she was my la jetée

Sequoia - Slater Bradley
  • Slater Bradley
  • Sequoia
  • 2013
  • Super 8 film, HD + SD video 2-channel synch video projection onto two 54 in. x 96 in. screens, Stereo sound
  • Two 54 in. x 96 in. screens
she was my la jetée - Slater Bradley
  • Slater Bradley
  • she was my la jetée
  • 2013
  • Super 8 film and HD video, Single channel, stereo sound
  • Dimensions variable
Sequoia Alina - Slater Bradley
  • Slater Bradley
  • Sequoia Alina
  • 2013
  • Mounted black and white fiber print
  • 40 x 60 inch
Venus - Slater Bradley
  • Slater Bradley
  • Venus
  • 2013
  • Black and white fiber print mounted to dibond with black marker
Transit - Slater Bradley
  • Slater Bradley
  • Transit
  • 2013
  • Black and white fiber print mounted to dibond with black marker
  • 198 x 145 cm
Eclipse - Slater Bradley
  • Slater Bradley
  • Eclipse
  • 2013
  • Black and white fiber print mounted to dibond with black marker
she was my vertigo - Slater Bradley
  • Slater Bradley
  • she was my vertigo
  • 2013
  • Digital C-print mounted to dibond with crushed moongold leaf
  • 30 x 45 inch
Ace of Cups - Slater Bradley
  • Slater Bradley
  • Ace of Cups
  • 2013
  • Crumpled black and white fiber print with silver marker
INTERVIEW — Slater Bradley, to the Point by Kayla Tanenbaum
  • INTERVIEW — Slater Bradley, to the Point by Kayla Tanenbaum
  • December 13, 2013
  • TANENBAUM: When I hear the word “muse,” I think of either Greek epic poets calling to the muses or a 19th-century painter and his mistress who lives in his apartment and he paints her.
    BRADLEY: I think of more of a photography thing: Man Ray, Lee Miller. The muse as this almost like butterfly-like thing that you can’t possess, but you can capture it, and it’s fleeting.
    TANENBAUM: Did these photos come about spontaneously, or did you have a project in mind?
    BRADLEY: I like to make work about things that make me feel uncomfortable, and relationships that make me feel uncomfortable, and I thought it made me feel very uncomfortable to meet somebody and photograph them naked in my apartment, lit by the sunlight from the window. By then, the Doppelgänger project was like, “We’re going to shoot in the Museum of Natural History,” and there were so many logistical things—I needed to do something spontaneous and intimate. And then I started to go back into the photography thing because photography’s so difficult and so ubiquitous, and there’s so many fucking images, it’s like how do you stop? Not stop—how do you slow down the consumption of these images?
    TANENBAUM: That’s interesting.
NOWNESS — Slater Bradley: she was my la jetée
  • NOWNESS — Slater Bradley: she was my la jetée
  • April 5, 2013
  • Your early works were known for a lo-fi approach, but your use of media has since evolved. Are you reacting to new technologies?
     
    Slater Bradley: I was making single-channel “amateur” videos 15 years ago, when nobody had seen it before in art galleries. In the late 90s, everybody was making over-produced, Hollywood-style film installations. Then YouTube came out and I had to adapt to the fact that this amateur aesthetic that I was kind of playing off of was totally blown out. Back then, people couldn’t see a video on their phone, because they didn’t have one, and now they can. So you’re making a video that you hope looks good on an iPhone and in a gallery. I never thought like that before. There’s been this huge paradigm shift in media, and it just happened so quickly. It was like an artisan being trained in developing some woodworking skill and then it being made obsolete by some machine technology. But that’s what a lot of my work is about—things become obsolete and forgotten, but they can can be resurrected.
ARTFORUM — Slater Bradley by Rotem Rozental
  • ARTFORUM — Slater Bradley by Rotem Rozental
  • December 18, 2013

  • ...his newest videos, Sequoia and She Was My la Jetée, both works 2013, which continue to explore haunting cultural presences by conjuring up idealized female figures. Shown on three screens, these women blur the boundaries between memory, fiction, and obsession, drawing the viewer in while they remain distant and unattainable.

    The two loops are projected on two separate screens in the space, yet their subjects seem to cross and coalesce into an impossible single female character before the viewer. Outside the screening area, Alina is depicted in photo-drawings that are surrounded in gold and black markings that resemble tree rings–unavoidable traces linear time. 
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