Speaking about queer theory, ecology, sexuality, and gender
Featuring Phillipa Klaiber and Michael Swann Words by Nastasia Khmelnitski
Phillipa Klaiber and Michael Swann are documentary artists and photographers based in Bristol, the UK. The photographers met during their MA studies in Photography at the University of the West of England (UWE Bristol). Currently, Phillipa and Michael are working on their first collaborative project, Compost, in which they research the theme of Queer Ecology. In this interview, we speak with the artists about their project, Compost, to explore in-depth how queer theory and ecology are interrelated, connecting humans back to nature. We learn about the impact the pandemic had on the project’s conception and implementation.
We discuss with Phillipa Klaiber her focus on themes of anthropology of landscape, ecology, and memory. Phillipa shares, “One of my favourite things about photography and nature is how they influence our experience of time in very different ways.” She speaks about her fascination with the concept of time that differs from the perspective of time in photography versus cyclical time in nature. We speak about her project, Vorest, which depicts the Forest of Dean in the South West of England and suggests a profound connection between places and storytelling. The project links understanding of cultural references, the topography of the landscape, and work with archives to one coherent story.
Michael Swann emphasizes the angle that intrigues him in his photographic practice “I’ve always enjoyed taking the things that are around us that we might pass by without a second glance and making them weighty through the context they’re placed in.” We learn about Michael’s desire to investigate religious experiences in connection to a place in his project Noema and a study of the impact Catholic education has on homosexual relationships and topics such as guilt, love, and hope in the project An Ascension. Michael shares that he sees Noema, An Ascension as part of a trilogy on spirituality.
‘I was reading a lot about fungi and symbiotic relationships in nature. I came across a niche research paper, Queer Theory for Lichens by David Griffiths, that started our deep dive into queer theory, ecology, sexuality, and gender.’
— Phillipa Klaiber
Compost
Hi Phillipa and Michael, it’s great to have you in WÜL to discuss your work! Let’s start with the duo project Compost, which is in process, yet was already exhibited at the Boomsatsuma Gallery in Bristol, accompanied by a sound piece played in the black room. In this work, you research the themes of queer theory and ecology, their interconnectedness, and the possible effect this gaze could have on redefining the narrative that has to do with sexuality and gender. How did this duo come about, and in what way did the collaborative process impact your practice?
Phillipa: Thank you for having us! Michael and I met while studying for an M.A. in Photography at UWE in Bristol, which we completed in 2020. We shared our photography, writing, and research many times but didn’t start working together until the following year. We had recently finished our long-term projects that involved a lot of research, so we wanted to make work together that was playful and free.
At the time, I was reading a lot about fungi and symbiotic relationships in nature. I came across a niche research paper, Queer Theory for Lichens by David Griffiths, that started our deep dive into queer theory, ecology, sexuality, and gender. So much for 'playful and free'! I guess, we just can’t help ourselves, we love a rabbit hole.
That being said, the way Michael and I work together is quite free and instinctual. We have periods of working separately on a shared idea, giving our individual voices time to develop, and periods of coming together to join the threads of our work. I like to think that the way we collaborate has been inspired by the symbiotic relationships of some of the non-human life forms that feature in our work.
Michael: From my point of view, when we finished the M.A., which was right in the throws of the first lockdowns in the summer of 2020, I was a little bit exhausted by the project I’d worked on, Noema, and really wanted to start something that was, as Phillipa said, playful and free. We both explored the landscape and our connection to it in our M.A. projects, so there was a unifying theme there already, and Compost started as a way for us to shoot without worrying about attaching any concept to the images. During lockdown, this was kind of necessary too, as we couldn’t exactly go somewhere specific to shoot. We had to work with what was around us or what we came across.
At the time, I started having ideas for An Ascension. I was reading about the central themes of that project. So when Phillipa sent me the David Griffiths paper, it felt like we were both exploring similar things at the same time, and then the idea to combine these avenues just fell into place.
