Photographer Tucker Hollingsworth: "The act of making becomes an act of surrender"


Minneapolis photographer Tucker Hollingsworth wants you to see everything at once.

Hollingsworth, who remarkably has no formal studio education, spends his time traveling between residencies and exhibitions. Last year, one of his prints was donated to the Weisman Art Museum's collection. This March, after trekking with him to a wooded photoshoot at night, MN Original will spotlight Hollingsworth's process and recent work.

The artist recently returned from Volterra, Italy, with a new series of photographs that exemplify his ability to instill a single image with a deep sense of time. In a recent chat, he referred to his work as "visualized gestures of seeing like a human: many moments at once. In one simultaneous present, we are many moments."

This week, Minneapolis's Circa Gallery will pair his new work in an exhibition with painter Barbara Kreft, who has also been featured on MN Original

[jump] Hollingsworth's "Noise" series turns the camera inside out to document the hidden necessities of photography, accentuating the processes that convert the light surrounding a tree outside a window into code for a laserjet printer. He typically shoots images with high ISO speeds and long exposures in order to maximize the collection of light data. The prints highlight the substructure of a camera's sensor. "Depending on if it's a .raw or .tiff or .jpeg," he explains, "the code for the captured image makes a different pattern on the paper."

From afar, the prints might look like textiles, but with a step closer the pixels appear, weaving dense systems of color. Most of his vibrant compositions offer an aberration to the system, an errant thread of light or a strangely perfect circle. Though it's hard to determine the subject matter of the pieces -- which range from car lights to lightning bolts to the planet Jupiter -- Hollingsworth has only recently amended his titles to include hints of these narratives.


Consider Noise #34, Lightning, for example. The title and the small white scratch in the bottom left corner of the piece turn the composition from a non-objective pixelation into a massive landscape. This single print communicates the many moments of its own composition. The viewer sees the space between Hollingsworth and the bolt.  

For Hollingsworth, it matters little whether the viewer sees the lightning, or the planet, or nothing at all. "The act of making becomes an act of surrender. It is the bravest pursuit," he says.



Featuring work by Barbara Kreft and Tucker Hollingsworth

Circa Gallery

210 N. First St., Minneapolis

There will be a public reception 5 to 8 p.m. Saturday, January 29

Through March 1