Gary Emrich: Part One

Gary Emrich is a Denver-based media artist who uses photography in various contexts: these include original and appropriated imagery, color prints, single-channel video, and multi-media installation. His CV is substantial and progresses from the late-seventies to the present day with Beatle-like intentionality, from analog to digital, print to video, neighborhood art space to prominent museum, document to concept.

The subject of land use and water distribution in the West occupies much of his work, as do various interpretations of exploration suggestive of westward expansion and Manifest Destiny—serious subjects that he often leavens with humor, vibrant color, and exhilarating energy.

Gary Emrich: So Many Windmills, 2020. (Video still)

To that effect, one short video titled So Many Windmills portrays an athletic woman trying again and again to mount a spinning chair that might or might not be attached to a fairground ride. A staccato jazz soundtrack drives the dizzying sequence, which resolves into a momentary image of masked people—an image that, given our time, conjures thoughts of the Covid pandemic. (The piece will be shown at Robischon Gallery in Denver in September.)

Similar moments of resolution, in which clarity emerges from confusion, recur throughout Emrich’s oeuvre. In Dibs, the third of a series about the Apollo space program, footage from the moon is accompanied by a distorted soundtrack through which the words “The flag is down” are momentarily heard. Incidental references like this inspire contemporary associations—for instance, as I write this, my mind travels to the chaotic retreat of US forces from Afghanistan and the Kabul airport.

Gary Emrich: Spinach Pasta Throughout Central America, 1980

As with all the artists I’ve spoken with for this project, talking with Gary in depth and studying his artwork has been an education not just in Colorado’s photo history, but also in the development of contemporary photographic practice and theory. Discovering our mutual taste for a good huevos rancheros has only added to the pleasure of our conversations. As usual, I began by asking about his background.

“My father was in the film industry. I was generally interested in film and was the son who was most engaged in it. I was also the guy in the family who had the cameras, who took the pictures, and recorded things. I remember my older brother in the seventies was like ‘why do you keep doing that?’ and now of course they are so happy I did.

“I graduated from CU Boulder in 1977 with a BA in Political Science. As a junior I was an exchange student in England, at the University of Lancaster. That was a changing period in my life. I visited museums, looked at art more, and I took a lot of photographs that I thought were pretty good.

Gary Emrich: Map 9, 1980

“When I came back to CU for my senior year—my final semester, Spring 1977—I took basic photo from Sandy Hume. Sandy was an adjunct teacher there. Being in Sandy’s class changed everything. I built a darkroom in my parents’ basement, and I talked with Sandy and Gary Metz. They said “Well, you’re living in Denver so you should take a class from Barbara Houghton.” That was in the fall of ’77. It was actually during the class I took from Barbara that I was introduced to conceptual thinking in photography. She showed Robert Heinecken, John Pfahl, Eileen Cowin, JoAnn Callis, Duane Michals, and especially Robert Cumming. This work just blew me away. These were photographers who actively engaged in creating their subject matter that they photographed; who told stories and talked about the media and politics in their work. I knew this was the area that I wanted to pursue.

“In those days Colorado Mountain College in Breckenridge (CMC) had a huge photo program. Mark Klett was there, Ellen Manchester, Kenda North, and I really tried to worm my way in with those people. I was seen as somebody who was really serious. CMC used to have these July Fourth symposiums, really interesting. Harry Callahan was there, Nathan Lyons, all these people. My first workshop was with Linda Connor. She was making these contact prints with her soft focus 8 x 10 view camera, and I was very interested in her work. That would have been 1978.

Gary Emrich: Gray Zone, 1982 (video still)

Gary Emrich: Gray Zone, 1982 (video still)

“I got into a residency at the Sun Valley Center for the Arts and Humanities in Idaho and learned color from Mark Klett. That was in the spring of 1979. One day I just started laying stuff out in the landscape and photographing it. I had bought my first 4 x 5 camera, a Graflex Crown Speed Graphic. I remember there were these fall leaves on the ground; I’d got some spaghetti and I laid it out in a grid and photographed it, and all of a sudden it started to click to me that I was supposed to actively construct the things and photograph them. And so I made those first map pictures, which became Spinach Pasta Throughout Central America, when I was living in Sun Valley, Idaho.

I was in Idaho for three months then came home and started to apply for graduate schools. I interviewed to get into the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. I remember Alex Sweetman was one of the people who looked at my portfolio and I was amazed because I knew that he was the Walker Evans scholar, and then I met Ken Josephson. I went to Chicago in 1980.

By the time I graduated from Chicago I was definitely 50/50 video and photo. I was really lucky to go there. There was equipment and an editing suite; it was very cool to be able to do that. I didn’t have a job and the Colorado Historical Society [now History Colorado] amazingly enough called me and invited me to Denver to work in the photo area. I worked there and had a couple of teaching jobs. I taught video for Barbara at Metro, I taught at UC Denver, a semester at CU Boulder in video, and tried to survive. Video art was accepted and folded into the program. I used to tell students that when you make stuff—and you’re always making stuff and thinking the next stuff will be better—you never really appreciate how important the moment is until later.

In 1985 a really important Denver sculptor Brian Dreith and I did Transvision, the first big video installation at the Arvada Center (above). That was a good show. We got a grant from the Colorado Council of the Arts and a matching grant, so we had about $5,000. We bought a 1963 Buick Wildcat that we had restored; put the front part on this showroom floor and the shitty back part on the concrete floor. Then we did a neon version of the car, like it was moving. That was the first time anyone had shown video as a sculptural thing. We spent so much of our own money it was just ridiculous.

End of Part One. In Part Two, Gary discusses working in the film industry, exhibiting with Robischon Gallery and the Denver Art Museum, and creating his ongoing series about the commodification of water, All Consumed.

