Griffin News - Griffin Museum of Photography
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Archived: 2026-04-23 17:19
Griffin News - Griffin Museum of Photography
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Griffin News
A minuscule boat in an oil-muddied waterway. A suburban home before a gargantuan exhaust chimney at a coal-fired power plant. The sheer scale of these juxtapositions makes it impossible to turn a blind eye to the urgent, up-close environmental work of
Julie Dermansky
. Unmistakably evidentiary, the New Orleans–based artist’s photographs don’t shy away from the dire environmental realities that surround us — and the power dynamics, policies, and propaganda that feed them.
At times, the work is as melancholic and elegiac as it is tinged with a sardonic undertone. In
Christmas in Cancer Alley,
a house fully decorated for the Holidays pales in comparison to the extravaganza put on by the Meraux Refinery just behind it. Darker images like
The Holy Rosary Cemetery Next to Dow Chemical
illuminate a Louisiana cemetery beside a plant known for harmful emissions. Here, a lone cross (less a symbol of salvation than of witness, or perhaps even loss and demise) stands against a looming stack of pipes, fire and ash.
In this interview, the artist reveals how the fossil fuel industry obscures the narrative of climate change—and what lies ahead if we fail to act. The endgame is stark: “If we do not cut our use of fossil fuels,” says Dermansky, “life on Earth for many species, including humans, will become untenable.”
Labor Daily
is on view at the Main Gallery through May 24th, 2026. An interview with the artist follows.
Follow
Julie Dermansky
on
Instagram
: @
juliedermasnky
© Julie Dermansky,
Home Near West Virginia Coal Power Plant
Home near the John Amos coal-fired power plant in Poca, West Virginia on Aug. 1, 2017.
Allison Huang: In your series,
Precursors to the Climate Crisis, Courtesy of the Fossil Fuel Industry
, were you more interested in documenting the labor itself, the environmental consequences, or the relationship between the two?
Julie Dermansky:
I’m interested in documenting the relationship between labor and the worsening climate crisis. To do that, I photograph the aftermath of industrial accidents and extreme weather events from a distance to convey the scale of incidents tied to that crisis.
© Julie Dermansky
AH: How do you navigate photographing workers in industries that are economically vital yet environmentally damaging?
JD:
My work in no way judges those working in the fossil fuel industry. This question, and the ones following it reflects a carefully crafted, decades-long propaganda campaign by the fossil fuel industry to frame climate concern as anti-worker and anti-jobs — a false narrative designed to delay meaningful action on climate science.
The photographs depict the risks disaster recovery workers face following industrial accidents or extreme weather events, many of which were intensified by changing atmospheric conditions. Workers at such sites are often temp workers, a growing sector in the labor market, who are seldom warned about the potential health impacts of the hazardous materials they are dealing with presently, or provided the proper safety equipment to do the jobs they are tasked to do.
© Julie Dermansky,
Oil and Chemical Gumbo
An aerial view of clean-up workers in a boat on a pond full of oil and chemical products spilled from Smitty’s Supply facility in Roseland, LA on Sept. 26, 2025 following a massive fire that broke out on Aug. 22. The company produces and distributes products for motor vehicles worldwide. It had several million gallons of various petroleum and chemical products on site when the fire broke out. State and federal regulators asserted the pollution event did not pose a threat to human health despite evidence presented by independent scientists suggesting otherwise.
AH: The repetition of smoke, refineries, and spills suggests normalization. Are you intentionally highlighting how environmental harm has become so common that people no longer question it?
JD:
The repetitive nature of my work in no way is meant to normalize the pollution related to industry. The narrow focus of this body of work offers an in-depth has the potential to bring deeper attention to a subject that in large part, in my view, isn’t widely considered in the first place.
© Julie Dermansky,
The Holy Rosary Cemetery Next To Dow Chemical
The Holy Rosary Cemetery next to the Dow Chemical complex formerly owned by Union Carbide, in Taft, LA is one of the many vast industrial sites along an 85 mile stretch along the Mississippi River between Baton Rouge Louisiana and New Orleans that emits chemicals known to be harmful to the environment.
© Julie Dermansky,
The Holy Rosary Cemetery Next To Dow Chemical #2
The Holy Rosary Cemetery next to the Dow Chemical complex formerly owned by Union Carbide, in Taft, LA is one of the many vast industrial sites along an 85 mile stretch along the Mississippi River between Baton Rouge Louisiana and New Orleans that emits chemicals known to be harmful to the environment.
AH: How does your work complicate the idea of pride in labor when that labor is tied to climate change?
JD:
My photographs in relation to labor, reflect on the risks disaster recovery work presents to those doing in that field of work— be it full-time first responders, volunteer firefighters, or temp workers that are hired to do the bulk of the clean-up work in the aftermath of natural and industrial incidents.
© Julie Dermansky, Christmas in Cancer Alley
House across from the Meraux Refinery on Jan 4, 2011 in St. Bernard Parish, Louisiana.
AH: In today’s economic climate, many communities depend on fossil fuel jobs. How do you balance acknowledging that reality while emphasizing environmental urgency?
JD:
Considerations related to Industry’s false narrative related to climate change, do not enter my art making process. The decline of jobs in the fossil fuel industry that have become obsolete is already impacting communities reliant on those jobs- but the loss of those jobs arguably has nothing to do with one’s awareness of the climate crisis. I would like this series of work to evokes questions related to how the climate crisis will impact labor. If we do head the warning issued by the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) — set up by the United Nations — that if we do not cut our use of fossil fuels life on earth for many species including humans, will be untenable.
© Julie Dermansky,
Alabama Landscape
A Dollar Store sign near the James H. Miller Generating Plant in West Jefferson, Alabama on March 9, 2024. This coal plant is one of the largest greenhouse gas emitters in the United States.
© Julie Dermansky,
Pipeline Fire in Paradis, LA.
Firefighters putting out a fire in Paradis, Louisiana the day after a Phillips 66 pipeline erupted in flames on Feb. 9, 2017.
Interview by
Allison Huang, Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern
Allison Huang
is the Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern from White Plains, New York. She recently graduated from Boston University with a B.A. in History of Art and Architecture and Biology, along with a minor in Visual Arts. With a passion for storytelling and audience engagement, she is dedicated to collaborating with artists to expand their creative potential while fostering more inclusive and dynamic artistic spaces. Her research interests include the work of lesser-known artists, the representation of marginalized communities in art, and issues of repatriation. In her creative practice, she works primarily with analog photography and oil painting.
Griffin Museum of Photography
– Winchester, Massachusetts
Terry Evan’s
Steelwork
traces the steel industry from active mills to raw material extraction, showing how earth is transformed into steel. Her work highlights the risks faced by workers and the environmental costs behind industrial production.
Her work is currently on display in the
Labor Daily
exhibition at the Griffin Museum of Photography from March 21st through May 24th, 2026. We had the opportunity to chat with participating artist Terry, and her responses are as follows.
Terry Evans
photographs the prairies and plains of North America and the urban prairie of Chicago. Combining both aerial and ground photography, she delves into the intricate and complex relationships between land and people. She is a Guggenheim Fellow and a recipient of an Anonymous Was a Woman award. Her work is in many museum collections including the Art Institute of Chicago, Museum of Modern Art, New York, San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington, D.C., Whitney Museum of American Art, New York, and the Museum of Fine Arts Houston.
Follow
Terry Evans
on
Instagram
:
terryevansphotography
©Terry Evans,
Basic Oxygen Furnace, Idle,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography, All Images Courtesy of the Artist
Allison Huang: In your series,
Steel Work
, you examine steel production without directly depicting workers. What does focusing on the industrial process reveal about labor systems that portraits might not?
Terry Evans:
My photographs in the Griffin show are part of a much larger project that I undertook as exploration of steel production because I admired the steel mills on Lake Michigan shores near Chicago, my home. I wanted to see inside the steel mills to see how steel is made, this hot and dangerous process. Some of my exhibition pictures show raw materials that are used in steel production: sand, iron ore, coal, limestone, steel scrap, raw materials that come from the earth.
©Terry Evans,
Coal, Indiana Harbor,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: How did your time working in steel mills influence the way you framed scale, machinery, and environmental transformation?
TE:
I was used to doing aerial photography when I started the steel work so in some ways the grand scale of the machines compared to the human scale gave me similar problems in seeing to figure out. How do I understand what I was seeing in terms of scale?
©Terry Evans,
Preparation Aisle (Tiny Men), Indiana Harbor,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: Steel production reshapes land through extraction and fire. How do you think this physical alteration of the earth reflects broader economic priorities?
TE:
As we have come to know, climate change and global warming teach us that we need to show great care for the earth and weigh carefully how we use it.
©Terry Evans,
Slag, Indiana Harbor,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: Do you see industrial labor as inseparable from environmental consequence, or is there space for sustainable transformation within these industries?
TE:
There is plenty of room for sustainable transformation in industrial labor and saving energy costs helps everybody.
©Terry Evans,
Cart and Limestone Pile, Indiana Harbor,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: In the context of
Labor Daily
, how does your work broaden the idea of labor to include not just workers, but also the industrial processes and land transformation involved in production?
TE:
One cannot be separated from the other, human work and earth processes are intertwined in steel production.
©Terry Evans,
Graphite, Indiana Harbor,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
Interview by
Allison Huang, Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern
Allison Huang
is the Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern from White Plains, New York. She recently graduated from Boston University with a B.A. in History of Art and Architecture and Biology, along with a minor in Visual Arts. With a passion for storytelling and audience engagement, she is dedicated to collaborating with artists to expand their creative potential while fostering more inclusive and dynamic artistic spaces. Her research interests include the work of lesser-known artists, the representation of marginalized communities in art, and issues of repatriation. In her creative practice, she works primarily with analog photography and oil painting.
Griffin Museum of Photography
– Winchester, Massachusetts
Xavier Tavera’s
portrait series,
Restaurant Service Workers
, documents the experiences of the Latin American diaspora, combining documentary and constructed approaches to tell personal and collective stories. His work focuses on visibility and representation, drawing from his own experience of moving from Mexico City to the United States.
His work is currently on display in the
Labor Daily
exhibition at the Griffin Museum of Photography from March 21st through May 24th, 2026. We had the opportunity to chat with participating artist Xaiver, and his responses are as follows.
Xavier Tavera
has had a passion for portraiture for most of his life as a way to engage with people and their stories. Tavera’s work oscillates between documentary and the imagined with the sole purpose of telling a story. After moving from Mexico City to the United States, Tavera has devoted himself to tell
the stories of the Latin American diaspora, often recontextualizing with the purpose of providing visibility and fair representation.
Tavera has shown his work extensively in the Twin Cities, nationally and internationally including Germany, Scotland, Mexico, Chile, Uruguay, Switzerland, Portugal, Greece and China. His work is part of the collections of the Minneapolis Institute of Art, Plains Art Museum, Minnesota Museum of American Art, Minnesota History Center, Ramsey County Historical Society, the Weisman Art Museum and the National Museum of Mexican Art. He is a recipient of the McKnight fellowship, Jerome Travel award, State Arts Board, and Bronica scholarship.
Follow
Xavier Tavera
on
Instagram
:
@taveraxavier
©Xavier Tavera,
Untitled 9,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography, All Images Courtesy of the Artist
Allison Huang:
When you approached restaurant workers for
Restaurant Service Laborers
, what conversations did you have with them about representation and visibility? How did you ensure they felt seen rather than simply documented?
Xavier Tavera:
When approaching restaurant workers we had all kinds of conversations. The topics of cultural intersection came naturally and were tied to place of origin, food, and service industry. They were curious about their representation and asked questions regarding photography, cameras and lighting. Despite being crucial to the U.S. economy, many Latino workers report feeling unprotected. Therefore, I showed my respect for their labor as we discussed about the current political situation, about prosecution and feelings of being unsafe, insecure, or vulnerable. I hope that through my approach I can make people feel at ease during the photographic session. The
back house
is by definition the area of the kitchen that remains behind the scenes, unseen, hidden. The response of the restaurant workers was appreciation regarding the thought of being visible.
©Xavier Tavera,
Untitled 1,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: You chose to create formal portraits rather than photographing them during active labor. What does isolating them from the kitchen environment allow viewers to understand differently?
XV:
By taking formal portraits and placing people away from their usual environment I am centering them in the labor conversation. This way they become the focus of attention with no artifice. The viewer can have a more intimate conversation with them when we see them face to face. The photograph is highlighting who they are and what they do; and allows the viewer to communicate with them through their image.
©Xavier Tavera,
Untitled 3,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH:
Restaurant labor is essential but often overlooked. Why do you think this invisibility persists, especially for immigrant and Latino workers? How do economic systems, immigration status, and workplace hierarchies shape that dynamic?
XV:
Historically and traditionally the
Back of the House
has been the unseen, the hidden, the concealed, not visible to customers. In essence the workers are invisible yet so essential to any restaurant. The Back House translates also as a safe place, away from any unwanted viewers. Nationwide, Latinos constitute a big percentage of workers in the
Back House
.
For this series, I wanted to highlight them to the essential workers conversation by making them visible. I want to acknowledge respect for their work, presence and humanity in the restaurant industry, toppling down the undefeatable hierarchy of the kitchen world. Unfortunately, this hierarchy is parallel in everyday life where people are still invisible and unaccounted. I am trying to have a fair representation of the Latino worker.
©Xavier Tavera,
Untitled 4,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH:
You note that Latino laborers are a major part of the U.S. food production system. Do you see this project as part of a broader effort to document other hidden areas of food labor, such as agriculture or food processing?
XV:
There is a crucial cycle in US food industry where Latinos are essential in every step of the succession: the people who plant the seeds, the people who help grow that seed into a crop, the people that harvest the crops, the people who package and process the food, the people who transports the food to a supermarket or a restaurant, the people who prepares the food, the people who serves the food and finally the people who cleans after we are finished eating. The labor cycle of all these people that feed us is with very little recognition. In the past I have documented farmworkers, truckers, meat packaging workers and now restaurant workers with the only purpose to bring a better representation of them to the forefront. This is an effort to praise the people who makes it possible for us to be fed.
©Xavier Tavera, Untitled 8
,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: What long-term impact do you hope this series has, whether in terms of recognition, policy awareness, or shifting how audiences think about who sustains the food industry?
XV:
At this time in history where there is a strong effort to criminalize low-wage laborers where Brown people are being targeted and prosecuted for working. I would like the photographic series to be a statement of resilience and endurance. I want people to acknowledge kitchen workers as an essential part of our lives and sustenance as people who not only care for our nutrition but nurture our souls, and who prepare food with love and care.
©Xavier Tavera,
Untitled 10,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
nterview by
Allison Huang, Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern
Allison Huang
is the Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern from White Plains, New York. She recently graduated from Boston University with a B.A. in History of Art and Architecture and Biology, along with a minor in Visual Arts. With a passion for storytelling and audience engagement, she is dedicated to collaborating with artists to expand their creative potential while fostering more inclusive and dynamic artistic spaces. Her research interests include the work of lesser-known artists, the representation of marginalized communities in art, and issues of repatriation. In her creative practice, she works primarily with analog photography and oil painting.
Griffin Museum of Photography
– Winchester, Massachusetts
Inna Valin’s
Leave Me Not Alone
explores the diverse, resilient, and often overlooked individuals who form the backbone of American labor. These images highlight the ways people build meaningful lives through work — not defined by status, education, or wealth, but by determination, ingenuity, and pride.
Her work is currently on display in the
Labor Daily
exhibition at the Griffin Museum of Photography from March 21st through May 24th, 2026. We had the opportunity to chat with participating artist Inna, and her responses are as follows.
I am a self-taught artist who began photographing as a child. When I got my first instamatic camera at a garage sale around age 9, I became obsessed with making images. I think it was a way to view and distance myself from my paradoxical, turbulent rural childhood. The camera, even when I couldn’t get film, became a magical window, breaking my isolation and creating focus. It has stayed with me my whole life. As an exploratory documentary photographer, I seek to use my camera to explore this mysterious world we live in, with a focus on unnoticed and forgotten people and places.
I have exhibited my work across the United States and as far away as Japan. Awards include the McKnight foundation/ University of Minnesota fellowship for photographers, Jerome foundation fellowship for emerging artists through Minneapolis college of Art and design, as well as numerous Minnesota state arts board awards amongst others.
