Nate Boguszewski | Made You Look | by Matthew Newton

Documenting American life in candid, often revealing fashion, photographer Nate Boguszewski looks to tell complex stories in the space of a single frame. "One thing that delights me in any shot I take is ambiguity, the lies that a framing can craft," Boguszewski says. "A bit of confusion for the viewer—and sometimes for me—goes a long way in storytelling." That ambiguity is prevalent in much of his work. But he also captures subjects whose faces beam with blatant response, whether it's sadness or anger, confusion or great joy. Much of his work has a grimy Americana feel, an aesthetic Boguszewski attributes to the years spent watching his native city of Pittsburgh flounder. Formerly the art director at Deek magazine, in recent years Boguszewski has shot for Swindle, Next American City, and Philadelphia City Paper.  

You take pictures. Can you tell me how and why you got started?
 
A dead baby bird and a brat at the zoo. When I was 15 a photographer from National Geographic came to my high school to lead us on a photo field trip. I borrowed my parent's ill-performing Minolta XG-1 and, as an especially moody teenager with a particularly strong interest in animals, I wanted to make some sort of statement about the tragedy of a caged life instead of saying "oh, that's a lovely giraffe." As we were walking through one section of the zoo I saw a dead baby bird that had fallen from the nest sitting on the sidewalk. This was the irony that my tiny mind was seeking, this death, this dead animal in a place where all was supposed to be a celebration of life. So I lay on the ground directly in front of this bird, getting my, for lack of a better pun, bird's eye view, and started taking a few shots.

Now in the background was this troop of wee kiddies also on a field trip. One of them, seeing the long-haired teenager on the ground, starts meandering over in my direction to give me grief for the reason that kids often will: just because. He sees that I'm shooting the bird, comes walking towards me and clomps his hi-top down right in front of the lens. He didn't step directly on the bird but this sequence of events, documented frame by frame, spoke to me about innate tendencies towards violence, the human habit to destroy. The shots show a dead bird and a kid
 
I got an apprenticeship at Pittsburgh Filmmakers when I was 17 and quickly learned to associate photography with skipping school. Mentally I'm probably still in that place. After three years in the 2D arts track, I dropped out of the honors art class my senior year because it was scheduled at the same time as the photo class I wanted to take again. I will admit that I was sweet on two girls in there and my judgement was clouded by this. That lust has affected and motivated the entire course of my life. And when I got to college I discovered that I could take photos to pay for pizza. I spent two years just shooting silly news and concerts before I just gave up photography entirely.

What prompted you to give up photography at the time?

I was also writing for the college paper while shooting and was set to take over as editor until they decided that my writing was too much of a liability. I knew then that on the technical level my writing wasn't great, but I knew how to find stories and I focused on digging dirt about the things going wrong on campus. That's what I wrote about and it had a good response from the students and professors but not the admin. They ended up giving the paper to a freshman meathead who would tow the line. Journalism was a farce.

There was no satisfaction in it. I didn't like the idea of taking shots of people just to promote them and aggrandize them. They don't need that. Essentially the job description of a news photographer is to make sausage out of the available meat. And just like Chicken McNuggets, that sausage is primarily made of lips and assholes. I was just frustrated with journalism as a whole.

Your work is a mix of staged portraiture and editorial photojournalism. Do you have a preference to the type of shots you take, or are you more dictated by whim?

I love a shot with a story. One thing that delights me in any shot I make or take is ambiguity, the lies that a framing can craft. A bit of confusion for the viewer—and sometimes for me—goes a long way in storytelling. And I tend to think that putting that in the staged portraiture shots makes them a bit editorial, if not narrative. Editorial stuff has a bit of staging in it as well, since there's a framing that leaves out details at the photographer's whim. I like putting enough in frame to lead a viewer but I like to keep enough out that the path that led to the scene has to take place in the viewer's mind. I want them to think about the events before and after the shot. Ambiguity is inevitable when looking at an image of a moment frozen in time. You know there's something before and after, even if the photo is downright lies. Everything I shoot is about constructing a story in this way but some shots are just more true than others.
 
I can maybe say that I cater to whims when I pursue a setup of a shot. Usually I have a good idea of where things ought to be and how I want them to appear. Most of my staged stuff is sketched out first for positioning and narrative sequence between shots. Usually I'll get the shot I wanted within the first few frames and then I'll go about playing with the actors to see what they might interpret from the cues in the scenario they're in. I like designing shots as if there isn't someone with a camera at the scene but I also like to frame it very evidently that the camera is there, looking down, passing judgement.

As for editorial work I typically like to wait for a frame to compose itself. I can walk into a situation and spot where I'll get the shot I want right away (not with 100% of course). I can usually see how to frame the people in their environment to tell the story that's latent in the space. I just have to get into place with the camera and wait until people step where they need to be to complete the thought. The world will usually take care of this for you if you wait long enough and move around a bit.
 
I don't know if I really think there's a whole lot of distinction between the two styles you mentioned. Anything that isn't telling a story is probably just for vanity or another t&a wanker shot.

So, you have no interest in vanity or T&A wanker shots?
 
