I sat down one hot August day with Christopher Bryson to find out where the hell he was from and how he makes his magic. Turns out Chris was born in Springfield Ohio and wanted to be a carpenter when he grew up. He left home when he was 17, and headed west to California. Eventually he put down tent pegs in North Carolina, Texas, and California again, then traveled all the way back east to New York City, before finally settling in New Orleans 12 years ago.
Like all important and lasting art, there is a duality in this work. Bryson’s immersion into the river culture gives us something very New Orleans, and at the same time, a glimpse into every other place he's ever been…a visual patois. The waters run deep here, and there is a mystery in these stories, almost spooky at times. But one thing I know for sure…the ghosts of the greats who came before us, float through Christopher’s photographs like something you’ve known your whole life.