Follow
Inna Valin
on
Instagram:
@innavalin
©Inna Valin,
A County Fair Vendor,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography, All Images Courtesy of the Artist
Allison Huang: When meeting and photographing your subjects, what conversations shaped how they wanted to be represented?
Inna Valin:
Each situation is unique. Sometimes I am documenting a scene and never exchange more than an affirming glance at an event as I wait for the decisive moment, because interaction would alter the moment. Other times I spend months researching and planning, learning life stories.
Time is the main factor. Sometimes I ask if there is something specific they want to bring or illustrate in the portrait, but that happens more in another series I’m working on about the impact of gun violence. Generally, I find people tend to pose themselves best with light direction. I am looking for an essence, something that is; to me almost spiritual.
©Inna Valin,
Gas Station Worker
,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: Were you drawn to specific types of labor, or were you more interested in the shared experiences across different professions?
IV:
I am specifically drawn to people who have carved out their own path from very little. As someone who grew up in that situation, without the opportunity for higher education, I’m drawn to subjects who have innovated and improvised outside traditional paths—people who rely on resilience and determination.
©Inna Valin,
House Mother at a Gentleman’s Club
,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: Your choice to work in black and white removes certain contextual details. How does that shift focus toward expression, posture, or gesture in understanding labor?
IV:
I’m conscious of our culture’s growing loss of connection with history, due to rapidly developing technology that insulates us from meaningful, in-person human connections and creates physical detachment from one another and from reality.
Technology changes rapidly, but human nature and the human condition remain essentially the same. Part of my choice to use black and white is to illustrate that continuity, well phrased in the old adage: “The more things change, the more they stay the same.”
©Inna Valin,
A Sign Swinger
,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: You refer to these workers as everyday heroes. What does that term mean to you in the context of labor?
IV:
It means there are epic stories in life all around us that we don’t notice, and many of those stories keep the world ticking.
People like the mechanic I came across in the still smoldering ashes of the Minneapolis riots, working on an old woman’s Honda. He wasn’t doing it for glory or heroism—he was doing it because she needed that car to care for her grandson. Amid the chaos and danger, despite his shop being burned and the auto parts store next door completely consumed by fire, he continued his work in the parking lot. He wasn’t doing it for cameras or recognition; he was doing it because he is a natural hero.
Or George McShane, who at eleven began attending Quinn Chapel AME in the tiny village of Brooklyn, Illinois, near East St. Louis. He became the church secretary and the unofficial historian. Largely forgotten, the chapel was an important part of the Underground Railroad. Now crumbling and in danger of being lost due to lack of resources, George, now in his late 80s, continues to care for and advocate for it.
People like this are quiet heroes, spending their days doing the work of heroes without the credit or accolades that usually accompany the word.
©Inna Valin,
Circus Acrobat Painting Faces
, On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: What changes in perspective do you hope viewers experience after recognizing how much daily life depends on the work of people who are rarely acknowledged?
IV:
I hope people reconsider how they measure worth. It is important to look at people as individuals.
Sometimes, high school dropouts are deeply educated.
Dignity doesn’t come from titles or credentials; it comes from within. Humility is different from humiliation. Grace doesn’t always know which fork is for the salad.
©Inna Valin,
A High School Mechanics Instructor
, On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
Interview by
Allison Huang, Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern
Allison Huang
is the Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern from White Plains, New York. She recently graduated from Boston University with a B.A. in History of Art and Architecture and Biology, along with a minor in Visual Arts. With a passion for storytelling and audience engagement, she is dedicated to collaborating with artists to expand their creative potential while fostering more inclusive and dynamic artistic spaces. Her research interests include the work of lesser-known artists, the representation of marginalized communities in art, and issues of repatriation. In her creative practice, she works primarily with analog photography and oil painting.
Griffin Museum of Photography
– Winchester, Massachusetts
Daniel Overturf’s
Illinois Workers: On the Rivers and in the Mines
draws on personal connections to working-class life and his own experiences with manual labor. His portraits aim to present workers with honesty while recognizing them as individuals beyond anonymous roles.
His work is currently on display in the
Labor Daily
exhibition at the Griffin Museum of Photography from March 21st through May 24th, 2026. We had the opportunity to chat with participating artist Daniel, and his responses are as follows.
Born and raised in Peoria, Illinois,
Daniel Overturf
is a photographer and educator who lives in Murphysboro, Illinois. He went from a student to a faculty member to an emeritus at Southern Illinois University. He taught photography at SIU from 1990 to 2021, with previous faculty positions at Illinois Central College and Wichita State University. Overturf has traveled and photographed throughout the United States, Canada, Mexico, Thailand, France, Holland, Germany, Czech Republic and in many parts of the United Kingdom. Scotland was his home for one month each year from 2000 to 2022, and the country still holds a special place in his heart and work.
His photography has been exhibited in the USA and abroad which led to opportunities to photograph a wide variety of people and places. Two co-authored two books,
A River Through Illinois
(2008) and
Illinois Trails and Traces:
Portraits and Stories Along the State’s Historic Routes (2022)
were created with writer Gary Marx. Overturf also co-authored two editions of
Artificial Lighting for Photography
(2009 & 2024), both with Joy McKenzie and the second adding Josh Sanseri.
©Daniel Overturf,
Miner Chuck J, Viper Mine, ArchCoal, near Williamsville, Illinois,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography, All Images Courtesy of the Artist
Allison Huang: How does your lived experience in manual labor shape the level of access or understanding you bring when photographing workers today?
Daniel Overturf:
Like most of my hometown peers in high school, manual labor or just having a job that was done on a clock and usually by hand, was where one started a relationship with the working world. My background includes many different jobs. I worked inside factory supply shops, was among those who built earthmoving equipment at a large plant and labored outside on the land in various capacities. Being a student meant that one found part-time employment during the school year and full-time during summers. After stints as a paperboy at 12 or 13, I had my first full time summer job at 15 which included outdoor wildlife preservation duties.
Later in life, when photography projects called for portraits in settings where people worked, the photographs have been done with respect and appreciation. To begin each encounter I invariably convey to the subjects that I am keenly interested in their job, as well as knowing them as a person. I explain that I am curious about the nature of the job so I can reflect some of their chosen emphasis and include those details into the surroundings for the portrait. The portraits are collaborations with the subjects and most are very willing to be a part of the process, once they are convinced of my sincerity. Almost none of my work is reportage where the subjects are unaware of my presence as that is another approach entirely.
©Daniel Overturf,
Commercial Fisherman Jim, Cleaning a Paddlefish, at His Shop in Grafton, Illinois
,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography, All Images Courtesy of the Artist
AH: Coal mining and river barge work are industries tied to both economic survival and environmental debate. Did that tension influence your decision to focus on them in
Illinois Workers: On the Rivers and in the Mines
?
DO:
Coal mining has been part of the Illinois economic pie chart for over 200 years. In fact, the first Illinois coal mine was established in 1810 along the banks of the Big Muddy River, a few miles from my present home. The industry is going through a well-known transition as energy needs increase amid sometimes stark environmental concerns. Indeed, there are debates and dynamics in play at multiple levels of the energy industry. River barges move coal and a wide range of materials including different grain varieties, petroleum products, chemicals, quarried substrate and molasses. (Molasses is used in making livestock feed, vinegar, liquid fertilizer, ethanol and in the distillation of rum. A barge can carry up to 1750 tons/875,000 gallons of molasses.)
There are always dangers in the river transportation business, but the stakes rise even higher when the barge material is flammable or toxic. Workers’ outlooks vary from person to person in terms of safety concerns. Some of the environmental factors arise in their fields, but the laborers are primarily concerned about their employment status and their families who depend on their jobs. Interestingly, the Illinois River has many organizations that are concerned with the river’s health. Meetings and conferences are held with representatives that range from The Nature Conservancy to the barge industry to state wildlife agencies to grain elevator operators and also recreational boaters. The groups all want what’s best for the future of the river as their livelihoods and quality of life depend on it. The environmental concerns are equally understood by industry and advocacy groups, while the debate on how to proceed evolves.
©Daniel Overturf,
Miner Larry, Viper Mine, ArchCoal, near Williamsville, Illinois
, On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH:
When creating portraits, how do you avoid reinforcing stereotypes about working-class identity while still acknowledging the physical demands of the job?
DO:
Correct, the demands of most jobs are bound to present some stereotypical attributes found in photographs that are collected under a category. Stereotypical details are often what qualifies a photograph to belong in a certain collection. The individual, however, is the key ingredient to portraits in any genre or under any topic. The individual identity should show through, even if they share some visual cues with their co-workers. The goal is to show respect and retain the dignity of the specific person in the photograph. Additionally, the genre is often called environmental portraiture, a term that simply means the subjects are photographed
in situ
. The location and extra information are meant to add depth to the specificity of the portraits.
©Daniel Overturf,
City of Chicago machinist Paul beneath the Ashland Avenue bascule bridge, Chicago, Illinois
, On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH:
Why do you think labor-intensive industries are often visible economically but invisible culturally?
DO:
There is an assumption or at least a recognition in this question that might extend further than the scope of what is sought in my portfolios. However, I have attempted to bring photographs from the two series shown at The Griffin, as well as other workplaces, into museums, galleries and into books. Sometimes the photographs are exhibited at local libraries, town halls or other municipal facilities that are not traditional, isolated art spaces. The local shows often include public forums and dialogues about the nature of what is being shown, more than the photographs which serve as starting points for discussions.
In certain instances the photographs are shown with informational text on the walls or along with the text of the books that helps explain what people do for a living. I have participated alongside subjects in presentations that accompanied exhibitions about coal mining. Those opportunities to share the stage with subjects who could bring their perspective to the conversations helped to make their professions more visible and relatable. In fact, the workers usually steal the show and the art makers respectfully become part of the audience, which is to be expected.
©Daniel Overturf,
Towboat and tow load approaches the Peoria and Pekin Union Railroad drawbridge, on the south side of Peoria, Illinois
, On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: How do you hope your work contributes to a broader re-evaluation of how society defines respect, skill, and expertise within labor?
DO:
I feel that the process of making a photograph of someone who is representing a skill or job carries a certain responsibility. The previously mentioned collaboration strives to contain a genuine connection between subject and photographer. That means there is a base level trust that the photograph will be rooted in respect and understanding of what the subject does for a living. The hope is that any viewer of the images will gain some next steps in their understanding of the working world that may be apart from their own. Furthermore, if a coal miner or a barge employee sees this collection of photographs, the hope is that they recognize that the images are not illustrations but documents. The reality of the people and their surroundings is at the crux of the photographs.
©Daniel Overturf,
Deckhands Jason, Mike and Kevin on the barge boat The Orleanian, on the Illinois River near Beardstown, Illinois
, On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
Interview by
Allison Huang, Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern
Allison Huang
is the Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern from White Plains, New York. She recently graduated from Boston University with a B.A. in History of Art and Architecture and Biology, along with a minor in Visual Arts. With a passion for storytelling and audience engagement, she is dedicated to collaborating with artists to expand their creative potential while fostering more inclusive and dynamic artistic spaces. Her research interests include the work of lesser-known artists, the representation of marginalized communities in art, and issues of repatriation. In her creative practice, she works primarily with analog photography and oil painting.
Griffin Museum of Photography
– Winchester, Massachusetts
Carl Corey’s
BLUE – A Portrait of the American Worker
is a photographic documentary that presents environmental portraits of the American Working Class. Through photographs made across the United States in workers’ own environments, the series aims to create a better understanding and appreciation of the people whose labor plays a critical role in American society.
His work is currently on display in the
Labor Daily
exhibition at the Griffin Museum of Photography from March 21st through May 24th, 2026. We had the opportunity to chat with co-curator and participating artist Carl, and his responses are as follows.
© Carl Corey. All images Courtesy the Artist.
Carl Corey
is a Guggenheim Fellow in Photography and the recipient of over 100 awards from the
photography and publishing communities including National INDIE Book Publishers Best
Photography Book, The Crystal Book Award, Midwest Publishers Gold Book Award, New York Art
Directors Club, Communication Arts, Print Annual and USA National Best Book Awards. Carl’s work
has been featured in many of photography’s most prestigious periodicals, including Camera Work
Bicentennial Edition, Communication Arts, Columbia Journalism Review and Visual Communication Quarterly. Carl’s work is in many art collections and museums.
Corey’s photographs have been the subject of Five monographs including : Rancher ( Bunker Hill /
GalleryPrint, 2007 ), The Tavern League: A Portrait of the Wisconsin Tavern ( The Wisconsin
Historical Society Press, 2011 ), For Love and Money: A Portrait of the Family Business ( WHS Press,
2014 ), The Strand ~ A Cultural Topography of the American Great Lakes ( Cottage Industry Arts 2021
) and Pants On Fire ( Cottage Industry Arts 2024 ). He is a featured photographer in Contemporary
Photography in New York City, edited by Marla Hamburg Kennedy ( Rizzoli, 2011 ).
Follow
Carl Corey
on
Instagram:
@carlcoreyphotographer
© Carl Corey,
Larry – Steel Mill Tech – Cleveland, Ohio
, From
Labor Daily,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography, All Images Courtesy of the Artist
Allison Huang: What motivated you to co-curate
Labor Daily
at this particular moment? Were there current economic or cultural shifts in American labor that made this exhibition feel urgent?
Carl Corey:
There is always shifting in the economic and cultural fabric of labor. The importance of recognizing work and what it means economically and culturally is, unfortunately, often overlooked. This exhibit presents multiple forms of labor not simply those that work for hourly wages, but also those that work independently such as ranchers, farmers, and business owners.
I am from a working class family. I respect work and the commitment it requires. Possibly that is why I was compelled to photograph labor throughout the last twenty or so years. It was an informative and engaging experience. I learned much.
Work is ingrained in our lives. This documenting of the American Cultural Fabric is my work.
© Carl Corey,
Chance and Gus Making Spurs – Red Owl, South Dakota
,
From
Labor Daily,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: In shaping the exhibition, what narratives about labor did you want to challenge or complicate? For example, were you interested in addressing class identity, regional divides, or the political associations often attached to “blue-collar” work?
CC:
I wanted this to be more than just about those who punch a clock. Labor is so ingrained in America and many folks believe labor is work done for someone else or in exchange for wages. That is simply not true. There are so many independent people whose work is ingrained into their lives. Dairy farmers, Ranchers, fisherman, treasure hunters, writers, artists, etc. Work is a facilitating concept and to many an aspiration. It is important to note that labor has no division of race, gender, or creed.
© Carl Corey,
Theresa – Show Salesperson – Prairie du Chein, Wisconsin
,
From
Labor Daily,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: As both a curator and photographer, how do you see photography functioning as evidence, advocacy, or documentation when it comes to representing workers?
CC:
I did not want to participate as a photographer in this exhibit. The Griffin staff convinced me I should. I felt a conflict between curating and participating. I still do…but I acquiesced.
I believe photographs are inherently honest but subjective documents of a time and place. I am a very simple photographer. I think my pictures show that.
© Carl Corey,
Lisa – Finish Painter – Green Bay, Wisconsin
, From
Labor Daily,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: In
BLUE – A Portrait of the American Worker
, how did you determine which occupations to include? Did you intentionally focus on industries experiencing economic decline, resilience, or transformation?
CC:
I contacted over 200 employers. I had no agenda but to honestly photograph working folks. I photographed at every employer that allowed me access. The vast majority were paranoid about allowing me in and declined the project. It was eye opening. The most successful businesses were employee owned, union shops, or both.
© Carl Corey,
Todd – Shipyard Machinist – Superior, Wisconsin
, From
Labor Daily,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography, All Images Courtesy of the Artist
AH: By photographing workers in their environments, how do you balance documenting the physical realities of labor with representing the individuality and dignity of each person?
CC:
I am very respectful, honest, and, some say, engaging. I use those traits to garner trust. I always shared the final photographs.
