Lacking Sight, Not Vision: Catching up with Ted Tahquechi
“Lacking sight, not vision.” That’s the important and inspiring message you’ll find on Ted Tahquechi’s website, a blind photographer known for his awe-inspiring landscape photography and guide dog, Fauna. Ted is based in Denver, and began traveling the world as part of his work in the video game industry, working for the likes of Atari, Accolade, and Mattel Toys. Now, he travels for leisure, capturing beautiful nature shots he shares online.
Ted was not born blind. A car accident in 1999 left him with near-complete vision loss, and despite it all, he has learned to navigate continuing to travel, gaining independence (and some amazing photographs) as he goes. Today, Ted publishes tips for traveling while visually impaired on his blog, and is an accessibility speaker who has been featured in numerous international publications. I was fortunate to speak with Ted about his experiences around the world, and what’s helped inspire his creativity along the way.
Laura: When did you discover your love of photography? Was there an “aha” moment or did it build over time?
Ted: After high school, I had my sights set on becoming a DJ, and hosted a drivetime shift at the radio station where I worked. College was out for the summer and a friend who worked in the test department for Atari (yes, that Atari) asked if I wanted a job testing games to make some extra money. The summer job turned into a long career in the games industry where I moved from testing to eventually managing the design, development, and marketing of the games. Ten years later, the end of an era arrived, and Atari closed their doors, which led me to a game company called Accolade then Mattel Toys where I oversaw all the games for the Hot Wheels franchise. So, there I was at the height of my career in the video games industry and got into a car accident which left me with no sight in one eye and 5% low functioning vision in the other, effectively ending my dream career.
I was left with the ability to see light and dark, and blurry shapes. It took me a few years to wrap my head around the cards I had been dealt. Since I could not see the world around me, I carried a small digital camera and used it as a tool to capture images of birthdays, family gatherings and other events which I could not see. I would put them on my computer and magnify them so I could later enjoy what I was missing. Along the way, I took a few decent looking portraits and landscapes, falling back on the time I spent learning the basics of capturing and developing images with black and white film in college. Photography became the catalyst for building the confidence to get out into the world again, and I was starting to make images that leaned more toward art than a strict journalistic style. It was around this time that I came to the realization that my sight wasn’t going to get any better, so I learned to navigate the world again and returned to school to complete degrees in fine art and studio art photography. Along the way, I developed new ways to capture images, leaning on composition of shapes and relying on the camera to nail the details in the scenes before me.
Laura: You have such unique talent. Who or what has influenced you the most as you’ve developed your work over the years (Laura’s note to Ted: I’m seeing so many different answers, all types of ‘people, places and things.’ It’s been fascinating to read).
Ted: I have always had a love for landscape photography, and it was perhaps capturing the sunsets of the central coast in Santa Cruz Ca. (where we lived) that inspired me to stop using the camera as a tool to see the things around me, and start using it to create art. Landscape photography is such a competitive genre, to get it right, the photographer needs to be either up before first light or at the shoot location until the sun sets. For someone with almost no vision, stomping around in the dark trying to find a composition was terrifying, things were compounded by the fact that I hate to get up early.
During the years I worked toward completing my degree, I was continually searching for ways to apply my love of landscape photography to other forms of art. It was during the first assignment in portraiture photography that I panicked. The instructor asked us to take traditional headshots of our subjects. I’m unable to see people’s faces so capturing a good portrait with the eyes open and a smile was going to be a struggle. Instead, I countered the assignment by taking photos of body parts, namely hands which I reasoned that were as unique as a face. While this approach alleviated the necessity to have a face in the photo, it provided a different set of challenges — lighting the hands in an interesting way. I ended up photographing hands praying, playing, and working. I pursued this newfound interest in shooting body parts and soon moved to fully nude models, creating a series of images which were shot in low key style and used light to accentuate the curve and form of the body in an interesting and abstract way.
