Autumn De Wilde

Friend of the musician and enemy of falsehood, Autumn de Wilde channels her calling as a photographer to make Beck take flight and Elliot Smith smile.

She is the poster child for neo-romantics everywhere.

Those who can quote scenes from Garden State ver batem, or read Nick Hornby books while listening to the Arcade Fire on loop, take heed: you have met the documentalist of your innermost pinings.

“Catching the right part of a breath can look intoxicating,” she notes. “Perhaps it looks like the moment right before a first kiss. Perhaps it looks like the moment right before something goes terribly wrong, or right before hysterical laughter. This makes the hunt for those mysterious, delicious moments in portraits, videos and live documentary all very similar to me.”

Originally hell-bent on becoming a ballet dancer, de Wilde had only considered her adoration for her photographer-father’s collection of photo boxes a mere affection. After dabbling in the dance-drama-theatre realms for a number of years, de Wilde found herself more intrigued by the characters she socialized with on a daily basis rather than trying to play the role of one.

Citing her influences, she admits, “I think [ballet and drama] actually gave me something that became invaluable once I started taking photography seriously. Ballet gave me an incredible sense of the arc of movement. By which I mean, I knew where the peak of each move was. These are often the moments we remember about a person subconsciously. They are the most striking moments visually, and they pass quickly. On stage, in conversation, working on something, we all move in arcs. Character study and the common fear of being misrepresented gave me the tools and the compassion to help remove the nervous ticks that do not represent any of us well.”

Now as a master of portraits, candids and music videos alike, de Wilde has brought vivid life and entrancing focus to her work. Tip-toeing the line between stark realism and flirtatious imagination, she downplays the tendency to over-conceptualize photography and instead chooses to illuminate the most natural characteristics of her subject using an array of accessories and tactics.

“Photo shoots are unnatural. So since everyone played pretend when they were little, I just have to try get them back there. If I succeed, suddenly this tremendous relief comes over them when they realize it’s so simple,” she muses. “I shot a band whose music was incredibly sexy. The lead singer was very cautious about exploring that, but it was so powerful in their music that without some of that sexual power, the photos just wouldn’t match up. On stage, he did it with no problem, but it didn’t exist enough in his photos. He had to get comfortable with bringing that side of him out more where it could be captured. So I told him to pretend he was in the movie Mean Streets. This gave him a whole world to move in. Harvey Kietel’s character had so many colors to it. He was sexy, frightening, frightened, macho, fragile, and you believe it all. You never get sick of his character, and you root for him every sorry step.”

While de Wilde’s overall aesthetic is one of bare essence, her love-hate relationship with a formulaic-structural method is evident in her equal representation of prop-heavy shots and “in-the-moment” peeps into the daily lives of her subjects. Whether it is simply contrasting the unintentionally seductive stare of Fiona Apple against a white glowing backdrop or the elaborate construction of a southern netherworld for the White Stripes, her photos bear her signature style.

“My mother has finally stopped suggesting that I ‘keep it simple this time.’

Simplicity is the effect I want, but of course I feel the need to tape 5,000 little pieces of paper together the night before to achieve that for some reason. But, sometimes I look at some random object sitting right next to the thing I spent all night making and I say ‘here, hold this over your head’ as a joke, and they do, and it fucking works, so we do that instead. I really don’t understand it all sometimes which just wonderful,” she reflects.

“Some of my ideas are ridiculous, I don’t know where the hell they come from. A couple of days before a shoot we were doing for Filter Magazine, I said to Beck, ‘You can say NO… but I got this idea to hang price tags all over your shirt and the background.’ He put the price tag shirt on and started doing little jumps to make the tags swing all over the place. Then he said ‘they make an amazing sound, yeah, let’s do it!’ The subject has to completely occupy the surreal world I create for them. It cannot come to life without their total commitment to the idea. If we can’t find that amazing mysterious place where it all makes sense for a moment, poof, I toss it.”

Given that her own ideas are not an ultimatum, de Wilde allows room for the evolution of a visual representation of the natural relationship between her subjects and their work. Attempting to both highlight the projected ideologies and personas found within their own work or features and the unanticipated characteristics they often tuck away, de Wilde is all about encompassing images.

“I feel like my job is to help mold a visual identity for the people I shoot. Something that takes hands with the fantasy world they create,” she adds. “Even if a songwriter creates bare, simple, diary like songs, there is something larger than life about them. Their photo might be seen before their music is heard, so it better damn well fit with the music. In videos, my objective is to find a concept that hopefully will make you hear more than you did before. Or sometimes, I feel like their image is very restricting for them, so I want to help them find a way to broaden their possibilities without abandoning the fans who love them.”

Citing that “restrictions are often the jumping-off point for better ideas,” de Wilde maintains the open-ended attitude evident in her pieces through her motive as an artist. She takes on the common conception that in order for her art to be relevant, a message must be obviously made. When asked what messages she strives to represent in her work with various artists, she simply declares,

“No messages. I just want to be able to look through boxes of photos that make me wish I was there. Then I’ll feel really lucky that I was.”

www.autumndewilde.com

asterisk questions by Catlin Moore