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I would like to keep working on it. At this point I have only
been working on it for about a year and a half. There is a
lot of post-capture work done on the images themselves.
During post-processing I edit for shadows, highlights,
exposure and some of the other details. For instance, in
the churches, sometimes I shot from the floor - when you
tilt the camera up, vertical lines that were parallel shift
inwards towards the top, also known as keystoning. With
any built environment, you see that. So I had to correct for
these lines and make them parallel, and sometimes I also
had to tile several shots to combine them.
In creating these works I had to consider the format. Some
images were tightly cropped to the confessional while
others showed more of the surrounding space. I then
became interested, in how the object communicates with
the fragments of the space. I love the little things – the fire
extinguishers, the speakers, the signage, etc. I hope that
the series evokes a sense of curiosity, and I also hope that
people take note of the kind of modern elements that are
surprising; the church is historic and rich with interiors
dating back hundreds of years, these however also house
objects that suggest very contemporary pragmatic issues.
What exactly was the moment or idea that made you
want to work on this project?
When I was young, my family agreed to raise their children
Catholic, so I went to church and did my First Communion
when I was eight years old. Because I was so young I
didn’t have any material to confess, so I fabricated some
things. Ironically, the first lie I remember telling was in the
confessional to a priest.
When I went to Italy in 2014, I was reminded of that strange
event. It drew me in. The confessional is an object that’s
often overlooked. One day I came upon a church up on
a hill - it’s the picture on the last cover of
The Lumanary
(refer to top right image). It was so strange, I walked in
and not a single person was there. It was a very old church.
I had a direct shot of the confessional, and the light was
beautiful. Because I didn’t have anything to set my camera
on, I placed it on the ground and I put my lens cap under
my lens so it just tilted it a little bit. In order to compose
and focus the scene through the viewfinder, I had to lay
down on the stone floor of the church. There was no one
around me, just this beautiful object in front of me, and I
took the shot. That was when I felt I really wanted to pursue
this project no matter what.
What is (for you) specifically appealing about the
object of the confessional itself?
The object is a contested site - not everyone agrees about
what happens inside. There’s a faith-based interpretation of
forgiveness or atonement, and then there are other types of
interpretations, some of them perhaps even negative. But
at its heart, it is a metaphor for self-perception and taking
responsibility, for communication and understanding your
place in what has happened in your life. Confessing allows
you the opportunity to let go of that through your own
reflection, acknowledgement, and intention to change or
grow. Through these acts and discussions, you can then
rejoin a community. Some view it in a negative way, such
as, “Well most people won’t try to be a better person, it just
gives them a chance to continue on as they have without
consequences.” But I don’t view it in that way, I see it as
a motivation to improve. There’s something very human
and powerful about that - the hope that we can “get better”
even as a culture, nation, or a global community.
Images:
Basilica di Santa Sabina all’Aventino, Rome,
2014, Marcella Hackbardt.
Collection of the artist;
Basilica di San Marco, Milan,
2015, Marcella Hackbardt.
Collection of the artist.