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Mancos-based photographer exposes ‘Inner Light’ in new book

Brian Killigrew's new book, “Inner Light,” spans 40 years and covers the diversity of his photographic work. (Courtesy of Brian Killigrew)
Brian Killigrew’s new coffee table book traverses harrowing journeys and artistic discoveries

In an image titled “Nexus,” dark material crackles and peels, flipping up and rolling over to reveal a white base. The mystery subject of the cover image of his new book “Inner Light” is a secret Mancos-based photographer Brian Killigrew is not ready to reveal.

“I called it ‘Nexus’ because there’s a connection I felt the second I saw the object,” Killigrew said. “I knew what the print was going to look like. The process was almost seamless, and that’s rare.”

The book is a “diary” covering Killigrew’s photographic life over 40 years, from ominous abstracts taken in the Tinkertown Museum in Sandia Park, New Mexico, to images of steaming sulfur pits in Iceland.

His instrument is a 30-year-old 4-by-5 field camera, made of brass and mahogany wood with a maroon leather bellows that stretches out like an accordion. He works with film and shoots in black and white, which he finds brings out the inner essence of his subjects and lends them unique depth.

“I try not to make photographs of things. I try to get the inner part – the inner essence of the thing – on paper,” Killigrew said.

After seeing a National Geographic special about Iceland, Killigrew traveled there to take photos. He made black-and-white images of the boiling sulfur pits. (Courtesy of Brian Killigrew)
A lifelong love affair with light, movement and meaning

Killigrew’s photographs transcend consistent subject matter and are rich in backstory. A harrowing accident on a photography trip to Iceland led to a poignant black-and-white photograph of a car with an inverted roof. A two-week stay at a ranch near Mancos produced a striking print of a cowboy with a cigarette hanging from his lips, the background scenery reflected in his eyes.

“I think a great work of art is a verb. There’s movement in it. It’s not just a thing. It’s a living thing,” Killigrew said.

Killigrew and his wife moved to Mancos in 2012, but his thick Bronx accent betrays his New York origins. Killigrew, who celebrated his 70th birthday last week, grew up there. One photograph in the book depicts the damaged Sphere, a sculpture that rested between the Twin Towers, with lights beaming from where the towers fell in the background.

Killigrew despises terms like “taking a photo” or “capturing an image.” To him a photo is “made.”

“To me, if I capture something, it’s a wild animal,” Killigrew said. “I make an image out of something that’s there. It’s almost given to me. It’s a gift.”

His treasured darkroom is where the magic happens. The process of developing a photo is “sensuous,” according to Killigrew, from dipping the paper in liquid to letting it rest. He plays with exposure, saying light is the “language of photography.”

Brian Killigrew’s favorite camera is his trusty 4-by-5 field camera. The camera bears scratches and dents from its decades of use. (Ann Marie Vanderveen/The Journal)
Brian Killigrew loves the darkroom in his Mancos home. “Being in the darkroom to me is magical,” Killigrew said. “There’s this blank sheet of paper and an image slowly appears.” (Ann Marie Vanderveen/The Journal)

“Photography means light writing. That’s what it means in Greek,” Killigrew said.

One photo hanging on his wall is “Lisa’s Roses” – named for his wife. It depicts a bouquet of wilting roses, wrinkled, soft and shining lightly from the page.

“Most people don’t think of dying roses as beautiful but I do,” Killigrew said. In the book, a photograph simply titled “Roses” depicts bulbous fresh flowers that seem to radiate off the page.

“The trick with printing these is to make them glow,” he said.

It’s not only flowers that glow from the prints. It’s trash and glass bottles and eerie doorways. In the toughest of conditions, Killigrew searches for the glow without trepidation.

“When I have a camera in my hand or when I have a camera with me, I’m pretty fearless,” Killigrew said.

Brian Killigrew’s photographs of roses glow and are a favorite of some of his viewers for the way the light beams from the images. (Courtesy of Brian Killigrew)
Work shaped by danger, travel and self discovery

On the infamous 1988 Iceland trip, Killigrew’s two-wheel-drive car spun off the gravel road and flipped into a stream. He flew out the side window, and shattered glass cut into his neck and knees. Miraculously, he and his camera equipment survived. Instead of flying home, Killigrew rented another car and embarked on a journey later documented in the photographs and journal entries published in his book.

“To touch truth seems an never ending quest, but the flashes of insight that we have must be grasped and passed on to help others along the journey,” Killigrew writes in his unedited journal entries about his epiphany after Iceland. “I have just realized that my photography is my ‘Journey for Truth.’”

Killigrew’s first photographs were made on a 35 mm camera when he was a teenager. He enjoyed – and still enjoys – the music of the English rock band Yes, photographing their concerts when he was younger. When he discovered the work of Ansel Adams, he dropped the 35 mm and picked up a 4-by-5 camera – finding passion in nature and abstract photography.

“I slow down. I study things more,” said Killigrew of his experience with the 4-by-5. “With a 35 millimeter, I photographed – like most people – a lot of frames. But with the big camera I photograph very few.”

The bigger frame allows Killigrew to take his time studying his subjects. At one point, those subjects included the Durango and Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad, where he photographed the train mechanics in solemn concentration: Sparks flying from tools became bright lines shooting from a white point, and faces became detailed portraits riddled with dark lines and shadows.

Brian Killigrew was captured by the visual of the train running from Durango to Silverton. “The workers were great,” Killigrew said and they warmed up to him after a few self-deprecating jokes. (Courtesy of Brian Killigrew)
Over the course of several months, Brian Killigrew dug through almost all of his negatives to select images for the book. “It was fun finding little treasures, little negatives I had forgotten about,” he said. (Ann Marie Vanderveen/The Journal)
Life at Dancing Bear Acres and reflections at 70

In his retirement, Killigrew mainly focuses on abstracts and nudes.

“I’m not squeamish about it,” he said. “A lot of people are self-conscious, and they don’t need to be.”

His Mancos home, dubbed “Dancing Bear Acres,” gives him and his wife natural beauty. The expansive mountain views outside his doorstep are rarely photographed, but often relished. So are the little birds nesting in the bushes outside his door and the deer that visit his backyard.

“Beauty is very important for our lives. That’s why we moved out here. For the beauty,” Killigrew said.

Beyond photography, Killigrew said he’s just “gotten into texting” after the book's release as loved ones reached out to express their admiration for his work.

“At 70 it’s good to have something to look back on because a lot of people don’t make it to 70,” Killigrew said. “It’s made me think about how much energy I used to have and how much passion I have for photography. When I read my journals, I remember writing them. I remember the feeling.”

Later, in a phone call to The Journal, Killigrew said he’d been thinking about why people should buy his book. His conclusion was simple.

“It will bring them joy,” Killigrew said. Maybe as much joy as the process of photography brings him.

Information on Killigrew’s photography and book is available on his website, https://briankilligrew.com.

Copies of “Inner Light” can be ordered by contacting Killigrew at bkilligrew@aol.com.

avanderveen@the-journal.com