MARFA –– On July 13, the Marfa Studio of Arts celebrated the opening of an exhibition by Liz Potter, an Alpine-based photographer. Potter has a background in photojournalism but started experimenting with more conceptual work after the pandemic, using alternative film processing techniques to create unique, ghostly works of art, mostly pulled from deep in the interior of Big Bend Ranch State Park. “The veil-like images are beautiful and evocative, luring the viewer into works that invoke the spirit of desert life,” the gallery wrote in a press release.
The Sentinel sat down with Potter to talk about old cameras, landscapes and the Big Bend backcountry.
How did you come to the Big Bend?
I went to UT Austin and stayed for 30 years after graduating. I loved it, but I felt like I had done what I wanted to do in Austin and decided to create a new chapter in my life. So I sold my house and moved to Alpine. I didn’t know anybody.
Before I moved out here, I had started to camp again. That was my first introduction to West Texas. It’s ridiculous, I lived in Austin for 30 years and it took me that long to get west.
As soon as I turned off I-10 I was like, “Why haven’t I ever been out here?” It was that immediate connection to the desert –– the climate, the smell. I love rocks and dirt and tough plants.
Were you a landscape photographer before you came here?
When I lived in Austin I was shooting with a Holga camera –– a plastic lens, a pretty basic medium format camera. I was shooting what I experienced. When I think of Austin, I definitely don’t think of landscapes.
When the pandemic hit, I freaked out. I live alone. I’m self-employed. There were no more events to document, I couldn’t just freely travel. I didn’t want to take pictures of people wearing masks. It was too depressing.
I discovered that I had a couple of really old cameras that I had never looked at that carefully, and one of them was a pinhole camera.
I would take these self portraits with the pinhole camera. The exposures are really long, and so I would have time to run into the photo and stand really still for like 45 seconds. I was creating these ghostly images of myself. It was like I was haunting these places that I missed that used to be so open.
I started learning how different formats could really inspire different bodies of work, and I started doing more conceptual photography than documentary photography. I develop my own film; I’ve got a dark room in my house. I always believe that when you shoot on film, if you can print it yourself –– that’s the second half of translating what you’re seeing.
You take a lot of your photographs in extremely remote places. What’s your rig like?
I didn’t grow up camping or anything. When I started to really get into camping, I literally Googled “best camping equipment,” and I thought –– that’s what I’m buying.
I have a Toyota 4Runner which I purposely got knowing that I wanted to go deeper and deeper into the interior of Big Bend Ranch State Park. I approached camping remotely in an incremental way, like –– okay, that was great. Now I’m ready to challenge myself a little bit more.
You love camping alone –– have you ever gotten any pushback from being in the backcountry alone as a woman?
I think it comes from a pretty long life of doing things alone. I am just the type of person who –– if I want to do something and I want a friend to do it, but the friend doesn’t want to do it, or won’t commit to it, or never finds time –– that’s not going to prevent me from doing something.
I think people who jump to the conclusion that if you’re alone, you’re a woman –– they’re not considering that you’re not an idiot. I bring enough food and water to survive for two weeks. My camping trips are basically a big picnic.
When I camp, I’m in the middle of nowhere. I would be way more afraid camping at campsites where there’s a lot of people.
Are there any places that you feel like locals should see?
I ask people all the time, “Have you only been to the national park?”
You should go to the interior [of Big Bend Ranch State Park]. It’s the best. Of course, a lot of people don’t have the vehicles to do it. I think it’s rougher than people realize. You’re going to have to poop in a bag. You can’t be precious about your life.
I normally go maybe every three weeks or so. Because I’m able to go so often, I can really pay attention, I can just stop and look and see what’s around. It’s not just getting to the campsite, it’s like pausing along the way.
Part of the experience is not knowing what’s going to happen and how exciting that is –– what am I gonna see? What am I gonna hear? Everything is just a fun experience, even if it may not be fun at the time.
The show will be on view at the MSA Gallery, 106 E San Antonio Street in Marfa, until August 17.