ABOUT SARAH PRESCOTT
"As painters and sculptors see abstraction in their media, I capture abstractions with my camera. The scope of my subjects is unlimited. It ranges from observing fields of flowers on rusty surfaces to seeing reflections in uncommon places. The investigation and dynamics of water, rust, light and shiny surfaces are discovered and revealed. The viewer is invited on my journey which emphasizes the way I interpret ordinary environments and see the abstraction. I photograph what I see and use no software manipulation."
Sarah Prescott is a self taught photographer specializing in abstraction. Prescott has an innate way of interpreting damaged objects and revealing their beauty. She invites the viewer to see life through her eyes, and to observe and focus on things normally discarded or overlooked.
In 2007, her series Rusty Wall was awarded Second Place at the International Photography Awards. That year, she was also awarded an SOS Grant from New York Foundation of the Arts. In 2008, her Blue series won an Honorable Mention at the International Photography Awards, as did the Rust in Bloom series in 2009 and the Hold On series in 2010.
Her latest series, Alienation, won Honorable Mention at the Moscow Foto Awards.
Personal tragedies have defined Prescott’s work. Get Paused, her photographic memoir, was self-published in 2014. Get Paused shares Prescott's experience through photographs about how a brain tumor changed her life and therefore changed her art.
In 2015 she was the William Steeple Davis Artist in Residence in Orient, NY. She is currently preparing Get Paused as a multi media show, and works part time as archivist at the Robert Berks Studio.
An Artist in Search of a Catch
David Berson
Rising early to sniff the breeze,
Over coffee, checking the clouds,
Color of the sky.
Too much sun?
Too little
And the tide as well --
Falling? Rising? Slack?
Important bits of information
Calculated, contemplated,
Long before venturing out to the dock.
Carrying no creel,
Nor box of tackle,
Equipped instead with a camera,
Standing.
Waiting.
At the dock,
Sitting,
Kneeling,
Bending over the edge,
Like someone who has dropped an object of great value
Waiting to see it again
Through the two-way glass and one-way mirror of the ever moving
Water;
Cat-scratched or smooth,
Every moment another changing image,
A ceaseless scriptless film.
Nothing is known
Til the shots are examined back in the studio,
A game of hit or miss,
For how to be certain that what is seen in the viewfinder
Will be the same as what is on the printed paper?
And all this effort, to what end?
To see what noone has seen before?
To satisfy some deep need to communicate a vision of uncertain
beauty
To an audience who may or may not care?
The drive to express,
To make our personal vision a universal one --
For what?
Money? Fame? Power?
Perhaps just for the sake of the thing itself,
Existing beyond practicality, rationality.
So when the breeze is right
And the elements conspire,
It is off to work at the dock
Hoping to capture once again what yet remains to be caught.