MK: Did you also go through an extensive testing process in regards to the film you use in your handmade cameras? Is there a favorite that you prefer?

SB: Yes, I tested countless films and developers until I landed on a few favorites. For black and white, I almost always use Ilford FP4 developed in Ilford Perceptol, 3 to 1. For my color work it was difficult, but I didn’t have nearly as many choices since we have so few left on the market. I tested a few, but like Portra 160 the best unless I’m lucky enough to find some expired Fuji NPS or NPC 160 both of which work great with my homemade cameras, but sadly it’s no longer.

MK: Even with a great deal of talent and hard work, it often takes personal relationships, reaching out to others, and making opportunities for oneself to make a career. I know you know what I’m talking about, and I’d love you to tell the story of how you received gallery representation for the first time, because I believe it strikes at the heart of knowing when to go for it as an artist.

SB: Well, to be honest I stumbled into being a fine art photographer. I had no clue what it meant to be one or anything related to the profession. I was just creating these images for myself as a means to cope with and understand my night terrors by reinterpreting them in images.

After I began to see a consistency in my style and approach, I started a blog to post my images, which helped me build a small online following/community. And during that period, I happened upon the work of an incredible photographer named Dave Anderson. He had just released his book Rough Beauty, which won tons of awards and to be frank, his work blew me away. The images cut right through me. They were stunning, poignant and even heart breaking at times.

I can’t exactly recall how Dave and I began emailing back and forth, but I think it started when a mutual fan suggested I get in touch with him, so I wrote him a fan letter. And sometime around then, someone told me about Photo LA and I decided to attend to see what artists the galleries were exhibiting. I should clarify that at this time, I didn’t create the work to become a fine art photographer. Matter of fact, I had no idea what that term meant. I just attended Photo LA to see some work that might inspire me.

As I was walking through Photo LA 2007, I saw Dave Anderson walking by with Alec Soth, who was and still is a mega star. I was so excited to see Dave that I literally shouted out, “OH MY GOSH YOU’RE MY FAVORITE PHOTOGRAPHER” and they both turned to me. Me being me, I just blurted out “DAVE ANDERSON” in response to that set up and realized I had just unintentionally put my foot in my mouth as I didn’t mean to disrespect Alec, I was just so excited to see Dave since his work thrilled me. I turned to Dave and told him who I was and he was so kind to me. He asked if I happened to have any prints with me, since he had only seen jpegs on my website. Sometime told me to put prints in the trunk of my car that day. Called it divine intervention or just intuition, but it was a good thing I did. I gave Dave his own personal trunk show of sorts from the trunk of my car in the parking lot at Photo LA. Dave liked what he saw, so he snuck my portfolio into the fair, introduced me to my first gallery representative and the rest is history. I owe everything to Dave, who has become a very dear friend over the years.



MK: Knowing the traumatic reasons (and if you care to touch upon this) behind so many beautiful images you create, I have to wonder how these negative aspects are turned so positive and rewarding. Do you ever think about the psychology behind why this happens?

SB: Constantly. Creating my images is a form of very necessary therapy. My mom always taught me to reinterpret the terror from my dreams and the very real memories that sparked them into a beautiful or positive experience. Which is why the motivation of my work comes from a terrifying place, but the final images express great beauty within the haunted resonance.

MK: Was there a specific point in time where you felt that you had found your voice in photography and became satisfied with the direction of your work? Do you ever truly find yourself in a good place with your images, or are you always searching for more?

SB: Cripes, no. My motivation for creating the work is based in finding a way to cope and survive… to move through life and exist despite the ghosts that drive it. It’s challenging to find satisfaction in any aspect of that type of creative process. That said, I have learned how to step away from the process of creation and just look at the final image from a core, emotional place. By doing that, I have been able to become proud of what I created. For example, one of my favorite images I’ve ever created is entitled Hubbard & Wells, 9:18am. The image was shot on my fiftieth birthday and the location has a long history for me from my childhood growing up in Chicago. There’s a very dark, complicated history to shooting that image and the pain was immense, but in time, I was able to look at the image for the image rather than the motivation or experience of shooting it. And that allowed me to fall in love with it for what it was… one of my very best black and white images to date.

MK: You’re known primarily as a black and white shooter, but you’ve recently released new work that is in color. The Susan Burnstine signature is still very much apparent in every photograph, and I wonder how or why this progression of your work has occurred?

SB: Well, now that’s another long story. I have always dreamt in black and white. Always. But in 2016 a series of events occurred and I started seeing spots of color in my dreams for the first time. But why? I became extremely distressed but this change because for me, black and white is how I truly see. Much like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, it’s my home and it’s reality to me. Whereas color has never been real to me and it’s not how I naturally see or visualize.

What makes this even more baffling is that dream researchers have found that people who were born before the age of television or have never had access to it, dream in color. People who were born during the age of black and white TV, dream in black and white. And people who were born in or after 1966 when broadcast TV switched to color, dream in color. I’m an anomaly.

I was born in 1966 when the NBC peacock brought “living color” into everyone’s living rooms. I witnessed monochrome programs magically transform into reds, greens, yellows and blues. I was awestruck by the implausible appearance of these vivid hues, which became imbedded in my memory as the most perplexing and fantastic canvas of my childhood. What’s more, my family owned the first television business on the North Shore of Chicago and a Zenith Chromacolor TV blazed in every room of our home. Yet still, I viewed the world in black and white until the unsettling events of 2016 made it too hard to look at life in such a real sense. I had to escape, much like Dorothy escaped to Oz. And the color came flooding into my dreams. How long they will be there, no one knows. And because my creative process is to shoot what I experience in my dreams from the night before, my images have transformed into color.