ROSE BOUTHILLIER’S COMIC VALENTINES
Rose Bouthillier’s mayor series was the surprise hit of the Whatcom Photography Biennial in Bellingham a few weeks ago, generating a small buzz at the two-hour panel Q and A. Her tender age belies a sophisticated humor and stylistic panache, generally accrued by photographers more advanced in years and experience. With this particular series, Bouthillier has introduced the viewer to a disparate group of small-town leaders spread out across Canada and Washington state, yet aesthetically manages to compile a family reunion with the muted blue/green/brown color palettes, Spartan arrangements, and symbolic gestures. This is no small feat, considering that the subjects chose their own attire, surroundings, and poses; how to explain, then, that with the exception of Irena Theissen, all of the other mayors decided to pose in or around plants or other simulacra of the great outdoors, such as the mountain scene hanging above the head of Mark Asmundson or the shellacked cross-section of a log situated above Gordon Brookfield (who is inexplicably wearing tennis shoes)? Rolly Magee is so connected to a giant fern in the corner that it becomes a de facto hairpiece, which begs the question: did Bouthillier slyly recommend he sink back into the corner further and further, until the poor man seemed harried by his office decorations? And was Connie Butcher aware of the small tree tickling her right shoulder? There is a hint of kitsch, perhaps accentuated by artificial lighting and somewhat anachronistic dress, but there is also a commonality of form, lighting, and composition expressed in a static formalism, as if Stanley Kubrick had been put in charge of an Olan Mills shoot for an afternoon. Bouthillier has made a profound aesthetic out of ordinariness in these purposely prosaic portraits; yet they are ultimately a billet doux to the small towns of North America.
From her artist statement:
The act of being photographed is inherently one of being recognized, of receiving recognition. Mayors arose out of my interest in this affirming nature of portraiture and the politics of photography, an exploration of regionality, mild celebrity, and self-identification. Politicians in small towns are public figures on a miniature scale, and their reasons for participating in this project are linked to their civic responsibilities. The discrepancy between my reasons and theirs, mixed with their own idiosyncratic degrees of self-consciousness and self-importance, illustrate what Diane Arbus described as “the gap between intention and effect”. The negotiation between presenting themselves as “the mayor of…” and presenting their physical selves comes through in a range of expressions, from awkwardness to confidence, and sometimes grace.
I am interested in the pseudo-anthropological potential of these images - a selection of people based on a qualifier that then becomes a study of class, gender, age and race. The visual details of the photographs, from the style of dress to the conditions and use of the town office, are all related to the economics, development, and culture of the towns they represent.
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