© Tamrin Ingram, Before the Leaving Swallowed them up, 2019

There is a poignant quietness and solitude to Tamrin Ingram’s work. When looking at her images I can feel the pressure of Louisianian heat on my skin, hear the rustling of the bugs around me, and feel the wetness of the humidity dripping down my back. Her work not only transports me physically but also mentally, bringing me into the complex and highly interconnected nature of the relationships she’s photographing around. In these unprecedented moments of social isolation, it’s images like these that remind me of the beauty of solitude, and the poetics of looking inward.

© Tamrin Ingram, Slaughter and feast, 2019

© Tamrin Ingram, Looking out, looking in, 2019

Fell this land

This is a story of lives lived close to the ground, of a group of people consumed by the state of the earth beneath them in the Cotton Belt of Louisiana. It merges family histories of generational poverty and environmental toxicity with the mythical sentience of the landscape. From writing, photographs, family records, stories and memory, characters emerge to question their faith as they come to terms with their cursed condition. Spinning these folk tales of a soured paradise, a creation story gone wrong, provides a sense of refuge for me and a deep connection to the place I come from.

The sky cracked open
And out of it fell this land
Those pine trees
A couple mosquitos
And a cottonmouth snake.

And then came my kin folk
A handful of cotton seeds
A whole lot of mud
And a bullfrog.

It rained for a week,
Came in a great big flood
Threatened to bring about the end of this brand-new creation.

Then the last raindrop fell
And the sky closed in on itself
But before it was fully sealed
Somethin slipped out
And slithered to the ground, almost undetected.

From the bank the bullfrog watched
Baring witness as this new creature
Sank into the mud
Laughing the whole way down.
This was the beginning.

-Tamrin Ingram

© Tamrin Ingram, There’s bad luck in leaving, 2019

© Tamrin Ingram, A fallen wish, 2019

© Tamrin Ingram, We all worship in our own ways, 2019

>BB: As the traditional model of brick and mortar exhibition spaces become more difficult to sustain, both the arts organizations and the artist need to find solutions to sharing photographs. How best can an organization support the artist and visa versa? 

TI: I think right now the best way we can all support each other is by being open to experimentation, and understanding of the new limitations we’re all faced with in the current global situation. There’s also never been a better time to open the doors of collaboration between organizations and artists, it’s a good time to work together to break out of the status quo and really push the boundaries of what we can do together.

© Tamrin Ingram, All those dead folks sharing the same dirt as the cotton roots, 2019

BB: How are you finding community (online and in person) in a climate in which we increasingly rely on digital platforms to connect with each other?