Born and raised in Bristol, Connecticut, Heyne wanted to become either a scientist or an artist. his father wanted him to learn a trade. Instead he became an architect, but he's always had a camera.
From the beginning Heyne has been intrigued with accidental or unconscious beauty and much of his early work focused on portraying industrial architecture in an heroic light. He finds there to be a truthful honesty demonstrated by engineers designing to resolve a physical requirement. Lately he has been looking at the flip side by reevaluating deliberate and conscious design by architects and artists who strive to imbue meaning but seem to miss the mark. He is exploring this disconnect.
To Hunt a Moon
Summer time 1898, a group of 200 Ute Indians traveled from their Utah reservation to their ancestral hunting grounds of western Colorado. An article in The Steamboat Pilot newspaper reported they journeyed there “to hunt a moon”—a month long period. To enforce the new state’s forestry laws protecting wildlife, the US Army from Fort Duchesne was called in by the local game warden. The Ute hunting party conferred, and with the intimidating threat of US soldiers looming, the Ute acquiesced and were escorted under guard back to their reservation. After almost 5,000 moons, this was probably the Ute’s last hunting party on their native lands.
To Hunt a Moon Series is comprised of wintertime photos shot in 2016 of the ranch lands and Rocky Mountains surrounding Steamboat Springs Colorado. They are paired with vintage moon map engravings by Walter Goodacre published just a few years after the repelled 1898 hunting party, from NASA’s 1960’s moon cartography files, and from NASA’s Apollo astronaut photo archives from 1969-1972.
Goodacre’s map was so accurately detailed that it was referenced by NASA fifty years later for the initial planning for the Apollo mission landing sites, and where to plant the American flag.
Summertime lasts about three moons at this high Colorado elevation. The rest of the year the lands are covered with snow resembling a lunar landscape. From the radio dialogue transcriptions of one of the Apollo 15 astronauts, he ruminated while standing on the powdery lunar regolith and gazing up at the 12,000 feet of Mt. Hadley, “…this reminds me of skiing Squaw Valley.”
The images of this series are arranged, grouped, and collaged together melding the form and contours of the lunar topography with the snow covered hills and cattle pastures around Steamboat Springs. Purposeful color shifts and imprints of fencing straddle and blur the line between the terrestrial and the lunar.
Barbed wire, split rail, and electric fences etch dark lines that roll for miles through the stark white snow-covered grazing lands around Steamboat Springs. They clearly define the property boundaries parsing up the landscape that demarcate land ownership—all backed by a deed on paper—a legal construct very abstract to the native peoples of just a 120 years ago. Why were the Ute not being allowed on the lands where they always hunted?
This year in Cannon Ball North Dakota, a similar land rights issue has again reached fever pitch. If the river crossing for Dakota Access Oil Pipeline was deemed too hazardous in Bismarck, why is it safe at the Standing Rock Indian Reservation?
Over a two week period in the summer of 2013, repeated each hot and humid evening weather conditions over Boston created large, violent and quickly moving thunderstorms. As if on cue at 5pm, the afternoon cumulus clouds collected and welled upwards creating giant multiple thunder cells, and the city was pummeled with hail, rain, and lighting.
But the storms cleared out right at sunset, and the strong raking sunlight illuminated spectacular multiple rainbows, and made vibrant the textures and roiling turmoil of the clouds themselves.
While on the roof of his studio building with his camera, Heyne was dodging between episodes of hail rain and lighting trying to capture the rawness of the storm. And he felt trepidation and fear from a deep and primitive part within himself. It was a little less like the storm clearing skies portrayed by the Hudson School painters, and more like he was seeing the pounding music of Carl Orff's Carmina Burana.
While processing the images later on his computer, he continued shifting the color balance, and the more her pushed and altered the colors, the same primordial sense that overcame him on the roof, started to resonate again. It seems he was tapping into a primitive atavistic feeling of pre-language, and color had the only the words that would speak to him.
Considered the most beautiful woman in the world of the 1850’s was Elisabeth, the Empress of Austria, Queen of Hungary. And she knew it. So concerned with her image that at the age of 32 she ceased to sit for state portraits, did not allow herself to be photographed, and only made public appearances from behind a hand fan, raised to veil her visage.
Veiling the female body extends to various and opposite purposes. An Afghan burqa conceals a man’s property; a representation of chattel. A Victoria’s Secret nightie is fashioned to selectively reveal, entice, and evoke sexual arousal. Lingerie is worn as a display, a representation of power over the viewer, and a signal in initializing foreplay.
As in his previous bodies of works on the female form such as Barbie dolls and allegorical sculpture, Heyne's Voile series looks at the representation of women found in iconic renaissance and classical painting. He appropriates images from Botticelli, Ingres, and others from postcards sold in the gift shops of the Uffizi, Louvre, and other museums. He then blends in a digitally created vertical veil, similar to a hanging shear curtain, with colors derived from the painting palette itself. The veil and female form merge together, intertwined in a complex relationship about what is chaste virtue, what is beauty, what is eroticism, and how they bond together.
Anatomically, fascia refers to the membrane tissues that connect the body’s skin to its underlying muscles. In this series Heyne is photographically exploring the idealized human face. Similar to his past series of work based on allegorical figures, mannequins, and Barbie dolls, he is searching for the way body imagery affects the way we feel about ourselves, the way we emote those feelings to others, and how they are interpreted.
In this ongoing series of work, Heyne has been photographing 19th century marble sculptures found within various museum settings. The images are highly blurred to further affect the improbable perfect face of the sculpture. Unlike the pure white marble of the busts, he has altered the colors in his photos using a palette more commonly found in a woman’s make-up collection. How one defines beauty is debatable, but the beauty industry banks on our desire for unattainable perfection.