by Renée Germaine
"Lisa Roy shoots banality in color." So claims the invitation
to her most recent group show in New York. The description is an
understatement of Lisa's work, given the beauty and complexity of
her photographs. Her pieces are visually and thematically intense
images that use design to make beautiful the ugliness of post-modern
living. Often shot on cruise ships and in hotel lobbies, Lisa's
photographs capture interior spaces that attempt to create beauty
out of chrome, plastic, and neon, but that have failed in this attempt.
By using light, color, and meticulous composition, Lisa's images
succeed where the architecture has not. By reconstructing these
spaces, the artist brings to light the impersonality of life in
Interestingly, Lisa's early work was mostly black and white portraiture.
She captured people in their natural environments, and while the
faces and bodies spoke to the viewer, it was the composition and
design that made the images resonate. The portraits captured a decidedly
American chagrin, the Lost American Dream. Now, though, as she has
removed the people from the photographs, Lisa is making an even
more powerful statement. By abstracting the spaces, she creates
a metaphoric paradox. The images resemble paintings, and are beautiful
independent realities that communicate the bleakness of the spaces
from which they are constructed.
"Banality in color." Were those
your words or the gallery's?
Those are not my words. I think the phrase "banality
in color" is a bit vague and doesn't say anything about my
photographs. Arguably, the spaces that I've photographed are banal
in some limited sense. But my photographs, the images that I create
out of these spaces, have nothing to do with banality—the
photographs are about an attempt to construct beauty out of plastic,
neon, and chrome, and how this very American idea resonates with
my personal development.
I remember the first photographs that you
showed professionally; they were black and white, person-in-his/her-natural
environment pieces. What precipitated the change of focus to large,
The portraits became less challenging and seemed less important
to me. Just by chance I was invited on a cruise and went. I was
immediately drawn to the spaces and people; I knew that I wanted
to do something with it. It took several cruises and almost a year
to make a good photograph.
I think what is most interesting to me about
your paradigm shift is that as very different as the visual experiences
are between your early work and the current pieces, there is a symmetry
in their messages. I get the same feeling from that woman standing
in the door of her trailer as I do from some of the cruise ship
shots. You know, that Lost American Dream/Doll's House Gone Awry
thing. Is that intentional or are you just obsessively drawn to
symbols of these ideas?
I am naturally drawn to this subject matter. It has enormous
resonance for me. The transformations I've tried to accomplish in
these photographs are related to important personal transformations
I've had to make.
Do you want people to look at these enormous,
colorful prints and say, "Wow, that's beautiful," or would
you rather hear, "Right, I get it—good point"?
Best case scenario, they say both.
You have been in four group shows in the
last nine months. Obviously, things are happening. Have you felt
it has been harder for you to make a name in the art world because
you are a woman? Do you feel that men's work is taken more seriously?
I am not sure what "happening" really means in
the art world. I am just making are that I want to make. Obviously,
female photographers have been getting a lot of attention recently.
I guess it remains to be seen whether we'll garner the type of long-term
respect that the art world gives to male artists.
Do you think there is anything identifiably
female about your images?
No, and I would hate to think that there has to be something
"identifiably female" about my work because I am a woman.
I have to say this: from the first time
I saw it, I've thought that the pink table shot looks like a uterus.
A painter friend of mine said the same thing. Do you see that?
Sure. People react very positively to this image for a whole
number of reasons. For me, the photograph resonates on several very
different levels, and I think the anatomical is one of the most
accessible of these levels. It is not, however, the most interesting
to me. A few of these pictures work off of entrances and openings
in architectural space—elements with clear uterine connotation.
The Artist's Space show was reviewed in
The Times. I seem to remember your work being referred to as "brilliant"
or "magnificent" or something like that. How important
is the critics' response? I mean, I know how important it is in
order for you to get more exposure, but does this response in any
way affect your approach to or feelings about the work?
Speaking of critics, can you put that hat
on for a minute? Who is out there making art right now whom you
There is a lot of good art right now.
Who was making art long before you whom
There are many people, too many to list.
So, I heard a dirty rumor that you may be
moving out of NYC. Are you worried that a more peaceful environment
will be less conducive to your anxious art?
No. Not one of these photographs was actually taken in New
York. Of the photographs that I have taken recently, the best ones
were actually shot in Maine.
Lisa Roy received an M.F.A. from Yale University. Her work
has been featured in galleries in Northampton, New York City, and