barron claiborne

An Interview With Barron Claiborne (Part 3)

Barron Claiborne

Rope

2001

Born and raised in Boston, Barron Claiborne moved to New York City in 1989 assisting photography legends such as Richard Avedon, Irving Penn, and Gordon Parks. Nathalie Martin spoke with Barron about what informs his practice, the limits and reaches of photography, and the importance of constantly creating. Claiborne reflects on self-taught mastery and how his extremely honest, critical, yet sensitive eye has landed him in permanent collections all over the world, including the Polaroid Museum Cambridge, the Brooklyn Museum, the Houston Museum of Fine Arts, and MoCADA.

Continued from Part 2

NM: Are you of the opinion that the work needs another set of eyes for it to be finished?

 

Barron Claiborne: I think to a point. Yeah, I think so. I think it’s good to see how other people interpret your work, because usually it’s completely different than you.

 

NM: Do you think the viewer completes the work, or that the work is made, finished, and then shown?

 

Barron Claiborne: No, I think the viewer has their own opinion of the work. It matters what I thought of the work when I was making it. It’s great to hear other people’s opinions. That’s part of being an artist– I don’t mind that. If you hate my work, I don’t care, somebody else likes it. But at least tell me why you hate it. And who are you to criticize me when I’m doing some shit you can’t do?

 

NM: Well, totally.

Barron Claiborne: That’s the problem. When I see dudes doing crazy shit– sometimes I like to watch when people are snowboarding, doing all kinds of crazy shit, jumping out buildings with no parachutes–I’m not interested in doing it. But I still think it’s amazing that they do it. I think it’s amazing. When I see those dudes on snowboards and they’re doing like 720’s and all kinds of shit, that’s just fucking amazing. I’m not interested in doing it, but I would never want them to stop doing it. I would never want somebody to stop them from doing it. Because it’s part of the human spirit. They’re willing to risk it all. Dude, some of that shit is crazy. You see kids doing handstands in a chair on a cliff. I think it’s amazing that they want to challenge their physical body that much, that they’re doing this crazy shit, you know? It’s amazing.

 

NM: Definitely. It’s a form of art.

Barron Claiborne: Right, exactly. I think all that stuff is cool. I don’t think it’s dumb. They’re doing it for a reason. And it also lets you know all the different parts of the human spirit, like what humans are capable of. And that’s what’s amazing about that shit. It just shows you what humans are capable of.

NM: That’s true. Do you like discourse about your work?

 

Barron Claiborne: I don’t really like to talk about it. It’s visual, so what’s the point? That’s how I feel. It’s visual. You should interpret it yourself. It’s better if I don’t give you an interpretation. You can guess, you can make up your own answer, and then I find out shit about my work. You give something back to me.

 

NM: Totally.

 

Barron Claiborne: Other people tell you things that you never saw in it. You’ll be like, “Oh shit, I never thought about that.”

 

NM: So the meaning of your work changes?

 

Barron Claiborne: Sure. To different people.

Barron Claiborne

Long Life with Cigarette (Sierra Leone)

2007

NM: But even to you, I mean. When you hear other people’s discoveries about your work.

 

Barron Claiborne: Over time, yeah. Sometimes I’ll do photos and I never even look at them. And then I’ll look at them like, you know, five years later, and I’ll be like, “Wow, these are fucking nice.” But when I did them, I thought they were only okay. But then you start seeing ones and you’re like, “Oh shit, that’s nice.” Because you were at a different time. You were different then. But a lot of my photos I do now, I did them in childhood, I just have better equipment, and I know the techniques, how to light the camera, so I can do them better than I did when I was 10 or 11.

 

NM: Well, because your work too is aesthetically timeless, I feel like you can come back to it, you can return, and things are changing. Some things might work even better now than they did five years ago.

 

Barron Claiborne: Right. Exactly.

 

NM: How do you prefer your work to be shown? Do you like galleries, museums?

 

Barron Claiborne: No, galleries seem sterile to me. Museums too.

 

NM: I think in the work, the patterns and colors you play around with, shouldn’t be presented in a sterile environment.

 

Barron Claiborne: Yeah, I don’t like it. I saw a photo exhibit I really liked in Europe; it was in a castle. The guys’ photos were all in the castle, in the environment of this beautiful museum, and I thought that was pretty cool because it was all different shit. It was fucking weird. I thought that was cool to outfit a whole place with your work. That was different. But yeah, galleries are very sterile. And I was a commercial photographer, so I’m used to fighting with other photographers, bringing in your portfolio– like, yeah, I could go to fucking Yale and then come back big because I can theorize a picture of a chair. I could do that before I went to Yale. But that appeals to authority. People want that stuff because if you went to Yale, you must be better than most people. But in photography, that doesn’t really work.

