For so many of us, it seems like photography is a fuel that keeps us going. It's too easy to say it's a drug – it's just so much more. As a fuel, it keeps you interested, satiated, fulfilled, and, most of all, inspired to continue. Some time ago, I came to this realization, not from myself, but from the one and only Lori Vrba. She is a formidable photography machine, just without the coldness and impersonal attitude that a machine would have. She's one that is full of warmth, kindness, charm, and hell; insert any other adjectives like this here, and that's just what she is. It's a long list. You don't even need to know her work (as stunning as it is) to know that fixer runs through her veins. She's more or less a "traditional" film photographer; however, she takes the trophy for being the one that expands on her own creative process to include things like assemblage, installations, filmmaking, and curation—a purist in many ways, but so, SO much more.

This is an updated interview I did with Lori back when we released the third edition of Analog Forever Magazine in print. So this is the first iteration online, and I asked her for the latest details on the final question. I figure that if you move and create as often as she does, you better keep up as well as possible. There is definitely no grass growing beneath this woman's feet. I mean it – nothing holds her back. So take her words here to heart, dear reader, for they are a template to being a driven creative who carries with her grace and magic not always found in this profession.

Bio -

Lori Vrba is a self-taught multi-media artist based in Hillsborough, North Carolina. Her imagery and assemblage are rooted in themes of memory, illusion, loss, and revival with the southern sensibilities of storytelling.  Her work is held in private and permanent collections throughout the world, including the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston, and the Fox Talbot Museum, UK. Vrba has curated numerous exhibitions, including Tribe for the Fox Talbot Museum in 2018 and The Center for Photographic Art in 2019. Her first monograph, The Moth Wing Diaries, was published in 2015 by Daylight and named one of the top ten photo books of the year by American Photo Magazine. She is recognized for her innovative exhibition productions and installations. Vrba is currently teaching for the Los Angeles Center of Photography. She is co-founder of Pigs Fly Retreats.

Interview -

Michael Kirchoff: In order to give some context to the trajectory of your artistic career, I’m going to start at the typical place and ask you about what inspired your start in the visual arts. Was this something that sparked early on, or did photography come to you later in life?

Lori Vrba: I’ll answer somewhat typically and say motherhood. I had always known I would be a mother, but it was a tough road getting there. So when I found myself at 34 with a four-year-old and newborn twins, all having been born seriously premature, I was fully present and overwhelmed. My husband worked mostly out of town and every day for me was surprising and also like Groundhog Day…you wake up on the same day again. But I was grateful for it, and I was good at it. I started making pictures about what it felt like to be living those days.

MK: Even with a later start, do you see anything from your younger days creeps in and informs how or why you make images today?

LV: I see a few things.

I grew up in a small town in southeast Texas. My Daddy was a writer. He started out as a journalist for a local newspaper. He had a night job for a magazine called The Cattleman. In those days, you ran your own film and laid out the magazine with rubber cement. Mom would take us up to his office at night, and I just loved the touch and smell of it all and, of course, being there with him. He died when I was twenty. He was forty-two. Everything about my life changed after he was gone. To live without him was the hardest thing I’d ever had to do. And I had an acute awareness of how finite our time is, so I thought to myself…whatever you want to do in life, you better get busy doing it because time runs out without notice. I got brave.

We lived at the end of a dirt road with the woods all around us. I left in the morning and came home when it started to get dark. I was a feral child. I was comforted and cared for by mother nature, and that spiritual connection to the earth informs my work today.

And lastly, my parents came from hard lives…we didn’t talk about our family history, and I didn’t really know relatives. My parents lived in the present, and there were great lessons for me in that. But there was never any sentimentality for preserving objects or moments. I’ve grown to care a great deal about my own personal mark on the world and about leaving a trail for my children and my children’s children.

MK: I know you to be a bit of a purist when it comes to using analog methods in your photography and printmaking. Is this something you feel needs to be done in order to accomplish your photographic goals, or is it simply the process that you feel comfortable with? You know, “if it ain’t broke…”.

