Anthony Maddaloni: From A Dark Place To A Darkroom

I met Anthony about a year ago. His ex-wife Juliet had helped me with a couple of case studies involving her chickens and she thought Anthony might have something to contribute to my blog. As a professional photographer and someone who deals with mental health issues I was hoping he would be interested in being part of my series ‘When Art Meets Chickens’, profiles of artists featuring chickens in their work, or maybe writing something from the perspective of a male chicken keeper (who are noticeably absent in online groups) or how keeping chickens have a positive impact on mental health.

He was interested in all of those options, but I soon learned working with him might present some challenges. Despite his desire to write something it wasn’t forthcoming. After a bunch of back and forth emails (I’m in Canada, he’s in Texas) I discovered that he has dyslexia and writing an article was easier said than done.

I suggested he keep a journal and just write a paragraph at a time. Again, it seemed like a good idea but it didn’t materialize. I sent him monthly emails just to check in, never with any expectations. In return, he sent samples of his work or let me know what was going on in his life. I kept all those things in a file, knowing at some point I could use them for an article. Eventually he suggested that if I texted him one question at a time he would use voice to text to answer them. I had no problem accommodating his request and in some way, looked forward to snippets of information, reminiscent of when I had pen pals as a teenager. That technology is probably a godsend for folks with issues writing, but it did present a few challenges deciphering some words. Most of the time I figured things out or sent a new text asking for clarification.

I have compiled those conversations and questions sent with his responses, artwork and photography. In the end, it’s a hybrid of ‘When Art Meets Chickens’ and a post about the therapeutic benefits of keeping chickens. It’s also a testament to the challenges that we all face, whether we share them with others, and how we persevere despite them.

Who are you and what do you do?

I am a fine art photographer and have worked as a professor of photography at Texas State University and the University of Texas.

Despite having a college degree and being a professor I dropped out of high school. I am severely dyslexic and do not spell or write well at all.

I was born with the muscles not attached to my eyes. I had surgery when I was about four years old, but still don’t see very well. My depth perception and peripheral vision are damaged which sometimes, I think, actually helps the way that I see.

My art includes a series of images about chickens and geese. One of the techniques I use is called ink jet transfer. This process lets me use photographs I have taken and the ink from an inkjet printer to make images onto wood and watercolor paper.

What’s your background?

I began making photographs when I was about 15 years old. I received my Bachelor of Fine Arts in Studio Art in 1996 from the State University of New York at Purchase.

I was a staff photographer for both the Texas Senate and Texas House of Representatives during various sessions from 2001-2006 and a staff photographer at the Harry Ransom Center of the University of Texas from 2006-2010.

What art do you most identify with?

Portraiture, either making portraits of human beings or animals.

How has your practice changed over time?
I’ve shifted from utilizing traditional photography into being more experimental, and using other forms of collage and painting.

I’m 53 now and work primarily in a dark room, but I also use alternative process techniques and digital imagery.

What work do you most enjoying doing?

The kind of art that gives me the most joy is being in a dark room and developing a photograph that I have taken. While I still enjoy making other kinds of art forms, being in a darkroom working with my cameras and film is the most satisfying.

Why photography?

I chose photography because I really wasn’t good at anything else. I tried to be a musician for a while, but that didn’t really work out and I found that I had more of a knack for photography than I did playing music. Photography was able to give me a voice where other mediums did not. I felt very empowered by my camera. I also used my camera to make friends, and still do.

What memorable responses have you had to your work?

The most memorable reaction was from a curator who was looking at my chicken images and then turned to me and said, “I can see from this work that there is a lot of love for these animals. I can feel that from looking at them”.

What is your dream project?

To somehow photographically put murals of chickens on city walls.

What is your earliest memory of chickens?

The first memory I have of chickens is later in life. When I was in my 30s there was a rooster that would greet me every morning on my way to work. I was having a very hard time at that point in my life: my half brother had just killed himself and I was coming out of a 10 year long relationship. I was struggling with mental health and substance use issues. There was something about that rooster that made me feel alive again and I honestly forgot about it.

During the pandemic I began to notice a lot more about animals and birds. I suppose a lot of people started noticing things they had never seen before. That’s when we got our first chickens and something happened. I really love them. I love the way that they made me feel. They brought a sense of relief to me; they still do. 

Do you have chickens now?

I have 11 hens – Jersey Giant, Faverolle, True Blue Whiting, Rhode Island Red, Mille Fleur d’Uccle, Buff Brahma – and a Delaware rooster. I also have a goose. 

One of these birds was born on a day that I wasn’t doing well. Watching this chick peck her way out of the egg did something to me; made me want to try that hard to live. I love all my chickens, but that chicken, Indy, is very special to me. She was also born with an eye problem, just like me. 

How have they influenced your work?

Birds have influenced my work in many ways. I enjoy art from bird images. There’s something spiritual to me about chickens and there’s something spiritual about animals that have feathers and can fly.

Can you tell me a little bit about ‘Bird Time’?

I have been playing music for about 20 years, although I don’t consider myself a professional musician at all. I do consider myself a professional, visual artist. I’ve been writing songs on guitar and lyrics that are primarily about chickens and geese. Bird Time is the time I spend with my flock and how they inspire me to write and do art.

What are the benefits of keeping chickens?

I get eggs on most days, of course, but the real benefits of keeping chickens are primarily for my mental health. Chickens, or rather watching chickens, can make me smile and, sometimes, even laugh. The reason I have these chickens is completely selfish. They bring me out of the depression that I can be in. Chickens remind me to be grateful for all the things I have in my life.

I often tell people that there are so many things that can kill a chicken: from predators to disease to weather. My chickens help keep the thought that I only have today fresh in my mind. I don’t think chickens worry about tomorrow. I don’t think chickens worry if they’re going to make money. When I hear my rooster crow every morning, it reminds me that I’m alive and that all I have is today.

Last year, I was in a major car wreck on the interstate here in Austin. The anxiety and the psychological impact of that wreck were pretty overwhelming. My  feathered friends helped me in the aftermath.

I could still hear the sound of my Honda crumpling as the truck merged on top of me. I could feel how the steering wheel shook as my tires exploded. I have no idea what god or entity was helping me avoid getting hit from behind as he was moving 80 MPH through a few lanes of cars.

After I got home I was in a state of shock and disbelief. My adrenaline was going full tilt and I was pretty manic. The idea that we can, and should, brush off a close call with death or serious injury has been programmed into my American male brain. I wondered what I should eat for dinner.

About a hour later I was in the backyard holding my favourite hen and shaking and crying while my rooster stood guard over me with the flock close by. My brain was constantly seeking to feel safe, which can be a difficult thing to find.

This flock has helped my through divorce and moving on and rebuilding my life on levels that I thought were impossible. More importantly, my chickens have made living with PTSD and depression a lot better than a life without them.

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Many thanks to Anthony for sharing his story, photos and artwork, used with permission.