 

NM: Really? Are you saying that photography is a specific medium you don’t need school or “formal training” for?

 

Barron Claiborne: I guess for some people. I didn’t go to school for that. I mean, nobody stops you from taking pictures, you just buy a camera and you fucking take pictures. And I think sometimes when you don’t know the rules, it’s better. Because when I moved to New York, I didn’t know there were rules, you know?

Barron Claiborne

Bjork With Heart

1998

NM: When you don’t know the rules it’s better? Don’t you think you should know the rules, so you can break them?  

 

Barron Claiborne: No! Because you’ll still be bound by the rules. Even though you think you’re breaking them, you’re still bound by them– as opposed to not knowing the rules at all, so you don’t care. I looked in the magazines that I liked the most, and then I started going to them with my portfolio, but I didn’t have any money. I had a bunch of photos in a photo box, that’s how we used to do it if you were broke. I was teaching kids and then came back to New York, and I had like seven boxes of shit. I was like, “Oh, I got to stop being a teacher and I got to fucking do some shit with this.” So then I printed a bunch of pictures over a couple of months, put them in boxes because I couldn’t afford the book things, and I started bringing them around. 

I went to the New York Times because I always liked it. I was in front of the building, and I looked inside to see the number of the photo editor, and I saw it was Kathy Ryan, and her number was there. I called her, and said, “Hi, my name is Barron, I have a bunch of photos that I’d like to show you.” And she was like, “Yeah, but this isn’t how we do things, you drop it off on Wednesday,” and I’m like, “Look, I’m right underneath you, in the building. I’ll drop it off because I know you must go to lunch,” whatever. And she says okay and tells me to come up. And I went up there and I showed her the box of photos and she gave me a job the next day.

And it was because I didn’t know any better. Everybody else to this day is like, “How the fuck did you get to shoot with the New York Times?” And I just called her from below and no one believes me. They refuse to believe. But I didn’t know the rules, so I was like, fuck it, I’ll call her, her numbers right there. She’s either going to say no, or yes. And she said yes. And I went up there. At the time I looked super young, and she was weirded out by my age when she saw me, but then I showed her the photos and they were beautiful pictures of the kids that I taught photography to at camp. So then she was like, “Wow, these are really beautiful.” And she gave me a job.

 NM: Wow. Just putting yourself out there.

 

Barron Claiborne: Yeah, I just didn’t give a fuck, right. Because if I would have known when the right day was to drop my stuff off, or thought they were never going to take me, all this shit– I didn’t give a fuck. And that’s how I got a lot of things. I just went to them.

 

NM: Where did that self-confidence come from?

 

Barron Claiborne: I have no idea. Hungry. I was fucking hungry, dude. When I moved to New York, I would just eat slices of pizza and go buy fucking linguine and make some sauce that lasted a week, you know. I love Italians. I survived on pasta and pizza. When I moved to New York, I used to be so fucking hungry, I’d be walking around with a headache and shit looking for a job. It was crazy.

 

NM: You weren’t getting paid, working for these photographers?

 

Barron Claiborne: No, you got paid, but it was nothing. Back then, I think it was like $25 bucks a day, right? But I didn’t work as an assistant all the time because I wanted to work on my own photography. And then after a while assisting, I was like, fuck this shit. I might as well make a portfolio myself.

 

NM: What triggers that decision to just go for it? 

 

Barron Claiborne: When they start having you do menial tasks, putting quarters in their car meter, shit like that. And they would ask you for your portfolio. That always made me suspicious.

 

NM: When the people you were assisting would ask for your portfolio?

 

Barron Claiborne: Yeah. You always have to show them because they would steal motherfuckers’ work.

 

NM: Oh, of course.

 

Barron Claiborne: But you didn’t know that when you were young.

NM: You think they’re just checking up on your work?

 

Barron Claiborne: No, I mean they would act like you’re young and naïve, and it’s like your resume. But they’re looking at your shit to steal it. Because they recognize you have a lot of talent and no one has seen your process, no one’s seen your work.

 

NM: I see this so much on social media with painters.

 

Barron Claiborne: Everyone’s just copying each other’s shit. Everywhere. It’s not even local now, because of social media. So before, I wouldn’t know what people were doing in the art scene in fucking Oklahoma, I didn’t give a fuck. But now you have access to all that. And I think it’s a bad thing.