LV: I love the anticipation I feel running home to process new film. I am still in awe watching a print come up in the developer. I actually get excited setting up the toning trays. It’s like the print decides who it’s going to be. No matter how much experience I’ve got under my belt, it all feels like there’s some other mystical energy at work with me. I am a romantic, and the whole scene suits me just fine. Waking up and going to work in wonder and magic…lucky me.

MK: Just what are the typical tools and materials you engage with in making photographs? This goes for both actively shooting film, as well as working in the darkroom.

LV: I stripped my camera bag down to the bare minimum many years ago and it has been very good for me. It frees up my brain to think creatively. I have a Hasselblad, two lenses, an extension tube, a light meter, and Ilford HP5 film. I keep things consistent in the darkroom. I experiment with different papers and toning, but otherwise, it’s all pretty straightforward. I keep notes for every single print I make.

MK: Do you have what might be called a “typical creative day”? Do you consider yourself a workaholic, or do you keep a schedule of time for family, socializing, vacation, etc?

LV: Workaholic has a negative ring to it. I would say I have a very strong work ethic. I wake up between five and six. I have coffee on the porch unless it’s winter when I make a fire. I play guitar for about an hour. And then I dig in on whatever I’m working on. There is no schedule. Making time for family and friends and travel isn’t a hardship. It’s part of a full, rich life.

MK: Do you spend time on multiple bodies of work all at once or see things to fruition one after another? Is it the same when you work in a different medium, like assemblage?

LV: My photographic projects begin with the concept and title. I work on only one focused idea at a time. Each assemblage piece is its own narrative as well. I have to finish the puzzle and the story before I can start another.

MK: I’ve chosen to highlight your body of work, Drunken Poets Dream, as well as what looks to me to be a three-dimensional equivalent of the Assemblage work you do. A strong narrative exists between and throughout both projects, to be sure. I wonder if you feel that they are informed by each other and form a natural progression to your process and aesthetic? Was this always your intention or something you discovered while knee-deep in their production?

LV: It’s all been one big happy accident. Combining the objects with my own prints serving as the backdrop or stage was born from my desperate need to make a photograph one day when I was home alone. I had these stunningly beautiful bird wings, and a large silver print of an image called Pissed Off Ballerina. I laid the wings on the print, stood over it, and made an image that held an entirely different story titled Winged Victory. That moment just lit me up, and I stayed with that method of image-making all day, every day, for about six months.

I never expected to move into assemblage. But you can see how it happened organically, given my time working in this marriage of the photograph and object. I have always been a collector of vintage curiosities, so the materials were certainly available. My biggest fear early on was that the assemblage work would dilute my specific voice and perhaps confuse the art world as to who I am. My medium is photography. I want that to be evident. But I am hell-bent on sharing my work in ways that people don’t necessarily expect from photography. I want photography to be an experience…to hit you in the gut. I want you to like how it feels in your hands. I want you to get a lump in your throat. I want it to shift your insides around in a good way.

MK: Do you find it better to construct your images in a mindful way or work more intuitively?

LV: Mindful in the sense that everything starts with the concept, words, and narrative. Everything else is totally on the fly.

MK: In 2015, you released your first monograph, Moth Wing Diaries. The images that are contained within its cover are actually made up of multiple bodies of work, of which Drunken Poets Dream is but one. What was it like weaving these images together into a whole new form? Was there anything new that you’d discovered along the way?

LV: I think I categorize my work in separate folios more for myself than anything else. Having some walls around a concept keeps me engaged and fires up ideas that I probably wouldn’t have otherwise. Having the imagery together in one big soup pot, in this case for the book, is never a bad thing. I feel proud of the fact that, like it or not, it’s clearly mine. My visual voice is pretty consistent. I do love pairing images in new and surprising ways, and it’s great fun to have someone else find those pairings…fresh eyes. Ursula Damm was my book designer and she was a joy to work with.