There is little that's more boring than shots of attractive girls posing moderately provocative. Oh, great! A hot girl standing there asking us to admire her hotness! The photographers that are taking those sorts of shots are just shoveling more slop into the placating masturbation fodder trough. Those shots are for the photographers who want to brag about being around beautiful people and the people in the shots. They don't serve the greater human good in any other way.

I mean I can see and grasp a well-produced fashion shot, but what is that about? The human body is great, I get it, but human behavior is far more interesting.

There is a heavy emphasis on American life—mobile homes, diners, interesting people, candid family shots—in your photos. How important is the role of place when you are shooting?
 
Place is everything, man. When you see the background and the environment in the frame you immediately pick up the context. It's like that gives you the background info on everything else in the frame.
 
As for that crusty Americana aesthetic, that's a result of growing up in Pittsburgh where perpetual decay defines the daily living experience. When I was younger I remember most everything I saw being an antique or hand-me-down. My grandfather was (and still is) what we'd call D.I.Y. these days. He'd have all these old tools like a scythe from 1909 and all these stories to go with them—like tales of men in a field dancing with their scythes as the most efficient way to get the work done. I mean, you should see my apartment. I live across the hall from an abandoned dentist office that first opened its doors in 1913.
 
All old things have stories, inevitably. Those diners that have been there forever have so much history in them. Any place where people live is filled with their stories and, not to get too spacey on you, their ghosts. I don't mean like zombies and sheets and shit, but like the traces of their lives. A good shot of a place will show those things.
 
Just think, Pittsburgh was crazy and full of people just 50 years ago and thriving. Now it's part of the rust belt. This country was perceived completely differently than it is now. You see those old things and you can't help but wonder what happened since they were new. I figure that if all I get is the rubble I might as well make use of it.

Would you say place is more important in your work than people?
 
Yes. With the staged stuff the mise en scene is far more important than any person. There are numerous people who can play the parts for the shots. Sometimes there's a look you want the person to have, but there's never such a thing as a person so completely wrong for a shot that the image can't be made. The only situation where place isn't more important is in the studio, with a white seamless backdrop, and at that point all you're shooting is the person. You can't put a person in front of a white backdrop and truly tell their story. The only time photographers can get away with these sorts of portraits is when the people they're shooting have a story that's already known to the viewer. This works for celebrity shots because they're known for their roles or characterizations. For everybody else you have to introduce them to the world with a single frame and that requires showing their place in this life at a physical location to give the context that defines them as an individual.
 
For the staged stuff it totally makes the image seem more believable, even if the viewer knows it's staged, when the place is right.
 
How do you think growing up in Pittsburgh has influenced you personally? I've found that living in a city that's been in perpetual decline can profoundly alter one's world view.

Well, yeah. I have a bitterness and contempt for humanity that nobody in Southern California will ever understand. Place is everything, right?

You art directed and shot photos for Deek magazine, the now-defunct Pittsburgh-based publication that had its fair share of both diehard fans and scathing critics. Can you tell me how, if at all, that experience influenced you?
 
The art directing thing taught me what a sorry bunch of louts artists could be and how hard it was to get things together. Retrospectively there's a lot of things I could have done better. Granted, if we paid them anything this experience would have been completely different. I learned how to design. I learned how to deal with dissenting opinions on staff. I cut my teeth with Deek.
 
Because we ran into so many difficulties with photographers the editor and my business partner, Matt Stroud, made the suggestion that I take the shots for the Greed Incident. I hadn't shot anything in about 3 years and nothing about models and poses and editorial stuff. That one shoot has influenced everything in my life since then.
 
I discovered that I could get nine people in their underwear, two people naked and one guy to shove $200 dollars in his mouth just by pointing a camera at them and promising I'd publish it. I was addicted from then on. I probably wouldn't be pursuing photography at all if it weren't for that one opportunity—and the more-than-delightful results.
 
The critics were something I learned to deal with. I came to understand that it didn't matter what the hell I did or how good anything I churned out ever was. I'm not going to go all Black Moth Super Rainbow and say Pittsburgh is full of haters, but there's a sense of anxiety in the populace that comes from the knowledge that Pittsburgh is in a rough spot in a lot of ways. There's no real tolerance for anything negative about the city and the things going on within it and that's completely understandable. People want things to get better; they don't want to be reminded of things that suck.
 
So from that I've slowly come to realize a way to present criticism that's less obnoxious and more subtle. Instead of being a snarky fuck complaining about what other people are doing I've decided that I'm just going to focus on getting things the way I want them to be. I get a lot less attention (which was sort of nice) and don't have so many emails from people wanting to pose nude (which I really miss) for me, but I'm seeing decent gains from my efforts on a very different level.
 
I think I'd make a musical analogy that it's more production, less performance. It seems easier to rage against the machine when you've got one hand on the steering wheel.
 
As for the fans, who doesn't like diehard fans? I still get a free drink every once in a while.

Would you ever consider doing another magazine?

Yes.

If you had it all to do over again, would you have chosen a different path in life?

This path has actually been pretty nice. I would have liked to have got to this point a little sooner, but aside from that acceleration I'd keep things as they've been. The nonsense I've been through is the nonsense that defines me—and the source material that provided for all the photos.