An Interview With Barron Claiborne (Part 3) Read More »

Exhibition

An Interview with Barron Claiborne (Part 2)

Barron Claiborne

Born and raised in Boston, Barron Claiborne moved to New York City in 1989 assisting photography legends such as Richard Avedon, Irving Penn, and Gordon Parks. Nathalie Martin spoke with Barron about what informs his practice, the limits and reaches of photography, and the importance of constantly creating. Claiborne reflects on self-taught mastery and how his extremely honest, critical, yet sensitive eye has landed him in permanent collections all over the world, including the Polaroid Museum Cambridge, the Brooklyn Museum, the Houston Museum of Fine Arts, and MoCADA.

Continued from Part 1

NM: You use the word “commercial.” Is there a fixed line, for you, between “commercial” and “fine art?” Do you consider everything you make “art”?

 

Barron Claiborne: No. Because when you’re doing jobs for other people, sometimes there are parameters that you’re not interested in. You do it for the money. If you want to pay me $40,000 bucks to shoot a soup can– when I was broke, I’d do it. Why wouldn’t I? It’d be stupid. And it’s the easiest shit. The stuff that pays the most is the easiest. Because it’s all set, you know.

 

NM: So there is a difference. You do categorize your work. 

Barron Claiborne: Oh, yeah. Because you’re working with directors, producers, all these other people, it’s more of a collaborative effort. When I take photos on my own, there is no collaboration other than with the model. Other than that, I have complete control, which is what I like.

 

NM: Totally. So how has your work, process or practice evolved? You know, as you’ve gotten more money, and been able to be more selective with your decisions.

 

Barron Claiborne: You gather stuff. I have a huge archive. But I still love photography. I don’t take pictures every day now. I kind of do the things I want to do. Because you’re also aware that you have an archive that’s going to be there when you’re dead.

 

NM: Yeah, totally. I feel like the more you have behind you, the more your life just becomes your practice, in a way. Or the more your practice becomes your life?

 

Barron Claiborne: Right, yeah. That’s like me making products. I like making products because I have this huge archive, right? I might as well– and the technology allows you to do all this crazy shit, which is really cool. I have a huge archive so I can pretty much do anything.

 

NM: And you were saying you work in cycles, or things happen in waves.

 

Barron Claiborne: Oh, definitely. Like a while ago during the pandemic, I made a moon, and then I just got all my friends to come and take pictures of them on the moon. Shit like that. I just do shit like that. Little projects– sometimes the project lasts three years, seven years, ten years. Some individuals I’ve been shooting for 20 years.

 

NM: What keeps you working? You mentioned it was just this natural, internal drive.

 

Barron Claiborne: I love people. I think it’s because I love people and I see them, and it’s amazing that everybody looks different. There are billions of people who don’t look alike. It’s fucking weird.

NM: I remember being younger and thinking it’s so crazy we have all the same parts– eyes, ears, noses, whatever– and freaking out about how we all have the same things on our faces but look completely different.

 

Barron Claiborne: I know, it’s amazing. I always wonder why we all look the way we do.

Barron Claiborne, Njuhi as White Powder Ma with Rose, 2007

NM: Do you think there are limits to photography?

 

Barron Claiborne: Ah, of course. People always say photography reveals things, but it also hides things. You can hide a lot in a photo. Also, interpretation. You just see something– you don’t really know what’s happening in the photo. Sometimes you do, but not always. And photos are used to fool people, just like cinematography is used to fool people. Just because it’s there doesn’t mean it’s true.

 

NM: Totally. I also think with photography– even more so than painting or sculpture or anything– you have to be so selective. So intentional with what you’re choosing to show.

 

Barron Claiborne: Yes, exactly. But also, it’s not what’s in it. The thing I like about photography– it’s like three different levels of symbolism. You have the symbolism you can put in it, you also have the symbolism of the art itself– of photography itself– and then you can manipulate it any way you want. You can take pictures to manipulate people. You can take pictures to show people the truth. Just up to the individual.

 

NM: Do you ever want to get into other mediums? Have you ever thought, “Oh, maybe painting or something else will do it for me right now, I should switch over?”

Barron Claiborne: No, no. Sometimes I’ll make my photos into other things. Like now, what a lot of people do, they’re not really making paintings. They’re just making large Photoshop.

 

NM: Right, this “painting without paint” idea.

 

Barron Claiborne: Exactly, you take a photo, right, then you put you in a program, you turn it into a painting, and then you put it on a canvas. And then people think you paint. But it’s the same as a photo.

 

NM: That’s happening a lot right now. I think that’s interesting, the lines between photography and painting being blurred.

 

Barron Claiborne: Oh, definitely! I mean Warhol made silkscreens. Well, it’s for lazy people.