MK: As long as I’ve been witnessing your career evolve, you’ve always been described with adjectives like strong and brave. I’ll just say it, you’re a fucking badass in the photographic arena. But I have to ask, is there ever fear in what you are doing? If so, does it help or hinder your work habits?

LV: I so enjoy a very well-placed F-bomb in a professional interview! Thank you!

Now about that fear…all the fucking time. I might be the most afraid person you know. But that means I have a lot of practice in being afraid and doing it anyway. There are times when fear stops me, but I have generous friends who pull me back up and push me out the door again. True lifelines.

MK: Not only are you an accomplished photographic artist, but your work ethic and spirit bring you to engage with the community in long-standing collaborations with other artists. There is the Posse, and also your Tribe. Are they one and the same, and is this an important aspect of your career?

LV: My real community is the most important aspect of my career. I look for creatives who embody humility, and generosity, who reject the notion of scarcity, and who celebrate the success of others. Tribe is that community. I’ve had the great fortune to find people who honestly live it, and any opportunity I have to work within that kind of spirit, I jump on it.

MK: I’d say this is abundantly clear about your community. Following this line of questioning brings me to mention Pigs Fly Retreats. What is this, and how does it operate within your art practice?

LV: Anne Berry and I are partners in Pigs Fly. We are going into our fifth year and seventh retreat! We host fairly small groups in a place that inherently detaches us from the realities of daily life. So far, that place has been the Barrier Islands off the coast of Georgia; Ossabaw and Cumberland. It is truly a remote, southern wilderness and its own character in the scene with endless folklore and just enough danger to keep us on our toes. Our intention is always the same: to foster a lasting connection with your tribe, to connect more deeply to the earth, to connect to the strongest part of yourself, and to crack you open creatively.

Although she and I facilitate the retreat, we certainly benefit creatively from time spent in wild abandon with cool people who love what we love. I might not come home with tons of amazing new photographs, but I come home strong, and I come home renewed.

MK: In recent years, you’ve moved into the area of curation, both with your own work and that of others you deeply identify with. What brought about this evolution, and how has it affected your relationship with the photographs you make?

LV: Well, I never had my sights set on curation. Those opportunities have come to me through the relationships I’ve built and nourished throughout my career. Sometimes I have an idea, and I happen to be talking to the person who takes it to the next level with a venue or a great collaboration, or a perfect fit. Sometimes they put me in charge.

Curating always reminds me why I love photography. It always makes me want to be better. It forces me to look at the art deeply, from every angle.

MK: You always have something going on and something coming up. This question will immediately be dated, so I’m curious to know what some long-term goals or accomplishments are that you have your sights set on.

LV: Well…what a couple of years can bring. 

Jim Vrba retired, and he wears it well. We bought a little farm in the country. The house came with five chickens. Neither of us has ever owned a chicken. Fresh eggs are mind-blowing. Also, we love them.

Within a year of moving in, we built my second and last darkroom. It is quite the upgrade for which I am grateful.

Homa owns the big barn next door, and we share the love and care for his animals. Three baby goats were born in March to a mama who was too old to nurse. Jim and I took on bottle feeding–it was hard and completely rewarding.

Currently, I am working on a class for the Los Angeles Center of Photography that I will be teaching with my dear friend Tobia Makover called “the WORK of art.” It’s all about the new landscape of fine art photography and redefining sustainable success as an artist. It’s good. We’ve spent years together building what will manifest as the workshop.

Creatively…well, I make something meaningful to me every day. But I do feel challenged to make “art” in the way I did before because I am happier than I’ve ever been before. For me, art has been a salve, or a retreat from something missing, or maybe sadness. And I am happier now than I have ever been in my life. I have to figure out what that means for me and art. I will. I think it will come organically.

MK: I can already tell what the answer to this is from this discussion, but is Lori Vrba ever going to rest?

LV: Hopefully, in peace. When I’m dust.

*This interview originally published in Analog Forever Magazine, Edition 3.

You can find more of Lori’s work on her website here.

All photographs, ©Lori Vrba