Leaves occur in such abundance where I live in rural Ohio as to seem worthless, and yet each leaf is astoundingly complex and beautiful, both in form and function. I think of the leaves in this work as visual representations of wildness, while the alterations I make to them -- the cutting -- is a form of rational human intervention that characterizes our relationship with nature, for better or for worse.
These images are cameraless photographs made from negatives I make by hand -- a process known by the French term Cliché Verre. Cliché Verre is one of the earliest uses of light-sensitive photographic materials. In the mid-19th century, it was used by a few French landscape painters, including Corot, Delacroix, Millet and Rousseau, to reproduce drawings they made on glass plates.
My process is a hybrid one and an experimental contemporary version of that early process. After making a negative by hand, I scan it, process it digitally, and then print it as an archival inkjet print. Because there is no right or wrong way to make Cliché Verre images, I invent my technique as I work and let chance and discovery shape my approach. The subject of this work is leaves that I collect, make translucent, cut in unique shapes, and then combine with other materials (including maple syrup, blueberry juice, glue, India ink) to make handmade “negatives.”
Gregory Spaid