 

NM: Well…

 

Barron Claiborne: Well, see, if you know photography, that’s one thing, but some people just use it for their other medium. Then I don’t really think of you as a photographer, because no one’s seeing your photography. They’re seeing the painting you made from the photography.

 

NM: That’s kind of cool, using one medium to make another.

 

Barron Claiborne: Yeah, but it’s lazy.

 

NM: I don’t think that comes from laziness.

 

Barron Claiborne: Make a painting. Don’t call yourself a painter.

 

NM: I agree with that, definitely. But also, don’t call yourself a photographer, you’re saying. So what are they? Nothing? Medium-defiers?

 

Barron Claiborne: They’re artists, but it’s just… it makes it easier. A lot of modern art is collages. Because it’s easy. You’re just cutting out other people’s work and then you put it together, but you’re skipping a crucial part. You’re not really creating it. I would rather create everything in the photo.

 

NM: But then found objects, readymades… are not art to you.

 

Barron Claiborne: It’s lazy, that’s not art, it’s bullshit.

 

NM: So what is art?

 

Barron Claiborne: Artists painting, sculpting– 

 

NM: So only plastic arts? Where does it come from, though?

 

Barron Claiborne: I think the person should do it. A lot of art is made by craftsmen. The artist doesn’t make it, doesn’t sculpt it, he just commissions it. Like you’re an art director.

 

NM: Yeah, artists with lots of money, commercial artists. Which is only a handful.

 

Barron Claiborne: Right, but it’s still a lot. Why should the biggest artists who don’t make their own shit get credit? Should the craftsmen get credit?

 

NM: Of course, or the 400 assistants that they have in their studio.

 

Barron Claiborne: Exactly, the people actually painting the paintings. My friend used to paint paintings for Damien Hirst. They do the whole paintings.

Barron Claiborne, Old Orleans (After the Deluge), 2007

NM: Maybe art’s not about the individual, it’s about the idea being reified.

 

Barron Claiborne: It’s about everything. I’m not saying art should be anything, it’s whatever it is. All I’m saying, I care a little bit more if you painted the painting, rather than hiring someone else to paint the painting. That’s what’s happening. Artists that aren’t making their own work. It’s not like that didn’t exist. Vermeer and all those guys had 20 interns, just like people do now. When you look at most of the old paintings, tons of them, everybody’s left-handed, because they use the fucking camera obscura to trace. The animals or the monkeys in the painting are left-handed. But they’ll still deny that they used a camera obscura. But most people aren’t left-handed. How the fuck is everybody left-handed in a bunch of paintings?

 

NM: Durer made those engravings showing the camera obscura. Some artists acknowledged it.

 

Barron Claiborne: Yeah, of course. In art school, I mean. Everybody creates their own mythology. So, you know, you look at somebody like Gaugin’s paintings… but his life was fucking miserable as fuck, dude.

NM: He was fucked up.

 

Barron Claiborne: He was fucked up. Spreading diseases and shit.

 

NM: Child brides and all that. 

 

Barron Claiborne: Yeah, they didn’t like him. He was hated by the French. And after a while, he was hated by the native people also, because, well, he was giving everybody syphilis, but also because he was poor and a crazy dude. It’s crazy. He had a fucking miserable life. Everybody hated him. Yeah, well, the French hated them because he hung out with the native people, and then the native people started hating him when he was spreading fucking venereal disease everywhere. He was ill all the time, he didn’t have food, like it was fucking crazy.

 

NM: We’ve been talking about painters. What’s the job of the photographer?

 

Barron Claiborne: To get the best image possible.

 

NM: Okay, I like that. Is that an objective thing?

 

Barron Claiborne: No, subjective. Each person, subjective to each artist.

 

NM: When you approach your work, when you’re taking a photo, what has to happen for you to be satisfied?

 

Barron Claiborne: I usually want it to be beautiful. Whatever that is to me, that’s the thing. I always want my photos to look timeless, so you don’t know when they were taken.

 

NM: Your photos do look timeless.

 

Barron Claiborne: Yeah, because I really like history. I like the fact that you can’t tell – 

 

NM: It could exist in any time.

 

Barron Claiborne: Right. It could be modern, old.

 

NM: Places, too. Any time or place.

 

Barron Claiborne: Exactly. I like those things, but I really like beauty. More than anything.

 

NM: Me too. I love that you said this, because artists never say this, or are just not being honest. It first needs to be beautiful! I must want to go up to it, right? That’s my first criteria for looking at work.

 

Barron Claiborne: Right, right. It’s not for all artists.

