Here is another one of those interviews that hits home more for me. It's a bit personal because I feel I got in on knowing about this before many other people, all the while thinking that it was something quite special. And it is. I'm not as remarkable as all that, so plenty of other people did know, but it was a much smaller group than now. What is extraordinary is that more and more people are learning what Andy Mattern discovered, and which has turned into an ongoing project that has taken considerable time, attention, and effort. That's where this discussion comes in. It was conducted slowly over time. Mattern had plenty to do while in the midst of taking a sabbatical and learning more about a natural process taking place with vintage platinum prints that you will soon learn about yourself. The idea was to show that it takes time to work through the process of building a body of work with intention and thoughtfulness to make it as remarkable and exciting as it could be.

Mattern and I met in April of 2022 at the Photolucida Portfolio Reviews in Portland, Oregon. He presented to me a new project that he was in the early stages of working on, which I found incredible. In fact, I was a bit stunned that more people weren't ringing the alarm bells because, honestly, this is pretty cool and amazing. I'll let him do the talking about the finer details of it during the interview. Still, in a nutshell, he had noticed that vintage platinum prints were transferring their images onto the backs of neighboring prints that were in contact with them over an extended period of time. Decades, actually. The transferred photos were very faint, but they were there. While this happened, there appeared to be no discernible loss of image quality of the original print. They seemed to be reproducing themselves through the passage of time. Now, mind you, this floored me, which clearly it did to Mattern as well. It still does!

So what does he do? He re-photographs the faint image from above so that he can light them in a very specific way to bring out the ghosts even more, makes digital negatives of this image, and finally creates a NEW platinum print of the resulting ghost image. We had some discussion about how to present the pictures back then but realized that this was a long-term project that needed a lot of focused energy to bring it out in a considerable way. After several months, we began the interview and spent a little over a year talking about what was happening as things progressed and more was discovered. It's a slow-moving train of an interview if you will. We even dated our questions and answers during the process so you have an idea of how this all went. And that's where we are now.

A lot has changed since our first meeting, and Mattern is showing this work more and more, and certainly more predominantly than before, as he should. It's time to shout from the rooftops about this, and I'm incredibly pleased to present the words and ideas of photographic artist and educator Andy Mattern.

INTERVIEW

Michael Kirchoff (02/17/23): Hello, Andy, and thank you for joining me. This interview will be a bit different from past interviews, as it will be conducted over time and include some back story that reflects back to our meeting at Photolucida in April of 2022. Before I dive into questions about an extremely interesting project you’ve been working on, how about we start with a bit of background on who you are as a photographic artist and what got you interested in photography in the first place?

Andy Mattern (03/04/23): The stand-up comedian Nate Bargatze has a bit about people who were born in 1979, as I was, describing us as neither fully Generation X nor Millennial. The term he uses is "The Lucky Ones" because we came of age at the tail end of the analog era, able to enjoy much of what that time had to offer while gradually experiencing the onset of the digital epoch. His assessment rings true to me because as a young kid, I was glued to early Macintosh computers, playing with programs like MacPaint, HyperCard, and PageMaker, and later, as a young teen, I fell in love with the darkroom, which was still the only way to make a photographic print. I've always had a fascination with digital tools for their control and fluidity — Save As, Undo, Copy & Paste — but the materiality and mystique of analog photography were intoxicating as well.

I took my first photography class when I was 15. It was halfway through the school year, and I abruptly decided to change electives. That meant I was a semester behind everyone else, so I was determined to catch up. I took that responsibility very seriously, intent on proving to my photography teacher — Walt Pinto — that he had made the right decision, allowing me to enroll so late. I never missed a class. I worked in the darkroom during lunch and after school. It became central to my identity.

Later, I studied studio art in college, where my understanding of what constituted art expanded radically. I studied painting, sculpture, and photography. Post Modernism was still much discussed, as were Minimalism, Pop, and Conceptual Art, all of which had a huge impact on me. At the time, there was a push to think as an artist first and then reach for the appropriate medium. The idea that you could be an artist who uses photography rather than a photographer was, and is, appealing to me.

Currently, in my practice, I consider photography to be a core language or modality that I work through and around, and while I have a deep reverence for a whole range of photographers who work in a more direct manner — making photographs in the world — I find myself repeatedly motivated to find new and different ways to use the medium and comment on its peculiar essence.

