Printlab is happy to announce it's collaboration with artist Jessica Tampas. Below are some of the photographs 
currently being printed in our facility.

                         

                       

     

"People often want to know the history behind these dolls. Who were their previous owners? How did they come to look the way they do? Do I collect them, alter them? My approach to creating this series is far more subjective. I never set out to become a collector, per se (though by now I've amassed more than 100 early- and mid-century dolls), and I don't alter them in any way. Frankly, I'm not so concerned with these dolls' history, even if I play an important role in it, giving them a longevity they probably never expected to have. For me these little beings are simply heartbreaking creatures, typologies of survival and loss, and, I suppose, ultimately, psychological portraits of something inside myself that I might not otherwise be able to express as an adult. We have all weathered emotional traumas in the transition from childhood to now. By not altering the dolls, I let their faces tell their own story -- one that I feel is ultimately about what it means to be both fragile and a survivor, and…human. 

A year ago when I began this project, I purchased a number of dolls made between 1902 and 1950, mass-produced, life size (20" long), made of 'composite,' a material that pre-dates plastic. Some had human hair, others synthetic; some had detailed features like painted on eyelashes, teeth, tongues -- others not. Many had limbs missing and stained clothing; one was even repaired with slathered cement. Living, as we do, in a Society saturated with images of perfect youth, these babies seemed to want to offer me an object lesson in honest aging. I first experimented with a host of photographic approaches -- submerging them in water, freezing them and watching them thaw -- finally settling on creating a very simple, straight on portrait: eyes, nose, mouth.  (For me, the face is the most expressive part of a portrait and, as humans, it's the first thing we learn to recognize.) I let their gaze confront the viewer, centering my subjects in a close-cropped field. I hang the resultant images, which are printed at 24" x 30" (though they can be as large as 60" x 80") at eye height -- in diptychs and triptychs.  I like that the image of these toys becomes an all encompassing, visually engulfing experience for the viewer. 

You can choose to engage with their gaze; you can also choose to look away and stare at their imperfections -- such as the deep cracks that many of them have suffered. (These cracks aren't superficial, but more akin to dry, desert earth.) Maybe the face doesn't tell us everything about what kind of soul lurks behind the eyes, as we've so often been taught. Maybe its in looking, clearly into another's brokenness that we see the beauty that lies within." - Jessica Tampas

For Jessica's website visit http://jessicatampasphotography.com