© Carl Corey,
Taylor with Mark and Dan – Horse Logger – Winter, Wisconsin,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
Interview by
Allison Huang, Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern
Allison Huang
is the Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern from White Plains, New York. She recently graduated from Boston University with a B.A. in History of Art and Architecture and Biology, along with a minor in Visual Arts. With a passion for storytelling and audience engagement, she is dedicated to collaborating with artists to expand their creative potential while fostering more inclusive and dynamic artistic spaces. Her research interests include the work of lesser-known artists, the representation of marginalized communities in art, and issues of repatriation. In her creative practice, she works primarily with analog photography and oil painting.
Griffin Museum of Photography
– Winchester, Massachusetts
Chris Aluka Barry’s
Where Hope Grows
documents the experiences of Mexican migrant farmers at Titan Farms in Ridge Spring, South Carolina, where he challenges stereotypes and expands representation by emphasizing dignity, identity, and the complexity of lived experience. His work is currently on display in the
Labor Daily
exhibition at the Griffin Museum of Photography from March 21st through May 24th, 2026. We had the opportunity to chat with participating artist Chris, and his responses are as follows.
Chris Aluka Berry
(b. 1977) is a documentary photographer living in the Appalachian Mountains of North Carolina. Raised in the South by a white mother and a Black father, his Southern upbringing fostered a lasting awareness of race, belonging, and representation — themes that continue to shape his work and the stories he tells.
Aluka’s education as a storyteller began at The State newspaper in Columbia, South Carolina. During his time there, he was named South Carolina News Photographer of the Year four times and received the Ambrose Hampton Award for Outstanding Journalism and the Judson Chapman Community Journalism Award. After leaving the paper, he built a freelance career in Atlanta, creating work for Reuters, NPR, Los Angeles Times, The New York Times, and other clients. His photographs have been exhibited nationally and are part of permanent collections throughout the U.S., including the Smithsonian National Museum of African American History & Culture in Washington, DC, Asheville Art Museum and The High Museum of Art in Atlanta.
Aluka’s first monograph,
Affrilachia: Testimonies
(University Press of Kentucky, 2024) is the first photography book to honor the Black communities of southern Appalachia. His work has also been featured in anthologies, NMAAHC’s
The American Flag
(Giles, 2025) and
Keeping The Dream Alive
( Southern Poverty Law Center’s, 2014).
Alongside his personal work, Aluka creates visual stories for community organizations, nonprofits, and editorial clients across the U.S. His ongoing monograph projects include
Affrilachia: Testimonies, Volume II
and
Fear, Death, and the Other Side
.
Follow
Chris Aluka Barry
on
Instagram:
@alukastories
©Chris Aluka Barry,
First Year on the Farm
, From
Labor Daily,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography, All Images Courtesy of the Artist
Allison Huang: What led you to invest two years documenting Titan Farms rather than creating a shorter project? How did that sustained presence influence the trust and depth of the images?
Chris Aluka Barry:
I spent two years documenting life at Titan Farms for two reasons. The first reason is that I wanted to immerse myself in the life of the farmers. I wanted to spend long periods of time with them so I could get to know them, in order to truly tell their story. The second reason is that originally I was only going to spend a year documenting the men on the farm, I didn’t know that there were women on the farm. Once I met some of the women and learned that they lived in a separate camp house on the farm I wanted to tell their story as well. So, after I felt like I had told the men’s story, I returned the following growing season and spent the second year with the women.
©Chris Aluka Barry,
Plentiful
, From
Labor Daily,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: How did your perception of migrant labor shift after spending extended time within that community?
CAB:
My perception of migrant labor shifted after spending extended time within the communities by opening my eyes to the real struggles that these people experience. It’s easy to go to the store and buy produce without thinking about who grew, harvested and packed the food. After being on the farm for two years I learned about their families, about their culture. Some farmers are from the inland mountains communities, others from the coast, some from small towns and others from big cities. I learned that several of the farmers are college educated with high level degrees, but even still, they can make more money working on the farm than at home. I also learned that several people meet and fall in love on the farm. Many family members work together, generations of brothers or sisters return year after year. I learned about love, sacrifice and the joy of working hard to provide a better life for your loved ones.
©Chris Aluka Barry,
Mother’s Massage
, From
Labor Daily,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: You separated your work into
A Harvest Hoped For
and
Where Hope Grows
. Were you responding to gendered labor roles, different forms of emotional labor, or broader family structures within migrant communities?
CAB:
I separated my work into A Harvest Hoped For and Where Hope Grows as a response to gender labor roles.
©Chris Aluka Barry,
Going Home
, From
Labor Daily,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: Migrant labor is often discussed in political or economic terms rather than personal ones. How does your work reframe that conversation?
CAB:
My work gives voice to the people. It shows their humanity and our shared humanity. No politics, just real life, that hopefully we can all relate to regardless of who we vote for or how much money we have in the bank. We all want the same thing. Respect, love and the ability to provide for ourselves and the ones we love.
©Chris Aluka Barry,
Gold on the Ground
, From
Labor Daily,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: Within the context of
Labor Daily
, how does your project speak to contemporary tensions around migration, labor shortages, and the idea of opportunity in America?
CAB:
My projects speak to contemporary tensions around migration, labor shortages, and the idea of opportunity in America by showing a glimpse of the large workforce needed to feed America. It also speaks to the fact that most Americans do not want to do these hard jobs, they are not willing to work the long hours sweating in the fields and pack houses. America is dependent on our Mexican neighbors who are still willing to do the work that many of us won’t do. Is America great? In many ways, not at all. Has America ever been great? Well that really depends on the color of your skin and your gender. Does America provide a way to for migrants to make more money than back home, yes. Is America a land of opportunity? Yes, hope still grows in the fields if you’re willing to bend low and reach high.
©Chris Aluka Barry,
Camphouse Clothesline
, From
Labor Daily,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
Interview by
Allison Huang, Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern
Allison Huang
is the Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern from White Plains, New York. She recently graduated from Boston University with a B.A. in History of Art and Architecture and Biology, along with a minor in Visual Arts. With a passion for storytelling and audience engagement, she is dedicated to collaborating with artists to expand their creative potential while fostering more inclusive and dynamic artistic spaces. Her research interests include the work of lesser-known artists, the representation of marginalized communities in art, and issues of repatriation. In her creative practice, she works primarily with analog photography and oil painting.
Griffin Museum of Photography
– Winchester, Massachusetts
Craig Easton’s
ongoing body of work
‘Notes on the American Road Trip’
examines how photography has shaped global perceptions of the United States, questioning how images circulate as cultural “soft power” and influence ideas of American identity. Approaching the landscape as an outsider, he reflects on photography’s role in reinforcing, complicating, and sometimes challenging the narratives they were never meant to carry. Craig’s work is currently on display in the
Manifest Destiny
exhibition at the Griffin Museum of Photography from January 9th through March 15th, 2026. We had the opportunity to chat with Craig, and his responses are as follows.
Portrait of Craig Easton, Courtesy of the Artist
Craig Easton
is a Scottish photographer whose work weaves a narrative between contemporary experience and history.
In 2021 he was named Photographer of the Year at the SONY World Photography Awards and in 2023 won the Arnold Newman Prize for Portraiture.
Author of four critically acclaimed monographs
Fisherwomen, Bank Top
and
Thatcher’s Children,
Easton’s new book
An Extremely Un-get-atable Place
re-imagines the life of writer George Orwell on the Isle of Jura in Scotland where he wrote Nineteen Eighty-Four.
Follow
Craig Easton
on
Instagram:
mrcraigeaston
Allison Huang: In your artist statement, you describe coming to the United States to experience the country for yourself. As a photographer encountering the U.S. firsthand, how do you think your perspective differs from that of a typical first-time visitor or tourist?
Craig Easton:
Firstly, I should say that this is by no means the first time I’ve been to the U.S. I’ve visited many times and have travelled widely across the country, but on each and every visit I am struck both by how familiar it feels and also how alien.
So, the work I’m beginning with this new series is about exploring those feelings and about examining how the country is represented through photography and how the U.S. has come to dominate global culture through this ‘soft power’ of visual media.
With respect to the specific question of how my perspective might differ from other visitors or tourists, I’m not so sure that it does. In a sense it is the very similarity of impression that we non-Americans experience, no matter where we are from, that I want to explore. The work examines the relationship between the idea or dream or fantasy of the United States that we tend to build up throughout our lives and the reality of what we find when we do actually visit. It’s quite extraordinary how U.S. culture is so familiar to so many people around the globe through film, music, books, art and TV – and before much of that, through still photographs. It’s through this medium in particular that so many of us are familiar with the landscape, the cities, the people and the many cultures, and I’m interested in how those visuals – even the ones primarily made as critique – come to represent or reinforce a notion of America as ‘the land of the free and the home of the brave’.
©Craig Easton,
Kern County, California
, From
Manifest Destiny,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography, All Images Courtesy of the Artist
AH: For your ongoing series
‘Notes on the American Road Trip’
, how did you choose the locations you photographed? Were you drawn more to the visual landscape, cultural symbols, written signage, or the underlying mood of a place?
CE:
The very loose prompt for the work was to design an itinerary seeking out places which were in some way ‘known to me’ through photography. I would recall place names from the captions of Walker Evans photographs or Judith Joy Ross’ or Dorothea Lange’s or any number of others and look them up on the map. Then I plotted a route that took me through some of those places: Hale County, Alabama; Hazleton, Pennsylvania; Kern County, California etc. Of course, the route took me to all sorts of places in between too, I don’t feel constrained to a rigid framework. Rather I used the idea as a starting point from which to explore this vast and intriguing country.
The work I have made so far is purely responsive to the people I’ve met and the places I have passed through. For me, it is critical to travel with an open mind to see what there is to discover and not set out to find what I have imagined will be there.
©Craig Easton,
Rich County Fair, Randolph, Utah
, From
Manifest Destiny,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: Several symbols, such as the American flag, cowboy hats, religious imagery, and recognizable landmarks, reappear throughout the series. What does this repetition represent, and what ideas or assumptions about American identity are you hoping to highlight or question?
CE:
I suppose I am exploring the power of those symbols in relation to the idea of soft power and the American cultural hegemony that I spoke of earlier. They are some of the symbols that America exports, the symbols that we non-Americans recognise immediately. It is surprising then, when we visit, to find that they are not simply cliches, but actually appear to be integral to some form of American identity: the stars and stripes, the myths and legends of the ‘wild west’, the overt displays of religion etc. They are all there in the landscape and that’s what I mean when I talk about it being both strange and strangely familiar at the same time.
Flags, it seems to me, have always held a particular fascination for Americans… an expression of national identity and pride that has never really had an equivalence here in the UK. In England, amongst certain sections of the population, the flags – both the union flag and English St. George’s cross – are often seen respectively as symbols of empire and of a xenophobic nationalism. I’m Scottish though and, interestingly, the same is not true of the Scottish Saltire or the Welsh Dragon and so I’ve always been intrigued by a society’s relationship to flags and other symbols. I noticed a change in the UK post Brexit and made a small series of pictures inspired by Arundhati Roy, who wrote:
“Governments first use flags to shrink wrap people’s minds and smother real thought and then as ceremonial shrouds to bury the willing dead.”
I’m interested in what it is that people feel in the U.S. that leads them to display their national or religious allegiance so publicly. I wonder what drives that and whether that feeling too is part of an explanation of the global domination of American culture.
©Craig Easton,
Monument Valley, Arizona
, From
Manifest Destiny,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: Some of your photographs suggest moments of social or political tension, such as the image featuring Indigenous dolls alongside the cowboy hats. From a contemporary perspective, and as a non-American, how important was it for you to engage with these layered and histories shaped by conflict and inequality?
CE:
Well, I’m a documentarian at heart and I photograph what I see – those dolls and hats were there, side by side, they are not something I brought together. And they’re right there in a picture window looking out at another familiar image of American greatness, Monument Valley.
I suppose as an outsider with a general sense of some of the deep and unresolved tensions – and an awareness that we are all trying (or at least ought to be trying) to be much more conscious of historic and ongoing injustices – I was perhaps a little surprised by the juxtaposition.
Again, it’s about iconography and I wonder if those symbols have been on a similar transformational journey to some of the photographs that inspired this work – that despite those conflicts and ongoing inequalities, these opposing emblems themselves became icons of Americana and even now, seemingly without irony, can represent the soft power as agents of American culture throughout the world.
©Craig Easton,
Cathedral Rock, Yosemite Valley,
California
, From
Manifest Destiny,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: You chose to photograph this series in black and white, echoing the work of earlier photographers who documented westward expansion. Beyond historical reference, what role does this aesthetic play in your work? Were ideas of memory or erasure part of that decision?
CE:
The photographers who documented westward expansion worked in b&w because that was the medium of the time – they had no decision to make. It wasn’t really until the 1970s that photographers made a conscious decision to work in colour and although in some cases they were exploring the medium in its own right, the choice they made drew a very clear distinction from the monochrome past.
In some sense my decision is the exact opposite of that, it’s now b&w that effectively acts to separate my work from that early colour work that I admire and am inspired by: Eggleston, Christenberry, Levitt, Sternfeld, Shore, Epstein, Misrach, Meyerowitz, etc. etc.
I could probably dream up some kind of theoretical justification for choosing b&w, but I think it best to leave that to others, for me it was just instinctive and not something that I want to over analyse. I suppose it does strip the work back to its bare essentials and with the American light being so different to UK light, it allowed me to focus on those essentials away from the distractions of colour.
©Craig Easton,
Armstrong County, Texas
, From
Manifest Destiny,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: Finally, returning to the exhibition title
Manifest Destiny
, your work revisits an influential historical concept while examining the American landscape today. What themes do you hope viewers reflect on as they engage with your photographs, and what questions do you hope they leave with?
CE:
Well, of course, it’s a privilege to be the invited ‘non-American’ in this exhibition, not least as it’s the 250
th
anniversary of the U.S. adoption of the Declaration of Independence – from my country!
That history between our nations is something which informs this work – the long-held notion of the ‘special relationship’ is deeply engrained in many of us: we’ve been friends for a long time!
And friends sometimes need to work through things and try to see the world from each other’s perspective.
It’s maybe hard to see ourselves as others see us, but nonetheless important to try, and that’s where ideas of representation and moral authority come in – is this cultural dominance something that is claimed by the United States or do we, as outsiders, simply confer that prominence after absorbing decades of American art and media? In a sense that’s the very central question that led to my starting this project in the first place – what role does photography play in the global understanding of American power?
This work was begun in the summer of 2024 and it’s already interesting to revisit it today, when global and cultural change seems to be occurring faster than ever. At a time when the U.S. appears to be moving away from the focus on ‘soft power’ that it so successfully nurtured for so long and now seems to be rekindling the old belief in ‘hard power’ and a ‘might is right’ approach to international relations.
There is the now famous quote from murdered British MP Jo Cox who said in her maiden speech to parliament that
“we have more in common than that which divides us”
and I believe that to be true across all constructed divisions: geographical, political, cultural, ethnic, religious etc. etc… and my hope is that we can break down those barriers, focus on those things which bring us together and work towards a common humanity.
©Craig Easton,
Roundup, Musselshell County,
Montan
a, From
Manifest Destiny,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
Interview by
Allison Huang, Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern
Allison Huang
is the Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern from White Plains, New York. She recently graduated from Boston University with a B.A. in History of Art and Architecture and Biology, along with a minor in Visual Arts. With a passion for storytelling and audience engagement, she is dedicated to collaborating with artists to expand their creative potential while fostering more inclusive and dynamic artistic spaces. Her research interests include the work of lesser-known artists, the representation of marginalized communities in art, and issues of repatriation. In her creative practice, she works primarily with analog photography and oil painting.
Griffin Museum of Photography
– Winchester, Massachusetts
Lisa Elmaleh’s
Promised Land / Tierra Prometida
documents migration along the U.S.–Mexico border through long-term travel, collaboration with humanitarian aid groups, and large-format photography. Her project focuses on the lived experiences of people seeking asylum and those supporting them, challenging simplified media narratives and emphasizing empathy and the need for compassion. Lisa’s work is currently on display in the
Manifest Destiny
exhibition at the Griffin Museum of Photography from January 9th through March 15th, 2026. We had the opportunity to chat with Lisa, and her responses are as follows.
