Jo Duck
‘Dazzle camouflage’, known as ‘razzle dazzle’ in the United States, was a prominent technique used to disguise the presence of military vessels during World War I. Attributed to British marine artist Norman Wilkinson, the absurd-looking experimental scheme utilised high contrast and irregular geometric patterns to conceal the nature of a vessel’s range, speed and size from enemies by confusing and disrupting its outline. A kind of mechanised optical illusion, ‘dazzle camouflage’ is still used by car manufacturers today to make it difficult for competitors to understand prototypes when they’re out being tested.
With characteristic humour and surrealist sensibility, Melbourne-based fine art and advertising photographer Jo Duck applies the concept in a series of playful, surrealist takes on hiding from surveillance capitalism. Drawing on the commodification of personal data captured by monitoring people’s behaviours online and in the physical world, the series explores the notion privacy in our technologically ubiquitous society. Razzle Dazzle was specially commissioned for PHOTO 2024 International Festival of Photography.
As a special exclusive for PHOTO 2024, VAULT spoke to Jo Duck about her inspiration for the series and her involvement in the festival.
Jo Duck, Venetian Sandwich, 2023, 300 x 265 cm, Commissioned by PHOTO Australia for PHOTO 2024. Courtesy the artist
Can you tell me about yourself and your background as a fine art and advertising photographer? How did you find your way into these two creative realms?
Growing up, my dad was into photography and I got interested in it by borrowing his camera. I went to Photography Studies College straight out of high school and started shooting commercially when I was 20 years old. I made a lot of mistakes and slowly, slowly climbed the ladder in the commercial world to where I am now.
Along with commercial work, I’ve always had a strong personal practice. Earlier in my career, I would pour all of my energy into creating editorials for fashion magazines, but my concepts were a bit too weird and I never really fit in the fashion world. In 2019 I was invited to show as part of the Centre for Contemporary Photography Photo Fair, and once I saw my work on their walls, I realised this was the fit I had been looking for. Since then, I’ve been dedicating my time to establishing myself within the art world.
Why photography? Did you fall into the medium or choose it? How did you get here?
It was definitely a choice. One of my best friends was doing photography at his high school and I was mesmerised by the prints he was making, so I started trying to shoot too. I feel really grateful that I knew what I wanted to do at such an early age. Maintaining a strong personal practice and being reluctant to follow trends has allowed my personal style to become recognisable and kept me enthusiastic about both my artistic and commercial practices.
Jo Duck, Invisible Woman, 2023, 300 x 265 cm, Commissioned by PHOTO Australia for PHOTO 2024. Courtesy the artist
Talk me through your creative process in general. How does it differ between your fine art and commercial practices?
In my commercial work, I’m a gun for hire. There are elements of collaboration, but mainly I’m there to bring the client’s vision to life.
In my arts practice, I conceptualise and direct every aspect of the project. The pre-production is all consuming. I try to consider the concept from all angles and usually land on the one that makes me laugh the most. I brief and collaborate with stylists, hair and make-up artists, models, set designers, prop stylists etc. So much time goes into location scouting and managing people’s schedules! By the time I get to the actual shoot, it’s generally pretty quick as I’ve already considered the lighting, props, costume, performance and colour. I try to let go of control at the shoot so I can stay open to happy accidents (within the parameters of everything I’ve already stipulated!).
Jo Duck, The Pillow, 2023, 300 x 265 cm, Commissioned by PHOTO Australia for PHOTO 2024. Courtesy the artist
Who are your influences and what are you inspired by?
I take a lot of inspiration from gestures, strangers, camp TV shows like The Love Boat, music, colour, fun facts(!) and stories. Interactions with strangers often give me a huge creative boost, and I also love looking at photo books. Some favourites include: Shtetl in the Sun: Andy Sweet's South Beach 1977–1980 (2019), Evidence (1977/2004)by Larry Sultan and Mike Mandel, and Sorry I Gave Birth I Disappeared But Now I'm Back (2022) by Andi Gáldi Vinkó.
