Artist's Statement for my Intro to Photography final portfolio

At the beginning of my final portfolio project for my Introduction to Photography class this semester, we are required to have an "Artist's Statement." While this sort of grand introduction to my work effectively assumes that my work is worthy of the title of an "artist," my joy in writing leaves no room for false modesty. I am an artist. I have always been an artist and will always be so. Just as I will always be a "dancer" and a "master teacher"--titles that I cherish, I could never have been anything but an artist from the moment that I was born to parents who, themselves, made every day a creative masterpiece.

I like how this turned out. Nathan read it and offered me the supreme compliment: "Mom, I don't know anyone who writes like you do. You make the reader feel what you are saying." Trust me when I admit that I am a more accomplished writer than I am black and white photographer--but at this point I am better at composing and taking a photograph on black and white film, developing that film myself, and then making prints from those negatives than I was when I began this class. I much prefer writing about the experience to actually slodging through the whole thing . . . it takes time and skill that I don't care to invest.

But learning that is a good thing to know.

Artist’s Statement

While I was in high school, I felt a compulsion to learn and do everything possible. I danced, ran, wrote in my journal, composed essays, sang in choirs and as a soloist, played the flute and the piano, acted in plays, edited our high school yearbook, read voraciously, painted with watercolours, stenciled butterflies along the walls of my bedroom and sketched (mostly horses) in the margins of my calculus and chemistry homework. I was—I realize now—obsessed with the need to make sense of (and to find a plausible reality within) the constantly changing sensibilities of my teenage world. Our family moved often because of my father’s work. I attended three different schools my 8^th grade year. Outside of me, there was nothing stable—inside of me, I could find order and completeness. I could not know where I might be living next year, but I could learn how to safeguard my feelings by closely reading the faces of new classmates and to immerse myself in a protective cocoon of music, books, words and art.

Nancy Kathleen Burton Wagstaff

Star Valley High School graduation portrait

My mother, who was herself a gifted teacher, pianist, musician, writer, seamstress, and artist, set the standard for my personal expectations. We were given talents, she reminded us, so that we could serve and share with others. That attitude freed me from the need to create perfect works of art, play perfect piano sonatas, or understand completely a subject matter—before I could enjoy and share my discoveries.

Carolyn Eva Wagstaff Hendry

Self Portrait for 50^th Birthday

“Reflection”

This freedom has permitted me to find joy in the process of taking, developing and printing black and white photographs. I am not good at patience, but I have become good this semester at finding satisfaction in the slow, steady improvement of my ability to create in this medium. It is a medium that requires skill and attention to detail. It is a medium that I am beginning to grasp and starting to enjoy for its own sake. Working with black and white photography has increased my attention to how light and shadow interact and to intricate shapes in nature and in my own man-made surroundings. I am far from being an accomplished black and white photographer. I am closer, though, to seeing better, yet another aspect of who I am and what I may yet become.