Interview with artist Vincent Griffin
Vincent Griffin is documentary film photographer based in North Little Rock, Arkansas, His work focuses primarily on the people, places, and what he calls the mythology of the South. His photographs have been exhibited throughout the region including significant shows like 2024 Small Works on Paper and the 59th Annual Delta Exhibition. More of Vince’s work can be found at his website and Instagram.
AAS: Vince, has North Little Rock always been your home?
VG: I was born and raised in North Little Rock. I grew up spending time with my family in Rose City, Lonoke, Mayflower, Vilonia, and Hot Springs. My mother had three sisters (Audrey, Louise, and Marie), and we spent a great deal of our childhood at their houses having sleepovers with cousins and exploring. After I graduated from high school, I attended the University of Arkansas in Fayetteville, but ultimately ended up in Conway studying Graphic Design.
AAS: When did you realize you wanted to be a professional photographer?
VG: I wouldn’t consider myself a professional photographer, but I do have a constant urge to photograph and I’m always learning and absorbing from all the brilliant photographers who’ve created work that inspires me. I’ve always been fascinated with the medium of photography, but I never thought I had an eye for it. At one point when I was younger, I resigned myself to just being an admirer of photography until two things happened simultaneously. First, I discovered the work "The Kids Are Alright" by Ryan McGinley, and it blew me away. The exhilarating images document a group of young adults in NYC being reckless and carefree as they live, work, and play in the city. Until that point, I had a very clinical perception of photography, but finding that book opened up a world beyond still life, landscapes, and the usual subjects people tend to photograph. The second thing that happened was the passing of my coworker, Bryan McManus. We worked closely at a small agency doing graphic design and became very close in the short time we worked together. He was a graduate of SCAD in Savannah, GA, where he studied filmmaking. Bryan and his wife, Claira, had a young daughter, and he would work on these 2–3-minute video panoramas late at night after their daughter went to sleep. All the videos he created were beautiful and elaborated on the ideas he was passionate about. He inspired me to try again.
AAS: I want to ask you first about Meikel Church’s photograph. I love it. Its composition is brilliant. But do you consider it a ‘portrait’ of Meikel? Is he as powerful and as agrarian as he looks in the photo ;)?
Meikel, Hasselblad 500CM
VG: Thank you! I would consider it a portrait. I made that photograph during the pandemic after Meikel and I purchased our house. Neither one of us has green thumbs, but during that period when everyone was at home isolating, I feel like the world at large was trying new things (bread making, knitting, gardening, cooking, etc.) and we certainly tried our hand at a few of those things. Some of them worked and others didn’t. This one didn’t, and we decided that maybe we just aren’t yard people. But I definitely think Meikel is powerful. He and his work are very inspiring, and he is one of my favorite people.
AAS: Why have you chosen to document the South with your photography, which is candid but still respectful? What is it about the South and its people and places and stories that interest you?
VG: As a Southerner, I’m constantly conflicted by the South. Our region is filled with so much to love – rich arts, food, natural beauty, musical heritage and literature, but also so much disparity that it can be overwhelming. I’m constantly encouraged by the younger Southern generation, particularly our LGBTQIA+ community, that against all the odds continue to thrive and carve out their own unique space within the region. I love that these young Southerners aren’t waiting for permission to create what they want. I think it’s important to document this new South as it’s happening and let these individuals define how they are represented and what the South can and will be.
AAS: I grew up in a very small town in south Louisiana in the 60’s and I remember the men (it was usually the men) who were sign painters. That was a very important and honorable profession then. Anyway, Cash Talks instantly brought back memories. Tell me about that image.
Cash, Hasselblad 500CM
VG: I’m really drawn to things that are created by hand and have the maker's imprints on them. I know that sign painting has had a resurgence recently, and that’s really exciting to see. I love that so many people are gravitating back to this art form and adding their own visual language to it. So, during the pandemic when everyone was social distancing and working from home, it shifted how I photographed. Up until that point, I looked for crowds or places that had a high concentration of people where I could blend in and photograph. I couldn’t do that anymore, so I started visiting places that I had a connection with to explore and see what I could find. One of those places was Rose City. When I was younger, I remember visiting my uncle's auto body shop there with my dad a lot. Eventually, when I was a teenager, I worked in Rose City during the summers at two city pools (one of which has since been replaced with a splash pad). I remember how rich and lively the community was at that time. It had been quite a while since I had visited some of those old places, so during the pandemic, I would go, park my car, and just walk around with my camera. I kept coming back to this particular car shop that was closed called Sims, which has the “Cash Talks” sign in the window. It’s a bit back off the road, the roof is a little wonky, and there is this magnificent old tree behind the building that towers over it in a foreboding way. I love all the details of the building – missing bricks, hole in the side covered with plywood, cords falling down, the hand-painted sign, and the white corner piece that doesn’t extend to the bottom or top. It feels like the building is slowly unraveling in the order that it was constructed.