Portrait of Lisa Elmaleh, Courtesy of the Artist
Lisa Elmaleh
(b. 1984, Miami, Florida) is a photographer, activist, and humanitarian. She specializes in large-format work in tintype, glass negative, and celluloid film. Her most recent body of work,
Promised Land/Tierra Prometida
, focuses on migration at the border of the United States and Mexico, and since 2020, she has been immersed in the migrant justice community there. Elmaleh’s images have been exhibited internationally. Her work has been exhibited nationwide and recognized by the Guggenheim Foundation, the Arnold Newman Prize, and the Aaron Siskind Foundation, among others. Elmaleh resides in Paw Paw, West Virginia, in a primitive cabin.
Follow
Lisa Elmaleh
on
Instagram:
@elmalayheehoo
Allison Huang: Can you describe your creative process for
Promised Land / Tierra Prometida
? What compelled you to focus on the U.S.–Mexico border?
Lisa Elmaleh:
Since 2020, I have traveled along the U.S.–Mexico border with my large-format camera, volunteering with humanitarian aid groups and staying in shelters with people seeking asylum in the United States. When I first arrived in mid-2020, the rhetoric surrounding the construction of the border wall was unavoidable. I needed to see it. When I finally stood beside it, its scale felt impossibly massive—the newer, post-Trump sections of the wall rise thirty feet high.
I later learned that the wall was built to that height because a fall from thirty feet is likely to result in at least a level-two traumatic injury, or death. I wanted to face the people for whom this wall was built, though I already knew what I would find. I am the daughter of a refugee, and I grew up in an immigrant community in Miami. I understood that this wall was built to keep future generations like us out of the United States.
As I began volunteering in shelters serving people seeking asylum, I quickly came to know the communities most impacted by this barrier: families, mothers with children, people of the LGBTQ+ community, Indigenous people, fathers seeking work to support their children back home. These are the people for whom the wall was built. I struggled to reconcile the injustice of this reality as I listened to harrowing stories from those we served—stories of family members being murdered, surviving cartel and political violence, enduring gender-based violence, and losing land and livelihoods to climate change and the lack of fresh water.
©Lisa Elmaleh,
Redwing Blackbirds, Progreso Lakes, Rio Grande Valley, Texas
, From
Manifest Destiny,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography, All Images Courtesy of the Artist
AH: As a volunteer with humanitarian aid organizations, how have your relationships with the people you meet shaped this body of work? Were there specific stories or realities you felt were missing from mainstream narratives that you wanted to highlight?
LE:
The people I have met doing this work informs the work entirely. The photographic work I am creating could not exist without the volunteer work I am doing. The sensationalized narratives on migration that dominate American news and politics are dehumanizing and othering. By being a part of the community and photographing slowly and intentionally, my intent is to change that narrative.
There are certainly times where it feels inappropriate to take out the camera, and in those moments, I refrain from doing so. Each of those instances informs how and why I take the photographs that follow. I am also working to write out the specific stories and realities I am witnessing, recognizing that photographs cannot always tell the entire story – nor should they.
©Lisa Elmaleh,
Full Moon Over Juarez, Chihuahua, Looking Towards El Paso, Texas
, From
Manifest Destiny,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: Many of your photographs center on children, families, and communities. How did trust and long-term relationships affect the way people engaged with your camera? What do these connections mean to you beyond their role within the project?
LE:
When I am creating a photograph with a person, or people, in front of the lens, it is an interactive and collaborative effort with the person being photographed. I only photograph when a person is comfortable and feels empowered in front of the camera; if, for some reason, a person does not want to be photographed, they are still welcome to look at the camera and watch me photograph, but I do not push them to sit for a portrait.
Easier than me expressing it through words, I think that it is quite visible to look at the faces of the people sitting for my camera: the people I photograph are my friends, they are part of my community. We joke with each other, we cry with each other. The community is tight-knit, even though it is always changing and fluctuating. I remain connected to a number of families and individuals who have migrated to and are living in the United States, or those who have decided to remain in Mexico, and families who have escaped the terror of ICE by moving. I have lost touch with others, but I think about my community a lot, especially now.
©Lisa Elmaleh,
Tire Fence, West Texas
, From
Manifest Destiny,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: Your work aims to counter desensitization toward migration by encouraging empathy and compassion. Why do you believe photography is an effective medium for fostering this emotional response?
LE:
Photography is the only method that I know that can still time, that can transfer a person’s ability to be able to gaze into a face the way one is only able to gaze into the face of a loved one. I want to give people the opportunity to truly see those who are in the act of migration, and to feel a sense of kinship. Migration is not anyone’s entire story; it is only a part of it. If you have ever changed locations for a job opportunity, or to go to school, or to live with a partner, you have also migrated – migration is a natural and normal part of being a living creature on this planet.
©Lisa Elmaleh,
Thirteen Crosses at the Site Where Thirteen People Perished from El Salvador, Sonoran Desert, Arizona,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: In your artist statement, you describe the project as questioning the myth of the American Dream. In today’s political climate, how do you think ideas tied to Manifest Destiny and the American Dream should be reexamined, and how do you hope viewers approach these concepts through your work?
LE:
My question is: who owns the land? How is that decided? The border wall is a literal fence meant to keep people out of a place that has been traditionally viewed as a land of opportunity, a land of promise. Who owns the keys to this land, and how do they decide who gets to come and go? Who gets to make the rules?
There was a time at the border where I was genuinely scared because of something that had happened while I was out photographing in the desert. I spoke to one of the nuns I was working with, who shifted my perspective: she said, sometimes, God gives us the opportunity to be able to empathize more directly with the people we are serving, and that is a gift.
I think that many citizens of the United States are now experiencing this perspective shift, and suddenly, they are able to empathize with communities that have so long lived under the fear of police brutality. If our most vulnerable populations are not safe, then none of us are truly safe. Our American concept of freedom has always been an illusion. If only some of us are free, none of us are truly free.
©Lisa Elmaleh,
Pasamanos, Casa de la Misericordia, Nogales, Sonora,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
Interview by
Allison Huang, Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern
Allison Huang
is the Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern from White Plains, New York. She recently graduated from Boston University with a B.A. in History of Art and Architecture and Biology, along with a minor in Visual Arts. With a passion for storytelling and audience engagement, she is dedicated to collaborating with artists to expand their creative potential while fostering more inclusive and dynamic artistic spaces. Her research interests include the work of lesser-known artists, the representation of marginalized communities in art, and issues of repatriation. In her creative practice, she works primarily with analog photography and oil painting.
Griffin Museum of Photography
– Winchester, Massachusetts
Drew Leventhal’s
series
Mason & Dixon
explores the Mason-Dixon Line that divides Pennsylvania from Maryland. Interested in the border’s history and mythology, this body of work captures landscapes and encounters that reflect uncertainty while holding space for moments of connection and hope. Drew’s work is currently on display in the
Manifest Destiny
exhibition at the Griffin Museum of Photography from January 9th through March 15th, 2026. We had the opportunity to chat with Drew, and his responses are as follows.
Portrait of Drew Leventhal, Courtesy of the Artist
Drew Leventhal
(b. 1995) is a photographer from the United States. His practice is informed by his upbringing and training in anthropology. Through photography, Drew sees the possibility for connection and mutual understanding. Each image becomes an ongoing dialogue and search for meaning. Through investigations of ritual, colonial history, and the delineations of landscape, Drew is interested in what it means to be human.
Drew received a BFA in Anthropology from Vassar College and received an MFA in Photography from the Rhode Island School of Design. He has shown work at galleries and museums across the United States. He has been a finalist for the Aperture Portfolio Prize, the Film Photo Award, and the PhMuseum Grant. Drew was the 2022 Lenscratch Student Prize and was previously a National Geographic Young Explorer. He is currently a 2025-2026 Fulbright scholar in Ireland.
Follow
Drew Leventhal
on
Instagram:
@drew_leventhal
Allison Huang: As both an anthropologist and an artist, what themes or areas of study most consistently draw your interest, and why?
Drew Leventhal:
I find myself drawn to stories that bring structure and order to our lives. It is a natural human process, we all do it. I want to unpack where those stories came from. As both a scholar and an artist I live by the idea that I am “professionally curious,” always asking questions and digging under the surface of things. When I do that, I find there is always something interesting to go photograph. I often find myself interested in regions and places laden with history and mythology. Often my work is very geographically oriented as I zone in on the character of a particular place.
There are so many similarities between the practices of anthropology and photography. For one, they both necessitate an involvement with the real world, with something outside of ourselves. This can be a neighbour, a street, a city, a region, a country, anything. Even self-portraiture requires engaging with a different part of ourselves. In both anthropology and photography we use the term “The Other” to describe how fraught this negotiation with the world can potentially become. But rather than see that concept as a flaw, I see it as a possible strength of anthropology/photography. What if instead of an abstract, semi-mystical and possibly threatening “Other” we think of working with “others,” complicated human beings who have similarities and differences and are imperfect in all the ways we ourselves are? In this way I see photography and anthropology as ways of communicating and understanding across differences.
©Drew Leventhal,
Pond Line, Maryland
, From
Manifest Destiny,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography, All Images Courtesy of the Artist
AH: What initially inspired you to create a series centered around the Mason–Dixon Line? How did your background in anthropology and photography shape the way you approached this historical boundary?
DL:
This project started out very differently from how it turned out. As with many of my projects, it was inspired by a book I read, Thomas Pynchon’s Mason & Dixon. It is still one of my favourite books. Pynchon retells the history of the original survey of the Line by Charles Mason and Jeremiah Dixon in the 1760s, turning it into a surreal buddy comedy full of strange encounters and dark forests. So my original plan was to try and illustrate the books, doing what Pynchon did, only with photographs. That changed pretty quickly once I started working in the field and I found that the Line had become quietly co-opted as a symbol of division over the centuries. As an anthropologist, I found myself constantly on the hunt for symbols and encounters. I was trying to build up a web of meaning, hopefully with a bit of the Phynchonian surreality still present.
©Drew Leventhal,
General Longstreet, Pennsylvania
, From
Manifest Destiny,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: Can you describe your creative process for
Mason & Dixon
? Did you follow a specific route or set of locations, or was the project driven more by exploration and revisiting the boundary through multiple visits?
DL:
My self-imposed “border,” if you will, was to stay in states that sit along the Mason-Dixon Line, namely: Pennsylvania, Maryland, Delaware, and a small slice of West Virginia. This is the real and metaphorical borderland I was interested in. I had rough plans during my trips, places I would stay the night. But during the day I was mostly guided by exploration and discovery, a lot of word of mouth from strangers of things I should go see. That kind of process requires a lot of trust and faith in oneself because some days you might see lots of interesting things and take lots of great pictures and then another day you get absolutely nothing. Riding those highs and lows is critically important to staying sane and focused.
©Drew Leventhal,
Invasion, Pennsylvania
, From
Manifest Destiny,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: Your series is photographed in black and white. How does the absence of color shape the way viewers read the images and understand the narrative you are constructing?
DL:
The use of black and white (as well as the use of medium and large-format film) was very intentional for a couple of reasons. First, I wanted to the viewer to think that these pictures could have been taken at any time in the last 200 years, to emphasise that we are dealing with the same issues and the same divisions that have plagued the United States since before its founding. These violences, of slavery and Indigenous displacement, have become so rooted in our country’s story that they become hard to see sometimes. Second, I used black and white to be in dialogue with some of my favourite photographers from the 20th century, namely Dorothea Lange and Robert Frank. Combined, all of that creates what I like to call anachronisms, literally pictures that are “out of time.”
©Drew Leventhal,
Map of the Line, Pennsylvania
, From
Manifest Destiny,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH:
Many of your photographs emphasize lines—whether through trees, infrastructure, divisions in the landscape, or cartographic markings. Beyond referencing the Mason–Dixon Line itself, do these visual choices point to broader social, political, or cultural divisions in the United States today?
DL:
They absolutely do. I don’t think it is a secret that the United States is at an incredibly important moment of inflection. We are divided on everything now. The Mason-Dixon Line itself is a perfect example of that. As the border between the historic North and the South, it marks cultural and political divides that actually transcend the specific geography (“North” and “South”). In some ways, I think we all have a bunch of Mason-Dixon Lines in our heads, boundaries we create and put up that define who we are and, most importantly, who we are not. This returns to the idea of the “Other” I touched on earlier. Boundaries and borders create the Other by defining who is in and who is out. This happens in every society, every community. But it has taken a particularly terrifying and violent turn here in America. In my pictures of lines, I am trying to point to the ways these borders have come to define our lives while simultaneously questioning their very validity. Are there cracks in the wall, places where we might be able to rethink the boundaries we have placed around ourselves?
©Drew Leventhal,
Battle, Pennsylvania
, From
Manifest Destiny,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH:
In relation to the exhibition
Manifest Destiny
, both the Mason–Dixon survey and 19th-century expansionist beliefs played key roles in shaping American territory. How does your series engage with ideas of land, memory, and erasure, and what connections do you hope viewers make between past and present?
DL:
Something I found really interesting when I was researching this project is that the original Mason-Dixon survey was kind of the prototype for later notions of manifest destiny and westward expansion. The survey mapped and divided the land to an astonishing degree of accuracy, turning what was once beautifully unknown into a grounded Cartesian reality. In that way, I can almost see the Mason-Dixon Line as an early divide between East and West, not just North and South. I am not a Western photographer; the landscape on the East Coast is very different. But I do see how the ideas that came to define the West were practiced closer to home.
The region I am engaged with is one where the land holds such deep memory. Look at any town or point in the area and if you dig enough you will find stories that will make your heart break. These memories are still there, buried in the ground. Occasionally they come back to haunt us, to remind us of the cyclical nature of our divisions. No amount of historical erasure or building development can get rid of that. While the notion that we are continuously haunted by our violent legacy might sound quite grim, I also see a glimmer of hope. If we can remind ourselves of what has happened on this land before us then maybe, just maybe, we can find ways to break down the borders we have put up around ourselves and have some real human moments of connection.
©Drew Leventhal,
Home, Maryland
, From
Manifest Destiny,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
Interview by
Allison Huang, Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern
Allison Huang
is the Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern from White Plains, New York. She recently graduated from Boston University with a B.A. in History of Art and Architecture and Biology, along with a minor in Visual Arts. With a passion for storytelling and audience engagement, she is dedicated to collaborating with artists to expand their creative potential while fostering more inclusive and dynamic artistic spaces. Her research interests include the work of lesser-known artists, the representation of marginalized communities in art, and issues of repatriation. In her creative practice, she works primarily with analog photography and oil painting.
Griffin Museum of Photography
– Winchester, Massachusetts
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Amy Rindskopf's Terra Novus
At the market, I pick each one up, pulled in by the shapes as they sit together, waiting. I feel its heft in my hand, enjoy the textures of the skin or peel, and begin to look closer and closer. The patterns on each individual surface marks them as distinct. I push further still, discovering territory unseen by the casual observer, a new land. I am like a satellite orbiting a distant planet, taking the first-ever images of this newly envisioned place.
This project started as an homage to Edward Weston’s Pepper No. 30 (I am, ironically, allergic to peppers). As I looked for my subject matter at the market, I found that I wasn’t drawn to just one single fruit or vegetable. There were so many choices, appealing to both hand and eye. I decided to print in black and white to help make the images visually more about the shapes, and not about guessing which fruit is smoothest, which vegetable is greenest.
Artistic Purpose/Intent
Artistic Purpose/Intent
Tricia Gahagan
Photography has been paramount in my personal path of healing from disease and
connecting with consciousness. The intention of my work is to overcome the limits of the
mind and engage the spirit. Like a Zen koan, my images are paradoxes hidden in plain
sight. They are intended to be sat with meditatively, eventually revealing greater truths
about the world and about one’s self.
John Chervinsky’s photography is a testament to pensive work without simple answers;
it connects by encouraging discovery and altering perspectives. I see this scholarship
as a potential to continue his legacy and evolve the boundaries of how photography can
explore the human condition.
Growing my artistic skill and voice as an emerging photographer is critical, I see this as
a rare opportunity to strengthen my foundation and transition towards an established
and influential future. I am thirsty to engage viewers and provide a transformative
experience through my work. I have been honing my current project and building a plan
for its complete execution. The incredible Griffin community of mentors and the
generous funds would be instrumental for its development. I deeply recognize the
hallmark moment this could be for the introduction of the work. Thank you for providing
this incredible opportunity for budding visions and artists that know they have something
greater to share with the world.