Captions above: Clockwise L-R: After the Order, 1981; Untitled (trash can), 1981; Knot and Tube, nd; Light bulb with Clamp, nd; School Chair, nd; Water/Blue Flame, nd; The Repentent Mary Magdalene, 1985; Trust in the Lord (Knife and Typewriter), nd.


The Colorado Photo History blog is the online presence for “Outside Influence,” a book project by Rupert Jenkins. As always, please leave a comment or a suggestion for future posts, and visit #Colorado Photo History on Instagram and Facebook.

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Nancy Wood, Roy Stryker & Taos Pueblo

Nancy Wood (1936–2013) was a prolific writer, poet, and editor who took up photography after she separated from her husband Myron Wood in 1969. During their eight year marriage, Nancy edited a series of general interest books that paired her text with Myron’s photographs. Those include Colorado: Big Mountain Country (1969) and Hollering Sun (1972), an illustrated prose poem that laid the groundwork for her own Taos Pueblo photo book published in 1989.

Nancy Wood: Tony Lucero, owner of the Palace Hotel in Antonito, Colorado, 1976. From “The Grass Roots People,” 1978.

Wood’s first project without Myron was a collaboration with the legendary Farm Security Administration photography director Roy E. Stryker (1893–1975), who she described as “the greatest influence on my life.” [1]

According to her published account, the two first met at MoMA in 1962 during a private reception for The Bitter Years, an exhibition of Depression-era FSA photographs curated by Edward Steichen. [2] When Stryker retired and returned to his hometown of Montrose, Colorado, he enlisted Wood to help create a more positive version of the show that would emphasize kinship and functionality in small-town America.

In This Proud Land: America 1935–1943 As Seen in the FSA Photographs was published in 1973. Wood contributed an extensive essay about Stryker and their selection process; ultimately, she notes, Stryker’s final selection is not just an evocation of an idealistic childhood in Montrose but also an indictment of eroded values in a dehumanized America.

She picked up the camera in earnest in the early seventies when the historian Bill Moyers asked her to take some stills during a film shoot in northwestern Colorado. [3] Several years later she returned to the contact sheets, selected half a dozen frames, and submitted a set of prints to the Colorado Centennial Commission with a grant proposal to document rural Colorado. (She supported her proposal by including an adaptation of Stryker’s FSA shooting scripts, which detailed exactly what kind of photograph he wanted each photographer to make.)

To her surprise, the Commission granted her $12,000 to photograph for a year and produce a book and exhibition. The project was published in 1978 as The Grass Roots People, a concise document that pairs environmental portraits and contextual landscapes with an interview-based text. The exhibition never came to fruition, and by some accounts the project ended in acrimony with the funders (much as Myron Wood’s documentation of Georgia O’Keefe would in the mid-eighties).

Nancy Wood: Leona and Curtis Schrimp, Wild Horse, Colorado, population twelve, 1978. From “The Grass Roots People,” 1978.

Taos Pueblo was altogether more substantive. In contrast to Myron Wood’s somewhat forced images taken for Hollering Sun, Nancy Wood’s photo essay reveals a practiced eye; her ethnographic approach emphasized the preservation of ancient tradition amidst the incursion of modern life into the pueblo.

In the eyes of its critics, Taos Pueblo revealed too many uncomfortable aspects of pueblo life. Vine deLoria’s introduction addresses the conundrum facing well-intended outsiders like Wood; to show prevailing conditions “harmful to the Indian cause” (such as poverty and addiction) could be viewed as intrusive and inappropriate, but to ignore those same conditions might conversely be interpreted as whitewashing reality—an accusation leveled at Laura Gilpin’s Enduring Navaho publication, which preceded Taos Pueblo by a decade and was based on three solid decades of work. [4]

Nancy Wood: Hauling water for drinking, cooking, and washing from Taos Creek; Bottom: Fixing the family car on a Saturday afternoon. From Taos Pueblo, 1989.

Wood had, in fact, experienced controversy following the publication of her book When Buffalo Free The Mountains: The Survival of America’s Ute Indians in 1980. According to her daughter, India, the Utes had been infuriated by Wood’s allegations of Native government incompetence and corruption. But like her mentor, Roy Stryker, she gave such considerations little regard.

Taos Pueblo was her last project as a photographer. After a second FSA collection titled Heartland New Mexico: Photographs from the Farm Security Administration was published (also in 1969), she returned her attention to prose and poetry. She was working on a memoir titled Miss America when she died in 2013 at her home in New Mexico.

Nancy Wood: Entrance, Taos Pueblo, 1985. From Taos Pueblo, 1989.


[1] Nancy Wood quotes from Eye of the West (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 2007.
[2] The Bitter Years: 1935-1941 Rural America as seen by the photographers of the Farm Security Administration. Curated by Edward Steichen, October–November 1962. Installation views of the 171 photographs confirm the show’s emphasis on hardship and misery.
[3] A more emotional impetus for her wanting to be successful as a photographer, as proposed by her daughter, India, was to avenge her abandonment by Myron, for whom success was elusive.
[4] Gilpin’s images of Navajo in New Mexico, published as The Enduring Navaho (sic) (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1968) have become increasingly susceptible to criticism. Nevertheless, in her biographer Martha Sandweiss’s words, the ethnographic portrait she created “established her as an important commentator on the cultural geography of the Southwest and the culture of two of its native peoples.”


The Colorado Photo History blog is the online presence for “Outside Influence,” a book project by Rupert Jenkins. As always, please leave a comment or a suggestion for future posts, and visit #Colorado Photo History on Instagram and Facebook.

@coloradophotohistory. #coloradophotohistory #outsideinfluence #myronwood #nancywood #Navajo #taospueblo #nativeamerican #documentaryphotography

WoodN_Eye of the West_cover.jpg