 

NM: No, but I love that answer. I think that’s genuinely the most important thing. And it’s not superficial. There’s a science to it, I think.

 

Barron Claiborne: Oh, sure!

 

NM: Like I think beauty is kind of, maybe, objective.

 

Barron Claiborne: I think if you make a system, you know, you make or do certain things all the time, you can expect certain results. There’s a science to it. And it’s on every level. If there’s a bunch of gardeners and my garden is far more beautiful than theirs, then I’m the master, and they’re the students. It’s on every level. There are scientists doing physics experiments, and there are basketball players that are literally using physics to play basketball. But people don’t think of that. They’re experts on physics, but you just don’t think of it.

 

NM: Yes, but beauty specifically. It’s literally a science. Color theory, for example. These two colors work or don’t work because it’s a science, not because someone decided blue and orange are randomly complementary.

 

Barron Claiborne: Definitely. But then there’s some cultures that will go the opposite.

 

NM: What do you mean?

 

Barron Claiborne: In some cultures, red is a very good color, but then in other cultures they avoid using red at all. You always have both sides. So is it a science?

 

NM: Yeah, if you take out the idea of good and bad, etc. Purple and yellow will always be complementary.

 

Barron Claiborne: Sure, yeah. But it’s so funny that different colors, depending on what culture you come from, mean completely different things.

NM: Absolutely. I was reading this Nabokov interview and he talks about how he sees letters in colors.

 

Barron Claiborne: Oh yeah, that’s a thing, what’s it called? Synesthesia, some shit like that?

 

NM: Yes. He said, “N is obviously yellow, and H is obviously green,” stuff like that.

 

Barron Claiborne: Well, just like colorblind people. So now they have these glasses that can correct your color blindness, so people buy them as gifts for colorblind people. You should see the reaction. You know, colorblind people see green as red, shit like that. That’s why they use them in war to spot tanks and shit. Because they don’t see green as green. They see different things so they can spot things that a normal person can’t see. They use them in planes to see enemy tanks and shit. But the thing is, some people smell colors, some people see colors, some people see them as numbers. There are all kinds of weird synesthesia shit. I’ve read a book on that shit. It’s so fucking weird. Some people see letters as colors.

 

NM: Yeah, sounds, even.

 

Barron Claiborne: Everything. There are all different kinds of it.

 

NM: You said growing up, you didn’t really care about credit, or your name being attached to your work.

 

Barron Claiborne: I mean, some of the greatest art in the world, nobody knows who made it. Nobody has any idea. They didn’t sign it. But no, I mean, you care a little bit. Everybody has an ego. When people are telling me they like my photos, of course I like to hear it.

 

NM: I think to be an artist you need a certain amount of ego. You feel you have something to say, to show.

 

Barron Claiborne: Yeah, I think so. I mean, you’re making something. The natural thing would be because you want people to see it. Just because people deny it doesn’t mean it’s not true. Because people often say stuff like that, that they don’t care, but you kind of have to. But everybody has a shtick. It doesn’t matter how serious the person is, everyone has their shtick. A lot of artists are just con artists, really.

 

NM: Artists are lying to you and saying it’s the truth.

 

Barron Claiborne: Mm-hmm. That’s right. But you need artists because everybody is kind of one. I’m always shocked at how much photos mean to people when they come up and tell me. It freaks me out when people come and tell me they cry, when they come in and buy a Biggie print from me. They cry and shit like that, I’m like, what the fuck? At first, I used to think it was weird, and now I’m like, well, if it means that much to the person, it must mean something.

NM: Were you just going to say you think everyone’s an artist? Because I don’t.

 

Barron Claiborne: No, I don’t think that. I think you’re an artist at something. I don’t know about everyone.

 

NM: I think there’s a difference between artists and like, “makers,” for lack of a better word. There are people who make things, and there are artists.  

 

Barron Claiborne: Yeah, but I think those people are also artists. If a guy is a gardener, right, and he makes it look beautiful, he’s an artist. He’s an artist at that.

 

NM: Oh, totally. That’s an artist. Someone who wakes up every day and does that, that’s their practice. Maybe I just mean there’s a difference between “making art,” and being an artist.

 

Barron Claiborne: Right, right. Well, I think everyone has it in them.

 

NM: Yeah… maybe. Maybe they don’t.

 

Barron Claiborne: Well yeah, some people probably don’t. There are some people probably who fucking hate art. You meet people who hate music. I’ve met people who don’t have any music in their house, they don’t have a stereo. I’ve been in houses where people are making millions of dollars. And there’s no stereo, there’s no music in their house anywhere.

 

NM: It’s insane. People also don’t have books. The biggest red flag.