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Griffin News
A minuscule boat in an oil-muddied waterway. A suburban home before a gargantuan exhaust chimney at a coal-fired power plant. The sheer scale of these juxtapositions makes it impossible to turn a blind eye to the urgent, up-close environmental work of
Julie Dermansky
. Unmistakably evidentiary, the New Orleans–based artist’s photographs don’t shy away from the dire environmental realities that surround us — and the power dynamics, policies, and propaganda that feed them.
At times, the work is as melancholic and elegiac as it is tinged with a sardonic undertone. In
Christmas in Cancer Alley,
a house fully decorated for the Holidays pales in comparison to the extravaganza put on by the Meraux Refinery just behind it. Darker images like
The Holy Rosary Cemetery Next to Dow Chemical
illuminate a Louisiana cemetery beside a plant known for harmful emissions. Here, a lone cross (less a symbol of salvation than of witness, or perhaps even loss and demise) stands against a looming stack of pipes, fire and ash.
In this interview, the artist reveals how the fossil fuel industry obscures the narrative of climate change—and what lies ahead if we fail to act. The endgame is stark: “If we do not cut our use of fossil fuels,” says Dermansky, “life on Earth for many species, including humans, will become untenable.”
Labor Daily
is on view at the Main Gallery through May 24th, 2026. An interview with the artist follows.
Follow
Julie Dermansky
on
: @
juliedermasnky
© Julie Dermansky,
Home Near West Virginia Coal Power Plant
Home near the John Amos coal-fired power plant in Poca, West Virginia on Aug. 1, 2017.
Allison Huang: In your series,
Precursors to the Climate Crisis, Courtesy of the Fossil Fuel Industry
, were you more interested in documenting the labor itself, the environmental consequences, or the relationship between the two?
Julie Dermansky:
I’m interested in documenting the relationship between labor and the worsening climate crisis. To do that, I photograph the aftermath of industrial accidents and extreme weather events from a distance to convey the scale of incidents tied to that crisis.
© Julie Dermansky
AH: How do you navigate photographing workers in industries that are economically vital yet environmentally damaging?
JD:
My work in no way judges those working in the fossil fuel industry. This question, and the ones following it reflects a carefully crafted, decades-long propaganda campaign by the fossil fuel industry to frame climate concern as anti-worker and anti-jobs — a false narrative designed to delay meaningful action on climate science.
The photographs depict the risks disaster recovery workers face following industrial accidents or extreme weather events, many of which were intensified by changing atmospheric conditions. Workers at such sites are often temp workers, a growing sector in the labor market, who are seldom warned about the potential health impacts of the hazardous materials they are dealing with presently, or provided the proper safety equipment to do the jobs they are tasked to do.
© Julie Dermansky,
Oil and Chemical Gumbo
An aerial view of clean-up workers in a boat on a pond full of oil and chemical products spilled from Smitty’s Supply facility in Roseland, LA on Sept. 26, 2025 following a massive fire that broke out on Aug. 22. The company produces and distributes products for motor vehicles worldwide. It had several million gallons of various petroleum and chemical products on site when the fire broke out. State and federal regulators asserted the pollution event did not pose a threat to human health despite evidence presented by independent scientists suggesting otherwise.
AH: The repetition of smoke, refineries, and spills suggests normalization. Are you intentionally highlighting how environmental harm has become so common that people no longer question it?
JD:
The repetitive nature of my work in no way is meant to normalize the pollution related to industry. The narrow focus of this body of work offers an in-depth has the potential to bring deeper attention to a subject that in large part, in my view, isn’t widely considered in the first place.
© Julie Dermansky,
The Holy Rosary Cemetery Next To Dow Chemical
The Holy Rosary Cemetery next to the Dow Chemical complex formerly owned by Union Carbide, in Taft, LA is one of the many vast industrial sites along an 85 mile stretch along the Mississippi River between Baton Rouge Louisiana and New Orleans that emits chemicals known to be harmful to the environment.
© Julie Dermansky,
The Holy Rosary Cemetery Next To Dow Chemical #2
The Holy Rosary Cemetery next to the Dow Chemical complex formerly owned by Union Carbide, in Taft, LA is one of the many vast industrial sites along an 85 mile stretch along the Mississippi River between Baton Rouge Louisiana and New Orleans that emits chemicals known to be harmful to the environment.
AH: How does your work complicate the idea of pride in labor when that labor is tied to climate change?
JD:
My photographs in relation to labor, reflect on the risks disaster recovery work presents to those doing in that field of work— be it full-time first responders, volunteer firefighters, or temp workers that are hired to do the bulk of the clean-up work in the aftermath of natural and industrial incidents.
© Julie Dermansky, Christmas in Cancer Alley
House across from the Meraux Refinery on Jan 4, 2011 in St. Bernard Parish, Louisiana.
AH: In today’s economic climate, many communities depend on fossil fuel jobs. How do you balance acknowledging that reality while emphasizing environmental urgency?
JD:
Considerations related to Industry’s false narrative related to climate change, do not enter my art making process. The decline of jobs in the fossil fuel industry that have become obsolete is already impacting communities reliant on those jobs- but the loss of those jobs arguably has nothing to do with one’s awareness of the climate crisis. I would like this series of work to evokes questions related to how the climate crisis will impact labor. If we do head the warning issued by the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) — set up by the United Nations — that if we do not cut our use of fossil fuels life on earth for many species including humans, will be untenable.
© Julie Dermansky,
Alabama Landscape
A Dollar Store sign near the James H. Miller Generating Plant in West Jefferson, Alabama on March 9, 2024. This coal plant is one of the largest greenhouse gas emitters in the United States.
© Julie Dermansky,
Pipeline Fire in Paradis, LA.
Firefighters putting out a fire in Paradis, Louisiana the day after a Phillips 66 pipeline erupted in flames on Feb. 9, 2017.
Interview by
Allison Huang, Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern
Allison Huang
is the Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern from White Plains, New York. She recently graduated from Boston University with a B.A. in History of Art and Architecture and Biology, along with a minor in Visual Arts. With a passion for storytelling and audience engagement, she is dedicated to collaborating with artists to expand their creative potential while fostering more inclusive and dynamic artistic spaces. Her research interests include the work of lesser-known artists, the representation of marginalized communities in art, and issues of repatriation. In her creative practice, she works primarily with analog photography and oil painting.
Griffin Museum of Photography
– Winchester, Massachusetts
Terry Evan’s
Steelwork
traces the steel industry from active mills to raw material extraction, showing how earth is transformed into steel. Her work highlights the risks faced by workers and the environmental costs behind industrial production.
Her work is currently on display in the
Labor Daily
exhibition at the Griffin Museum of Photography from March 21st through May 24th, 2026. We had the opportunity to chat with participating artist Terry, and her responses are as follows.
Terry Evans
photographs the prairies and plains of North America and the urban prairie of Chicago. Combining both aerial and ground photography, she delves into the intricate and complex relationships between land and people. She is a Guggenheim Fellow and a recipient of an Anonymous Was a Woman award. Her work is in many museum collections including the Art Institute of Chicago, Museum of Modern Art, New York, San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington, D.C., Whitney Museum of American Art, New York, and the Museum of Fine Arts Houston.
Follow
Terry Evans
on
:
terryevansphotography
©Terry Evans,
Basic Oxygen Furnace, Idle,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography, All Images Courtesy of the Artist
Allison Huang: In your series,
Steel Work
, you examine steel production without directly depicting workers. What does focusing on the industrial process reveal about labor systems that portraits might not?
Terry Evans:
My photographs in the Griffin show are part of a much larger project that I undertook as exploration of steel production because I admired the steel mills on Lake Michigan shores near Chicago, my home. I wanted to see inside the steel mills to see how steel is made, this hot and dangerous process. Some of my exhibition pictures show raw materials that are used in steel production: sand, iron ore, coal, limestone, steel scrap, raw materials that come from the earth.
©Terry Evans,
Coal, Indiana Harbor,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: How did your time working in steel mills influence the way you framed scale, machinery, and environmental transformation?
TE:
I was used to doing aerial photography when I started the steel work so in some ways the grand scale of the machines compared to the human scale gave me similar problems in seeing to figure out. How do I understand what I was seeing in terms of scale?
©Terry Evans,
Preparation Aisle (Tiny Men), Indiana Harbor,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: Steel production reshapes land through extraction and fire. How do you think this physical alteration of the earth reflects broader economic priorities?
TE:
As we have come to know, climate change and global warming teach us that we need to show great care for the earth and weigh carefully how we use it.
©Terry Evans,
Slag, Indiana Harbor,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: Do you see industrial labor as inseparable from environmental consequence, or is there space for sustainable transformation within these industries?
TE:
There is plenty of room for sustainable transformation in industrial labor and saving energy costs helps everybody.
©Terry Evans,
Cart and Limestone Pile, Indiana Harbor,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: In the context of
Labor Daily
, how does your work broaden the idea of labor to include not just workers, but also the industrial processes and land transformation involved in production?
TE:
One cannot be separated from the other, human work and earth processes are intertwined in steel production.
©Terry Evans,
Graphite, Indiana Harbor,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
Interview by
Allison Huang, Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern
Allison Huang
is the Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern from White Plains, New York. She recently graduated from Boston University with a B.A. in History of Art and Architecture and Biology, along with a minor in Visual Arts. With a passion for storytelling and audience engagement, she is dedicated to collaborating with artists to expand their creative potential while fostering more inclusive and dynamic artistic spaces. Her research interests include the work of lesser-known artists, the representation of marginalized communities in art, and issues of repatriation. In her creative practice, she works primarily with analog photography and oil painting.
Griffin Museum of Photography
– Winchester, Massachusetts
Xavier Tavera’s
portrait series,
Restaurant Service Workers
, documents the experiences of the Latin American diaspora, combining documentary and constructed approaches to tell personal and collective stories. His work focuses on visibility and representation, drawing from his own experience of moving from Mexico City to the United States.
His work is currently on display in the
Labor Daily
exhibition at the Griffin Museum of Photography from March 21st through May 24th, 2026. We had the opportunity to chat with participating artist Xaiver, and his responses are as follows.
Xavier Tavera
has had a passion for portraiture for most of his life as a way to engage with people and their stories. Tavera’s work oscillates between documentary and the imagined with the sole purpose of telling a story. After moving from Mexico City to the United States, Tavera has devoted himself to tell
the stories of the Latin American diaspora, often recontextualizing with the purpose of providing visibility and fair representation.
Tavera has shown his work extensively in the Twin Cities, nationally and internationally including Germany, Scotland, Mexico, Chile, Uruguay, Switzerland, Portugal, Greece and China. His work is part of the collections of the Minneapolis Institute of Art, Plains Art Museum, Minnesota Museum of American Art, Minnesota History Center, Ramsey County Historical Society, the Weisman Art Museum and the National Museum of Mexican Art. He is a recipient of the McKnight fellowship, Jerome Travel award, State Arts Board, and Bronica scholarship.
Follow
Xavier Tavera
on
:
@taveraxavier
©Xavier Tavera,
Untitled 9,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography, All Images Courtesy of the Artist
Allison Huang:
When you approached restaurant workers for
Restaurant Service Laborers
, what conversations did you have with them about representation and visibility? How did you ensure they felt seen rather than simply documented?
Xavier Tavera:
When approaching restaurant workers we had all kinds of conversations. The topics of cultural intersection came naturally and were tied to place of origin, food, and service industry. They were curious about their representation and asked questions regarding photography, cameras and lighting. Despite being crucial to the U.S. economy, many Latino workers report feeling unprotected. Therefore, I showed my respect for their labor as we discussed about the current political situation, about prosecution and feelings of being unsafe, insecure, or vulnerable. I hope that through my approach I can make people feel at ease during the photographic session. The
back house
is by definition the area of the kitchen that remains behind the scenes, unseen, hidden. The response of the restaurant workers was appreciation regarding the thought of being visible.
©Xavier Tavera,
Untitled 1,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: You chose to create formal portraits rather than photographing them during active labor. What does isolating them from the kitchen environment allow viewers to understand differently?
XV:
By taking formal portraits and placing people away from their usual environment I am centering them in the labor conversation. This way they become the focus of attention with no artifice. The viewer can have a more intimate conversation with them when we see them face to face. The photograph is highlighting who they are and what they do; and allows the viewer to communicate with them through their image.
©Xavier Tavera,
Untitled 3,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH:
Restaurant labor is essential but often overlooked. Why do you think this invisibility persists, especially for immigrant and Latino workers? How do economic systems, immigration status, and workplace hierarchies shape that dynamic?
XV:
Historically and traditionally the
Back of the House
has been the unseen, the hidden, the concealed, not visible to customers. In essence the workers are invisible yet so essential to any restaurant. The Back House translates also as a safe place, away from any unwanted viewers. Nationwide, Latinos constitute a big percentage of workers in the
Back House
.
For this series, I wanted to highlight them to the essential workers conversation by making them visible. I want to acknowledge respect for their work, presence and humanity in the restaurant industry, toppling down the undefeatable hierarchy of the kitchen world. Unfortunately, this hierarchy is parallel in everyday life where people are still invisible and unaccounted. I am trying to have a fair representation of the Latino worker.
©Xavier Tavera,
Untitled 4,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH:
You note that Latino laborers are a major part of the U.S. food production system. Do you see this project as part of a broader effort to document other hidden areas of food labor, such as agriculture or food processing?
XV:
There is a crucial cycle in US food industry where Latinos are essential in every step of the succession: the people who plant the seeds, the people who help grow that seed into a crop, the people that harvest the crops, the people who package and process the food, the people who transports the food to a supermarket or a restaurant, the people who prepares the food, the people who serves the food and finally the people who cleans after we are finished eating. The labor cycle of all these people that feed us is with very little recognition. In the past I have documented farmworkers, truckers, meat packaging workers and now restaurant workers with the only purpose to bring a better representation of them to the forefront. This is an effort to praise the people who makes it possible for us to be fed.
©Xavier Tavera, Untitled 8
,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: What long-term impact do you hope this series has, whether in terms of recognition, policy awareness, or shifting how audiences think about who sustains the food industry?
XV:
At this time in history where there is a strong effort to criminalize low-wage laborers where Brown people are being targeted and prosecuted for working. I would like the photographic series to be a statement of resilience and endurance. I want people to acknowledge kitchen workers as an essential part of our lives and sustenance as people who not only care for our nutrition but nurture our souls, and who prepare food with love and care.
©Xavier Tavera,
Untitled 10,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
nterview by
Allison Huang, Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern
Allison Huang
is the Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern from White Plains, New York. She recently graduated from Boston University with a B.A. in History of Art and Architecture and Biology, along with a minor in Visual Arts. With a passion for storytelling and audience engagement, she is dedicated to collaborating with artists to expand their creative potential while fostering more inclusive and dynamic artistic spaces. Her research interests include the work of lesser-known artists, the representation of marginalized communities in art, and issues of repatriation. In her creative practice, she works primarily with analog photography and oil painting.
Griffin Museum of Photography
– Winchester, Massachusetts
Inna Valin’s
Leave Me Not Alone
explores the diverse, resilient, and often overlooked individuals who form the backbone of American labor. These images highlight the ways people build meaningful lives through work — not defined by status, education, or wealth, but by determination, ingenuity, and pride.
Her work is currently on display in the
Labor Daily
exhibition at the Griffin Museum of Photography from March 21st through May 24th, 2026. We had the opportunity to chat with participating artist Inna, and her responses are as follows.
I am a self-taught artist who began photographing as a child. When I got my first instamatic camera at a garage sale around age 9, I became obsessed with making images. I think it was a way to view and distance myself from my paradoxical, turbulent rural childhood. The camera, even when I couldn’t get film, became a magical window, breaking my isolation and creating focus. It has stayed with me my whole life. As an exploratory documentary photographer, I seek to use my camera to explore this mysterious world we live in, with a focus on unnoticed and forgotten people and places.
I have exhibited my work across the United States and as far away as Japan. Awards include the McKnight foundation/ University of Minnesota fellowship for photographers, Jerome foundation fellowship for emerging artists through Minneapolis college of Art and design, as well as numerous Minnesota state arts board awards amongst others.
