
Being in this profession requires a tough skin and resilience, as well as certain confidence and drive to keep going.

Success is a long-term goal that requires maintenance and redefinition.

Two quotes from authors that I think about often:

“You know, sometimes all you need is twenty seconds of insane courage. Just literally twenty seconds of just embarrassing bravery. And I promise you, something great will come of it.” Benjamin Mee

"I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning how to sail my ship.” Louisa May Alcott

In the work "Kaizen" you wrote of images created from careful observation, thinking deeply about what you were seeing. Can you talk to us about the relationship between machine control and creation/research of the image that doesn’t exist, but exists in your gaze?

SS: Machines (whether cameras, editing software, or other technologies), capture, manipulate, and compress elements of reality by their nature. They remain limited though by their programming and physicality. It becomes the artist’s gaze, intuition, and intention that transform what a machine might capture into something less literal.

© Sara Silks, "Still Water and Starlink 2021" from "Kaizen"

© Sara Silks, "Waxing Crescent 2021" from "Kaizen"

In Kaizen, where careful observation and deep thought are central to my project, the machine may speed up my intention, facilitating the base of elements that I then change to fit my vision, seeing beyond the physical.
To be succinct, machines execute, while artists elevate.

Some of your works reflect a fear of climate change, a clear awareness of environmental challenges. The "Prairiefire" series led you to investigate land management practices and "indigenous knowledge". I love this sentence:
"Each of my images contains the threat of danger with suggestions of heat and flame, but the idea of survival through stoic determination and planned avoidance is also present. My work attempts to create, reenact, and revive images that become metaphors for a hopeful way of life, and to become a unique expression of fragility, vulnerability, and determination."

Do you think contemporary artists should take on greater responsibility in addressing the challenges of humanity? In recent years, we have often seen contemporary art slide into special effects, media stunts, or conceptual fireworks. Perhaps looking to the past, as you have done in this series, and approaching research as a practice of connection with the earth and ancient knowledge, offers an alternative to works that are overly flashy and glossy?

SS: Thank you, Steve…as a historian, I look at the work you describe as special effects, media stunts, and conceptual fireworks as a reflection of society. Technology has brought a massive influx of imagery into our everyday lives. That observation is not new, but having lived through the influx as an artist, I believe that it has increased collective feelings of anonymity, isolation and loneliness in the world. This causes frustration that manifests in the “splash” or “shock” photography that I see so much of.

© Sara Silks, "Prairiefire 8" from "Prairiefire"

I don’t consciously look to the past, but rather reach for the tools and remedies of my childhood to find an alternative path for my voice. I am thankful that you recognize my practice of connection with the earth and ancient knowledge, it has always been a deep interest to know what came before. I do not know how much my voice will be heard, but in our current challenges, sometimes when the normally quiet voice in the room does speak, it gets attention. We can only try!

Today's anxieties find a "remedy" in your series "Natsukashii" where the image is a peaceful meditation, an attempt to re-create, as you say, "the distinct memory that I have of times when I have felt "as one" with the environment surrounding me". Is this search for this "one" central in your work?

SS: I like how this question segues from my last answer, and I think it is really more about the choices I made growing up while navigating my familial landscape. I spoke earlier about the idea of unfamiliar territory, and my childhood had a lot of inconsistency. Every day had a set of new challenges.

© Sara Silks, "Kasumi (Mist) Hand waxed print on Unryu paper. Chine Colle on Rives BFK 2016" from "Natsukashii"

© Sara Silks, "Oboro (Obscure mist) Hand waxed print on Unryu paper. Chine Colle on Rives BFK 2016" from "Natsukashii"

© Sara Silks, "Shosai I (Detail 1). Hand waxed print on Unryu paper. Chine Colle on Rives BFK 2016" from "Natsukashii"

I chose to study at school, read anything I could get my hands on, and invent and draw my own world. I had the benefit of the outdoors with little or no technology, and imagination and creativity filled my days. Reading as much as I did helped me to learn about other possibilities in life, and I think my love for nature and feeling one with it was integral to my survival. It was and is my idea of heaven.

There's a clear reference in your work to Japanese culture. Is there something about that culture that resonates with you?

