Lansing Ward is a photographer of the BFA class of 2020 at UNH. Over the past four years he has participated in an exhibition in the 3S Art Space and had his work featured in the Mainstreet Magazine twice. He has also interned with photographer and videographer Carey Russell. Often described as poetic, Lansing’s photographs subtly blur the border between a documentation of reality and an emotional state. He sees his camera as a tool used to filter the ordinary world into a static representation of a particular moment. Lansing’s inspiration comes from the experiences he’s had in his life and the emotion’s he’s felt in response to those experiences. He is interested in creating imagery that evokes deep-seated feelings in the viewer.
After Lansing graduates from UNH, he plans to move to New York City with his brother, where they will do nothing but make art together. Their goal, and definition of success, is to make something that they deem good. They also have plans to start an art collective.
Sometimes images come to me. I’ll be sitting around or walking my dog or listening to music or watching the sunset and the rods and cones in my pineal gland will reveal to me something that I think is emotionally moving. It is always in response to how I’m feeling. After that, I set out to capture the images through photography, which often leads to more images found along the way. Then I pair them, sequence them, re-sequence them (often several times), and print them in a book.
My work tends to be both mundane and surreal. I craft narratives that are melancholic at times and uplifting at others. I don’t believe it’s possible to describe the emotional capacities of my books in full, because images are methods of communication that surpass the articulative capabilities of the English language. That is what I like about making them and why I am a photographer. When I sequence my images and put them in a book, I am telling a story that cannot be described through any other action. For me, it is a study of the human condition. With every new image or pairing I gain a new understanding of my existence. The subtleties of each sequence reveal unfamiliar emotions, and it feels like seeing a new color. That is my goal when composing a book. My imagery comes from my subconscious, and my pairings from my responses to them, and I am thus unable to make work that is not self-reflective. My images, in my eyes, are documents of my soul. They are the stakes that pierce the chaotic nature of our world and stay motionless through the movements of my life.