Follow
Inna Valin
on
Instagram:
@innavalin
©Inna Valin,
A County Fair Vendor,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography, All Images Courtesy of the Artist
Allison Huang: When meeting and photographing your subjects, what conversations shaped how they wanted to be represented?
Inna Valin:
Each situation is unique. Sometimes I am documenting a scene and never exchange more than an affirming glance at an event as I wait for the decisive moment, because interaction would alter the moment. Other times I spend months researching and planning, learning life stories.
Time is the main factor. Sometimes I ask if there is something specific they want to bring or illustrate in the portrait, but that happens more in another series I’m working on about the impact of gun violence. Generally, I find people tend to pose themselves best with light direction. I am looking for an essence, something that is; to me almost spiritual.
©Inna Valin,
Gas Station Worker
,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: Were you drawn to specific types of labor, or were you more interested in the shared experiences across different professions?
IV:
I am specifically drawn to people who have carved out their own path from very little. As someone who grew up in that situation, without the opportunity for higher education, I’m drawn to subjects who have innovated and improvised outside traditional paths—people who rely on resilience and determination.
©Inna Valin,
House Mother at a Gentleman’s Club
,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: Your choice to work in black and white removes certain contextual details. How does that shift focus toward expression, posture, or gesture in understanding labor?
IV:
I’m conscious of our culture’s growing loss of connection with history, due to rapidly developing technology that insulates us from meaningful, in-person human connections and creates physical detachment from one another and from reality.
Technology changes rapidly, but human nature and the human condition remain essentially the same. Part of my choice to use black and white is to illustrate that continuity, well phrased in the old adage: “The more things change, the more they stay the same.”
©Inna Valin,
A Sign Swinger
,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: You refer to these workers as everyday heroes. What does that term mean to you in the context of labor?
IV:
It means there are epic stories in life all around us that we don’t notice, and many of those stories keep the world ticking.
People like the mechanic I came across in the still smoldering ashes of the Minneapolis riots, working on an old woman’s Honda. He wasn’t doing it for glory or heroism—he was doing it because she needed that car to care for her grandson. Amid the chaos and danger, despite his shop being burned and the auto parts store next door completely consumed by fire, he continued his work in the parking lot. He wasn’t doing it for cameras or recognition; he was doing it because he is a natural hero.
Or George McShane, who at eleven began attending Quinn Chapel AME in the tiny village of Brooklyn, Illinois, near East St. Louis. He became the church secretary and the unofficial historian. Largely forgotten, the chapel was an important part of the Underground Railroad. Now crumbling and in danger of being lost due to lack of resources, George, now in his late 80s, continues to care for and advocate for it.
People like this are quiet heroes, spending their days doing the work of heroes without the credit or accolades that usually accompany the word.
©Inna Valin,
Circus Acrobat Painting Faces
, On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: What changes in perspective do you hope viewers experience after recognizing how much daily life depends on the work of people who are rarely acknowledged?
IV:
I hope people reconsider how they measure worth. It is important to look at people as individuals.
Sometimes, high school dropouts are deeply educated.
Dignity doesn’t come from titles or credentials; it comes from within. Humility is different from humiliation. Grace doesn’t always know which fork is for the salad.
©Inna Valin,
A High School Mechanics Instructor
, On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
Interview by
Allison Huang, Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern
Allison Huang
is the Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern from White Plains, New York. She recently graduated from Boston University with a B.A. in History of Art and Architecture and Biology, along with a minor in Visual Arts. With a passion for storytelling and audience engagement, she is dedicated to collaborating with artists to expand their creative potential while fostering more inclusive and dynamic artistic spaces. Her research interests include the work of lesser-known artists, the representation of marginalized communities in art, and issues of repatriation. In her creative practice, she works primarily with analog photography and oil painting.
Griffin Museum of Photography
– Winchester, Massachusetts
Daniel Overturf’s
Illinois Workers: On the Rivers and in the Mines
draws on personal connections to working-class life and his own experiences with manual labor. His portraits aim to present workers with honesty while recognizing them as individuals beyond anonymous roles.
His work is currently on display in the
Labor Daily
exhibition at the Griffin Museum of Photography from March 21st through May 24th, 2026. We had the opportunity to chat with participating artist Daniel, and his responses are as follows.
Born and raised in Peoria, Illinois,
Daniel Overturf
is a photographer and educator who lives in Murphysboro, Illinois. He went from a student to a faculty member to an emeritus at Southern Illinois University. He taught photography at SIU from 1990 to 2021, with previous faculty positions at Illinois Central College and Wichita State University. Overturf has traveled and photographed throughout the United States, Canada, Mexico, Thailand, France, Holland, Germany, Czech Republic and in many parts of the United Kingdom. Scotland was his home for one month each year from 2000 to 2022, and the country still holds a special place in his heart and work.
His photography has been exhibited in the USA and abroad which led to opportunities to photograph a wide variety of people and places. Two co-authored two books,
A River Through Illinois
(2008) and
Illinois Trails and Traces:
Portraits and Stories Along the State’s Historic Routes (2022)
were created with writer Gary Marx. Overturf also co-authored two editions of
Artificial Lighting for Photography
(2009 & 2024), both with Joy McKenzie and the second adding Josh Sanseri.
©Daniel Overturf,
Miner Chuck J, Viper Mine, ArchCoal, near Williamsville, Illinois,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography, All Images Courtesy of the Artist
Allison Huang: How does your lived experience in manual labor shape the level of access or understanding you bring when photographing workers today?
Daniel Overturf:
Like most of my hometown peers in high school, manual labor or just having a job that was done on a clock and usually by hand, was where one started a relationship with the working world. My background includes many different jobs. I worked inside factory supply shops, was among those who built earthmoving equipment at a large plant and labored outside on the land in various capacities. Being a student meant that one found part-time employment during the school year and full-time during summers. After stints as a paperboy at 12 or 13, I had my first full time summer job at 15 which included outdoor wildlife preservation duties.
Later in life, when photography projects called for portraits in settings where people worked, the photographs have been done with respect and appreciation. To begin each encounter I invariably convey to the subjects that I am keenly interested in their job, as well as knowing them as a person. I explain that I am curious about the nature of the job so I can reflect some of their chosen emphasis and include those details into the surroundings for the portrait. The portraits are collaborations with the subjects and most are very willing to be a part of the process, once they are convinced of my sincerity. Almost none of my work is reportage where the subjects are unaware of my presence as that is another approach entirely.
©Daniel Overturf,
Commercial Fisherman Jim, Cleaning a Paddlefish, at His Shop in Grafton, Illinois
,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography, All Images Courtesy of the Artist
AH: Coal mining and river barge work are industries tied to both economic survival and environmental debate. Did that tension influence your decision to focus on them in
Illinois Workers: On the Rivers and in the Mines
?
DO:
Coal mining has been part of the Illinois economic pie chart for over 200 years. In fact, the first Illinois coal mine was established in 1810 along the banks of the Big Muddy River, a few miles from my present home. The industry is going through a well-known transition as energy needs increase amid sometimes stark environmental concerns. Indeed, there are debates and dynamics in play at multiple levels of the energy industry. River barges move coal and a wide range of materials including different grain varieties, petroleum products, chemicals, quarried substrate and molasses. (Molasses is used in making livestock feed, vinegar, liquid fertilizer, ethanol and in the distillation of rum. A barge can carry up to 1750 tons/875,000 gallons of molasses.)
There are always dangers in the river transportation business, but the stakes rise even higher when the barge material is flammable or toxic. Workers’ outlooks vary from person to person in terms of safety concerns. Some of the environmental factors arise in their fields, but the laborers are primarily concerned about their employment status and their families who depend on their jobs. Interestingly, the Illinois River has many organizations that are concerned with the river’s health. Meetings and conferences are held with representatives that range from The Nature Conservancy to the barge industry to state wildlife agencies to grain elevator operators and also recreational boaters. The groups all want what’s best for the future of the river as their livelihoods and quality of life depend on it. The environmental concerns are equally understood by industry and advocacy groups, while the debate on how to proceed evolves.
©Daniel Overturf,
Miner Larry, Viper Mine, ArchCoal, near Williamsville, Illinois
, On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH:
When creating portraits, how do you avoid reinforcing stereotypes about working-class identity while still acknowledging the physical demands of the job?
DO:
Correct, the demands of most jobs are bound to present some stereotypical attributes found in photographs that are collected under a category. Stereotypical details are often what qualifies a photograph to belong in a certain collection. The individual, however, is the key ingredient to portraits in any genre or under any topic. The individual identity should show through, even if they share some visual cues with their co-workers. The goal is to show respect and retain the dignity of the specific person in the photograph. Additionally, the genre is often called environmental portraiture, a term that simply means the subjects are photographed
in situ
. The location and extra information are meant to add depth to the specificity of the portraits.
©Daniel Overturf,
City of Chicago machinist Paul beneath the Ashland Avenue bascule bridge, Chicago, Illinois
, On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH:
Why do you think labor-intensive industries are often visible economically but invisible culturally?
DO:
There is an assumption or at least a recognition in this question that might extend further than the scope of what is sought in my portfolios. However, I have attempted to bring photographs from the two series shown at The Griffin, as well as other workplaces, into museums, galleries and into books. Sometimes the photographs are exhibited at local libraries, town halls or other municipal facilities that are not traditional, isolated art spaces. The local shows often include public forums and dialogues about the nature of what is being shown, more than the photographs which serve as starting points for discussions.
In certain instances the photographs are shown with informational text on the walls or along with the text of the books that helps explain what people do for a living. I have participated alongside subjects in presentations that accompanied exhibitions about coal mining. Those opportunities to share the stage with subjects who could bring their perspective to the conversations helped to make their professions more visible and relatable. In fact, the workers usually steal the show and the art makers respectfully become part of the audience, which is to be expected.
©Daniel Overturf,
Towboat and tow load approaches the Peoria and Pekin Union Railroad drawbridge, on the south side of Peoria, Illinois
, On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: How do you hope your work contributes to a broader re-evaluation of how society defines respect, skill, and expertise within labor?
DO:
I feel that the process of making a photograph of someone who is representing a skill or job carries a certain responsibility. The previously mentioned collaboration strives to contain a genuine connection between subject and photographer. That means there is a base level trust that the photograph will be rooted in respect and understanding of what the subject does for a living. The hope is that any viewer of the images will gain some next steps in their understanding of the working world that may be apart from their own. Furthermore, if a coal miner or a barge employee sees this collection of photographs, the hope is that they recognize that the images are not illustrations but documents. The reality of the people and their surroundings is at the crux of the photographs.
©Daniel Overturf,
Deckhands Jason, Mike and Kevin on the barge boat The Orleanian, on the Illinois River near Beardstown, Illinois
, On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
Interview by
Allison Huang, Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern
Allison Huang
is the Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern from White Plains, New York. She recently graduated from Boston University with a B.A. in History of Art and Architecture and Biology, along with a minor in Visual Arts. With a passion for storytelling and audience engagement, she is dedicated to collaborating with artists to expand their creative potential while fostering more inclusive and dynamic artistic spaces. Her research interests include the work of lesser-known artists, the representation of marginalized communities in art, and issues of repatriation. In her creative practice, she works primarily with analog photography and oil painting.
Griffin Museum of Photography
– Winchester, Massachusetts
Carl Corey’s
BLUE – A Portrait of the American Worker
is a photographic documentary that presents environmental portraits of the American Working Class. Through photographs made across the United States in workers’ own environments, the series aims to create a better understanding and appreciation of the people whose labor plays a critical role in American society.
His work is currently on display in the
Labor Daily
exhibition at the Griffin Museum of Photography from March 21st through May 24th, 2026. We had the opportunity to chat with co-curator and participating artist Carl, and his responses are as follows.
© Carl Corey. All images Courtesy the Artist.
Carl Corey
is a Guggenheim Fellow in Photography and the recipient of over 100 awards from the
photography and publishing communities including National INDIE Book Publishers Best
Photography Book, The Crystal Book Award, Midwest Publishers Gold Book Award, New York Art
Directors Club, Communication Arts, Print Annual and USA National Best Book Awards. Carl’s work
has been featured in many of photography’s most prestigious periodicals, including Camera Work
Bicentennial Edition, Communication Arts, Columbia Journalism Review and Visual Communication Quarterly. Carl’s work is in many art collections and museums.
Corey’s photographs have been the subject of Five monographs including : Rancher ( Bunker Hill /
GalleryPrint, 2007 ), The Tavern League: A Portrait of the Wisconsin Tavern ( The Wisconsin
Historical Society Press, 2011 ), For Love and Money: A Portrait of the Family Business ( WHS Press,
2014 ), The Strand ~ A Cultural Topography of the American Great Lakes ( Cottage Industry Arts 2021
) and Pants On Fire ( Cottage Industry Arts 2024 ). He is a featured photographer in Contemporary
Photography in New York City, edited by Marla Hamburg Kennedy ( Rizzoli, 2011 ).
Follow
Carl Corey
on
Instagram:
@carlcoreyphotographer
© Carl Corey,
Larry – Steel Mill Tech – Cleveland, Ohio
, From
Labor Daily,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography, All Images Courtesy of the Artist
Allison Huang: What motivated you to co-curate
Labor Daily
at this particular moment? Were there current economic or cultural shifts in American labor that made this exhibition feel urgent?
Carl Corey:
There is always shifting in the economic and cultural fabric of labor. The importance of recognizing work and what it means economically and culturally is, unfortunately, often overlooked. This exhibit presents multiple forms of labor not simply those that work for hourly wages, but also those that work independently such as ranchers, farmers, and business owners.
I am from a working class family. I respect work and the commitment it requires. Possibly that is why I was compelled to photograph labor throughout the last twenty or so years. It was an informative and engaging experience. I learned much.
Work is ingrained in our lives. This documenting of the American Cultural Fabric is my work.
© Carl Corey,
Chance and Gus Making Spurs – Red Owl, South Dakota
,
From
Labor Daily,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: In shaping the exhibition, what narratives about labor did you want to challenge or complicate? For example, were you interested in addressing class identity, regional divides, or the political associations often attached to “blue-collar” work?
CC:
I wanted this to be more than just about those who punch a clock. Labor is so ingrained in America and many folks believe labor is work done for someone else or in exchange for wages. That is simply not true. There are so many independent people whose work is ingrained into their lives. Dairy farmers, Ranchers, fisherman, treasure hunters, writers, artists, etc. Work is a facilitating concept and to many an aspiration. It is important to note that labor has no division of race, gender, or creed.
© Carl Corey,
Theresa – Show Salesperson – Prairie du Chein, Wisconsin
,
From
Labor Daily,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: As both a curator and photographer, how do you see photography functioning as evidence, advocacy, or documentation when it comes to representing workers?
CC:
I did not want to participate as a photographer in this exhibit. The Griffin staff convinced me I should. I felt a conflict between curating and participating. I still do…but I acquiesced.
I believe photographs are inherently honest but subjective documents of a time and place. I am a very simple photographer. I think my pictures show that.
© Carl Corey,
Lisa – Finish Painter – Green Bay, Wisconsin
, From
Labor Daily,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: In
BLUE – A Portrait of the American Worker
, how did you determine which occupations to include? Did you intentionally focus on industries experiencing economic decline, resilience, or transformation?
CC:
I contacted over 200 employers. I had no agenda but to honestly photograph working folks. I photographed at every employer that allowed me access. The vast majority were paranoid about allowing me in and declined the project. It was eye opening. The most successful businesses were employee owned, union shops, or both.
© Carl Corey,
Todd – Shipyard Machinist – Superior, Wisconsin
, From
Labor Daily,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography, All Images Courtesy of the Artist
AH: By photographing workers in their environments, how do you balance documenting the physical realities of labor with representing the individuality and dignity of each person?
CC:
I am very respectful, honest, and, some say, engaging. I use those traits to garner trust. I always shared the final photographs.
© Carl Corey,
Taylor with Mark and Dan – Horse Logger – Winter, Wisconsin,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
Interview by
Allison Huang, Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern
Allison Huang
is the Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern from White Plains, New York. She recently graduated from Boston University with a B.A. in History of Art and Architecture and Biology, along with a minor in Visual Arts. With a passion for storytelling and audience engagement, she is dedicated to collaborating with artists to expand their creative potential while fostering more inclusive and dynamic artistic spaces. Her research interests include the work of lesser-known artists, the representation of marginalized communities in art, and issues of repatriation. In her creative practice, she works primarily with analog photography and oil painting.