SS: Japanese culture provides a wealth of traditions, aesthetics, and artistic principles which influence me. Impermanence, fleeting moments of light and shadow, and the attentive layering of imagery all reflect ideas described by such words as “Kaizen,” “wabi-sabi” and “mono no aware.”
In my readings as a young person, I was introduced to Shintoism, which recognizes the spirit in all living things, and Zen Buddhism, which focuses on the present moment and mindfulness, as well as the egoless harmony between man and nature.

© Sara Silks, "Jabberwocky 7, 2002" from "Kaizen"

I was influenced deeply by these ideas that guide my actions and describe moments in my work when I am happiest.

Your craft is very intimate. How do you decide when a project is finished, and how do you curate the selection in your print series?

SS: I am in a group of artists who feel that some work is always ongoing, like in my Studies of Women. To answer your question more directly, the works that come all at once by playing with a visual idea, such as my series Warming Effects have a built-in expiration date. The impulse, motivation and feelings that I had during that outpouring of work are now different, and that causes a finality in a project.

© Sara Silks, "Wonderland" (Palladium print 2016) from "Studies of Women"

Recently I have been using Instagram as a journal for my work, noting color palettes and compositions that I seem to be drawn to, and that is a good way for me to start curating my work.

© Sara Silks, "Redux" (Pigment print on Mitsumasa washi) from "Studies of Women"

I once had a very good teacher who gave me terrific advice. When I worked on a painting or drawing, he advised that I should work on all parts of the canvas, rather than focus on one part of the drawing. He explained that we are a different person each time we return to the canvas, and that none of the elements in the work could ever be cohesive unless it was done in layers of time and experience. Always work the whole canvas…I tend to curate in the same way, looking at my work across time.

How would you ideally showcase your work? And in general how do you cope with advice, criticism, setbacks from the audience or experts?

SS: I was introduced to Alinka Echeverria’s work Heroine in a video she made for Lightwork. I aspire to integrate my work in such a deeply researched and creatively exhibited format someday. I think it is important for me to show work that integrates alternative processes and contemporary image-making, and am thinking more about how to do that.
My mentors, reviewers, and friends are all resources to help elevate and amplify my work, and I respect other ideas incredibly. I come from a teaching background that allowed for collaboration and that respected unique individualism, which provided a safety net for criticisms and setbacks. I am also a lifelong learner and am excited about ideas of any kind, the more the merrier.

How do you see the future of the expanded visual medium evolving? And communication of one's own work...

I once visited the Museum of Art in New Orleans that was an ultimate learning experience…things from their collection that were made by artists and craftsmen in a similar date range were exhibited together, and the viewer could get a sense of the zeitgeist of that time in a sensory way. I would love to see curators take on that challenge and try to represent a world view of expanded visual media in a contextually rich way.

The future relies heavily on those willing to support the arts and see value in them. I imagine a tough time ahead with less innovation in our current climate, but history does tell us that valuable moments of collective creation can happen during these oppressive times. I try to remain hopeful and just focus on my work.

In this fast changing environment have there been periods where you felt the need to redefine or pivot your artistic direction? Or to find your grounding again? How do you handle evolution in your life/work?

SS: I think the biggest upheaval in my environment and evolution occurred when I decided to give up my career in education, and begin this current path. It has been wonderful and exciting and scary and revealing, and all that on repeat. I would recommend a change or upheaval mid-career to anyone!

© Sara Silks, "AKI (AUTUMN). Hand waxed print on Unryu paper. Chine Colle on Rives BFK 2016" from "Natsukashii"

It is hard to lose your grounding when life is too exciting to let your feet touch down.

Any interesting books that you recommend and that recently inspired you and why?

SS: I find that I gravitate to certain imprint/publisher’s sensibilities, and I find myself following and studying their sites and also the bookstores that support them. I would be a bookseller in another life, I am sure. I collect many handmade artist and photography books, and books with unusual construction.

I have acquired Frederick Sommer’s The Box and Son of The Box (Nazraeli Press) via my gallerist friend Tom Gitterman, who was kind enough to sell them to me from his collection.

Miho Kajioka first showed her book dummy of So it Goes with IBASHO Gallery at AIPAD in 2019, and I followed its progress until I was able to secure one of the handmade editions from a gallery in Arles.
I treasure it.
(Miho works with the (M)éditions, and I love everything they publish.)

Yukari Chikura has the most beautifully printed and considered book, Zaido, published by Steidl, which I go back to frequently.
I am leaving out so many, but there is only so much space here!

Which photographer would you like to read an interview with in Urbanautica Journal? Why?