Jenny Rafalson

Jenny Rafalson (b. 1986, former USSR) is a photographer and video artist living and working between Brooklyn and Tel Aviv. Graduated from School of the Art Institute of Chicago( MFA 2018-2020), and from Hadassah College Photography and Communications (BFA 2009-2013).

Rafalson’s artistic practice is driven by her distinctive immigration archive. She photographs subjects that have strong ties to her personal history as a foreign in Israel and in the US,  such as daily moments, memories, and events, which she appropriates and recreates. She works on the border between directed studio work and documentary photography that aims to perpetuate a brief moment of memory or nostalgia.  She mixed both and integrated images such as landscapes from conservatories and invasive plants inspired by family stories and interviews she made with immigrants in Chicago. Rafalson uses photography and a video, to look into her place in the immigration chain in both countries.

Interview by Dana Stirling

First, tell us a little about your first experience with photography? What made you want to be a photographer?
Looking back at my first experience with photography, I realize I didn't fully understand its impact on me. My parents didn’t talk much about it, but my grandfather was a photographer and had a studio/shop back in Ufa, Russia. My grandmother retouched his negatives, so photography was always a big part of my life. Even though, as a child of Russian immigrants, I was encouraged to pursue a career in science or engineering, photography always remained a constant presence.

In "Transplanting" you blend photography with social sciences to explore human-plant migrations and their implications. How do your portraits of plants challenge traditional views and open new dialogues about the intersections of nature, culture, and power?
In 2018, during a one-month residency in Istanbul, Turkey, I met a Jewish lady who gave me several tours of the city. One of her stories that captured my interest was about tulips and the cultural conflict with the Netherlands over the origins and prestige of this flower in today's culture and economy. This sparked my deep interest in the cultural history of plants.

Later, I moved to the US to study. Someone from school recommended that I apply for the art-science collaboration grant between SAIC and UChicago. This is how I found Tracy Brannstorm, my collaborator for this project, or rather, how Tracy found me.

The plant portraits were created out of necessity due to the COVID-19 pandemic when we all had to stay at home, and I had to work with the materials we had gathered earlier. Additionally, not all the interviewees felt comfortable in front of the camera. At the exhibition, we displayed a research wall with portraits of the people we interviewed, pictures of their workplaces and homes, articles and notes from the research, audio recordings from the interviews, and my plant portraits. This mix of materials is meant to engage and challenge the viewer in more ways than just through visual images.

"Transplanting" delves into the complexities of human-plant relationships, revealing layers of control and access. How do you balance presenting these intricate narratives while maintaining the integrity of both the artistic and ethnographic aspects of your work?
The inspiration for the project came after I met Tracy, my partner for this project, and we began sharing our experiences with plants. She mentioned that she buys plants through Craigslist, which seemed a bit strange to me at first but quickly became intriguing. Tracy explained that she purchases plants from a Korean woman named TP who likes to propagate plants at home and forage dandelions in the preserved forest near her house. However, she is afraid to do so because the plants are in a protected area, even though they are classified as invasive species. These two spaces are next to each other or even in one another.

The tension between the classification of invasive plants (not wanted) and the prohibition of picking them due to their location in a protected area fascinated me and challenged my understanding of human-plant relationships. You can hear in her interviews more about it. I’m attaching a link to the exhibition website with the interview clips. I think she planted the idea for the project and the portraits of plants in me in this conversation.

What are some of the things you learned from this project and from talking to other immigrants and their experiences?
One of the most fascinating things I learned during the project is how various countries often have a similar point of view towards weeds/invasive species (plants). Even though they are not labeled invasive species, they are labeled second-class plants. This issue is especially common in developed Western countries. It sometimes felt like the awareness of the hierarchical value of plants, their economic worth, and their cultural status overshadowed their intrinsic value in our lives as part of nature. One of the interviewers for the project, Sonia, a sociology PhD student from Croatia at Uchicago, talks about it in her interview, how a plant was used in her culture and became illegal once they entered the EU.

 When we visited Efrat at the plant store where she worked, we saw a guide for controlling invasive plants in the garden. We asked her about it, she told us something interesting, I think it’s not in the exhibition, people do not want invasive plants near the expensive plants they purchase. And that sometimes it feels like people are buying plants like prints for their living room.

Due to this and the inability to visit places during  COVID-19, I felt the need to bring plants into the museum and the botanical garden. I could only achieve this by incorporating them into photographs.

Your work explores the complexities of belonging and identity through the lens of plants and landscapes. How has your experience as an immigrant shaped your perspective on the symbolic and cultural significance of plants like the Sabra cactus?

Every culture has its own rituals, meanings attached to plants, and superstitions. For example, flowers often hold significant emotional value and are tied to various aspects of life. They are present at family gatherings, national celebrations, cultural events, and even in weekly traditions like flowers for Shabbat. These plants become woven into the fabric of our personal and collective memories, marking significant moments and experiences.

Flowers and plants migrate with the wind, crossing national and cultural boundaries effortlessly. This natural migration is complemented by human intervention, as people transport plants to new locations, either intentionally for agriculture and gardening or unintentionally through trade and travel. Additionally, migration following new discoveries and changing landscapes plays a significant role in the spread of plant species.