Griffin Museum of Photography
– Winchester, Massachusetts
Chris Aluka Barry’s
Where Hope Grows
documents the experiences of Mexican migrant farmers at Titan Farms in Ridge Spring, South Carolina, where he challenges stereotypes and expands representation by emphasizing dignity, identity, and the complexity of lived experience. His work is currently on display in the
Labor Daily
exhibition at the Griffin Museum of Photography from March 21st through May 24th, 2026. We had the opportunity to chat with participating artist Chris, and his responses are as follows.
Chris Aluka Berry
(b. 1977) is a documentary photographer living in the Appalachian Mountains of North Carolina. Raised in the South by a white mother and a Black father, his Southern upbringing fostered a lasting awareness of race, belonging, and representation — themes that continue to shape his work and the stories he tells.
Aluka’s education as a storyteller began at The State newspaper in Columbia, South Carolina. During his time there, he was named South Carolina News Photographer of the Year four times and received the Ambrose Hampton Award for Outstanding Journalism and the Judson Chapman Community Journalism Award. After leaving the paper, he built a freelance career in Atlanta, creating work for Reuters, NPR, Los Angeles Times, The New York Times, and other clients. His photographs have been exhibited nationally and are part of permanent collections throughout the U.S., including the Smithsonian National Museum of African American History & Culture in Washington, DC, Asheville Art Museum and The High Museum of Art in Atlanta.
Aluka’s first monograph,
Affrilachia: Testimonies
(University Press of Kentucky, 2024) is the first photography book to honor the Black communities of southern Appalachia. His work has also been featured in anthologies, NMAAHC’s
The American Flag
(Giles, 2025) and
Keeping The Dream Alive
( Southern Poverty Law Center’s, 2014).
Alongside his personal work, Aluka creates visual stories for community organizations, nonprofits, and editorial clients across the U.S. His ongoing monograph projects include
Affrilachia: Testimonies, Volume II
and
Fear, Death, and the Other Side
.
Follow
Chris Aluka Barry
on
Instagram:
@alukastories
©Chris Aluka Barry,
First Year on the Farm
, From
Labor Daily,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography, All Images Courtesy of the Artist
Allison Huang: What led you to invest two years documenting Titan Farms rather than creating a shorter project? How did that sustained presence influence the trust and depth of the images?
Chris Aluka Barry:
I spent two years documenting life at Titan Farms for two reasons. The first reason is that I wanted to immerse myself in the life of the farmers. I wanted to spend long periods of time with them so I could get to know them, in order to truly tell their story. The second reason is that originally I was only going to spend a year documenting the men on the farm, I didn’t know that there were women on the farm. Once I met some of the women and learned that they lived in a separate camp house on the farm I wanted to tell their story as well. So, after I felt like I had told the men’s story, I returned the following growing season and spent the second year with the women.
©Chris Aluka Barry,
Plentiful
, From
Labor Daily,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: How did your perception of migrant labor shift after spending extended time within that community?
CAB:
My perception of migrant labor shifted after spending extended time within the communities by opening my eyes to the real struggles that these people experience. It’s easy to go to the store and buy produce without thinking about who grew, harvested and packed the food. After being on the farm for two years I learned about their families, about their culture. Some farmers are from the inland mountains communities, others from the coast, some from small towns and others from big cities. I learned that several of the farmers are college educated with high level degrees, but even still, they can make more money working on the farm than at home. I also learned that several people meet and fall in love on the farm. Many family members work together, generations of brothers or sisters return year after year. I learned about love, sacrifice and the joy of working hard to provide a better life for your loved ones.
©Chris Aluka Barry,
Mother’s Massage
, From
Labor Daily,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: You separated your work into
A Harvest Hoped For
and
Where Hope Grows
. Were you responding to gendered labor roles, different forms of emotional labor, or broader family structures within migrant communities?
CAB:
I separated my work into A Harvest Hoped For and Where Hope Grows as a response to gender labor roles.
©Chris Aluka Barry,
Going Home
, From
Labor Daily,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: Migrant labor is often discussed in political or economic terms rather than personal ones. How does your work reframe that conversation?
CAB:
My work gives voice to the people. It shows their humanity and our shared humanity. No politics, just real life, that hopefully we can all relate to regardless of who we vote for or how much money we have in the bank. We all want the same thing. Respect, love and the ability to provide for ourselves and the ones we love.
©Chris Aluka Barry,
Gold on the Ground
, From
Labor Daily,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: Within the context of
Labor Daily
, how does your project speak to contemporary tensions around migration, labor shortages, and the idea of opportunity in America?
CAB:
My projects speak to contemporary tensions around migration, labor shortages, and the idea of opportunity in America by showing a glimpse of the large workforce needed to feed America. It also speaks to the fact that most Americans do not want to do these hard jobs, they are not willing to work the long hours sweating in the fields and pack houses. America is dependent on our Mexican neighbors who are still willing to do the work that many of us won’t do. Is America great? In many ways, not at all. Has America ever been great? Well that really depends on the color of your skin and your gender. Does America provide a way to for migrants to make more money than back home, yes. Is America a land of opportunity? Yes, hope still grows in the fields if you’re willing to bend low and reach high.
©Chris Aluka Barry,
Camphouse Clothesline
, From
Labor Daily,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
Interview by
Allison Huang, Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern
Allison Huang
is the Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern from White Plains, New York. She recently graduated from Boston University with a B.A. in History of Art and Architecture and Biology, along with a minor in Visual Arts. With a passion for storytelling and audience engagement, she is dedicated to collaborating with artists to expand their creative potential while fostering more inclusive and dynamic artistic spaces. Her research interests include the work of lesser-known artists, the representation of marginalized communities in art, and issues of repatriation. In her creative practice, she works primarily with analog photography and oil painting.
Griffin Museum of Photography
– Winchester, Massachusetts
Craig Easton’s
ongoing body of work
‘Notes on the American Road Trip’
examines how photography has shaped global perceptions of the United States, questioning how images circulate as cultural “soft power” and influence ideas of American identity. Approaching the landscape as an outsider, he reflects on photography’s role in reinforcing, complicating, and sometimes challenging the narratives they were never meant to carry. Craig’s work is currently on display in the
Manifest Destiny
exhibition at the Griffin Museum of Photography from January 9th through March 15th, 2026. We had the opportunity to chat with Craig, and his responses are as follows.
Portrait of Craig Easton, Courtesy of the Artist
Craig Easton
is a Scottish photographer whose work weaves a narrative between contemporary experience and history.
In 2021 he was named Photographer of the Year at the SONY World Photography Awards and in 2023 won the Arnold Newman Prize for Portraiture.
Author of four critically acclaimed monographs
Fisherwomen, Bank Top
and
Thatcher’s Children,
Easton’s new book
An Extremely Un-get-atable Place
re-imagines the life of writer George Orwell on the Isle of Jura in Scotland where he wrote Nineteen Eighty-Four.
Follow
Craig Easton
on
Instagram:
mrcraigeaston
Allison Huang: In your artist statement, you describe coming to the United States to experience the country for yourself. As a photographer encountering the U.S. firsthand, how do you think your perspective differs from that of a typical first-time visitor or tourist?
Craig Easton:
Firstly, I should say that this is by no means the first time I’ve been to the U.S. I’ve visited many times and have travelled widely across the country, but on each and every visit I am struck both by how familiar it feels and also how alien.
So, the work I’m beginning with this new series is about exploring those feelings and about examining how the country is represented through photography and how the U.S. has come to dominate global culture through this ‘soft power’ of visual media.
With respect to the specific question of how my perspective might differ from other visitors or tourists, I’m not so sure that it does. In a sense it is the very similarity of impression that we non-Americans experience, no matter where we are from, that I want to explore. The work examines the relationship between the idea or dream or fantasy of the United States that we tend to build up throughout our lives and the reality of what we find when we do actually visit. It’s quite extraordinary how U.S. culture is so familiar to so many people around the globe through film, music, books, art and TV – and before much of that, through still photographs. It’s through this medium in particular that so many of us are familiar with the landscape, the cities, the people and the many cultures, and I’m interested in how those visuals – even the ones primarily made as critique – come to represent or reinforce a notion of America as ‘the land of the free and the home of the brave’.
©Craig Easton,
Kern County, California
, From
Manifest Destiny,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography, All Images Courtesy of the Artist
AH: For your ongoing series
‘Notes on the American Road Trip’
, how did you choose the locations you photographed? Were you drawn more to the visual landscape, cultural symbols, written signage, or the underlying mood of a place?
CE:
The very loose prompt for the work was to design an itinerary seeking out places which were in some way ‘known to me’ through photography. I would recall place names from the captions of Walker Evans photographs or Judith Joy Ross’ or Dorothea Lange’s or any number of others and look them up on the map. Then I plotted a route that took me through some of those places: Hale County, Alabama; Hazleton, Pennsylvania; Kern County, California etc. Of course, the route took me to all sorts of places in between too, I don’t feel constrained to a rigid framework. Rather I used the idea as a starting point from which to explore this vast and intriguing country.
The work I have made so far is purely responsive to the people I’ve met and the places I have passed through. For me, it is critical to travel with an open mind to see what there is to discover and not set out to find what I have imagined will be there.
©Craig Easton,
Rich County Fair, Randolph, Utah
, From
Manifest Destiny,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: Several symbols, such as the American flag, cowboy hats, religious imagery, and recognizable landmarks, reappear throughout the series. What does this repetition represent, and what ideas or assumptions about American identity are you hoping to highlight or question?
CE:
I suppose I am exploring the power of those symbols in relation to the idea of soft power and the American cultural hegemony that I spoke of earlier. They are some of the symbols that America exports, the symbols that we non-Americans recognise immediately. It is surprising then, when we visit, to find that they are not simply cliches, but actually appear to be integral to some form of American identity: the stars and stripes, the myths and legends of the ‘wild west’, the overt displays of religion etc. They are all there in the landscape and that’s what I mean when I talk about it being both strange and strangely familiar at the same time.
Flags, it seems to me, have always held a particular fascination for Americans… an expression of national identity and pride that has never really had an equivalence here in the UK. In England, amongst certain sections of the population, the flags – both the union flag and English St. George’s cross – are often seen respectively as symbols of empire and of a xenophobic nationalism. I’m Scottish though and, interestingly, the same is not true of the Scottish Saltire or the Welsh Dragon and so I’ve always been intrigued by a society’s relationship to flags and other symbols. I noticed a change in the UK post Brexit and made a small series of pictures inspired by Arundhati Roy, who wrote:
“Governments first use flags to shrink wrap people’s minds and smother real thought and then as ceremonial shrouds to bury the willing dead.”
I’m interested in what it is that people feel in the U.S. that leads them to display their national or religious allegiance so publicly. I wonder what drives that and whether that feeling too is part of an explanation of the global domination of American culture.
©Craig Easton,
Monument Valley, Arizona
, From
Manifest Destiny,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: Some of your photographs suggest moments of social or political tension, such as the image featuring Indigenous dolls alongside the cowboy hats. From a contemporary perspective, and as a non-American, how important was it for you to engage with these layered and histories shaped by conflict and inequality?
CE:
Well, I’m a documentarian at heart and I photograph what I see – those dolls and hats were there, side by side, they are not something I brought together. And they’re right there in a picture window looking out at another familiar image of American greatness, Monument Valley.
I suppose as an outsider with a general sense of some of the deep and unresolved tensions – and an awareness that we are all trying (or at least ought to be trying) to be much more conscious of historic and ongoing injustices – I was perhaps a little surprised by the juxtaposition.
Again, it’s about iconography and I wonder if those symbols have been on a similar transformational journey to some of the photographs that inspired this work – that despite those conflicts and ongoing inequalities, these opposing emblems themselves became icons of Americana and even now, seemingly without irony, can represent the soft power as agents of American culture throughout the world.
©Craig Easton,
Cathedral Rock, Yosemite Valley,
California
, From
Manifest Destiny,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: You chose to photograph this series in black and white, echoing the work of earlier photographers who documented westward expansion. Beyond historical reference, what role does this aesthetic play in your work? Were ideas of memory or erasure part of that decision?
CE:
The photographers who documented westward expansion worked in b&w because that was the medium of the time – they had no decision to make. It wasn’t really until the 1970s that photographers made a conscious decision to work in colour and although in some cases they were exploring the medium in its own right, the choice they made drew a very clear distinction from the monochrome past.
In some sense my decision is the exact opposite of that, it’s now b&w that effectively acts to separate my work from that early colour work that I admire and am inspired by: Eggleston, Christenberry, Levitt, Sternfeld, Shore, Epstein, Misrach, Meyerowitz, etc. etc.
I could probably dream up some kind of theoretical justification for choosing b&w, but I think it best to leave that to others, for me it was just instinctive and not something that I want to over analyse. I suppose it does strip the work back to its bare essentials and with the American light being so different to UK light, it allowed me to focus on those essentials away from the distractions of colour.
©Craig Easton,
Armstrong County, Texas
, From
Manifest Destiny,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: Finally, returning to the exhibition title
Manifest Destiny
, your work revisits an influential historical concept while examining the American landscape today. What themes do you hope viewers reflect on as they engage with your photographs, and what questions do you hope they leave with?
CE:
Well, of course, it’s a privilege to be the invited ‘non-American’ in this exhibition, not least as it’s the 250
th
anniversary of the U.S. adoption of the Declaration of Independence – from my country!
That history between our nations is something which informs this work – the long-held notion of the ‘special relationship’ is deeply engrained in many of us: we’ve been friends for a long time!
And friends sometimes need to work through things and try to see the world from each other’s perspective.
It’s maybe hard to see ourselves as others see us, but nonetheless important to try, and that’s where ideas of representation and moral authority come in – is this cultural dominance something that is claimed by the United States or do we, as outsiders, simply confer that prominence after absorbing decades of American art and media? In a sense that’s the very central question that led to my starting this project in the first place – what role does photography play in the global understanding of American power?
This work was begun in the summer of 2024 and it’s already interesting to revisit it today, when global and cultural change seems to be occurring faster than ever. At a time when the U.S. appears to be moving away from the focus on ‘soft power’ that it so successfully nurtured for so long and now seems to be rekindling the old belief in ‘hard power’ and a ‘might is right’ approach to international relations.
There is the now famous quote from murdered British MP Jo Cox who said in her maiden speech to parliament that
“we have more in common than that which divides us”
and I believe that to be true across all constructed divisions: geographical, political, cultural, ethnic, religious etc. etc… and my hope is that we can break down those barriers, focus on those things which bring us together and work towards a common humanity.
©Craig Easton,
Roundup, Musselshell County,
Montan
a, From
Manifest Destiny,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
Interview by
Allison Huang, Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern
Allison Huang
is the Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern from White Plains, New York. She recently graduated from Boston University with a B.A. in History of Art and Architecture and Biology, along with a minor in Visual Arts. With a passion for storytelling and audience engagement, she is dedicated to collaborating with artists to expand their creative potential while fostering more inclusive and dynamic artistic spaces. Her research interests include the work of lesser-known artists, the representation of marginalized communities in art, and issues of repatriation. In her creative practice, she works primarily with analog photography and oil painting.
Griffin Museum of Photography
– Winchester, Massachusetts
Lisa Elmaleh’s
Promised Land / Tierra Prometida
documents migration along the U.S.–Mexico border through long-term travel, collaboration with humanitarian aid groups, and large-format photography. Her project focuses on the lived experiences of people seeking asylum and those supporting them, challenging simplified media narratives and emphasizing empathy and the need for compassion. Lisa’s work is currently on display in the
Manifest Destiny
exhibition at the Griffin Museum of Photography from January 9th through March 15th, 2026. We had the opportunity to chat with Lisa, and her responses are as follows.
Portrait of Lisa Elmaleh, Courtesy of the Artist
Lisa Elmaleh
(b. 1984, Miami, Florida) is a photographer, activist, and humanitarian. She specializes in large-format work in tintype, glass negative, and celluloid film. Her most recent body of work,
Promised Land/Tierra Prometida
, focuses on migration at the border of the United States and Mexico, and since 2020, she has been immersed in the migrant justice community there. Elmaleh’s images have been exhibited internationally. Her work has been exhibited nationwide and recognized by the Guggenheim Foundation, the Arnold Newman Prize, and the Aaron Siskind Foundation, among others. Elmaleh resides in Paw Paw, West Virginia, in a primitive cabin.