MK (3/7/23): "The Lucky Ones," I like that. I can see where growing up through the time when we were making that digital transition as being a good thing. Makes perfect sense. Fast forward to your career now, which includes being an educator. Do you pass this sort of concept on to your students, or at least make them aware of where we were versus where we are now?

AM (3/12/23): All the time! When I started teaching in graduate school, I had the kernel of an idea to one day create an introductory photography class where students begin the semester with the most rudimentary image capture device — the camera obscura — and then work their way toward more advanced tools as the weeks go on. I have been adapting that basic structure for the past ten years at different institutions. Especially in our current moment of computational image making and AI increasingly making decisions for us, I think it’s crucial to explore the underlying physical aspects of photography. Of course, the goal of self-expression is still paramount, but I am committed to giving students not only a platform to showcase what’s important to them but also to dissect the tools they use.

MK (3/23/23): This sounds like very healthy advice and teaching to me. It certainly leads to the idea of choosing the right photographic or art-making tool for the job, not to mention experimentation and discovery, which is always exciting. And speaking of discovery, I think now might be a good time to mention an intriguing project you’ve been working on - Ghost. We’ve been in communication about this for almost a year now, and I’ve had the pleasure of seeing it grow since then. How about a little introduction to the series and how you discovered it? Then, we can unpack some more of the intriguing details.

AM (6/24/23): On one of my first out-of-state trips, when the pandemic finally began to ease, I went to the Columbia River Gorge to hike the waterfalls and wander around the small towns. On the Washington side, in a tiny town called White Salmon, my wife and I and some friends went to an antique store — one of our pastimes — and as we were pawing through a box of old photographs, my wife showed me one with a faint image on the reverse side. We didn't know it at the time, but she was particularly lucky to have found not only this "ghost" image but also the original picture that had left the impression. I was dumbstruck by this find — how long had both of those pictures been sitting in that box to make this happen? And how, exactly, was this possible? Were there more? That find was the initial spark for my research into this fascinating phenomenon.

Later, I found an article explaining the process entitled “The Phenomenon of Platinum Print 'Image Transfer' to Adjacent Papers," which was published as a chapter in a very thick book of research: Platinum and Palladium Photography: Technical History, Connoisseurship, and Preservation (2017, edited by Constance McCabe). From that book, I learned that the "ghost" image that we found was indeed one of these objects — dubbed an "autoplatinotype" by the researcher Mike Ware. Despite the title of the article, the ghost images are not technically "transfers" because no metal is found in the ghosts themselves. They are actually the result of an accidental chemical reaction between old photographs containing platinum and certain papers that they happen to touch. But the catch is that the reaction takes between 50–100 years! I became obsessed with this idea of the photographs gradually copying themselves, and so I started hunting for more ghosts, which I eventually began to re-photograph and make into new platinum prints.

MK (7/18/23): This is certainly an exciting discovery (or rediscovery, as it were) that seems to fit perfectly into your creative process. This feels like it was meant to be, and subsequently, you’ve taken this discovery and run with it. When we first met in 2022, you had, I believe, around fifteen or so images you’d made new prints of from furthering your collection of these originals. Tell me about the idea of making something new from these image artifacts and how you go about it.

AM (8/1/23): The main idea that struck me about the ghosts is that they somehow have their own agency — the photographs are copying themselves. But the ghost images are hidden, and they cannot copy themselves further because no platinum is transferred in the process. It is a chemical reaction. My motivation in making new platinum enlargements of these faint ghost images is not only to make them more visible but also to give them another life. I want to reanimate the ghost images with the material that allowed them to come into existence in the first place.

This process starts with searching the backs of thousands of images in antique stores, op shops, flea markets, estate sales, etc. The ghosts are rare, and they are particularly difficult to find online, so the hunt is mostly a physical act, which I prefer. When I do come upon a ghost image in the world, it is always a thrill. In the studio, I light them to emphasize contrast and texture, and then I make a new intermediary negative, which I print on hand-coated platinum paper under ultraviolet light. Despite my best efforts to maintain a consistent workflow, platinum is elusive, and the results vary. I end up printing very small editions of 2 with one artist proof, but each print is unique.