Whenever I’m stuck, or starting a new project, I usually go to historical photographs/photographers, big films of the 1950s, galleries, retrofuturism, sci-fi, cartoons, people-watching, camp 1970s television, cursed images, subcultures and my bookshelf of weird pulp novels bought at garage sales and op shops over the years.
I keep a lot of notebooks with the beginnings of ideas and refer back to these when I am ready to start a new body of work. Due to the tricky nature of organising so many people for my Razzle Dazzle series, I’ve already begun a new series that has no people and hence no diaries to manage!
What are your favourite things to shoot?
I’m really fortunate to be able to shoot a wide variety of subject matter in my commercial work, from fantastic organisations like The Australian Ballet to new brands with great vision, like Happie Holl. Commercially, I love working with brands I can believe in. Becuming, Happie Holl, The Body Shop, RAQ, Kowtow, Melbourne Theatre Company, Kloke. I find people who just want to make things happen really inspiring. They’re not just in it to be cool or to make money – they believe in what they’re doing. That’s contagious and they’re the people I love working with.
When it comes to my personal work, my favourite part of the process is conceptualising the idea. When I’ve been working on an idea for a little while, and that little missing piece that can take the work to the next level presents itself… that’s my favourite part. I love making these little worlds come to life. If I could create these strange characters for the rest of my life, I’d be very happy.
Jo Duck, Personal Party Popper, 2023, 300 x 265 cm, Commissioned by PHOTO Australia for PHOTO 2024. Courtesy the artist
Your characters live by their own rules. What do you want your characters to say or show people how to do?
Creating these weirdos brings me such delight. I can never anticipate how people will interpret the work, but I’m hoping people find the humour, ;joy and absurdity in each project. The highest compliment I’ve received was when a woman stood in front of one of my works and had a literal LOL.
Talk me through the inspiration for Razzle Dazzle and how you got to the final images. What is it about dazzle camouflage and surveillance capitalism that interests you, and how did you come to connect this historical military technique with the contemporary theme of surveillance capitalism?
This series was a response to Photo 2024’s theme of ‘technological futures.’ I was thinking about how bleak and frightening the future feels amidst the threats of AI hostility and machine domination. Having said that, I like to make quite loud, colourful and humorous work, so I needed to find a concept that could facilitate both the absurdity and the real-life sense of impending doom we’re experiencing.
Research has found that facial recognition tech is highly flawed and severely biased both in terms of race and gender. It’s been used by police across the world to recognise and track ‘people of interest’. This has led to wrongful arrests and jail time for innocent people.
I’d seen Adam Harvey’s 2010 series CV Dazzle which used bold patterns painted on human faces and abstract hair designs to break the face detection algorithm used widely at that time. Harvey was referencing the ‘dazzle’ camouflage of WWI ships in his title. Reading into it, I loved the idea of using an unlikely form of camouflage, drawing attention to oneself in an attempt to hide or confuse.
I began researching further into the disguise element and found a subculture online of people doing their best to hide from surveillance cameras and maintain their privacy. We’ve all accepted that we’re tracked by CCTV everywhere we go, our phones can recognise us with alarming accuracy and the majority of people in the Western world use social media, posting details of their private lives and willingly sharing biometric data within the unchartered and ungoverned internet. It’s all become so normalised that when someone is actively trying to maintain and protect their privacy, they have no choice but to live on the fringe of society, particularly online.
So, I started developing ideas based on absurd disguises that could be used to fool the machines. Or, perhaps, a disguise someone deep into their subculture might think would be a convenient way to remain inconspicuous. I looked at the dolls of Greer Lankton, Gillian Wearing’s masks and face paint, the masks made by Margaret Severn and the masked anonymity of the fabulous Leigh Bowery. I looked at disguises in film, conspiracy theorists, watched a lot of Scooby Doo (the best masked villains) and revisited my favourite episodes of The X-Files. I also became quite enthused about the internet’s ‘cursed images’ and created a vast reference library, which helped inform the direction of the project.
Jo Duck, Monster Mum, 2023, 300 x 265 cm, Commissioned by PHOTO Australia for PHOTO 2024. Courtesy the artist
Even though the concept started from a heavy and frightening space, I like to create abstract and humourous work so all of this information, combined with my camp-y taste, resulted in characters such as a woman popping down to brunch with her girlfriends donning a giant monster costume to maintain her anonymity. Just casually.