Follow
Lisa Elmaleh
on
Instagram:
@elmalayheehoo
Allison Huang: Can you describe your creative process for
Promised Land / Tierra Prometida
? What compelled you to focus on the U.S.–Mexico border?
Lisa Elmaleh:
Since 2020, I have traveled along the U.S.–Mexico border with my large-format camera, volunteering with humanitarian aid groups and staying in shelters with people seeking asylum in the United States. When I first arrived in mid-2020, the rhetoric surrounding the construction of the border wall was unavoidable. I needed to see it. When I finally stood beside it, its scale felt impossibly massive—the newer, post-Trump sections of the wall rise thirty feet high.
I later learned that the wall was built to that height because a fall from thirty feet is likely to result in at least a level-two traumatic injury, or death. I wanted to face the people for whom this wall was built, though I already knew what I would find. I am the daughter of a refugee, and I grew up in an immigrant community in Miami. I understood that this wall was built to keep future generations like us out of the United States.
As I began volunteering in shelters serving people seeking asylum, I quickly came to know the communities most impacted by this barrier: families, mothers with children, people of the LGBTQ+ community, Indigenous people, fathers seeking work to support their children back home. These are the people for whom the wall was built. I struggled to reconcile the injustice of this reality as I listened to harrowing stories from those we served—stories of family members being murdered, surviving cartel and political violence, enduring gender-based violence, and losing land and livelihoods to climate change and the lack of fresh water.
©Lisa Elmaleh,
Redwing Blackbirds, Progreso Lakes, Rio Grande Valley, Texas
, From
Manifest Destiny,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography, All Images Courtesy of the Artist
AH: As a volunteer with humanitarian aid organizations, how have your relationships with the people you meet shaped this body of work? Were there specific stories or realities you felt were missing from mainstream narratives that you wanted to highlight?
LE:
The people I have met doing this work informs the work entirely. The photographic work I am creating could not exist without the volunteer work I am doing. The sensationalized narratives on migration that dominate American news and politics are dehumanizing and othering. By being a part of the community and photographing slowly and intentionally, my intent is to change that narrative.
There are certainly times where it feels inappropriate to take out the camera, and in those moments, I refrain from doing so. Each of those instances informs how and why I take the photographs that follow. I am also working to write out the specific stories and realities I am witnessing, recognizing that photographs cannot always tell the entire story – nor should they.
©Lisa Elmaleh,
Full Moon Over Juarez, Chihuahua, Looking Towards El Paso, Texas
, From
Manifest Destiny,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: Many of your photographs center on children, families, and communities. How did trust and long-term relationships affect the way people engaged with your camera? What do these connections mean to you beyond their role within the project?
LE:
When I am creating a photograph with a person, or people, in front of the lens, it is an interactive and collaborative effort with the person being photographed. I only photograph when a person is comfortable and feels empowered in front of the camera; if, for some reason, a person does not want to be photographed, they are still welcome to look at the camera and watch me photograph, but I do not push them to sit for a portrait.
Easier than me expressing it through words, I think that it is quite visible to look at the faces of the people sitting for my camera: the people I photograph are my friends, they are part of my community. We joke with each other, we cry with each other. The community is tight-knit, even though it is always changing and fluctuating. I remain connected to a number of families and individuals who have migrated to and are living in the United States, or those who have decided to remain in Mexico, and families who have escaped the terror of ICE by moving. I have lost touch with others, but I think about my community a lot, especially now.
©Lisa Elmaleh,
Tire Fence, West Texas
, From
Manifest Destiny,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: Your work aims to counter desensitization toward migration by encouraging empathy and compassion. Why do you believe photography is an effective medium for fostering this emotional response?
LE:
Photography is the only method that I know that can still time, that can transfer a person’s ability to be able to gaze into a face the way one is only able to gaze into the face of a loved one. I want to give people the opportunity to truly see those who are in the act of migration, and to feel a sense of kinship. Migration is not anyone’s entire story; it is only a part of it. If you have ever changed locations for a job opportunity, or to go to school, or to live with a partner, you have also migrated – migration is a natural and normal part of being a living creature on this planet.
©Lisa Elmaleh,
Thirteen Crosses at the Site Where Thirteen People Perished from El Salvador, Sonoran Desert, Arizona,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: In your artist statement, you describe the project as questioning the myth of the American Dream. In today’s political climate, how do you think ideas tied to Manifest Destiny and the American Dream should be reexamined, and how do you hope viewers approach these concepts through your work?
LE:
My question is: who owns the land? How is that decided? The border wall is a literal fence meant to keep people out of a place that has been traditionally viewed as a land of opportunity, a land of promise. Who owns the keys to this land, and how do they decide who gets to come and go? Who gets to make the rules?
There was a time at the border where I was genuinely scared because of something that had happened while I was out photographing in the desert. I spoke to one of the nuns I was working with, who shifted my perspective: she said, sometimes, God gives us the opportunity to be able to empathize more directly with the people we are serving, and that is a gift.
I think that many citizens of the United States are now experiencing this perspective shift, and suddenly, they are able to empathize with communities that have so long lived under the fear of police brutality. If our most vulnerable populations are not safe, then none of us are truly safe. Our American concept of freedom has always been an illusion. If only some of us are free, none of us are truly free.
©Lisa Elmaleh,
Pasamanos, Casa de la Misericordia, Nogales, Sonora,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
Interview by
Allison Huang, Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern
Allison Huang
is the Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern from White Plains, New York. She recently graduated from Boston University with a B.A. in History of Art and Architecture and Biology, along with a minor in Visual Arts. With a passion for storytelling and audience engagement, she is dedicated to collaborating with artists to expand their creative potential while fostering more inclusive and dynamic artistic spaces. Her research interests include the work of lesser-known artists, the representation of marginalized communities in art, and issues of repatriation. In her creative practice, she works primarily with analog photography and oil painting.
Griffin Museum of Photography
– Winchester, Massachusetts
Drew Leventhal’s
series
Mason & Dixon
explores the Mason-Dixon Line that divides Pennsylvania from Maryland. Interested in the border’s history and mythology, this body of work captures landscapes and encounters that reflect uncertainty while holding space for moments of connection and hope. Drew’s work is currently on display in the
Manifest Destiny
exhibition at the Griffin Museum of Photography from January 9th through March 15th, 2026. We had the opportunity to chat with Drew, and his responses are as follows.
Portrait of Drew Leventhal, Courtesy of the Artist
Drew Leventhal
(b. 1995) is a photographer from the United States. His practice is informed by his upbringing and training in anthropology. Through photography, Drew sees the possibility for connection and mutual understanding. Each image becomes an ongoing dialogue and search for meaning. Through investigations of ritual, colonial history, and the delineations of landscape, Drew is interested in what it means to be human.
Drew received a BFA in Anthropology from Vassar College and received an MFA in Photography from the Rhode Island School of Design. He has shown work at galleries and museums across the United States. He has been a finalist for the Aperture Portfolio Prize, the Film Photo Award, and the PhMuseum Grant. Drew was the 2022 Lenscratch Student Prize and was previously a National Geographic Young Explorer. He is currently a 2025-2026 Fulbright scholar in Ireland.
Follow
Drew Leventhal
on
Instagram:
@drew_leventhal
Allison Huang: As both an anthropologist and an artist, what themes or areas of study most consistently draw your interest, and why?
Drew Leventhal:
I find myself drawn to stories that bring structure and order to our lives. It is a natural human process, we all do it. I want to unpack where those stories came from. As both a scholar and an artist I live by the idea that I am “professionally curious,” always asking questions and digging under the surface of things. When I do that, I find there is always something interesting to go photograph. I often find myself interested in regions and places laden with history and mythology. Often my work is very geographically oriented as I zone in on the character of a particular place.
There are so many similarities between the practices of anthropology and photography. For one, they both necessitate an involvement with the real world, with something outside of ourselves. This can be a neighbour, a street, a city, a region, a country, anything. Even self-portraiture requires engaging with a different part of ourselves. In both anthropology and photography we use the term “The Other” to describe how fraught this negotiation with the world can potentially become. But rather than see that concept as a flaw, I see it as a possible strength of anthropology/photography. What if instead of an abstract, semi-mystical and possibly threatening “Other” we think of working with “others,” complicated human beings who have similarities and differences and are imperfect in all the ways we ourselves are? In this way I see photography and anthropology as ways of communicating and understanding across differences.
©Drew Leventhal,
Pond Line, Maryland
, From
Manifest Destiny,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography, All Images Courtesy of the Artist
AH: What initially inspired you to create a series centered around the Mason–Dixon Line? How did your background in anthropology and photography shape the way you approached this historical boundary?
DL:
This project started out very differently from how it turned out. As with many of my projects, it was inspired by a book I read, Thomas Pynchon’s Mason & Dixon. It is still one of my favourite books. Pynchon retells the history of the original survey of the Line by Charles Mason and Jeremiah Dixon in the 1760s, turning it into a surreal buddy comedy full of strange encounters and dark forests. So my original plan was to try and illustrate the books, doing what Pynchon did, only with photographs. That changed pretty quickly once I started working in the field and I found that the Line had become quietly co-opted as a symbol of division over the centuries. As an anthropologist, I found myself constantly on the hunt for symbols and encounters. I was trying to build up a web of meaning, hopefully with a bit of the Phynchonian surreality still present.
©Drew Leventhal,
General Longstreet, Pennsylvania
, From
Manifest Destiny,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: Can you describe your creative process for
Mason & Dixon
? Did you follow a specific route or set of locations, or was the project driven more by exploration and revisiting the boundary through multiple visits?
DL:
My self-imposed “border,” if you will, was to stay in states that sit along the Mason-Dixon Line, namely: Pennsylvania, Maryland, Delaware, and a small slice of West Virginia. This is the real and metaphorical borderland I was interested in. I had rough plans during my trips, places I would stay the night. But during the day I was mostly guided by exploration and discovery, a lot of word of mouth from strangers of things I should go see. That kind of process requires a lot of trust and faith in oneself because some days you might see lots of interesting things and take lots of great pictures and then another day you get absolutely nothing. Riding those highs and lows is critically important to staying sane and focused.
©Drew Leventhal,
Invasion, Pennsylvania
, From
Manifest Destiny,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH: Your series is photographed in black and white. How does the absence of color shape the way viewers read the images and understand the narrative you are constructing?
DL:
The use of black and white (as well as the use of medium and large-format film) was very intentional for a couple of reasons. First, I wanted to the viewer to think that these pictures could have been taken at any time in the last 200 years, to emphasise that we are dealing with the same issues and the same divisions that have plagued the United States since before its founding. These violences, of slavery and Indigenous displacement, have become so rooted in our country’s story that they become hard to see sometimes. Second, I used black and white to be in dialogue with some of my favourite photographers from the 20th century, namely Dorothea Lange and Robert Frank. Combined, all of that creates what I like to call anachronisms, literally pictures that are “out of time.”
©Drew Leventhal,
Map of the Line, Pennsylvania
, From
Manifest Destiny,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH:
Many of your photographs emphasize lines—whether through trees, infrastructure, divisions in the landscape, or cartographic markings. Beyond referencing the Mason–Dixon Line itself, do these visual choices point to broader social, political, or cultural divisions in the United States today?
DL:
They absolutely do. I don’t think it is a secret that the United States is at an incredibly important moment of inflection. We are divided on everything now. The Mason-Dixon Line itself is a perfect example of that. As the border between the historic North and the South, it marks cultural and political divides that actually transcend the specific geography (“North” and “South”). In some ways, I think we all have a bunch of Mason-Dixon Lines in our heads, boundaries we create and put up that define who we are and, most importantly, who we are not. This returns to the idea of the “Other” I touched on earlier. Boundaries and borders create the Other by defining who is in and who is out. This happens in every society, every community. But it has taken a particularly terrifying and violent turn here in America. In my pictures of lines, I am trying to point to the ways these borders have come to define our lives while simultaneously questioning their very validity. Are there cracks in the wall, places where we might be able to rethink the boundaries we have placed around ourselves?
©Drew Leventhal,
Battle, Pennsylvania
, From
Manifest Destiny,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
AH:
In relation to the exhibition
Manifest Destiny
, both the Mason–Dixon survey and 19th-century expansionist beliefs played key roles in shaping American territory. How does your series engage with ideas of land, memory, and erasure, and what connections do you hope viewers make between past and present?
DL:
Something I found really interesting when I was researching this project is that the original Mason-Dixon survey was kind of the prototype for later notions of manifest destiny and westward expansion. The survey mapped and divided the land to an astonishing degree of accuracy, turning what was once beautifully unknown into a grounded Cartesian reality. In that way, I can almost see the Mason-Dixon Line as an early divide between East and West, not just North and South. I am not a Western photographer; the landscape on the East Coast is very different. But I do see how the ideas that came to define the West were practiced closer to home.
The region I am engaged with is one where the land holds such deep memory. Look at any town or point in the area and if you dig enough you will find stories that will make your heart break. These memories are still there, buried in the ground. Occasionally they come back to haunt us, to remind us of the cyclical nature of our divisions. No amount of historical erasure or building development can get rid of that. While the notion that we are continuously haunted by our violent legacy might sound quite grim, I also see a glimmer of hope. If we can remind ourselves of what has happened on this land before us then maybe, just maybe, we can find ways to break down the borders we have put up around ourselves and have some real human moments of connection.
©Drew Leventhal,
Home, Maryland
, From
Manifest Destiny,
On Display at the Griffin Museum of Photography
Interview by
Allison Huang, Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern
Allison Huang
is the Curation and Exhibitions Admin Intern from White Plains, New York. She recently graduated from Boston University with a B.A. in History of Art and Architecture and Biology, along with a minor in Visual Arts. With a passion for storytelling and audience engagement, she is dedicated to collaborating with artists to expand their creative potential while fostering more inclusive and dynamic artistic spaces. Her research interests include the work of lesser-known artists, the representation of marginalized communities in art, and issues of repatriation. In her creative practice, she works primarily with analog photography and oil painting.
Griffin Museum of Photography
– Winchester, Massachusetts
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Amy Rindskopf's Terra Novus
At the market, I pick each one up, pulled in by the shapes as they sit together, waiting. I feel its heft in my hand, enjoy the textures of the skin or peel, and begin to look closer and closer. The patterns on each individual surface marks them as distinct. I push further still, discovering territory unseen by the casual observer, a new land. I am like a satellite orbiting a distant planet, taking the first-ever images of this newly envisioned place.
This project started as an homage to Edward Weston’s Pepper No. 30 (I am, ironically, allergic to peppers). As I looked for my subject matter at the market, I found that I wasn’t drawn to just one single fruit or vegetable. There were so many choices, appealing to both hand and eye. I decided to print in black and white to help make the images visually more about the shapes, and not about guessing which fruit is smoothest, which vegetable is greenest.
Artistic Purpose/Intent
Artistic Purpose/Intent
Tricia Gahagan
Photography has been paramount in my personal path of healing from disease and
connecting with consciousness. The intention of my work is to overcome the limits of the
mind and engage the spirit. Like a Zen koan, my images are paradoxes hidden in plain
sight. They are intended to be sat with meditatively, eventually revealing greater truths
about the world and about one’s self.
John Chervinsky’s photography is a testament to pensive work without simple answers;
it connects by encouraging discovery and altering perspectives. I see this scholarship
as a potential to continue his legacy and evolve the boundaries of how photography can
explore the human condition.
Growing my artistic skill and voice as an emerging photographer is critical, I see this as
a rare opportunity to strengthen my foundation and transition towards an established
and influential future. I am thirsty to engage viewers and provide a transformative
experience through my work. I have been honing my current project and building a plan
for its complete execution. The incredible Griffin community of mentors and the
generous funds would be instrumental for its development. I deeply recognize the
hallmark moment this could be for the introduction of the work. Thank you for providing
this incredible opportunity for budding visions and artists that know they have something
greater to share with the world.
Fran Forman RSVP