I’m not a cowboy and I don’t ride horses, but I’ve been around them my whole life. My dad had a furniture store near the stockyards in south Omaha, and I would watch the cattle being moved between pens ready to go to auction. I sensed a freedom in the cowboys that I related to. I’ve always been an explorer, it’s my nature. I’m more comfortable and I feel most alive in situations I’m not familiar with. I am always drawn to this same type – I’ve photographed test pilots and astronauts – the strong, quiet, self-directed types who seem to be in control of their destiny.
This shot of Mark, a friend of mine, was taken in 2014. All my images are productions, I don’t just happen to be there. I build a narrative and visit locations – it’s more like making a movie, it’s very intentional. I scout locations that connect to what I want to represent. This was a rugged area of northern Colorado. The shoot was really about speed and energy, and I wanted open spaces that could allow the cowboys to do what they wanted. I wanted harder surfaces and dramatic skies – although you never really know what you’re going to get. I take references from historical paintings and drawings of the American west, and ideas I carry on pieces of paper, so I go with a visual feel of what I want to do. I wanted to separate the colours of the landscape: the colour of the hat, the horse, its saddle blanket, were all selected deliberately. The image is all about power and grace – the gesture of the animal is so forceful, and the cowboy is so in control.
When I look at this photograph I want to be that guy. He’s super alive and in the moment, there’s the feeling of an adrenaline rush – everything about it is energising, masculine, powerful – and it underlines the theme of freedom. It gives you a feeling of life. When I look back, a lot of my work is about the same thing. It’s not so much about cowboys, it’s about the freedom to express yourself. I hope it makes people feel good – it makes me feel empowered. The cowboy, like the Statue of Liberty or the Hollywood sign, is a symbol of America, it conveys some kind of hope, something aspirational.
When Richard Prince appropriated my work in 2007, it was a real catalyst to redefine myself. In the last 10 years, that’s given me the freedom to express what I think about the American west in new ways, such as in my paintings. I don’t have an agenda, I am always on the move physically and conceptually with my work. It was violating to have my image taken – but it did bring my work to light. It was after the New York Times article that James Danzinger began to represent me.
I used to watch my maternal grandfather paint every Saturday. He was an abstract expressionist and his use of colour was very unusual. After he had a stroke, Saturdays with him ended but he gave me my first camera and instructed me to use it. One day he told me he had been reading about someone he thought I should study with – Ansel Adams. I looked him up in the phone book and called – and that was the start of me studying and working with Adams in California.
Nowadays, people don’t look that much at what’s around them. It’s a very angst-ridden environment, it’s hard to separate ourselves from the emotional rollercoaster. I don’t bury my head in the sand but my work is a way for me to escape. It’s the only way I can get away from all this shit that’s going on on a daily basis, and make something beautiful that inspires me. If you keep your eyes open, there’s just so much out there.
Jim Krantz’s CV
Born: Omaha, Nebraska, 1955
Trained: “I am still in training, and plan to continue.”
Influences: “The natural world and my maternal grandfather.”
High point: “Mt Wilson, near Telluride at 13,800ft – photographing for the US army. The high points in a career often get the most attention, but it’s the low points that have taught me the most. Those are the moments when feelings run deepest, when you’re most aware, and when growth truly begins. It’s from those uncertain places that you rebuild – and that’s where the real expansion and improvement happen. But I don’t tend to emphasise either high or low too heavily, because a creative life is made of constant ebb and flow. That movement, that rhythm, is what keeps the work alive and evolving.”
Low point: “Cancún, Mexico 34ft below sea level – diving. The title Frontier holds deep meaning for me. It speaks to the space between the known and the unknown – the edge where the familiar falls away and something new begins. That’s the place I’m drawn to most. When I’m a bit lost, a bit unsure … that’s where the real work begins. Some might call it a low point. For me, it’s where I feel most alive.”
Top tip: “Free yourself from self judgment – just work.”