Visiting Assistant Professor of Art Terttu Uibopuu has an MFA in Photography from Yale University School of Art and numerous awards, shows, and fellowships under her belt. This is her first semester teaching at Wesleyan University, and she commutes from New York City every Tuesday and Thursday to teach Digital Photography I. She will be returning next spring to teach two classes and advise thesis students. The Argus sat down with Uibopuu to chat about photography, moving from Estonia, and her current projects.

The Argus: What’s on your bookshelf?

Terttu Uibopuu: I tend to read a lot of things at the same time, so I’ve been reading “Anna Karenina” by Tolstoy because I never read it in school, and I wanted to go back to the classics. I’ve also been reading a lot of Freud. It’s texts that I wouldn’t imagine myself reading because I don’t agree with all of it, but I just think it’s fascinating when it discusses the ego and what’s hidden, because in my work actually I deal with a lot of what’s hidden. I’ve also been reading about photography: essays about photography, introductions to books, interviews with photographers, and the photography blog American Suburb X.

A: What inspired you to become a photographer?

TU: In high school I would do a lot of painting and sculpture, and I would sort of explore different mediums, but once I took an after-school photography class I was fascinated with how real it looked. I felt like photography was the medium that was the most surprising. When I made a sculpture, it always turned out how I wanted it to turn out, but pictures would turn out different.

I started when I was 16 in Estonia, and I got a photography award from Philip Morris, the cigarette company, and then I bought my plane ticket to Chicago. I think it was also a way of putting myself in a situation that I thought wasn’t socially acceptable, but because I had a camera it was okay. I could go up to and talk to people because I would want to take their picture, but I would also be genuinely curious about them. Cameras sort of gave me permission, and I thought that was amazing. Making paintings or sculpture won’t allow you to interact with the world the same way photography can.

It took me a long time to find my own voice, but I have figured out that I do like photographing people. I am interested in people’s lives, but I don’t want to take on the responsibility of showing the truth of them, so it’s not so much about telling their story but making something together—making the picture as a collaboration. It takes the pressure away [from] going to meet someone and showing their essence.

 

A: How was it growing up in Estonia and then coming here?

TU: I wouldn’t make the move now, but I think when you’re young you are kind of reckless and more inclined to taking risks because you have no concept of what the consequences are. You just take the plunge. It was a big shock because I grew up in a medieval city and I landed in the northwest suburbs of Chicago where it was a flat, boring, and a monotonous environment everywhere, so I definitely felt like an alien. But I think America is the best place to integrate because you will be accepted at some point. I think if I went to France I would never be French. I would never be British if I went to England. But I think there is a way to fit yourself into the U.S. It’s kind of a unique place to be.

I was very lucky I got a GED. I didn’t finish high school, and I went to community college and was part of this really supportive photography community where I took classes with 80-year-olds. It was all people who were hobbyists. They weren’t trying to make a career out of photography, but it was a very exciting place to be, because even though people were taking photos of their babies or farms or cornfields there was this passion and energy. There was this sense of community, and ever since then, I’ve always really valued community, like of artists or creative minds together. Even in my classroom, I really love when we gather around things and look at things together and critique. I think that’s a very invaluable thing.

After that, I transferred to Columbia College, which is a four-year school, and got my BFA in photography. I admired all the people who went to Yale, but I never thought I would apply. It was never on my radar, [but] Paul D’Amato, a photography teacher of mine, was telling me I was stupid not to apply to Yale, at least to try. I got in, and it was kind of a no-brainer for me. Columbia undergrad was great because I learned how to make a photo project with a beginning, middle, and end and an artist statement and titles. It was a great education. It was very serious and technically really high level and it’s an amazing photo program, but I think Yale brought me back to the beginning, to why I first started photography, and it loosened things up for me. It wasn’t always about making your preconceived ideas into reality, but it was more about discovering something new through your work, and I think my work did a 180. It really changed drastically from Columbia to Yale. I feel like sometimes I’m more lost than ever with my work and I don’t know what direction I want to go, and sometimes I’ve sort of found the central drive; I know when I want to take a picture. I felt like, when I was at Columbia, I was thinking how can I make a project, how can I make something that makes sense? But now it’s more the opposite: how can I make something that really doesn’t make sense?

 

A: What projects are you currently working on?

TU: I’ve been working on a book for some time, something that I want to get published at some point. It’s a book of work from the past three years and then current work. It’s portraits and self-portraits, but I do feel like I need to make a little bit more work before it gets finished.

I am going to Estonia this summer, so I am going to be away for a month, and I want to make more work there continuing with a portrait series. But I do take pictures for fun. I will just photograph on the street even though I know it’s not work that will end up in my projects, but sometimes I will play around to keep my photo muscles toned, especially if I don’t have the perfect situation or the perfect spot where I want to photograph. I feel like you can get kind of rusty if you don’t physically keep doing it, so it’s just nice to push the button.

The project that I am working on is called “…and the fruit.” It’s from Milton’s “Paradise Lost,” and it has to do with this idea of the fall of Eden.  It’s all portraits of young people. I am interested in youth and the state of youth today. The characters or the people I cast always tend to be hybrids; they are neither here nor there, they are not gay or straight, they are not man or woman. For a while, I was photographing this 19-year-old who was coming out as a girl, and I really liked how she hadn’t quite made the transition yet. It wasn’t about documenting her or telling her story, but we would make pictures together, and it was really special. I got to photograph her on the street, and she said it was the first time she had ever been outside as a woman and having a camera there made her feel more comfortable doing that. It doesn’t come through in the pictures; those stories are not really important for the pictures, because at the end we are making something else. We are making a new reality.

I like people who tend to be kind of exhibitionists: they want to show themselves, they want to exhibit themselves somehow, but the result is always when the photo shoot goes wrong. They have a certain set of expectations, and I have certain expectations, but what happens is always something different and something better, and we sort of arrive somewhere together. It’s kind of like we both speak a foreign language to each other, and we pretend we understand but we actually don’t really understand. And I guess in the end it really is capturing small gestures, small moments that look significant in some way.

I met this guy in Kentucky, and he was like, “I want to be a porn star. Will you photograph me naked?” I was like, “Sure!” I was very clear that this was only for art purposes and this was all it was going to be. The pictures I could have chosen from that photo shoot could have been more racy or explicit, but I like those more quiet moments that happen when the subject is not aware or when I’ve already ended the photo shoot. I’ll say, “Okay, we are done shooting,” and then something happens: they sort of let loose or they let go. So actually my best photos happen after the photo shoot is over.

I do like what you can do with one person. I like that you don’t have to have fireworks and parades and everything; it can just be one person in a room, and what can you do with that? It is creating an experiment, and sometimes it doesn’t work. I have so many pictures that suck, that are terrible. Either I have seen those pictures before or the subject is so aware that I don’t show them. But you have to realize that not everything you make is gold.

People always ask why would I hang a picture of a stranger on my wall, but it’s like, why would you watch a movie about someone, why would you read a poem? Because at the end, when we read books, it’s not about that person; it’s about recognizing something new. You think, “Oh, wow, I know what that feels like,” or, “Oh wow, this is something I have never experienced,” and you wouldn’t have if you had never read it. It’s sort of the same idea. It’s playing around with those two extremes, the super familiar and the unfamiliar.

This interview has been edited for length.