Why was it important to you that your subjects be “present in that way”? Is that something you think about in all projects, or were you specifically attuned to it in this body of work?

That all of the portraits are done this way is probably more specific to this project. But I usually do tend to slow things down when making portraits, so that people can settle in and be present.

In addition to the absence of facial expressions, I was struck by the sense of timelessness that pervades the project. Despite some contemporary markers of time, it feels like many of these pictures could easily have been made 50 years ago. Can you talk about that a bit?

It wasn’t so much about making the photographs look timeless as it was austere. I avoided obvious signs of contemporary life, like cell phones, televisions, advertisements, and fashion, which are inconsequential at the end of the day.

Was it difficult to avoid signs the contemporary? Or did you feel like austerity speaks to the character of life in these towns?

Hmmm. . .  no, it was pretty organic to what it felt like. There was something there that spoke to me in the sincerity of both the people and lived spaces - unaffected, with no more than what is needed and loved.

The number of references to Christianity - both overt and subtle - suggest that religion is of great importance, counted by many as something that is needed and loved. How prominently does religion shape the communities you visited?

In the rural areas I visited, religion is central to most people’s lives and identities, and churches are hubs that build and hold communities together. I became good friends with the Reverend of a small storybook-like chapel in Black River Falls who holds the warmest and most joyful services I’ve ever attended. You can take your dog, dress as you like, and never feel judged.

Animals - both domesticated and wild, alive and dead - also appear throughout. What do they signify in this project?

To me, animals are the purest constant in this world. That’s why, throughout history, we have endowed them with so much symbolism. They are silent witnesses to all of humanity’s absurdities.

They’re also central to Wisconsin life - for companionship, sustenance, or entertainment. Dairy farming and all kinds of hunting - deer, coyote, duck, crow, bear - are a main part of life there.

You photographed over an eight-year period, spanning a time of tremendous economic, political, and social change in the United States. How did you see that change and upheaval reflected in these midwestern towns?

After 2016, when the darker undercurrent of the US came to the surface, the beliefs and attitudes I had dismissed as quirks or cultural differences became heavier and more threatening, so they were certainly on my mind. I went into the work with many fixed ideas about the Midwest and left humbled, with many more questions than answers.

Perhaps the light in many of these pictures, which is particularly theatrical and portentous, speaks indirectly to the kind of heaviness you sensed. Can you talk about the quality of light in this project? What do you hope it communicates?

Most of the work was made in deep winter, when the days are short, dark, and somewhat claustrophobic. The lighting was meant to both capture the feeling of sheltering from the cold and dark, and convey that light isn’t a given. We could be in the dark at any moment.

I’d like to hear about your approach to editing and sequencing Some Say Ice. Did the unique structure of Wisconsin Death Trip impact your process?

Wisconsin Death Trip motivated me to work in Black River Falls, but it was not the model for sequencing or editing.

What kinds of concerns did guide the development of your book’s final sequence?

I intended for the book to feel more like a riddle than a statement about a place. That was the guiding principle. Unlike The Adventures of Guille and Belinda [first published by Nazraeli Press in 2010, then reprinted by Mack in 2020], this story has no chronology or linear narrative, only the trajectory towards the inevitable.

How does it feel to have finished this book, representing the culmination of nearly a decade thinking about and working on this project?

I have a real sense of closure publishing this work. Like something came full circle and now I’m free to move on in any direction.

In a short statement at the end of the book, you mention photographing as a means of keeping everything and everyone around you from disappearing. Has that impacted the way you continue to document your own life and family?

I used to photograph 24/7 at home, but not anymore. It distances me from my family and fills the moment with melancholy.

I used to photograph my daughter all the time until she hit her teens. Then, she asked me to stop, saying it ruined the moment and made everything seem less real. Now, I mostly stick to cell phone pictures when it comes to friends and family.

Commission A Magnum Photographer: https://www.magnumphotos.com/work-with-magnum/
Magnum Gallery Prints: https://www.magnumphotos.com/magnum-gallery/

Biography: https://www.icp.org/browse/archive/constituents/alessandra-sanguinetti?all/all/all/all/0