When you and I first met, I had made 12 new platinum prints, but since that time, I have found many more. I am now back in the studio after traveling for nearly the entire year, and I have been working like mad to create new prints from the source material that I have collected. At this moment, I have 20 new platinum prints that I think represent quite a leap forward from the 12 that I showed you originally. My collection of found ghost images is now over 100.

MK (8/18/23): Since your work with this series (as well as this interview) has been taking place over time, this is a particularly exciting thing to hear about. I love that you’ve been searching high and low for more ghosts to add to the collection. You mentioned traveling this past year. Tell us about that and if these new images were discovered in the same types of places as previously made.

AM (8/26/23): I was on sabbatical from my teaching position this past year, traveling through the western US and several places abroad. Everywhere I went, I would visit the local art museum and any galleries, but I also prioritized antique stores and junk shops to hunt for ghosts. The majority of my finds were in small towns scattered throughout the western US, and I did find several in the south of France while attending the Arles Photofolio Review. While I was in New Zealand and Australia, I found only one ghost in nearly four months. That seemed to be because antique shops down there just don’t carry as many old photos as their American counterparts. I asked the Kiwi antique shop owners why they didn’t have very many old pictures, and I received different speculative answers. A few told me that old photos typically get thrown away because why would anyone want someone else’s pictures? Or because they are too personal. For whatever reason, the dearth of old photos meant finding ghosts there was more than challenging. Incidentally, I did not find any in Switzerland, Norway, Ireland, or Iceland either.

Perhaps simply the quantity and market for old pictures in the US has led to a greater likelihood of finding them here. I drove from Oklahoma up to Wisconsin, across Minnesota, through the Dakotas, Wyoming, Idaho, and up to Washington. There were some gems along the way. Then I took the 101 through Oregon and California and across the southwest back to Oklahoma. I’ve kept track of where the ghosts are found, but where I happen to find them is not necessarily where they were “made.” They have definitely been on the move — and there is no telling for sure where the image production actually took place. On the other side of most ghost images is an unrelated picture that sometimes has a stamp of a photographer’s studio or a city and state. But that only applies to the non-ghost image. By the time I find a ghost, most of the time, it has been separated from the source image, so there’s no telling where it came from or where it propagated.

There is no surefire way to find them, just patience. In fact, the antique vendors I buy the ghosts from are not even aware of the ghost images. They are selling me the photo on the other side. I’ve looked on eBay, but they don’t show up much online, which is fine. I prefer the physical search. The conditions of their propagation seem to be mostly a product of neglect and time; perhaps humidity and heat are a factor, but I can’t say for sure. Even the brilliant scientists who have studied the chemistry behind this phenomenon admit they don’t know exactly how ghosts appear. They have a pretty good idea of the underlying causes and have even been able to reproduce the phenomenon in the lab, but when it comes down to the nitty-gritty details, they say “more research is needed” to pin down the particulars of this beautiful mystery.

MK (9/1/23): I have to say, this all sounds like it fits amongst some of the great treasure hunts of modern times. I’m honestly surprised that you find as many as you do - such the needle in a haystack search. You mention the scientists who are involved in the research of the phenomenon. Would that be Mike Ware, whom you mentioned earlier - or are there more involved these days? With the amount of research you’ve done for the project, I feel it’s only right that you should be in the middle of all their findings as well. I also wonder if you intend to conduct any tests of your own to reproduce the effect. Would that entail something akin to carbon dating or certainly testing the archivability of substrates? The science is a fascinating element of your project.

AM (9/17/23): I originally found Mike Ware's research in the book Platinum and Palladium Photographs: Technical History, Connoisseurship, and Preservation, edited by Constance McCabe. The key chapter for me is The Phenomenon of Platinum Print "Image Transfer" to Adjacent Papers by Jennifer K. Herrmann, Sara Shpargel, and Lauren M. Varga — with analytical contributions by Karen Gaskell and Mark Ormsby. The researchers provide a comprehensive explanation of the process, including the results of their rigorous experiments using pressurized containers and heat to recreate the process.

In my art practice, I don't feel a need to repeat their scientific work, but it has been crucial in helping me understand how we got here. I see my project as a collaboration with the ghost images themselves — encouraging them to come to the surface and giving them a new life as modern platinum prints. Because the found ghost images do not contain platinum themselves — rather, they are a byproduct or residue of platinum — my intervention reanimates them with the ability to reproduce. I enjoy the potential energy embedded in that gesture.