Jo Duck, Corporate Juggalo, 2023, 300 x 265 cm, Commissioned by PHOTO Australia for PHOTO 2024. Courtesy the artist
While researching how to use makeup to highlight the darker parts of your face and darken the lighter parts, hence confusing the algorithm, I discovered that juggalo makeup (as made famous by the Insane Clown Posse) is effective in tricking the machines. I imagined what kind of person might implement this into their daily routine, and thought a ‘Corporate Juggalo’ might exist in the near future. Not wanting to be tracked on his commute or throughout his day, he quickly slaps on his morning juggalo makeup and off into the world he goes. I like the idea that someone named Carol from accounts might need to have a professional discussion with him, all while he’s wearing this ridiculous clown face. Does he do touch-ups after his lonely ham sandwich lunch?
Jo Duck, Portable Waterfall, 2023, 300 x 265 cm, Commissioned by PHOTO Australia for PHOTO 2024. Courtesy the artist
Creating the characters was quite a quick process, and I love each of them. Creating the apparatus for Portable Waterfall was quite tricky, but once I enlisted the help of prop designer Henry King (instead of beating my head against a wall at Bunnings), he made my ridiculous vision come to life. Creative collaboration is a large part of my process and I couldn’t make these images without a phenomenal team of stylists, costume designers, hair and makeup artists and models/performers.
Jo Duck, Decoy Teddy,2023, 300 x 265 cm, Commissioned by PHOTO Australia for PHOTO 2024. Courtesy the artist
How do humour and absurdity play into your creative process, especially when dealing with themes as serious as privacy and surveillance?
When I’m in pre-production, I storyboard and create scenarios for my characters. If I’m making myself laugh while I’m drawing up these scenarios, then I know I’m onto a good thing. Essentially, I’m an optimist and I want to create work with elements of joy, no matter how ridiculous or dark the concept may be. If I’m going to put all the hours, stress, money and effort into creating the work, I want to have a good time making it. As for absurdity, the entire world is utterly absurd. I don’t know how to approach a worldview without accepting and rolling along with the ridiculousness of our existence. How did we manage to evolve from primordial slime to become … this [gestures broadly].
Jo Duck, Dream Whip Pie Man, 2023, 300 x 265 cm, Commissioned by PHOTO Australia for PHOTO 2024. Courtesy the artist
What was the process of creating this series for PHOTO 2024, and how does it feel to be part of this kind of international photography festival?
Although I had a great time making the work and the results are camp and fun, I actually had a lot of sleepless nights trying to get it all done. My major hurdle was scheduling, trying to ensure everyone was available for shoot dates. On set, I would usually have myself, a model, a stylist, a hair and makeup artist and a prop designer where needed. It was a lot of people to wrangle. I shot this series between April and November in Melbourne (Naarm) and the weather was often just not on my side. I enjoy shooting in full sun to create depth of colour and vibe, but the sky would often have different ideas. We spent a lot of time just waiting for the sun to pop out between clouds.
The other enjoyable but stressful component is in the casting. I love finding the right model for the image. I scoured high and low for people who would willingly slam a whipped cream pie in their face on a busy street corner or a beautiful woman who would let us wrap her in bandages on a beach while passers-by took photos. I’m so grateful to all my collaborators, I just wish it was a little easier to find them.
Being a part of PHOTO 2024 is, as corny as it sounds, a dream come true. I remember visiting the site where my work will be presented during their last festival and thinking, “Okay, so how do I do this? How do I get HERE.” I feel it’s a huge leap forward for my art practice and I’m so grateful to the PHOTO 2024 team for their recognition, encouragement and support.
What’s your dream project or commission?
I have so many inspirations, but whenever I’m feeling a bit lost, I go straight for the big musicals of the Golden Era of Hollywood musicals, in the 1940s and 1950s. I’d love to create a big choreographed scene, collaborating with a costume designer as brilliant as Edith Head, creating an intensely saturated technicolour series in all its camp glory.
www.joduck.com
