10 Questions with Tris Bucaro

Tris Bucaro (b.1994) is a visual artist whose practice confronts self-image and intimacy through photography, film, sculpture, and performance. His works are rooted in generating visual tangibility, working primarily in analogue photography and utilizing the tactile processes to draw attention to liminal spaces and gestures. His research considers the location of the self within an image and the oscillation between totality and impermanence, utilizing the self-portrait as a means of examining the regenerative nature of the photograph. He has exhibited internationally, including in New York, London, Paris, and Venice. Bucaro holds a BFA from New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts and an MA in Photography from the Royal College of Art, London. 

www.trisbucaro.com | @trisbucaro

The Height of Heaven | DESCRIPTION

The Height of Heaven positions the artist in a state of post-intimacy, examining the transitional state of remnants and remains of sexual encounters and considering the implication of haptics on liminal spaces. Rooted in the action of generating visual tangibility, the photographs act as documents of the marks that no longer remain in these space-times, documents which I handle and re-handle as objects, reaching for a sense of permanence.

The body’s ability to give and receive touch and to inform a space through movement and gesture is difficult to encapsulate in immediacy or singularity, a photograph. The ecstasy of an encounter leaves marks – a scratch, a bruise, a stain – and shapes how we view an initial touch or feeling. These works reconstruct that initial feeling which has already passed but can still be felt and sensed in space. Hands leave marks on the photographs, giving permanence not only to the gesture but also to the life of an image, to time passed as a history embedded in the photograph.

INTERVIEW

First of all, introduce yourself to our readers. What is your background, and why did you decide to be an artist in the first place? 

My name is Tris Bucaro, and I have worked as a photographer and visual artist for about eight years now. I received my BFA in Photography & Imaging from New York University's Tisch School of the Arts, and in 2020, I completed my MA in Photography from the Royal College of Art in London.

I had begun taking photos with my grandpa's analog camera when I was ten. I was really attracted to both the control in what I was making and the chance inherent to shooting analog. When I was in high school, I took courses at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago over the summer, and that was my first experience building a body of work with the intention of exhibiting it and undergoing critique. Having a few weeks to dive into the process and take a longer look at my gestures and intention with my photographs proved to be a pivotal moment in how I approached image-making in general, along with guiding my decision to pursue art at the university level. 

What is your aim as an artist?

My practice is rooted in isolating the body as an agent of temporality or lack thereof. The body can simultaneously exist as the most known self and the most foreign self, constantly training itself and reacting to stimuli beyond our control. There are time-spaces where the body, our most concrete notion of the self, is fleeting and expands and retracts beyond our recognition. I'm interested in these folds, in these singularities in time in which the body navigates transitions and impermanence. I aim to utilize the body as the agentic self, capable of making whole these dimensions that are difficult to recognize.

How would you define yourself as an artist? And how did this definition change over the years? 

I've committed myself to having a process rather than a style. I find myself driven more so by the initial onset of the work, be it the action or reaction, and allowing myself to discover the work as I'm engaging in its creation. I've learned for myself that my work is more successful when I don't have a specific outcome in mind, which has led me to immerse myself in the research and focus on the process rather than the product. There is a certain freedom in this approach that has led me to grow and expand my practice in ways I would have never considered before.

Let's talk about your series, "The Height of Heaven." What are the main ideas behind this series, and what messages were you trying to convey?

Like many of my bodies of work, this series began as a reaction that led to a line of questioning. I rarely start a body of work with a specific outcome in mind, visually or conceptually.

I had taken what I consider to be the first piece of the series, Stain I (2019), out of pure impulse the morning after a sexual encounter. Once I had developed the film, I became hyper-fixated on my own desire to document what I had seen and how I could make something tangible out of something liminal. This had led me down a path of researching the body as a transitional vessel, considering how marks, scratches, and bruises can affect the psyche after they've passed and exist as a sort of anti-image that can't pass in one's memory.

I had worked with themes of intimacy and the self in the past, but this series marked a shift toward considering the post-intimate space, which I found to be more reflective and less tangible. I was keen to present the work as an anti-narrative without an apex, more in line with my emotional state while creating the work.

What was the most challenging part of your project?

On a practical level, I was reaching a stage of completion with this work when we first went into lockdown in March of 2020. My intended vision of how this work was to be fully realized was suddenly inaccessible to me. A key aspect of making and consuming the work was its tactility and engaging with it in an exhibition space. However, this predicament allowed me to re-examine the work's potential to be seen and engaged with, which led to a few pieces that, for me, rounded out the series and the beginning of what is influencing my next body of work.

I found it challenging to locate my self-image in this series, unlike in previous works of self-portraiture. There was a certain vulnerability and reality in this series that I struggled to confront directly as an artist-subject as I was using other means of representing my self-image. The spontaneity of the work removed an element of control and intention. I felt as though I was lying. Now, I see this artifice as a way of meeting the viewer halfway and inviting them into the work.

What do you see as the strengths of this project, both visually and conceptually?

Working in various forms of self-portraiture, I am overly conscious of the boundaries I'm setting in terms of how much of myself I pour into the work and how I can make sure that it is still accessible to the viewer. Although my body doesn't appear in most of the photographs, I do consider this to be a work of self-portraiture through gestures. I found this to be an effective way of concealing myself to reveal where my mind was while going through the motions and emotions of creating the work.

I had handled the film quite roughly to bring attention to the images as actual objects, and I found that the marks left on the film itself added another layer of storytelling and opened up a conversation considering the history of the photograph after it's been fixed and how it can live on. 

In your work, you use different mediums. What do you think of digital art and NFTs? 

Although my work is primarily tactile in approach and delivery, I am really energized by digital art and digital artists. It is not something that I am currently interested in pursuing, but I would never dismiss it if it were suited to the work. The digital realm of art really upends how we produce and consume art, and I think it's opening up new dialogues within the art sphere, and I'm excited to see where it goes. 

I'm not sure how I feel about NFTs. Every time I've attempted to understand them and their potential further, I find myself getting lost in the boundaries of what can and cannot be considered suitable for this type of consumption and ownership. 

And what are your thoughts on digital presentations and online exhibitions? Do you think they are here to stay, despite galleries and museums opening up again, or were they just temporary ways to show works during the pandemic?

Digital presentations and online exhibitions will play a crucial role in art accessibility both for artists and viewers. Of course, there will always be pieces that demand a tactical experience. Still, I think we're beginning to bridge a gap that has kept digital art and digital experiences on the periphery. A new wave of artmaking made with the intention to be consumed digitally will only continue to grow. 

And what was one lesson you learned over the past year?

Our notion of temporality and permanence has certainly been shaken over the past year, and from that, I've learned to release certain inhibitions about my own goals and expectations for myself. I've reached a point where I appreciate looking backward to look forwards and focus on the steps rather than the milestones.

Finally, what are your plans for the rest of 2021 and the future in general? Anything exciting in terms of exhibitions or future projects?

I have started a new body of work, expanding on certain themes from The Height of Heaven, examining touched bodies through public mourning and the rituals of celebrating a body made public. I'm in the very early stages, but I'm looking forward to reintroducing performance into my work and collaborating with new subjects.