“I do see them as interrelated projects, although maybe different sides of the same coin,” he explained. “They have different moods and atmospheres, but to me, they’re related in different ways, maybe psychological ways.”
Over the course of his career, Crewdson has used hyper-detailed, uncanny settings to descend into his characters’ interior lives. In his series “Twilight” (1998–2002), the home becomes an untenable site for creeping horror. In one photograph, an Ophelia-like figure floats in her flooded living room, eyes gazing past the camera. In another, a fearful man on all fours is surrounded by drilled holes in the floorboards, pillars of light beaming through each. The scene recalls Crewdson’s formative childhood memories of straining to hear his psychoanalyst father’s private sessions in their Park Slope basement—Crewdson’s own fulcrum for mystery in the domestic space.
But after his series “Beneath the Roses” (2003–08), the photographer has refocused on smaller productions in real locations, instead of building top-to-bottom sets. He has also seen his work become more nuanced over time.