[KELP JOURNAL] Before we get to the art, a little birdie told me that you are a classical pianist and a writer as well as a collage artist. Well done, you! I always like to ask my multi-faceted creators if they choose the form of a project or does the form find them?
[AC] For art and writing, I think it is a combination—sometimes I choose the form, and sometimes the form finds me. Sometimes what I see or hear or read gives me an idea for a poem or short story, but it may not work when I try to write about it. Then I might think about using the same idea for a collage. Other times, the choice is clear cut, as with Autopilot. I wanted to create artwork on the Icarus and Daedalus myth, which has already been written more effectively than I could ever do. So, I created a collage about this myth instead. As for music, I have written three short stories and several poems that involve musicians and music.
[KJ] Since you work in a variety of media, do you think that they influence each other in your creations? Does writing help you create a narrative with your collages? Does playing the piano make your prose more rhythmic?
[AC] Yes, being a writer—and reading other writers’ fiction and poetry—makes me want to tell a story in my artwork. I didn’t start writing creatively until I was in my twenties, but I was a reader long before that. Reading and writing also give me ideas for collage titles. I don’t think that my playing the piano or listening to music has much effect on my artwork, except that some of my collages portray something musical or have a title that references music. The writing-music connection is stronger.
[KJ] Speaking of narrative, I chose the images here because they do all tell a story. A jarring one at that. Can you talk about what your intent was in creating these images?
[AC] I’ll comment on them one by one. I grew up in New York City and still consider myself a New Yorker. I took the photograph New York Skyline in midtown Manhattan, on a melancholy November day, when I was probably wishing that I still lived in the city. Autopilot is based on the Icarus and Daedalus myth. I created Adrift and Shelter for an art call on climate change. Those two combine different photographs into photo collages that serve as a warning about climate change. Climbing was a lucky shot. I took it in downtown St. Louis, near the Arch, on a snowy day, and I think the falling snow gives the photograph an old-fashioned silver gelatin feeling.
[KJ] I think my favorite aspect of these works is the contrast in sharpness of the images—often one is blurry and dominates the space and then there is one thing that is in sharp focus that draws your attention. What goes into creating these works and how do you know where to put what?
[AC] Thank you. Honestly, some of it is luck, like with Climbing. I often take multiple photographs of the same object or scene in the hopes of finding at least one photograph I like, and then I do some minor adjustments in terms of contrast, filters, or cropping. I don’t have or know any special photo editing programs, just what comes with my computer. A photo collage, like Autopilot, is easier to do as long as I have an idea. I took multiple pictures of the sky, made them black and white, picked the one I liked best, and then glued the photograph of a car from another photograph onto the sky. Deciding where to glue down the car took the most time. I just moved it around until it looked right to me.
[KJ] Climbing is just a single photograph, but I chose it because it felt like it belonged with the others. To me, it has a similar mood and jarring effect from the odd point of view. I am curious if you feel the same and that is why you included it in your submission?
[AC] Yes, I agree. I like the moodiness of it and think that it is similar in melancholy mood to New York Skyline and Autopilot. I always like photographs where I am looking up or down or that involve stairs or doorways or tall trees. One of my influences is the Hungarian photographer Andre Kertesz; some of his black and white photographs involve looking up or down in the city, and they have a moody feel.
Ann Calandro is a writer, collage artist, and classical piano student. Her poems, short stories, and creative nonfiction have appeared in literary journals, and her collages have been exhibited and published. Serving House Books will publish her short story collection in February 2025, and Shanti Arts Press published three children’s books she wrote and illustrated. Calandro received a master’s degree in English from Washington University in St Louis, where she studied with poet Donald Finkel. See her artwork at ann-calandro.pixels.com
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