 

Barron Claiborne: Oh, tons of people don’t have books. Or when people have a TV in every single room, including the bathrooms and the kitchen. I was in this guy’s house; he had a television in every single room. And in the garage. In the bathroom. He even had a TV in his kitchen closet that he could pull out and watch in the kitchen. It was fucking weird. And his house was huge. There was a television in every single room. It was fucking weird. I was like, “Wow, dude, you watch TV a lot.”

 

NM: Were your parents strict with TV?

 

Barron Claiborne: Dude, I didn’t give a fuck about TV. I was a kid. We were outside playing football and all kinds of stuff, doing shit that we were supposed to do, running around Boston. The only TV I would watch would be if I woke up on Saturday morning and watched cartoons or like sporting events, the Superbowl and shit like that. Other than that, I don’t give a fuck about TV. We never sat down and watched TV like that. And Americans, when I was a kid, the TV obsession didn’t exist. Americans watched TV, but not like they do now. I mean, it’s insane. But, yeah, give me a break. Americans never even talked about celebrities. I never heard my mother ever say anything about a fucking celebrity in my entire life. You know, they never talked about it. They like the music and shit like that, but they never talked about it. Like they listen to Stevie Wonder. Nobody gave a fuck about what Stevie Wonder was wearing or doing. Nobody cared.

 

NM: Well, I feel like culture has shifted from exclusivity and “you wish you could be like us”–

 

Barron Claiborne: To no one is special.

 

NM: Yes, no one is special, but even “buy this and you can be like me.”

 

Barron Claiborne: Yeah. No one’s special. So now you have to act like beauty doesn’t exist. No woman is prettier than the other, they’re all tens… it’s fucking insanity. Basically. You still have value, but everybody’s not physically beautiful. I mean, so what! Everybody’s not smart. Everybody doesn’t care about their clothing. Everybody doesn’t– it’s not like that. It doesn’t matter. Because everybody has their own thing. Do your thing and let other people do theirs, unless they’re trying to stop you from doing yours. If they’re not harming you, I don’t give a fuck what you do. You want to have sex with goats? Just don’t fuck my goat.

 

NM: I guess that’s one way to put it.

 

Barron Claiborne: You know, fuck your own goat! There are things people do all the time that I don’t like. But who am I to judge other people?

 

NM: I think that’s the biggest lesson I’ve learned… that once you start to judge, it means you don’t understand. You’ve lost the ability to really think about something.

 

Barron Claiborne: Yeah, I agree. I think the worst thing is to judge people. I think now, the way things are, it’s like people believe that constantly judging is performing a public service or some shit. They act like they’re spiritual, but then all you’re doing is constantly talking about how you’re better than the other people. What the fuck is that shit? And that’s what a lot of it is. This “justified” criticism. But then as soon as somebody criticizes you, you lose your fucking mind and call them all kinds of names. But you’re doing the exact same thing. And you think your cause is just.

 

NM: It’s funny too because all the criticism isn’t actual criticism. It’s all judgements, like we were saying. I think we could use young art critics. There’s a serious lack of them. You know, people who are thinking. But now we just have everyone spewing out bullshit.

 

Barron Claiborne: Social media, too. It’s brown nosing. You’re just saying whatever. Whatever everyone else is going along with. 

Continue to Part 3

An Interview with Barron Claiborne (Part 2) Read More »

Interview

An Interview with Barron Claiborne (Part 1)

Barron Claiborne

Yasiin Bey with Turban

2009

Born and raised in Boston, Barron Claiborne moved to New York City in 1989 assisting photography legends such as Richard Avedon, Irving Penn, and Gordon Parks. Nathalie Martin spoke with Barron about what informs his practice, the limits and reaches of photography, and the importance of constantly creating. Claiborne reflects on self-taught mastery and how his extremely honest, critical, yet sensitive eye has landed him in permanent collections all over the world, including the Polaroid Museum Cambridge, the Brooklyn Museum, the Houston Museum of Fine Arts, and MoCADA.

NM: How did you get started in photography? 

 

Barron Claiborne: My mom found a camera in the bank and gave it to me when I was a kid. 

 

NM: Really? In the bank?

 

Barron Claiborne: Yeah.

 

NM: Where your mom worked?

 

Barron Claiborne: No, my mom was a nurse. She was in the bank one day and she found it. 

 

NM: And she just handed it to you saying, “You would be into this, here you go?”

 

Barron Claiborne: Yeah, well, she just gave it to me as something to do. When I was 10, she was like, “Here, take this,” and gave it to me, and I started reading books about photography and shit like that.

