Review

"Stone Cold Innocence," Digital Photograph.

Logan Smith
Color Blind Contrast
(Group Show)

5-9 p.m.
(Opening reception)

Gas Light Gallery and Studio
12 E. Peoria, Suite 200
Paola, KS
913.963.4201

Hours after Opening Reception: Noon-6 p.m. Monday-Thursday, 10 a.m.-4 p.m. Friday-Saturday.
Runs through: May 15.

Artist's site: http://www.redbubble.com/shootinglife

Art, by its very nature, gives an insight into the artist's head.

For Logan Smith, that statement couldn't be more literal.

Smith's black-and-white photography, part of the Color Blind Contrast group show that opens tonight with a reception from 5-9 p.m at Gas Light Gallery and Studio in Paola, is both a product of and a response to the triple (and lifelong) challenges of depression, obsessive-compulsive disorder and physical illness.

And he's not even out of his teens.

Smith, a junior at Prairie View High School in La Cygne, tells his story in a matter-of-fact tone that's as stark and straightforward as his art:

"My eighth grade year, my mom told me I had a grand mal seizure. That's one of the worst seizures you can have. My dog woke my mom up, and she removed all the foam out of my mouth and revived me. I found out that I had tumors in all of the ventricles of my brain."

The good news is that the tumors aren't cancerous, and Smith's condition is manageable with medication. But there's more.

"At the beginning of freshman year, I would suffer from depression and have suicidal thoughts,"  he says. "I thought I couldn't do anything. I was feeling bummed out all the time and wanting to stop it all. To make a long story short, I got over that, got through therapy, and a few years later I went to Florida took some pictures on the camera phone. My mom said I should try to save up and get a bigger camera, so I bought a Canon Powershot S51S. I went out one day, thought I might as well try it, and took some pictures of flowers to begin with. I didn't take lessons, didn't do any of that stuff, all of a sudden it just clicked. More than anything, I was so young and just having fun."

Smith's style, as seen above in Stone Cold Innocence, is crisp, high-contrast and in sharp focus. He has no choice, he says, but to do things that way:

"Since I got diagnosed, I've developed horrible OCD. Everything has to be lined up perfectly, perfectly detailed. It's crazy how it works —but the OCD really helps with the photography, so I have to give props to the OCD."

Smith also has learned to use his depressive episodes (which no longer spur suicidal thoughts) as fuel for his art.

"Whenever I suffer from depression, I go shoot black and white shots," he says.

Go into depression every once in a while. Whenever I would suffer from depression I  would go shoot black and white shots. I call photography my therapy. Whenever I see something that tells my story, whether it's sad or happy, I shoot it. Whatever kind of day I'm having, I go out and express it through my photography."

The issue has come up in this space before: Whenever someone is dealing that well with serious medical issues, there's a natural tendency for the inspirational nature of his or her story to overflow into too-effusive praise. Smith's art needs no helping hand to stand on its own, however. Were he in perfect health, he would still be a promising young photographer with a bright future.

That said, Smith's story offers yet another example of the difference between mere acceptance (grudging or otherwise) of a chronic condition, and taking the attitude of turning it into a strength.

It all comes down to what's in the head ... and the heart.

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