Matthew Miller was born in 1986 and raised in Los Angeles, where he still lives. He received a Bachelor of Fine Arts from University of California at Santa Barbara. Matthew first discovered photography through his parents who had built a darkroom in his childhood home. At the age of 12, he became seriously interested in photography and has taken pictures ever since. His exhibition “Judy’s Interruption” is currently being exhibited at Leica Gallery Los Angeles and runs until December 7.
Q: Can you tell us a bit about your exhibition at Leica Gallery Los Angeles?
A: The show is titled “Judy’s Interruption” and is running until December 7th.
If you drive enough in rural America you see it: “purple mountains majesty” and “amber waves of grain” marred by a disconcerting foreground: junked cars and old tires; rotting window frames and discarded toilets, in short: trash.
For me it became personal when my father and I bought an old farmhouse in Idaho as a getaway. We saw the background: the old farmhouse with the landscape of rolling hills and rivers, even views of the Tetons. It is a gorgeous, stunning property. For someone from the city, it exudes clean air, green surroundings, and open spaces – freedom. From a distance it’s almost spiritual. But for years now I have been seeing the foreground: trash.
The property’s prior owner, Judy, was a hoarder. Other’s trash was her treasure. She needed and found a faraway place to stash her pile, far away from prying eyes, all except mine. I see the manufactured world out of place. The familiar turned strange. For years now I’ve cleaned up after her: a maddening, never-ending task. It has made me question our concepts of consumption, of waste, and of sanitation. I took to the camera as the only way to reconcile the disconnect. “Judy’s Interruption” is my view of a hoarder’s impact on a natural landscape.
Q: All the images in your “Judy’s Interruption” portfolio (except for your whimsical self-portrait) consist of, for lack of better words, household junk, positioned mid-frame against natural rural backgrounds. They come across as ironic studies in contrast that embody a kind of implicit surrealism reminiscent of the work of the Dadaists of the 1920s. Initially these odd juxtapositions have an amusing antic quality but they are anything but random, and, in effect, they constitute a wry critique of contemporary American society. Do you agree with this interpretation, and how do you see the concept of hoarding a paradigm for, as you put it, “our concepts of consumption, of waste, and of sanitation?”
A: Yes it is absolutely a critique of American society. I don’t understand the way someone could live with junk surrounding them – it seems claustrophobic and toxic. We consume things every day that cannot be disposed of properly. Tires don’t just leave the world – nor do televisions. They get buried in landfills or burned and create tremendous amounts of pollution. Our ideas of waste are twisted – and we don’t understand the impact we have on the landscape.
Q: You said that you created these images out of frustration with the long and arduous process of dealing with Judy’s mess, “a maddening, never-ending task,” and that you “took to the camera as the only way to reconcile the disconnect.” Since juxtaposing Judy’s trashy treasures with the ruggedly beautiful and free natural landscape inextricably connects them, how exactly does this concept work to “reconcile the disconnect?”
A: I don’t like forgetting things. That is why I am a photographer. I make pictures that encapsulate my emotion, that immortalize my friends’ youth, places I’ve been. Judy’s place is getting better. It’s getting clean – rehab. The interruptions occur before heading to the dumpster. It’s their last appearance before the grave. The objects and landscape were never meant to co-exist. My composition forces them to work together.
Q: What camera equipment do you use?
A: I have a Leica M9 and 50 mm Summilux always with me.
Q: What are some of the specific characteristics and features of the Leica M9 and 50 mm f/1.4 Summulux-M that you find especially useful for your kind of work? Also, why do you favor the 50 mm focal length, which many photographers would consider a longish focal length for capturing scenic views?
A: I don’t know what it is about Leica. There is a certain romance to the machine. It’s the perfect tool. I listen to my camera setup as much as it listens to me. I’ve learned to know exactly what to expect from the lens. It’s been a long relationship. It is compact. The thing I like most about the Summilux is its ability to isolate a subject when wide-open. You dictate what the camera sees and ultimately what the viewer will be attracted to. There is a dreamlike feel to it, magical. I know a lot of people think 50 mm is too long, but the 50 is direct, to the point. I like to restrict the field of view. I get lost in a wider lens.