AAS: One of my favorites of yours is Baby Grand. It does capture the yin-yang the South is known for – rightly or wrongly. Tell me about that photograph.
Baby Grand, Voigtlander R4M
VG: I tend to carry at least one camera everywhere I go, and this was a time that it paid off. I was on my way home from work and saw this baby grand right outside the doorway of this house, and I had to turn around. It’s one of those instances that highlights how people will do things you could never imagine, or as the saying goes, “truth is stranger than fiction.” A part of me was hoping that the piano was going to become a permanent fixture in the yard and slowly get swallowed by whatever fauna was around it, but a few weeks later it was gone. I do think you’re right about this image capturing the yin-yang the South is known for. I’m always drawn to these ironies, and it’s one of the things that I love about this region. The spirit of the South is so rich, colorful, and resilient, even if sometimes it’s in the most backwards ways.
AAS: You’ve chosen to use film rather than a digital format? Why?
VG: I use film for several reasons. The main reason is that it forces me to look more intently and work the scene. Since I don’t have the luxury of a digital camera that can hold a crazy amount of images, I have to be more selective in what I choose to photograph, and I feel like that has sharpened my eye to what excites me. Another reason is that I love the physical process of film. My career is graphic design in advertising, where I get to flex my creative muscles in the digital world. Not to say that some of those things I create don’t end up in the physical world, but most are made within a computer. Film allows me to step away from the computer, using my eyes and feet to interact with the world. I am also a member of a local darkroom club where I process film and print my work on light-sensitive photographic paper. The act of physically printing my work is so challenging and rewarding that when you get it right and have a final print, it’s just magical.
AAS: One of your more poignant photographs is My Father’s Funeral. What I love about it is the juxtaposition of young and old and how the young can’t comprehend (and shouldn’t) mortality.
My Father’s Funeral, Voigtlander R4M
VG: During a set of particularly hard years for my family we lost both my mother to cancer and my father to complications from a stroke. My father was a veteran of the Vietnam War and was buried along with my mother in the Arkansas State Veterans Cemetery in North Little Rock. As I mentioned earlier, I tend to carry a camera with me everywhere I go, and his funeral was no exception. I don’t know if it’s a comfort thing at this point, but I just can’t turn it off. After the funeral, when everyone was chatting, Irie and Wylde (the children in the photo) began to run through the tombstones playing a game of hide and seek giggling. It was such a breath of fresh air to follow them through the maze of tombstones watching them play after such an emotionally heavy day. One of the things I think about when I look back at this photo, beyond the difficult time that was in my family’s life, is how Irie and Wylde in their innocent play made that day so memorable and joyous.
AAS: Do you ever look at a photo after getting back to your studio and are surprised at how good it is or how not so good it is?
VG: I definitely get surprised when everything falls into place in an image, and it comes out exactly how I’d wanted. I can go through rolls and rolls of film with things not quite working. I’d say it’s more failure than success when shooting candid, unposed images, so when it works, it can be pretty magical. For me, the time between making an image and then seeing it on the film is pivotal. Meaning, I usually have a backlog of film that needs to be processed. It’s a great way to work for me because nothing becomes precious, and I have no problem discarding images that I’m not excited about. I also think that the time between helps to keep your critical eye more objective, and you’re not easily swayed by the feeling of making the image. With film, I’m discarding 95% of what I shoot, with maybe 1% to 5% making it through to the printing stage in the darkroom. It’s constantly challenging, and I love it.
AAS: What is something people might be surprised to learn about you?
VG: In the mid-aughts, I was in a band called Bear Colony that released two records, and we spent several years touring across the United States. I had some of the best and worst experiences of my life during that time and wouldn’t change a single thing. It was wild and I still can’t believe it actually happened.
AAS: You have had several recent shows as well as a work in the 2024 Small Works on Paper traveling exhibition. What kinds of reactions are your photographs generating from the public?
VG: Yes, I feel very fortunate to have my work exhibited, and it was an honor to be chosen to participate in this year's Small Works on Paper. I would like to thank Meikel Church, David Carol, Brian Chilson, and Rita Henry for all their encouragement, support, and tolerance when I have photo-related questions or need help critiquing images that I’m unsure about. Up next for me will be a show with two local photographers (Derek Slagle and Justin Harrel) at the main branch of the Laman Library in January 2025. It’s going to be a collection of images about Rose City, Arkansas and we are excited about the exhibition.