Around this time, I was taking a drawing class from a wonderful instructor named Rebecca Ramos. Much of her curriculum focused on seeing the light in still life setups and embracing abstraction. I asked if she would be willing to take a look at the images of the body I had been working on, which were comprised of a mixture of close in and farther back framed compositions. It was Rebecca that helped me to understand that the images I was drawn to from my portfolio were the ones which were closer in and had been taken using the compositional style that I used in my landscape imagery. She encouraged me to shoot again with the same model, but keep in mind that I wanted to show others the way I see the human form rather than adhering to the classic expectations of portraiture. My Landscapes of the Body project was born out of this, and evolved to be truly inclusive, featuring male and female models aged from 19 to 76 of all body types from petite to plus sized. Over the first six years this project was being photographed, I had the opportunity to work with a multitude of models with a wide range of experiences from amateur to pro, and a huge variety of genders, ethnicities, and physical disabilities. The one thing I never intended to do with the Landscapes of the Body project was exhibit it, I considered it a personal project.
In 2015, we made the move from California to Colorado, trading our beaches for mountains. A few months after we arrived in Colorado, my wife and I were in a local gallery for their monthly art walk. Since I can see the color, shape and light value (dark and light) of art, my wife usually fills in the information about the details I cannot see. This is when the curator of Access Gallery, Damon McLeese began talking with me about vision loss and art, and the unique job Access Gallery does to support disabled artists. I explained to Mr. McLeese that I was a photographer and he asked me to come in for a portfolio review the following Monday. I left the review with Landscapes of the Body scheduled to make its debut for the month of photography in Denver’s Santa Fe Art District. Since that debut, the project has been shown worldwide and is currently finishing up a two-year solo exhibition at a gallery in San Francisco. I should also note that I have never profited from my work, 100% of the funds from any sales go to support Guide Dogs for the Blind and Lighthouse for the Blind. Each year I donate a number of prints to other charitable organizations supporting the study of Cystic Fibrosis, the Anchor Center for the Blind in Denver and Heather’s Camp, an amazing organization which provides summer camp experiences for blind and visually impaired children.
Laura: If at all, has there been ‘something’ that’s inspired you during these past two years of intense change that shifted how you think about your own work?
Ted: The past two years made me realize just how visual the world is, and how easily accessibility is overlooked. When the pandemic first started, grocery stores installed signs around the store, including on the floor to direct traffic and keep customers the mandated safe distance apart. The problem was that I could not see the signs and there was no one to explain which direction I was expected to travel down the aisles in the store. I remember people screaming at me for going the wrong way, even though I had a guide dog, and it was obvious I was visually impaired.
During the early days of the lockdown, I missed being able to work with models because of fear of exposure. I longed to add content to Landscapes of the Body and other projects I was forced to put on hold because of the pandemic. I fell back into the solitary act of traditional Landscape imagery. This led me to create a collection of images which will be released soon called Accessible Journey, which were all taken from the safety of the car. This work is as much about not being able to work with people as it is a testament to the beauty that can be accessed regardless of your level of physical ability. Traditional Landscape work usually requires hiking and wandering — both of which are difficult to duplicate if one is mobility impaired, all of these beautiful images are taken right from the side of the road and will include GPS coordinates for others to visit the locations I used in the creation of this project.
Laura: If you’re talking to the 100-year-old version of you, and that wise person could look back and give you a lesson about your creative work, what would they tell or teach you?
Ted: The wise old version of me would have a couple of lessons to teach. First, that regardless of one’s physical limitations, it’s possible to accomplish almost anything you set your mind to. The thing you need to realize is that your path to achieve that goal, or the work you create may be different than you expected it to be. When I tell people I am almost completely blind, and a guide dog user, but I’m a professional photographer and photo educator it tends to blow their mind. I found a way, I found my niche and I love to share the work I create and the skills I have amassed with others.
The second lesson my wise old self would impart would be that when it comes to art, to be happy don’t follow the expected path. The happy artist will use their passion to show others how they see the world, and the working burnt out artist will create the cliché uninspired work just to make a paycheck.
To see more of Ted’s work, visit his website or Instagram, @nedskee.