The collaborative process has been pretty pivotal to both of us in keeping creatively motivated post-graduating. At least, that’s the case for me. It’s so easy to drop off a creative cliff when you’ve left an environment of structured education. Keeping those connections, and even collaborating on work, is a great way of lifting yourself and your peers, keeping motivation running, and keeping those conversations and inspirations active.
‘It’s so easy to drop off a creative cliff when you’ve left an environment of structured education. Keeping those connections, and even collaborating on work, is a great way of lifting yourself and your peers, keeping motivation running, and keeping those conversations and inspirations active.’
— Michael Swann
My Story
I’d like to break down this question for each of you. Michael, for you, the human experience and the effect of the surroundings through the angles of queerness and catholicism take a major part in your interpretation of the world through photography.
Phillipa, the main focus and fascination for you has to do with nature and ecology and topics such as revival, life, and the effect nature has on human beings through slow and careful examination of processes.
The atmosphere in both of your works is very different, and the emotions that emerge are not the same as well. What ignites your interest when being in nature, outdoors, working on a project? How does the magic happen?
Michael: What I love about photography, in general, is the way you can take the things around you, change their context and make them into something strange or new. With my project Noema, which is about two places where groups of children had visions of the Virgin Mary, an image of a plastic bag on a tree, or a gap in a bush, in that context, suddenly transforms (I hope) them from being fairly mundane scenes to scenes with weight behind them. And I’ve always enjoyed taking the things that are around us that we might pass by without a second glance and making them weighty through the context they’re placed in. I find that being in nature is most interesting to me because that’s where it’s easiest to change the context.
With regards to spirituality and the themes I look at in An Ascension, the landscape offers so much room for interpretation and metaphor. When we think of paradise or heaven, it’s almost always void of human interference, and that interests me a lot. It’s like no matter how grandiose we build our places of worship, it’s the natural landscape that we always feel a true spiritual draw towards.
Phillipa: One of my favourite things about photography and nature is how they influence our experience of time in very different ways. We know, of course, that photography captures a moment in time. When the shutter has closed, that moment is already in the past. Nature's time is seasonal and cyclical. It is moon phases, dormant winters, the time it takes for an oak tree to grow, live, and die (around 300 years for each stage), and the lifespan of a mayfly (24 hours). And then there is my own experience of time, divided into hours that are spent like currency. When I am outdoors, wandering in search of photographs, I am in nature's time.
On these journeys, I am always alone. I have tried to take friends with me, but I can’t experience nature’s time in same way with the company or find what I am looking for. I like to wander and let the landscape determine my routes so that I can cross paths with insects, birds, ferns, trees, worms, seeds, and spores instead of people.
Landscapes are material. They are places we dwell in, act in, and think in. Their material elements create different experiences for us. For example, when you are far from the threshold of an old woodland, there is a particular feeling of being surrounded on all sides. Or, in heathland, where the gorse is sharp and rough, and the ground is soft beneath your feet, you choose the clearest path and probably regret wearing shorts! All of these elements are material and tactile. In my work, I like to capture them in detail and in expansive panoramas that place you within the landscape.
‘In my research, I used maps to locate the landmarks of the local folktales I had read and historically significant sites. When I went to these places to photograph, I saw that the way people had worked in these landscapes was still evident.’
— Phillipa Klaiber
Vorest
Phillipa, you speak about the forest as mythological as opposed to a real place and the way in which people have depicted it throughout centuries in folklore. “The forest is often spoken of as if it is another realm. It is a place where time and the co-existence of flora and fauna have their own rules, in which humans are a recent intruder.” In the project, you keep this tension between the forest as a dark mystical realm and the forest as a natural landscape that brings knowledge and hope mainly through the juxtaposition of light and shadows, of humans and nature or animals. Could you take us through the process of working on the project and the impact research of archival footage from museums has on the development of the idea and the final result?