MK (10/16/23): It all feels very exciting, and I’m sure you still have a long way to go with this project. So, assuming you’re not close to completion with it, do you have any hopes or expectations as work continues? What about any surprises that have happened up to now?

AM (11/5/23): Now that I am aware they are out there, I will probably always be ghost hunting on some level, but at the moment, I have been focusing on editing and printing for my first solo show of this work coming up in January 2024 at the OSU Museum of Art. Eventually, I would love to do a book, and with that goal in mind, I have been collecting found photographs from the same era that contain other interesting things on the backs. Sometimes, it might just be a trace of a frame that left a mark, a stain, or a fragment of a photography studio’s logo that draws my eye. I have begun to work with those elements in new compositions that I imagine will accompany the ghosts in some fashion. Every new ghost I find is a surprise, and only by rephotographing them in a certain light can I actually see them more fully. That second step is also a surprise every time. It still boggles my mind that the precise lighting I use — specifically, whether lit from one side or the other — makes a huge difference in how a particular ghost image can be recorded. I love those moments when I have to devise a new strategy to get the image I am seeking. Despite having a bunch of fancy equipment and not a little know-how, I still feel like a kid playing around and making discoveries.

MK (11/13/23): Clearly, the breadth of the project is expanding some. I love the idea of bringing new aspects into the existing series as you continue to discover more. At this point, how long has the project been actively worked on? I would normally ask if you see an endpoint to it, but it sounds like we are very far away from that, if at all. So then, before moving on to a few more general questions, is there any other work that you’ve been spending time with? Anything we can be on the lookout for?

AM (11/15/23): The first ghost image I saw was in late May 2021, and I’ve been looking ever since. Just last weekend, in fact, I found my first estate sale ghost … that was a pleasant surprise. The ghosts are my main focus at the moment, but I have also been interested lately in the early history of color photography, in particular, the Autochrome process. Last July, I was able to visit the Albert Kahn Museum in Paris to see some original color glass plates from the 1910s, which was amazing. Most people may think color photography appeared somewhere mid-century, but in fact, it was much earlier, and the Autochrome, which is considered the first commercially viable process, is tantalizingly “simple” to do. Silver gelatin? Check. Color-dyed potato starch? Check. Developer, stop, reversal, and fix? Let’s see about that … but probably: Check! There are some photo alchemists out there who have been able to recreate the recipe, which is encouraging. So, I am curious to play with it. Once the ghosts find their way into the gallery, I’ll have more time to burrow down this next rabbit hole.

MK (11/28/23): I feel fortunate to have been introduced to the ghosts early on. It’s been great seeing the collection grow, as well as the significant changes that have occurred over time. So, I do have some additional questions about the creative process before wrapping this up. First of all, and this sort of relates back to what we were talking about, but how do you know if you’re ever really done with a specific body of work? Do you ever go back to revisit images or collections to improve upon what you felt was previously finished?

AM (12/1/23): I think a project is close to done when you start repeating yourself. There is a healthy amount of cohesion in a project, yes, but when you already know the answers to the questions you’re asking, the luster starts to fade. The ghosts remain absolutely fascinating to me, and I think I’ll probably always keep looking for them, but at some point, I will have to move on to making new and different things.

I have revisited certain projects over the years, but usually for a slightly different purpose than the original impulse. For example, when working on my recent book about a completed body of work — Average Subject / Medium Distance — I made new images that were only for the book to enrich the existing portfolio. My friend and collaborator, Martin Venezky, who designed the book, has pushed me to use that strategy to push the book beyond just a catalog of a project, but instead to carve out its own space as a work of art. While ghost hunting, I have been collecting other found photographs that have elements that touch a similar nerve — stains, marks, traces, etc., on the backs — at some point; those might bubble up into a book with the ghosts.

MK (12/4/23): Well, that is odd (in a good way), and it seems we are on the same wavelength currently–I was going to ask you if you find that certain images work better in an exhibition vs. a book project, or even in an online capacity? Maybe just elaborate on this. Do you ever leave any out because you feel they might not be as strong in one venue compared to another?

AM (1/21/24): I always prioritize photographs as objects, and I am extremely sensitive to presentation questions, whether on the wall, the page, or the screen.