 

NM: So, you were first exposed through your parents? Or through school?

 

Barron Claiborne: My mom. Then I went to school and I learned more. There was a darkroom in my high school, it was old, and no one used it. Me and another kid rebuilt it and started using it. We would take pictures and they put them in the yearbook. Then I would take pictures of myself and my friends. I always did studio pictures – I didn’t really shoot outside tons or anything. It was always people.

 

NM: Studios and sets?

 

Barron Claiborne: Yeah, I like taking pictures of people and messing with sets. 

 

NM: You were immediately drawn to portrait photography?

 

Barron Claiborne: Yeah, totally. Because you have people constantly around, it’s the easiest shit to pull off.

 

NM: Totally. And it was just capturing moments with your friends?

 

Barron Claiborne: Yeah, but less spontaneous, most of it was set-up. I would do shit like – I used to do this thing where I would set up a little tripod and a trampoline, and I would have my friends jump over the camera and take their pictures when they were landing upside down. I used to do dumb shit like that. All kinds of stuff. 

 

NM: When you were practicing in high school, redoing dark rooms or whatever else – do you immediately know you wanted to take it seriously and go to art school?

 

Barron Claiborne: I was going to art school anyway. I didn’t really do much photography in art school, because by the time I got there I had already been taking pictures for around eight years. So a lot of the stuff they teach you those first years, I already knew it, and I really didn’t want to go over that shit again – like dark rooms and shit like that. I didn’t want to at all.

 

NM: Did you start experimenting with different mediums?

 

Barron Claiborne: Yeah, definitely. I used all kinds of shit. I would make shit out of everything. I used to do collages. I just like doing visual things. But then I was working at restaurants and doing other shit and then one day I was like, “I should just do photography, fuck it.” You know, then everyone cautions you against being an artist, saying shit like, “You got to get a job, you got to have a backup.” Or like, “You should join the military,” or “They have really good jobs in the post office.” I was looking at them like, you’re crazy!

 

NM: “Yeah, work for the government!”

Barron Claiborne: Right, work for the government. Because they assume the government will always be there, so you’ll always have a job. But I never wanted to do shit like that.

 

NM: I remember getting told this when I was younger. 

 

Barron Claiborne: Yeah, or they try to get you in the military. My family has a lot of people in the military. I was not going into the fucking military. Even my uncles who were in it, they were like, “Do not go into the military.” Because they knew I’d end up in jail. They were like, “Oh you’d get court-martialed.” Easily.

NM: Did you think experiential learning– especially as a photographer– and just taking photos every day was more beneficial to your practice and you as an artist than school was?

Barron Claiborne: Oh yeah, of course. I’d already been doing that. And also, I didn’t like working for other people. I always knew I couldn’t. Even when I was a kid. I used to have jobs. I’ve been working since I was like 10. I used to mow lawns, deliver paper, all that kind of shit. But I realized I could never work with anybody.

Barron Claiborne

Domino

1992

NM: So it was born out of like –

 

Barron Claiborne: It was just born. 

 

NM: Out of necessity? Or internally, it was always there?

 

Barron Claiborne: It’s just me. It’s just the way I am. I don’t know where it comes from. I never liked any authority, even when I was a little kid. Always. It just seemed weird to me. 

 

NM: Maybe that’s why your mom handed you the camera. She knew. She was like, “Here you go, play with this.”

Barron Claiborne: She knew, yes! It’s a weird story, right? Literally got my living from my mother. Literally. I think about that. I think it’s funny. 

 

NM: So as you started to learn about photography and the history of art, who were your main influences?

 

Barron Claiborne: I always loved Richard Avedon, Gordon Parks, Irving Penn. 

 

NM: Who were your mentors, as well. 

 

Barron Claiborne: Yeah, I got to meet them, was the great thing. There’s a Mexican photographer, Manuel Alvarez Bravo. I really love his photos. I used photos in medical dictionaries, other weird shit, photos of flowers. My favorite book is the book of photos from all over the world, and the book is called Anonymous, because they don’t know who took the photos. Only a couple of them they know, but the rest of them, no one knows who took them. And the photos were beautiful. When I was a kid I would always be like, “Oh, I’d love to have my photos in a book and no one knows they’re mine.” 

 

NM: So it wasn’t “I want everyone to know my name.” 

 

Barron Claiborne: No, I don’t care about that. I didn’t really like – I was getting sort-of well-known, and I don’t like it that much. I don’t like when people call me by my first and last name and stuff like that. I don’t like it at all.

 

NM: Right. You as a brand, rather than a person.

