artist Laura Jane Petelko

I often find myself in conversations with colleagues as we scroll through the many profiles sent to us by artists all vying to be seen. Every time those conversations ostensibly end with one of us saying, “There are just so many talented artists out there.”

As I sit here, pondering how to present the interview I just read with Canadian Photographer Laura Jane Petelko I realise, yes, we certainly do see many talented painters, sculptors and illustrators come through the gallery doors, but it is actually quite rare for me to connect with a talented Artist. In my experience, an artist is not as much concerned with what they produce, or even how or why, as they are compelled to do ‘it’ – whatever ‘it’ is for them. Their artistry is intrinsically linked to who they are. It isn’t a role they play it is a way of being. An artist doesn’t produce art, they see the world through artistic means…and probably always have.

I read my question to Laura Jane; What do you see behind the lens that you do not see when in front of it?

Then I read her reply.

“I’m not totally sure what this (question) means….”

I grin. I am dealing with an artist not a photographer. In that moment I am reminded of a poem that I wrote in the throes of existential crisis after almost a decade of creative suppression…

I am a bridge between two truths.
One seen, one unseen.
One can be heard, one is silent.
One follows the trail. One determines the path.
I am an artist. I am a bridge.

When I write from an interview, I usually curate the words, seeking to present something about the interviewee that they often don’t see themselves. I always warn the artist I am interviewing that my style is highly subjective. I don’t report as much as retell. My aim is to seek out something within an artist through the lens of their practice that their audience, and often they themselves, don’t already know. I write intuitively. I offer up part of myself as potential sequence to their story where I feel chapters might remain untold. Details and facts are secondary to feeling.

Laura Jane Petelko has put me out of a job. She is poetic, generous and humble in all her responses to my metaphorical prying eyes and I find myself not wanting to edit a single one of her words. I read them just as she wrote them in the email that Laura Jane has sent me, perched forward in seat 10D of the Dash 8-400 that is flying me and my family home from a brief ski trip, chewing a nail, brow furrowed, equal parts engrossed and delighted.

To the question regarding the piece “Wilding” (above) she submitted to my call out and it’s sister series “soft stories”; How were you intending to affect audiences with this series of work and what was the message? Laura Jane replies,
“It’s been interesting to witness (at several art fairs and shows) how people respond. Some are disturbed (which saddened me), some find it silly and some are extremely moved. Some people find them sweet and tender (which I love). Maybe the work finds us as we are?”

My heart swells and all of a sudden I feel a little less lonely. As if in some sort of entanglement of sisterhood, through the soft-tempered words that form her responses to my questions, Laura Jane Petelko, has found me exactly as I am. An artist

In the interview we exchanged, I simply could not separate Laura Janes words or curate or construe them as I usually would. They belong together. Just as they are. So here are some highlights from our exchange that resonated most with my poets heart. To experience the full conversation, unchecked and unchanged, see the link in my bio.

“The camera is an editor, a curator of what to find in the circumstances I’ve created with my subjects.”

“I will say that a turning point was learning about the work of Nan Goldin. Before this, I’d been exposed to the male photography masters.
When I saw Nan’s work, I connected instantly. It gave me confidence and an instantly deep understanding about what was important to me in her work. The intimacy and vulnerability in them was such a shock to the system and I knew this was my general arena.“

The camera has often been (for me) a language, a secret door into a more intimate world…You can move through the crowd and curate the story a hundred different ways. Like people secretly holding hands or checking their dress strap, or puffing up their posture or tuning out of a conversation.”

“Yes, the whole AI thing is distressing. The thing that connects us to art is the human essence at the core of it.”

“I see “wild women” all around me making incredible work, struggling still to be seen…Our role is – we keep making and pushing ourselves and each other with integrity.”

Written by Monique Michel-Di Russo June 2023