In fact, I just finished installing the latest ghost pieces in an exhibition, Some Recent Apparitions, at the OSU Museum of Art here in Stillwater, Oklahoma. I had the pleasure of working with Scott Stulen, the Director of the Philbrook Museum of Art in Tulsa, as a guest curator. The final arrangement of 21 different-sized prints on the wall was developed on install day with the curator. That was a rich collaboration, and the result is better than what I could’ve done alone or planned ahead of time.

In a book, there is the complexity that a viewer may encounter the material either in a linear fashion from start to finish, and/or in reverse, flipping open a book to the middle, or evening thumbing from the back to front. Trying to take that variability into account is an important consideration. Similar to working with a curator on a museum exhibition, collaborating with a skilled book designer pushed me to discover new image pairings and a sequence that was born from the book as an art object itself.

As for the screen, there’s an opportunity to not only show the photographic object in situ, but also even closer than is sometimes possible with the physical object. For more than a decade now, I’ve tried to follow a personal rule that I will only post new work on my website after it has been shown physically in a gallery. That helps keep me honest — not just posting every single thing I make — and it also means that the eventual screen version of a project will inherit some of the physicality of the work.

MK (1/22/24): It’s clear that you’re a creative who fully dots his i’s and crosses his t’s when it comes to the details of anything you’re doing. I love your viewpoints here. I also wonder, in regard to creativity and the projects you take on, if you feel it is better to create work that fits a particular style for yourself, branch out and try new things, or better to leave yourself open to possibilities that happen organically?

AM (1/26/24): I like to think that the idea determines the form. When I am approaching a new project, I usually have no clue what I’m doing at first — which can be unsettling — but as things come into focus, a structure always emerges. That period of not knowing still surprises me, though, no matter how many times I have experienced it. I am not the kind of artist who starts with a specific message or issue to present. I stumble around, get distracted, and bounce from one corner of the studio to the other before drilling down on an idea. Style is not on my mind during that process. I just hope that I can keep myself in the headspace long enough to build on what I discover. There are plenty of micro attempts that don’t bear fruit, and that is okay. But all those rabbit holes are useful, and there is a throughline. I always come back to photography, finding new ways to break it open and find something that I haven’t seen before.

MK (1/29/24): This makes perfect sense to me as well. So, I have to ask then, from when you first showed me images from Ghost at the Photolucida portfolio reviews in April 2022, then to us starting this interview to now, how much has the project changed or progressed? This is, after all, one of the reasons we’ve been doing this interview in slow motion over time. It’s a wonderful chance to examine this progression and bring the results to others.

AM (2/3/24): The inspiration has stayed the same — I am still amazed by the ghost images as a phenomenon and as a metaphor for photography’s persistence — and the process has been pretty consistent. It might not seem like a giant leap, but the recent shift in print sizes and the brightness of the latest prints feel like the most significant changes to me. Over time, I have refined the printing — for example, by creating much denser digital negatives, which produce lighter prints — and I decided to make the figures all appear relatively the same size, from print to print. To accomplish this, each piece is now a unique size, lending another layer of individuality (and also lots of re-checking dimensions while framing!) Now, when the pieces are exhibited together, they resonate because the ghosts all occupy the same plane. I like to think they have finally arrived in the room.

MK (2/5/24): I have to say, from my perspective, too, that the range of “portraits” is much broader now. The initial set I saw here mostly consisted of single figures in fairly regular poses for the time. Now, there seem to be multiple people in some, while others occupy the spaces and frames much differently. Also, there is some occasional interaction with the physical aspects of what they are printed on, creating somewhat of a different narrative. This, of course, is just my take, but the bottom line is that as a full exhibition, there is much more visually diverse interaction happening, which I find quite exciting for the work. I would think this might give you more opportunity to allow for conversations about the work to broaden as well. Any thoughts on this?

AM (2/9/24): This has already begun with the programming at the OSU Museum of Art, spearheaded by their Curator of Education, Daedalus Hoffman. He has arranged several events connected to my exhibition, including a writing workshop, where viewers will use the images as inspiration for creative writing, and a screening of Bill Morrison’s 2002 film Decasia, both broadening the invitation about how to think about the ghost images. The writing workshop participants will give a live reading of their creations, which I am very much looking forward to on Saturday, March 9th. The Decasia screening is meant to start a conversation about the unpredictable life of images and the way material images change over time, both physically and conceptually. I am also looking forward to a discussion with Dr. Cristina Cruz Gonzalez’s art history students, who are currently studying theories of the archive. I have been given all their assigned readings in preparation for my visit, which have been interesting to contemplate.

