Larry Simon takes his inspiration from seemingly everyday objects, surfaces and scenes to create composed narratives shrouded in a sense of the unknown: the Inner World residing in our subconscious—a place where we cannot fill in all the blanks.
He often works with a blend of sharp and soft focus, presenting his work in photo collage form or as digital prints.
A constant roamer, Simon is based in Chicago. He is self-taught.
Self-taught or art school?
I’m self-taught, though my previous careers as a journalist and advertising copywriter and creative director have given me valuable experience in simply noticing visual details while honing the art and craft of storytelling. It’s been my good fortune to have worked with some very talented, visually-oriented colleagues over the decades who’ve helped shape my vision of the world. So while it wasn’t exactly art school, it provided a formidable education in art and design.
If you could own one work of art, what would it be?
Ah, that’s a challenging one. The very first work that made a jaw-dropping impression was Nighthawks by Edward Hopper which I saw on a high school field trip to the Art Institute of Chicago. I raced to the museum shop and purchased a small print of it which hung in my room when I was a kid and later in my first flat. But then came Noguchi and Calder, and later, Gerhard Richter, and Richard Diebenkorn. Vuillard stopped by most recently. And I haven’t even mentioned one photographer! So, there simply isn’t one because there are simply too many who live in my imagination. A lesson from the Tao te Ching comes to mind: ‘Having without possessing.’
How would you describe your style?
An Australian friend and artist, Michael Hourigan calls my work digital impressionism, and that describes it nicely. I use a blending of sharp and soft focus to create composed, hopefully compelling, painterly narratives shrouded in a sense of the unknown. I’m fascinated by our ‘Inner Landscape’—a mysterious place that resides in our subconscious, a room where we cannot always find The Answer, or fill in the blanks.
Can you tell us about your artistic process?
I don’t consider myself a ‘street photographer’ who always has his camera at the ready. My best work is done as a sort of walking meditation, usually while travelling in other cities. It’s always the same. After I’m settled in a place, I just know when it is time to start roaming unknown streets with my camera. I use a rangefinder digital camera which helps my storytelling because I am watching a scene unfold through the viewfinder versus looking through the lens. I think of it rather like viewing an opera set from a seat on the balcony. I never seek out subjects, rather, subjects seem to find me. I may settle on a seemingly insignificant detail I see and make many images, or find something that catches my eye and make just one photograph. Some scenes allow you only one chance to make the picture. Nothing is planned, though I must admit I sometimes fall into the trap of ‘trying’ to find a ‘great’ picture. It never works. Always in the back of my mind, as I walk, I hear the words of the prominent photographer Sam Abell: “You don’t take a picture, you make a picture.’
When I return home, I’ll look at all the images and put some together in groupings based on similar themes. Only one or two stand out right away. This is why perhaps the most satisfying thing is to revisit images I made one, two, or even five years ago that I passed over then, and realize that they are ready to be shown now. It reinforces the idea that sometimes a photograph needs to be left alone in the dark to ripen over time.
Is narrative important in your work?
It is essential. As a journalist and copywriter, it was all about the story. And I am certain that this informs my photographic art today. It is simply another means by which a story can be told. That said, the reason I use soft focus quite a bit is because I love the ambiguity and sense of curiosity it gives to the narrative. I remember an essay on Gerhard Richter’s series of blurred realistic paintings (which have strongly influenced my work). The critic observed that they were sort of like listening to a crackling bad connection on the telephone: what you can’t quite make out can make the conversation far more interesting.
Who are your favourite artists and why?
Gerhard Richter, for the astonishing breadth of styles, always with substance. As I mentioned, his blurred realistic paintings have been a strong influence, yet I so admire his unwillingness to stay in one place. Each style period seems a plateau from which he leaps to the next.
Saul Leiter, a brilliant photographer who was ‘discovered’ far too late in his life. He made most of his gorgeous images within several blocks of his flat in Greenwich Village, using expired Kodak colour film because it gave him richer colours. Even his early work in advertising yielded beautiful photographs for print ads. His solitudinous pictures celebrate the monumentality found in what many might consider the mundane.
Alfred Brendel. Okay, you’re asking, what’s a classical pianist doing here?! Well, he was such a fine painter that he might have made a career of it, but music won out. His approach to Schubert and Beethoven sonatas is otherworldly, and he so brilliantly expresses the humour in Beethoven and Haydn. Music deeply informs my artwork. I studied and still play classical piano, so Brendel’s approach resonates deeply. But perhaps what’s even more inspiring than his pianism are his qualities as a true Renaissance person: a poet, writer, speaker, collector of tribal masks and Gorey cartoons, to name a few passions. This is quite important to me because I truly believe an artist should embrace multiple interests and have more than one passion. They all build on each other.
Haruki Murakami, whose novels came to me late, starting with The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle. I was smitten, and began to plow through his short stories and finally had the courage to tackle 1Q84. It’s all about the sense of otherworldliness (if that’s a word) he describes in his storytelling. His writing regimen, where he describes a writer’s journey into ‘another room’ to conjure the magic, inspired me to make a photo collage dedicated to him, The Door to the Other Room. It hangs on the wall of my home studio to remind me of that elusive journey to find creativity.
What or who inspires your work?
While I’ve touched on some of the inspirations, being in a new place and simply discovering, is true bliss. Music, particularly art songs, moves me to create. The details in a great piece of architecture will set my imagination into play. A line or two in a well-done novel can fuel my desire to go back out with my camera to see what’s there. Of course, a memorable work of art in a museum. The most recent one that comes to mind is Vuillard’s Le Bureau, a tiny work that hangs in Musée d’Orsay. The composition, colours and storytelling of an ephemeral, seemingly boring, moment did it for me. It was hard to walk away.
Where’s your studio and what’s it like?
Perhaps the most disappointing thing about being a photographic artist who uses a digital camera is that my studio, while cozy and comfortable, consists of a corner in my home containing a work table with a Mac and Thunderbolt monitor. No factory windows with painterly Northern light and easels and paint-splattered plank wood floors here. Then again, I suppose there’s no better studio in which to make art than the nooks and crannies discovered while wandering great cities.
Do you have any studio rituals?
Just one: stopping for a decent espresso and dessert while walking the streets with my camera.
What are you working on currently?
I’m having prints made of several images I rediscovered recently and framing them for the gallery on the North Shore of Chicago which represents me. I’m preparing for a solo show there, Selective Memory, next Autumn. I relish the collaborative process of working with a printer and then a framer, both of whom I’ve worked with exclusively since starting out. Framing my pieces is extremely important to me because I am always working to find more intriguing ways to present my images which challenge traditional ‘matted-print-in-black-frame’ that has dominated photographic art for too long. And I’m getting ready to start on a small book on the architecture of Le Corbusier to go alongside Reimagining Mies, a book I made two years ago which takes a more imaginative look at the staid and deceptively simple work of Mies van der Rohe.
Where can we buy your art?
Next time you’re in Chicago, at Vivid Gallery: www.vividgallery.net
I also have a page on Saatchi Art.
And you may contact me directly via my website to purchase pieces or my books:
