From January 16 to February 5, Corner House Coffee is hosting Coffee + Chaos, a photo exhibition by Tony Hanmer. On the eve of the exhibition, we spoke with the artist and asked him a series of questions about the project, its medium, and his way of seeing.
Why coffee? At what point did an everyday coffee ground image stop being accidental for you and become an image worth fixing?
This happened as soon as I saw that I had something interesting, and I really got busy with it last year. Photography is so easy for so many people now, with smartphones, that there’s no excuse: just shoot it! Plus, for the best images, I have my big camera.
The word “chaos” is often used as a vague metaphor. What does it mean in the context of this series — visual noise, a state of the world, or a method of thinking?
Here, I’m talking about mathematical chaos reflected in nature: a mix of randomness and order, following the laws of physics. Clouds will never give you a perfect cube or sphere; so this infinity is “smaller” than one which would include regular geometric shapes. But it’s still an “infinity.”
You work with marks that emerge spontaneously. Where, for you, is the boundary between authorial control and trust in chance?
I’m big on photographing what is simply there, whether it be a landscape or a detail in nature. There are certain things I might do, though, such as wait for better light (landscape) or alter existing light with a reflector, shadow, or flash. In portraits, I work with the subject, but I do direct the subject. With coffee grounds, the only thing I might do is pour out more grounds when they are too thick; or wait for cracks to form when they dry fully.
Do you consider these images documentary in nature? And if so, documentary of what exactly — a gesture, a morning routine, fatigue, time?
I would say partly documentary (recording what is there), and partly conceptual (I choose only the best ones to show people). I intend to surprise and astonish, and to get people to think. Coffee grounds are merely the medium, in this instance.
Many of the forms resemble organic or bodily structures. Was this effect intentional, or did it reveal itself only later?
Pareidolia is a great gift! The seeing of forms in nature’s random places. I chose these images from hundreds of “failures”. I stay away from “cute” or cartoonish images, generally, although the otter and Far Side lady might be in these categories.
Why this scale? How does perception change when a microscopic image begins to read like a landscape?
I’m trying to be economical with my expensive medium (coffee), so, using the thrice-daily cup or occasional cold brew in a teapot instead of trying to make larger pourings. I do have macro photographic equipment, so the small scale works for me. Tiny details and textures do emerge: Noah’s Ark Cave Painting is an example of this, with its large menagerie of animals.
Why did you choose a coffee house rather than a gallery as the exhibition space? What does this context give to the work?
The coffee house was a perfect venue because a) it links the space with the medium, b) it HAS a gallery, and c) it’s run by a good friend of mine, who was, as I suspected, delighted with the idea.
Who do you imagine as your viewer here — the accidental passerby with a cup in hand, or the attentive reader of images?
Either of these works well for me.
Can Coffee + Chaos be read as an attempt to restore attention to things that usually slip past our gaze?
Definitely: let the whole world, while not trying to become fortune tellers, simply revel in noticing fascinating things in unusual places! Not always EASY things, i.e. “The Tyrant.” But worth preserving. Him, in his teapot, I am spray-varnishing to have him around forever. Same with the Far Side lady.
Each stain is unique, yet the ritual repeats daily. What matters more to you: the uniqueness of the coffee image or the monotony of the action of capturing it?
The uniqueness. Three tries daily still don’t give consistently great results, but it’s not worth getting frustrated with the low returns. Better simply to rejoice when a masterpiece pops up. And to use the right kind of coffee! Forget instant, for many reasons. Finely ground is the best, also for many reasons.
You work with what is usually perceived as dirt, residue, or error. How close is the idea of the “beautiful mistake” to your practice?
Really enjoying these questions! I’m pleased to use a medium that is either studied by future-seekers (far from my own habit) or not noticed at all. I would be happy to have people record their own chance finds, and even share them.
Do you see this series as abstract photography, or is it still deeply anchored in reality for you?
Definitely both. Crazy images from the most prosaic of media.
What role does time play here — the time of drying, of pause, of repetition between cups?
Time is important, because I usually wait for the grounds to dry, or at least shoot them both wet and then dry. I don’t make 10 cups at once to see what I’ll get, though. The occasional surprise is enough.
At what moment do you feel that an image becomes “yours,” rather than simply a trace left behind?
As soon as I decide that it’s worth recording for posterity, to enjoy and also to share.
Can these forms be read as a portrait of urban rhythm — hurry, fatigue, habitual movement?
Maybe, because uncounted millions of people around the world do drink coffee regularly. It’s something which unites us. The seeing of the image, though, is a slowing down from the rush.
There is a strong sense of silence in these images. Is this a conscious resistance to the visual noise of contemporary life?
Definitely: I’m big on slowing down, while acknowledging that not everyone has this luxury.
Do you see Coffee + Chaos as a completed series, or as an open system that could continue indefinitely?
I will be making such images as long as coffee and I coexist. Same with ice, snow and clouds.
What matters more to you: that the viewer recognizes what is depicted, or that they forget its origin and simply look?
I hope that the viewer will bounce between simply enjoying the image and remembering that it’s just a hugely enlarged shot of the inside of a coffee mug.
Tony Hanmer has lived in Georgia since 1999, in Svaneti since 2007, and been a weekly writer and photographer for GT since early 2011.
Interview by Ivan Nechaev