Phillipa: I am really interested in how storytelling can influence our relationship with places. For as long as we have been recording stories, forests have been featured as dark and sometimes foreboding places. They are outside of the familiar safety of home and often represent the unknown. When you wander in an unfamiliar forest and leave the path, it is easy to become disoriented and scared of getting lost. Your imagination can take over, filling in the dark shadows and letting the light play tricks on your eyes.
In Vorest, I have blurred the line between truth and fantasy and created a conversation of sorts between the past and the present. This forest is called the Forest of Dean and is in the South West of England, on the border with Wales. Locally it is known as The Forest, and its inhabitants, Foresters. Here, there is a collective desire to maintain the ecological balance of the land. The way people have engaged with the landscape over hundreds of years has shaped a unique and complex cultural identity.
In my research, I used maps to locate the landmarks of the local folktales I had read and historically significant sites. When I went to these places to photograph, I saw that the way people had worked in these landscapes was still evident. Even in the places that had since been taken over by nature, you could see the topography of the landscape had been shaped forever.
Halfway into the project, I looked through the archives of the local museum as part of my research. This visit really influenced the direction of the project. I had a rare opportunity to look through the collection of negatives and photographs. Over the following months, I allowed myself to be influenced by the archive photographs every time I returned to The Forest to photograph. In the later stages of editing, I brought them together to create narrative strands between the archive photographs and my own.
‘My projects tend to start in one place and end in another, but I keep all those threads present in the final work because I get so much out of the journey. The final project ends up being a holistic representation of the avenues I travelled throughout the research process, rather than a visualisation of a fully thought-through final idea.’
— Michael Swann
An Ascension
Michael, in the project, An Ascension, you research the tension between queer identity and catholic upbringing through your personal story and background. When you describe this work, you speak about the feelings that still exist due to the influence of studying religion at an early age, “I still feel the lingering shadow of the Catholic view on sexuality over my shoulder. In ‘An Ascension’ I study these shadows, filling them with the light of hope that is my devotion to my partner.” You displayed this project at the PhotoLux festival with huge paintings-like printed images. How does the research phase build the narrative, in terms of articles or books you read on the topic of your choice and the way you develop it into imagery?
Michael: Research is probably the most important part of the process for me. When Phillipa and I spoke about doing a stress-free, non-conceptual project, it was a) probably an unrealistic endeavour from the off, but also b) an attempt at me (or both of us, maybe) challenging the way we work. We clearly failed there, but it demonstrated to me that I need that conceptual framework to really engage in an idea and see it through.
For An Ascension, that also started life with the intention of being freer, but the more I read about Queer Phenomenology and Queer Futurity, the more I started seeing links to spirituality, hope, and devotion, all of which are encapsulated in Catholicism. Again, during the beginning of COVID, I started pulling together all these images I had taken of my partner over our relationship, mostly because in March 2020, we had gotten engaged. I started seeing a pattern in the way I photographed him as if he were some Jesus figure whom I looked up to. And I realised that that kind of made me the Mary Magdalene figure (which felt like such a nice follow-on from Noema, which was centred around the other Mary in Jesus’ life).
So my projects tend to start in one place and end in another, but I keep all those threads present in the final work because I get so much out of the journey. The final project ends up being a holistic representation of the avenues I travelled throughout the research process, rather than a visualisation of a fully thought-through final idea.
A Sneak Peek
What project/s are you currently working on, and what should we expect next in terms of themes you’re developing?
Michael: I still have a couple more ideas for An Ascension I need to follow before I feel like I can wrap that project up, so for now, that is my main focus. I would like for my next project to act as a third part of a trilogy that starts with Noema and An Ascension. I’m hoping it will wrap up the themes of spirituality that exist in both of those projects and then I'll feel like I can move on to something else. But for now, I'm still exorcising those demons!
Phillipa: We are still working together on Compost to develop some new ideas. We are in the last phase of making work and will come together soon to finish refining the project. I am quietly working on a new project that doesn’t have the framework of research that Vorest and Compost started with. It is an instinctive exploration of my own relationship to time and place and my changing perceptions of mortality. I am expecting to continue this work until the end of next winter.
