The cultural keepsakes of Francie Bishop Good
By Rachel Galvin
Something is askew, uncomfortable, like a pendulum that has swung to one side and longs to return to the other. Like stopped time, a moment encapsulated by Francie Bishop Good is never the same again. Bare reality was never so vulnerable yet colored with cultural undertones, steeped in societal underpinnings. Her camera is not what it seems, not a mere vehicle for an aesthetic delivery, but a collection module. Her trophies hang on the stark white walls of her studio space on 2nd Avenue hidden in the urban setting of Fort Lauderdale.
The oversized prints are washed with stunning colors – greens, purples, yellows. The application of paint is the newest technique she has employed. Each block of color seems random, yet fixed, carefully masking pieces of the photograph that lies beneath, enhanced by a scribble or line. Every square print contains a world unto itself, a peek into a moment that was never supposed to be noticed, making the onlooker the casual voyeur. Each figure seems trapped, confined in their own culture; unable to escape the bounds of frame, yet invites the onlooker to see through their eyes, to understand what they have been through and to know their sphere of influence.
It is enticing how engaging a half-blurred photo of a mother and child can be, how seeing their lives can so affect the lives of those who see it, begging the question, who has influenced them to be who they are in that world. These are the types of queries that