Q: The charming and humorous self-portrait of you holding two Leica cameras, evidently a digital M9 and an analog M6, up in front of your face as though you were shooting in stereo is a real stopper, and all the elements, including the plain blue tee shirt, fancy watch, and quizzical expression work together very effectively. Clearly you were having fun creating this image, but do you think it says anything about your relationship to photography, perhaps something along the lines of, “Help, I’m a slave to photography and couldn’t stop making pictures even if I wanted to!”
A: That’s funny – I never thought of it that way. I am definitely a slave to photography; it’s an addiction.
I hate being photographed, I think a lot of photographers do. I wanted an image of myself that showed some true color and emotion. The photo has become my brand – and people really seem to like it.
I think I see the world through a camera whether it’s up to my face or not – so this image helps portray that idea.

Q: This image is a masterful composition of a triangular stack of what appear to be battered 55-gallon oil drums against a gorgeous backdrop of green fields and gently rolling rural terrain. What really makes this image stand out is not only the subject matter, that suggests the rot at the heart of our post-industrial fossil-fuel-based society, but also the exquisite directional lighting that makes the barrels stand out and gives them a 3-dimensional quality. What does this picture mean to you and what were you thinking when you pressed the shutter release?
A: Process. Those drums were scattered all over the property. Some full of used hydraulic fluid others with oil and dirty rain water. It took me over a day to get those out of the ground, roll them around and properly dispose of them. The image actually really upsets me. I remember first seeing those drums and being  disgusted that someone could just leave them in an otherwise pristine environment. Some of them were leaky too. How could she? It was hot the day I discovered them and I knew they immediately needed to go. That was the beginning of the series actually because it was the most important thing to get off the property. This image, above all, speaks to our society’s ideas of consumption – OIL.

Q: I love this shot because it juxtaposes an ugly old modern style portable TV set perched atop a pile of old tires in the foreground against a softly rendered array of real functional farm machinery in the background. I assume this was deliberate, and that you shot the picture at a wide aperture to get this effect. Can you tell us the story behind this image and give us the tech data?
A: Every image is deliberate. I composed the “Interruptions” in and out of the camera. I was overwhelmed by junk and arranging it was the only way I could handle the anxiety of getting rid of it all. I arranged the junk in a sculptural composition that felt right, but didn’t necessarily make sense. I wanted the TV to be like the head of a body constructed by tires – it’s one of my favorites. I especially like the reflection in the screen. Technically I love shooting the Summilux wide open, like I said early, it allows you to prioritize in the frame. You can see there is junk in the background, but the real star of the image is the TV.

Q: The image of an old two-pane window with peeling paint on the frame set vertically against a wide grassy field has the ethereal quality of classic surrealism. The effect is enhanced by the fact that the scene is visible through the window, making it seem to float in space even though it’s clearly balanced on a rectangular black object below it. What were you trying to achieve with this image and what do you think it conveys to the viewer?
A: The object on the bottom is a sunken oil drum as we talked about before. It was in the middle of a field that used to be a reservoir. In the background are the Teton Mountains, some of the most beautiful mountains in the world. Through the window you can see Eagles Rest Peak and Mount Moran – to the far right Grand Teton. I got lucky that day with the clouds. I love clouds – we don’t get very many in Los Angeles so I love shooting them – they provide an incredible quality of light. On top a window frame of which Judy had about 20, it seems she had been collecting window frames from every torn down house in the area.
It is a surreal image. It should be quite weird; I think each one in the series is. They make you think a bit. I thought it would be interesting to play around with the idea of looking through a window while very much outdoors. A voyeuristic, narrowed view of the world surrounded by the open.
Q: Do you plan on continuing your ”Judy’s Interruption” project? And by the way does the word “interruption” in the title have any meaning other than the obvious one that Judy’s obsessive hoarding and its consequence interrupted your experiencing a beautiful and otherwise unspoiled piece of rural Idaho property?
A: I will continue to work on this project as I feel inspired by her junk – there is too much work to do on her place not to photograph it. And yes, you nailed it; her junk interrupted my experience with the landscape.
Q: Do you have any other projects in the works that you can talk about, and do you have any other ideas for future creative works that confront the ironies and dissonances in modern American society?
A: I have been photographing wounded military veterans on and off for the last four years. It’s the most important thing I have ever worked on. The world should see what war can do – we are too removed, too comfortable. I hope to find more time in the next year to work with more of our nation’s bravest men.
Thank you for your time, Matthew!
– Leica Internet Team
See more of Matthew’s work on his website and Instagram.