MK (2/13/24): I’m not surprised by the interest garnered by this work. You mention students, and I wonder, too, how your own students react to not just this work but also your overall art practice. In addition, is there anything you feel that you get out of this interaction that helps propel you forward with your activities? I imagine there is a fair amount of give and take here.

AM (2/17/24): My approach to teaching photography is to break down the medium into essential “ingredients” and then build exercises and assignments around those things. For example, in the introduction course, we talk about “time” as a key ingredient in photography — how does the translation of continuous time translate into a static picture through the mechanics of the camera? How does that translation affect meaning? This teaching strategy mirrors my studio practice, and it’s a pleasure when I can present an “ingredient” that I’ve dealt with in my own work. For example, my intermediate students are about to work on a “scale” project where they pay close attention to the physical size of their subjects and how that size relates to the photographic print. I have been obsessed with this issue of scale since graduate school — how does relative scale impact the viewer’s interpretation? We are used to photographs shrinking down their subjects or magnifying them, but there is something special about photographs printed at life size, like trompe l'oeil paintings where the subjects feel immediate and hyperreal. I always hope to leave enough room for students to follow their own subjective interests, but it is fulfilling to inject some of these questions that are pinging around in my own head and see what they make of them.

MK (2/19/24): Well, it sounds like you have some fortunate students to have someone at their disposal who is so well connected to their own work that they can include aspects of it into classroom instruction. And might I say, speaking of time – we have officially crossed the one-year mark of watching your progress with your work and participating in some wonderful discussions. Being a part of this development has been enriching, to say the least. I thank you for your time and your attention in sticking with me, Andy. As a final question (and staying on the topic of time) – where will we find you and this work in the near future? Or perhaps there is something new on the horizon that we might expect? Inquiring minds want to know.

AM (2/23/24): Thank you, Michael! This has been a fun running conversation. The current exhibition, Some Recent Apparitions, at the OSU Museum of Art will be on display through March 23, 2024. Tentatively, it will travel in 2025 to the Norick Art Center at Oklahoma City University, where I am also slated to curate a small group show of contemporary photography in the same year. I’ve been in touch with a San Francisco gallery about showing the new ghosts there at some point, possibly this year, so fingers crossed on that. And having met with folks far and wide for the past year at various portfolio reviews, I’m in the process of following up on those conversations to hopefully find new exhibition opportunities. Otherwise, I am looking forward to experimenting with the Autochrome process using a new 8x10 camera that should be arriving soon. From there, I’ll be spending as much time as possible in the studio, following the white rabbit wherever it darts next.

GALLERY

ABOUT THE ARTIST

Andy Mattern is a visual artist working in the expanded field of photography. His photographs and installations dissect the medium itself, reconfiguring expectations of photography's basic ingredients and conventions. His work is held in the permanent collections of the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, the New Mexico Museum of Art, and the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston, among others. His photographs and exhibitions have been reviewed in publications such as in Artforum, The New Yorker, Camera Austria, and Photonews. Currently, he serves as Associate Professor of Photography at Oklahoma State University in Stillwater. He holds an MFA in photography from the University of Minnesota and a BFA in studio art from the University of New Mexico.

Connect with Andy on his Website and Instagram!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Michael Kirchoff is a photographic artist, independent curator and juror, and advocate for the photographic arts. He has been a juror for Photolucida’s Critical Mass, and has reviewed portfolios for several fine art photographic organizations and non-profits in the U.S. and abroad. Michael has been a contributing writer for Lenscratch, Light Leaked, and Don’t Take Pictures magazine. In addition, he spent ten years (2006-2016) on the Board of the American Photographic Artists in Los Angeles (APA/LA), producing artist lectures, as well as business and inspirational events for the community. Currently, he is Editor-in-Chief at Analog Forever Magazine, Founding Editor for the photographer interview site, Catalyst: Interviews, Contributing Editor at One Twelve Publishing, and the Co-Host of The Diffusion Tapes podcast.

Connect with Michael Kirchoff on his Website and Instagram!