2026 Denis Roussel Award Rfotofolio Selection
Seth Adam Cook
Chromoskedasic Sabattier
“We have all lived through or noticed how extreme our weather has been around the world this year. The argument that has emerged between scientists and “deniers” has been puzzling to us. We believe that humans were put on this earth to be shepards for the planet and the living things that happen to dwell here. Your work in its’ own way raises the question about how mans work in the Atchafalaya Basin has effected the wetlands and the surrounding area and drainage around the wetlands.
Your Choice of the Chromoskedasic Sabattier process draws attention to your photographs yet maintains the seriousness they present. All we can say is well done. We hope your work will be viewed by many others and serve as an example for other artists who live and work on this planet.” J.R. and C.R.
Would you please tell us about yourself?
I was born and raised in South Central Louisiana, aka Cajun Country. I learned photography around the age of 14 when my mom gave me a point-and-shoot to use on a family vacation, and I loved it so much that I started taking photos regularly. By the time I finished high school, I knew I wanted to pursue a degree in fine arts. I experimented a lot during my undergraduate years and found that my work was shaped by my surroundings and the personal experiences that helped form my identity. Some examples include the devastation of Hurricanes Katrina and Rita, which I experienced at age 11 and the environmental disaster of the BP oil spill, which I experienced at age 16. Both events left a lasting impact on how I understood the environment and our relationship to it and eventually made their way into my creative work in graduate school. Most recently, I’ve been teaching photography at Georgia College and State University for the past four years, starting as a Lecturer before recently being promoted to Assistant Professor of Photography. When I’m not teaching, I’m finding new and creative ways to bridge process and meaning in my own work or seeking out ways to grow creatively.
Where did you get your photographic training?
I earned my Bachelor of Fine Arts in Photography from the University of Louisiana at Lafayette under my professor, Lynda Frese, and my Master of Fine Arts in Photography from Indiana University, Bloomington, where I studied under Professor’s James Nakagawa, Elizabeth Claffey, and David Ondrik.
Who has had an influence on your creative process?
On a personal level, my mother has been my biggest influence, as she always encouraged and supported my pursuit of the arts, confident I’d find a way to make it work. Academically, my previously mentioned mentors each shaped my creative process in different ways, teaching me the value and understanding behind process and meaning in my work. While I want to credit them all equally, I have to especially mention Lynda Frese, who continued to offer me professional advice after graduating, and James Nakagawa, who I worked with closely as a graduate assistant, which helped me grow as both an artist and educator.
Please tell us about an image (not your own) that has stayed with you over time.
That would be This Photograph Is My Proof by Duane Michals. I was 16 or 17 when I encountered it in a group exhibition at the New Orleans Museum of Art. It was the first photograph that moved me to tears, not just because of the image, but Michals’ personal touch in the handwritten text beneath it. It showed me that photographs could not only tell a story but expand imagination and hold real vulnerability.
One other image I’d like to mention is The Exchange by Robert and Shana ParkeHarrison. I first saw the image in their photobook The Architect’s Brother, and it, along with the whole book, stuck with me because of the poetic performance of Robert’s “everyman” character interacting with the environments he and Shana constructed. Despite its urgent environmental message, the image gave me a sense of calm, as though the everyman had made peace with the environment he was in found a meditative way to navigate its complexity.
What image of yours would you say taught you an important lesson?
That would be Waiting Room, an image from 2020. During my graduate thesis, I was working through how to represent the swamps and marshes of my home despite being away from them. I made the piece using a gel transfer process I developed with molding paste, which left the image incomplete and partially destroyed. I didn’t like that at first, but after building it up through several failed attempts and adding acrylic paint and inks, I arrived at a result I felt good about and realized the process itself was speaking to the message I wanted viewers to experience with the work.
Please tell us about the work you submitted to the Denis Roussel Award
The work I submitted is part of a larger, ongoing series titled Closer to the Sun which began as a reflection on the intertwined beauty and corrosion of southern Louisiana’s petrochemical landscape. I drew inspiration from the myth of Icarus, a story of untethered ambition and its consequences, which feels fitting for our current climate around industrial expansion at the environment’s expense. The project got off the ground with help from the Atchafalaya Basinkeepers, who guided me through the waterways of the Atchafalaya Basin, and would later expand with the help of my friend and fellow photographer Kristie Cornell and Skip from McGee’s Louisiana Swamp.
I had accumulated images over time but wasn’t sure how to make sense of them, until I happened to learn about the Chromoskedasic Sabattier process from fellow photographic educator Angela Wells at a regional SPE conference. Though I learned the basics of the process, it wasn’t until I demonstrated it with my own students using one of my images that I had my “a-ha” moment. The Chromoskedasic chemistry rendered the photograph into a luminous surface of bronze, gold, green, and violet tones, which immediately made us think of oil-slicked water. As I continued working through the process and finding my own spin on the technique, I came to see the altered photographs as a re-imagining of the landscape as both evidence and reflection; revealing how industry reshapes not only the land but the South itself. Since the project’s inception Closer to the Sun reflects on what remains when land is both resource and ruin, when beauty itself carries the trace of contamination, and where ambition is chosen over responsibility.
What part of image-making do you find the most rewarding?
The part I find most rewarding is having a hand in the making of the image, whether in development, printing, or some other rendition of the photograph, where I know my hands physically shaped the outcome. I think the value I place on process stems largely from growing up in the digital age. Despite growing up with digital cameras, I shoot almost entirely on film now.
How do you work through times when nothing seems to work?
I love this question so much. Honestly, I keep going by journaling, sketching, or shooting with my mom’s old point-and-shoot. Over time, I’ve learned the importance of carrying a camera with me almost everywhere. If I’m driving and spot something like a crushed watermelon on the road, I’ll stop to photograph it. Nothing might come of it directly, but the simple act of doing keeps building inspiration and motivation over time.
What tools have you found essential in the making of your work?
The most essential tools for making my work are the ones I haven’t discovered yet — the ones that let me see my work differently. That could be a new chemistry or technique I haven’t tried, or a subject I haven’t approached. What matters most to me is always having something new to pursue that keeps the work feeling fresh and re-energizing.
Is there something in photography that you would like to try in the future?
There’s a lot in photography I’d love to try, such as wet plate collodion or tintype. For the next evolution of my project, I’m hoping to explore 8×10 format as I haven’t had the chance to work with yet.
How does your art affect the way you see the world?
It gives me deeper empathy for the world — noticing the light, shadow, and hidden details we often overlook. By reimagining what a photograph can represent, literally or metaphorically, I hope to offer a refreshed perspective that helps people better understand what’s happening around them and re-engage with the discussions that matter. This series may be about Louisiana, but anyone who’s experienced environmental shifts firsthand will recognize something of their own in the work.
What’s on the horizon?
The support I’ve received for this project has been, since its inception, overwhelming. This interest received the support of the Center for Exploratory & Perceptual Arts (CEPA) Gallery in Buffalo, NY, where I expanded the project by documenting locations around Buffalo such as Love Canal, Silo City, and Tifft Nature Preserve. It’s motivated me to push the project further to different locations that share a similar impact to Louisiana. I hope that, by doing this, the conversation can cultivate into a national scale.
Thank you Seth.
To learn more about the work of Seth Adam Cook please click on his name.