So, plants are inherently linked to the concept of migration. They move and adapt, just as humans do. This migration of plants mirrors human experiences, as plants often accompany people on their journeys, becoming symbols of home and identity in new places. They are an integral part of our essence as human beings—we live with them, nurture them, and consume them in various ways. Plants not only provide food and medicine but also carry deep cultural significance and emotional resonance, making them essential companions in our lives.

Sometimes, we appropriate plants for cultural representation, such as the prickly pear cactus (sabra). Encountering the sabra outside of Israel led me to explore its history and its unique significance. Despite not being native to the region, in the Levant, it quickly became a cherished resident. Israelis use it as a nickname for a native-born Israeli. Although it was never indigenous to the area, it holds significant meaning in both Israeli and Palestinian cultures.

You mention questioning nostalgia, memory, foreignness, and belonging through your photographic exploration. How do you use plants as metaphors to navigate these themes, particularly in the context of your dual experiences as an immigrant?

I explore the concepts of nostalgia and memory because they play a central and significant role in shaping my identity, even though they are not necessarily accurate and can be subject to change. They are primarily based on emotions. Therefore, the experience of migration can vary from person to person, even within the same family, as I experienced in some conversations with my brother, which led me to question it.

As someone who spent most of her life trying to erase her Russian identity, I wasn't interested in it and tried to assimilate as much as possible into society. Many of the stories or memories I collect are from other people, books, negatives given to me as gifts, and second-hand stores. Plants and scents also evoke emotions and memories. I had a unique experience with plants when I returned to visit the place where I grew up until the age of five. In 2017, I traveled to my grandparents' summer house, Dacha, in Ufa, Russia. I ate fruits from the bushes in the yard and experienced a flashback of a taste I recognized but hadn't tasted since. I couldn't link it to a specific memory or experience, but I recognized the taste—somewhat like nostalgia.

In your video work and photographic installations, you explore the concept of home and identity through landscapes that symbolize different facets of your journey. How do you use light, reflection, and the metaphor of the mirror to convey the dialectical relationship between physical spaces and the "non-spaces" of memory and longing in your immigrant experience?
As an immigrant, I don’t have an absolute sense of belonging to any one of the places where I grew up, was born, or living at the moment. I have always felt like I didn't fully fit in wherever I went. Yet, there is still a certain sense of belonging, as if I have a home wherever I speak the language, while simultaneously feeling of space between Home and homelessness. Perhaps this is where my sense of non-space originates.

I use mirrors and reflections to observe the processes I go through. This helps me observe and understand subjects from an external perspective, allowing me to distance myself from the topics I question.

Your artistic practice involves significant research into cultural symbols and histories. Could you share more about your research process and how it informs the conceptual and visual elements of your work?
My research usually begins with a story I've heard from someone or a book I've read. Depending on the project or topic, it expands to include questioning and interviewing people, often starting with my own family since much of my work ultimately relates to my identity. I frequently reach out to Facebook groups of immigrants from the former Soviet Union, and recently, I've been using the picture archive in the library. Especially now that I am far from my family, I rely on these sources to find and borrow memories for my work. This involves scanning photos from archives and books. Then, I photograph objects and plants that evoke associations related to the topic. Sometimes, people give me their old negatives when they want to clean and make space at home. Thus, my research is quite diverse.

Your artistic exploration involves a variety of media including still photography, video, and installation. How do you decide which medium best expresses what you need at the time, and what unique qualities does each medium bring to your artistic narrative?
I come from a film photography background so it always holds a special place in my heart. However, as I continued to expand my practice, my identity, and my roots project, I felt that photography alone was not enough for me. I wanted to tell a story, touch plants, convey something more complex, and incorporate text. This led me to start working with video. In addition, economic considerations also played a role. As an immigrant and student in the U.S., I tried to save money in any way I could. Filming, editing, and projecting video was much cheaper than shooting on film and printing. This was also a factor when I began working with video.

Today I use both mediums, when I see an object I know if I want to photograph it or film it for a video or both. I have a vision of the object, many times I sketch or write how to photograph it. I use cheap printing like Zirox or CVS printing in my work.

What has been some of the best advice / feedback / critique you've received that you feel really pushed you forward and that stuck with you and your work?
I can't recall any specific piece of advice I received, but I've learned from various comments that it's important not to let others' opinions influence me or my work. Instead, I trust my own instincts because, in everything I do—especially in photography—I have a reason and a story that only I fully understand. It takes time to figure it out, but in school or during a residency, you're often expected to talk about your work before you truly grasp it yourself, which can lead to others taking advantage of your uncertainty.

In your artistic practice, which aspects of navigating multiple cultural identities and histories pose the most significant challenges, and how do these challenges influence your creative process and artistic decisions
Navigating multiple cultural identities and histories in my art is more interesting than challenging because I have lived with these multiple cultures all my life. However, one major issue in my art practice is representing diverse cultural narratives and translating them for people who don't experience them every day. This requires extensive research and a deep understanding of cultural contexts, which can be time-consuming and demanding.

These challenges shape my artistic decisions by pushing me to engage with individuals from the cultures I explore, ensuring their voices are accurately represented. They drive me to experiment with different mediums and methods to effectively communicate complex cultural narratives. Ultimately, these challenges enrich my work, making it more layered and nuanced. They inspire me to create art that reflects diverse cultural identities and invites viewers to engage with these complexities.