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Dede Lusk

Many photographers would like their pictures to jump out of the frame, but Dede Lusk is content to let her intimate and serene—if stark—images subtly compel the viewer to explore hidden textures and shapes. The 60-year-old Clinton native and LSU alumna spoke to 225 about deep breaths, Asian art and Paul Newman.

Your parents must have encouraged you and your sister [painter Rhea Gary] to pursue the arts. What did they do for a living?

We lived in Clinton, and they did a lot in the community but were never introduced to art, because that’s not something that happened in such a small town. My dad was in electrical. He loved to make things with his hands. He was woodworking all the time. My mother used to organize the local garden tours.

That’s interesting because you photograph a lot of flowers.

Yes, I’ve never really thought about it in that context, but there’s always been lots of pretty gardens in the Felicianas, and people take pilgrimages to see them. We were always aware of when the different flowers bloomed.

Do you remember your first camera?

Oh, yes. My grandfather owned Corcoran’s Drug Store, and he gave me a Brownie “box” camera when they first came out. Then I had all the free film I wanted, because he owned the store, and all the free developing. As soon as one roll came back, another was going in, whether it was the little tree frog on a Coke bottle that I have pictures of still, or Paul Newman when he came to film The Long, Hot Summer. I followed him around like the crazy 10-year-old girl I was.

Were there any artists in the family besides your sister Rhea?

We did have Uncle Haley who had the first Polaroid camera and an early film camera. He was a tech guy, and always had the latest gadget or Thunderbird. He’d come visit once a month and introduce us to the outside world. He was very generous with those cameras. He’d say, “Here, take it.” And we’d run off to play.

When did you begin to think of photography as a profession or in artistic terms?

It wasn’t until much later after college. There was just nowhere to see people’s photographs. And no one telling you you could make a living with it, or that it was art. It was just snapshots of your family or friends on trips.

Was there a turning point?

In my mid-30s I went through a bout with cancer. And I changed my perspective on what was important in life and what wasn’t. I picked up my camera, and decided to get serious. Rhea was well into her career by then so I realized there were options in the art world.

The vast majority of your work is very high contrast black-and-white imagery. Do you ever wish you could see in black-and-white?

I do see in black-and-white! I really do. I see shape and form and texture first.

Ansel Adams needs 10 different gradations and I’m happy with just black and white.

The photos you take require you to be a bit of an explorer, right?

Well, I love the outdoors. I like getting away from the chaos of daily life to calm my spirit. Before I shoot I have to take deep breaths until I can see the intimate details.

Do you explore alone?

I think I do better alone. But in this day and age that’s not always wise. I’ll go out on the boat with my husband, Joel, and I take a lot of my images from there. We’ll go out in marshes in the early morning fog and I’ll photograph, and then he can fish. I also go all over with my photo friends Toni Gross and Beverly Coats. We’ve been to Europe together, and this fall we’re going to Oregon.

You work digitally. Was that a difficult transition to make?

Not really. It’s all very exciting. It opens up another world. I have a digital darkroom at home with PhotoShop and an Epson 3800 printer. After taking a real darkroom class, I just wanted to see what digital was like. I picked it up and never put it down.

Do you listen to music while you work?

Oh, no. I don’t go there. I prefer quiet.

Your Web site has a Chinese symbol on it. What’s that about?

It’s the character for the letter “D” for my name. I’ve always been inspired by Asian art. I love it—the haiku forms, the shapes and the minimalism. Photographer Don Hong–Oai inspires me.

What other artists do you admire?

I love Michael Kenna, Joyce Tenneson, Paul Caponigro. I have so many books at my house, but my mind keeps going back to these contemporary photographers because I just got back from an expo in Houston.

How was your work viewed there?

I love being surrounded by creative people, so it was a great experience. I found out that documentary photography of the human condition is very in right now. It’s kind of the opposite of what I do, which is timeless and calm. A lot of this work was chaotic and depressing. That seems to be where fine art is right now. When I think of classic, I think of Ansel Adams. So I thought I was contemporary, but they all said I was classic!