images//eléonore hendricks words//kristina carucci

There is something incredibly disarming about actress and photographer Eléonore Hendricks, which has earned her a reputation as a muse of contemporary independent cinema. Her undeniable loveliness, that translates so well on-screen, extends into her own photographic work–leading the question: what inspires the inspirational?

What was your childhood like?

I was born and raised in New York, just around the corner. My mom collects and sells cookbooks and my father used to be a political art activist and performer. He curates Fluxus work; he has sort of created the documented history of it, in a certain respect. He started working for a collector 30 years ago and they stewed this massive Fluxus collection, which they just donated to MOMA. It’s been a very nourishing upbringing I’ve had here in the city.

Did your family encourage you to study and pursue art?

When I was younger, I actually saw more art than I do now, and now I’ve gone through this phase of being blind. There is so much stimulus in New York City that particularly with new art… I’m almost avoiding it, because there’s too much information. So I’ve honed in on photography and photo books, and that’s my niche.

How did you choose photography in particular?

I followed in my sister’s footsteps in high school. I just loved her work so much.  She was really encouraging, even now. She has a poetic way of making an image, and I’m just snapping, taking whatever I want.  When I was even younger, I wanted to be an ornithologist; I wanted to study birds. I like hunting things with my eyes, so I would sit at my family’s place in Vermont with my identification books and sit by the window or outside, and hunt for birds and plants. It was my favorite thing in the world. That trained me in terms of looking.  After college I started working for Issue magazine, mostly doing editing, but then I got a job doing street casting. So I used those skills I taught myself, in terms of hunting, but for people.

Was your series Lookers inspired by your casting job?

Lookers was definitely a byproduct of the work I was doing for the casting agent. I was her little point person to go out onto the street and look for people. For a long time Lookers was about this idea of searching for these beautiful kids in the age of adolescence, becoming adults and losing their childhood. So I was doing portraits of mostly teenagers. I was not really documenting people my own age, I was sort of reflecting.  What a treat it is to walk around and take pictures of people. But I do not take pictures of strangers. I have to have an interaction first—I have to ask them. I prefer showing people with a directness, and sharing as much of themselves as I can get from the photo. That was the idea, and not just grabbing whatever I see.

The photographs in the series are shown in pairs.  How did this format come about?

These photographs could be individual, but I always think of my images in terms of books. I don’t really think of them being just on a gallery wall; I like holding something. I do pair them together. A big part of my process is editing, because I was using a digital camera and so I would take a lot of pictures. I was searching for a beautiful moment between me and them. I don’t know why seeing them as a diptych makes sense to me, but it does.

Do you keep in contact with the people you photograph?

There are some that I stay in touch with. It has been years… I started that body of work in 2004. If I were to publish a book, I’d love to send them out to the people that are in them. It’s my dream.  I am making these books myself now.   I have stopped doing the Lookers though, that type of portrait.

What prompted the change?

It was subconscious. I just went down to New Orleans and there was one kid I couldn’t help but stop because he was just so damn beautiful. Part of the reason I stopped doing casting was because it felt so invasive. Opening their world up to something like the fashion industry can be so cruel.  I just get wary of how people use each other and their images and so on.

You have worked both in digital and film, which do you prefer?

I felt really cheated by digital in a way. It is wonderful in terms of accessibility and financially, but with Lookers these portraits are so limited. You can see that they are digital and it bothers me. Although, I would not be able to take these portraits with film because there’s something really important about when I was making these to be able to see what I was doing and to be able to take a lot. I like the idea of being able to be able to hold onto something physical. The digital I was just looking at on a computer screen and occasionally printing some out and feeling so sore that this image wasn’t as beautiful as I thought it was. I never have that feeling with film. You can do what you like with a 35mm negative. I switched to film about two years ago, and now I don’t have a digital camera around.  I don’t want to touch it. It’s safer.

What direction has your more recent work taken?

I’m just taking tons of photos and I’m not really thinking. In the past two years I’ve gone through three Yashica T3s.  The point-and-shoot was a good transition from the digital for me.  I don’t really have a rhyme or reason for it; I am documenting what is happening in my life. It’s more of a diary style. I’m around of a lot of really special people, so now I’m doing these little books of experiences I have. I have all of these photos from people around set on Bad Fever, a film I just did out in Utah for three weeks. I had a trip to Japan when my friend was making a film, and she brought me over to Okanawa. When I was there, I felt a world of relief and everything lifted off of my shoulders. That’s all I want to do now—go on trips and photograph the people I am around.

You’ve been in quite a few independent films, but would you consider acting on a major motion picture?

I like acting but it’s totally intimidating and I get really nervous. I wouldn’t be opposed to it, but it’s more about whatever comes my way. If a part came along that I was right for, I would do it. When its something you are doing with your friends it’s much more of a feeling of collaboration, but with big movies there are a hundred people on set and everything is so controlled. You have to know what you are doing.

You are credited as co-writer for the independent feature The Pleasure of Being Robbed, which you also starred in. What was that process like?

Writing The Pleasure of Being Robbed is a loose interpretation of what I did. Nothing I did was actually written down on paper. My interpretation of my character was where my “writing” came in. Josh [the director] and I would talk about scenes, some of it was very conscious scenes and movements, or we would change depending on what felt honest. I am not a trained actor, so I also don’t know what I am doing ever. I definitely think the character is some imagined version of myself. I think in that way I became a writer on it; Josh honored me with that credit.

Would you ever make your own film?

I would like to, but not a film-film. I just want to use moving images, more documentary style. If I were to make a film it would be much later in life. I had this urge when I was in New Orleans; I wish I could have had recorded movement and sound so desperately. Sounds are so important, particularly in a place like that where people are telling stories, singing, and the trains. I’d like to get a super-8 camera. But putting sound and video together, I’m not quite at that stage. But someday, perhaps.

What inspired the trip to New Orleans?

This city [New York] has been really good to me in ways, but there are things now that I cannot stand. I used to work at a video store, and things that are special to me are shutting down left and right because of the state of the nation. There is a lot of laziness in this city now where people—I’m totally victim to it—just go online and watch a movie or order a book. It’s neglecting this experience of going to bookstores and movie theatres. Community gets stilted. I really fell in love with [New Orleans.] There’s a different rhythm to how people function… it’s not so fast paced; you’re not constantly striving to fill this void. Lots of storytelling and taking your time. I like being around that.

Where do you see your work taking you in the future?

I’m taking pictures like crazy and that is really satisfying to me right now. I do them for myself and if other people want to look at them, that is great, but it is still a hobby for me. I’m just not a pro—I’m not.  Part of why I like acting is so that I can just be something else and not be myself. That’s a big part of why I feel the need to document. It is this escapism and preservation of my memories, because often times I am not completely present.

What advice do you have to aspiring artists?

I think there is something really important about reflecting on what you have done and acknowledging yourself. It is some weird syndrome that you get from living in the city- thinking that you don’t do enough, that you need to keep moving forward. It is so easy to get lost and question if what you do matters. Everyone has his or her own pace. Don’t feel rushed to get an answer.