Valerie Imus on the photographic project Depleted Selves

It's a tricky task -- the attempt to balance the rage and dismay that one feels trying to absorb yet more news of the horrifying effects of the US government's activities in the world. Strident indignation would seem the appropriate response upon hearing of the US government’s refusal to acknowledge the effects upon veterans and Iraqi civilians of the military’s use of depleted uranium in weapons used in Iraq and Kuwait in the current and first Gulf Wars. How much responsibility do we bear for the actions of our military? How should one act, carrying the heavy weight of the small, incomplete bits of information we have access to about these actions? Cheryl Meeker's project Depleted Selves is an attempt to wrestle with a sense of powerlessness in the face of these questions.

Meeker's collaborative process is based on sharing with friends and colleagues the information that she has collected on the effects of depleted uranium. She invites them to participate in creating a portrait of themselves with their eyes covered to demonstrate the barriers in accessing this information. The blindness of the portrait subjects suggests our own complicity in the use of these munitions and our willful ignorance about their effects. The images lack a standard portrait's point of entry for the viewer, evoking an uneasy vulnerability. Because the process deliberately removes complete creative control from the artist, the backdrop and mood varies in each of the photos. Some portraits have a sinister quality, echoing hooded prisoners or detainees on their way to secret locations. A large black-clad person with a Henry Art Gallery bag over his head -- implicating the art world in his blindness – looms menacingly. Others, like those done in collaboration with a group of young students wearing their clothes backwards or covering each others’ faces, mix a more whimsical quality with their disturbing undercurrents.

Meeker's project may be viewed as empathetic gesture and her subjects seen as stand-ins for the victims of DU munitions, but her collaborative process describes an urge to connect and participate in a more open-ended conversation. Meeker uses a large format camera, a time consuming early 20th century portraiture process. With the black fabric draped over her head while she adjusts the camera on its tripod, she performs a mirroring of her subjects. The conversation between the subject and artist is cloaked, as the news they are responding to is shaded in misinformation.

In our anxiety-ridden image economy, how does one make politicized art that doesn't work to incite a hysterical response to a specific agenda? Rather than look for a blueprint for the efficacy of artistic practice in the political arena, we would do well to nurture all forms of sustained critical engagement with political issues. Meeker's open ended anti-spectacular process points to the value not only of sharing information with each other but also of creating reasoned dialog for the reflection on our own culpability in our government's policies.


Valerie Imus is an independent writer and curator and is exhibitions manager at Yerba Buena Center for the Arts in San Francisco