I have been fascinated with shapes, clean lines, objects, and building things since I was a child. It started when I used to pretend to play carpenter with scrap wood, to Lego's, and worked its way up to art metals in college and photography. Each of my works are built up with my principals in mind, simple, clean, bold, and with that same imagination I had when growing up.
The parking meter series start wtih an idea that anything around us can be art, anything can be shown in a way where it will look comfortable in a range of settings from a formal dining room, an airport, or any jetsetters loft. They bridge the gap between original artwork (I'm only doing one print of each meter), to something that can be mass produced (there are many, many meters all around). So although it's very unique and a one off work of art, it's also something that can be produced at will, or my whim.
My black and whites are what I consider 40's and 50's newsprint, gothic, and more of a portrait of the times than any one snapshot of a moment. They are portraits, and retouched as such to make the most perfect image I can present to the viewer, which gives them the cleanist and clearist view into the subject. They are timless in a way, and try to pull our times back into a much more simple era.
Andrew Evans is a patient man. He doesn't stage photographs, but waits for a picture to form itself. Waits for the light to be just right, waits for a model to turn her head just so, waits for a Minneapolis snowstorm to empty the streets, waits for the full moon to be at it's closest perigee to the earth—something that happens only once in a lifetime—to catch one, singular, grainy image.
Perhaps it's his extreme aversion to muscling a scene into being and keen interest in composition that attracted Evans to parking meters. Eternally posed, tolerant, serene—the meters are much like Evans himself. Evans waits until the conditions are as he expects them to be, and the resulting effect is stunning.
Tilly Laskey, Curator, Science Museum of Minnesota