 

Barron Claiborne: Yeah, exactly. It made me feel uncomfortable. That’s why I stopped taking pictures of celebrities, and I kind of stopped doing music videos and stuff like that. It just bored me. Because I want to do my own thing. I don’t really care about doing other people’s thing.

 

NM: That’s interesting, because of all the collaborative work you’ve done. 

 

Barron Claiborne: Lately, I’ve been concentrating on collaborative work. 

 

NM: But I mean in the past, even for publications, music videos, album covers – was that a different process for you?

 

Barron Claiborne: Yeah, I still try to get the same feeling as my personal work. I don’t differentiate my personal work.

 

NM: The process stays the same?

 

Barron Claiborne: I do the best I can in a commercial setting. Because you can’t do the same work, it’s different. But those aren’t the photos that I like. I like the photos I do on my own because I’ve been taking pictures since I was 10. I have a lot of pictures. There were times I took pictures every day, all day for 10 years. Whether I was working or not. And I was using large format, so I don’t have as many pictures as when people use 35 mm. But I have a huge archive from all over the place. And I’ve used all kinds of cameras– toy cameras, plastic cameras, 8 x 10, 4 x 5, underwater ones– everything, everything. I like all of them. 

Barron Claiborne

Notorious B.I.G as The King of New York

1997

NM: When you were doing collaborative work or working with musicians, did you just find yourself in those spaces? Was it for money?

 

Barron Claiborne: Yeah, I was really poor. Of course, when you’re first starting you get a bunch of rejection, but then you finally get a job, and it never paid a lot, but I was broke so 300 bucks was great. Then you get more and more. Then you realize magazine work only gets you more work, it’s sort of like advertising for you, it gets people to know your name. Then I realized, for a long time, because no one had seen me and all they would see is my name, they all thought I was an old white dude, which I thought was kind of funny. I remember once I went to Paris to work, and dude, they couldn’t find me in the airport until I was like, “By the way, I’m a black dude.” Then they found me. Because they were looking for some old white guy! They were like, “It’s because your photos seem so old.” Back then, I was using the 8 x 10 and most of the stuff was large format polaroid and shit like that. So I never even thought of that. But my name is pretty waspy, I guess.

 

NM: But then they meet you, and it makes total sense.

 

Barron Claiborne: Oh yeah, I’m super waspy. I’m a waspafarian.

 

NM: You mentioned Avedon, Gordon Parks and Irving Penn. Those are big names. How did you come into company with them?

 

Barron Claiborne: Well, I just saw books as a kid, and then when I moved to New York, I assisted for a while, so I got to assist them. But I met Richard Avedon in Boston.

 

NM: How old were you when you came to New York?

 

Barron Claiborne: I was 21, 22.

 

NM: From Boston straight to New York?

 

Barron Claiborne: Yeah. I met Richard Avedon in Boston, at his exhibit, because I worked at the Museum of Contemporary Art. He had that “Out West” show there. I actually got to meet him and talk to him. They were hanging the show, he came, it was pretty cool. And then when I moved to New York, I assisted wherever I could. That’s how I met other ones, like Irving Penn.

 

NM: You just hit up Avedon asking if you could work for him?

 

Barron Claiborne: Yeah, right when I moved here, you fill out the application, they have you come in. Sometimes you would replace guys you knew who were assistants when they couldn’t work. And two of my friends worked for Irving Penn. I substituted for both. 

 

NM: Friends from Boston?

 

Barron Claiborne: No, actually, New York photographers that I met early on. Yeah, when you first start out, you hang out with photographers. Over time, it changes, because people are going for money, for their career. And then you become competition. So then they get weird. But at first, you’re surrounded by photographers. We were always going to the lab. Loaning each other cameras, going to each other’s studios. 

 

NM: Right, it was a collective.

 

Barron Claiborne: Yes. Because we needed it to survive.

 

NM: Absolutely. When you were doing music videos or album covers, was that the scene you found yourself in? Or did music really inspire your work?

 

Barron Claiborne: No, people would ask me if I wanted to shoot so-and-so, sometimes you didn’t want to because you didn’t like their music and were just trying to give them a good photo. I’m doing my own thing – I don’t tell you how to do your music thing, that’s your thing. You don’t tell me how to take pictures. I don’t tell you what to put in your music. But as you go higher, people always try to tell you what to do. Which is one of the things I hated. Because then you end up taking pictures for money, and you don’t like photography anymore. I saw that happen to some of us. They started making money, and then they just started taking photos for the money. But then you don’t like photography. I’ve been taking photos since I was ten. It’s so natural. I wouldn’t want to not like it, you know, so I just stop taking those jobs.

Continue to Part 2

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Interview