Photos tell stories with a cinematic quality

Friday, March 9, 2007 | 7:03 a.m.

It's no surprise that Tim Roda gets asked if he has a film background.

There is a cinematic quality to his work. The theatrics, the lighting, the props - it's as if you've walked into a frozen moment of an ongoing narrative.

There are stories in his shadowy photographs that are made timeless by the black and white and sometimes grainy prints on fiber matte paper.

A man serves breakfast to his son in his New York apartment. A family of Italian immigrants, dressed for travel in vintage clothes, rests on concrete bricks, their suitcase before them.

Roda uses his wife and son to play out the scenes set mostly amid industrial props, found materials and tattered environments.

The images shot with a 35 mm camera border on art and real life. They're staged, but documentary, dramatic and sometimes subtle. He works in his Harlem studio during the day while his son, Ethan, is in school. After school his wife, Allison, picks up their son and brings him to the studio. She snaps the photo, they tear down the set and go home for dinner. The industrial props reference immigrant jobs. Fabricated apartment settings offer a sense of history.

"Everything derives from a memory. Sometimes my son is me when I was little," the 29-year-old artist says. "A lot of my work is generational. My grandparents came over from Italy and had working-class jobs. I wasn't there so I can only imagine what it was like."

Roda's exhibit "Family Matters" is on display through May 6 at Charleston Heights Arts Center.

His artistic background is in ceramics. The photography came when he was shooting his figurative pieces for gallery exhibitions. It was then, he says, "I realized that I could start building a context to say what I wanted to say, but stronger."

Roda has been doing the photos for four years. Scenes are played out among utility lamps, ropes, lumber, bed springs, mismatched furniture or strange contraptions. The mood conveys only a sense of being. There is no joy or lack of joy.

There are no smiles. "We have a rule in our photos: 'Don't smile,' " Roda says. "Smiling hides some of how you really feel at that moment."

He refers to himself as a visual artist, rather than a storyteller.

But it's the stories that drive him: "Once you come to America, the first generation of kids tries to fit in, then the next generation tries to find its identity."

Details: "Family Matters," through May 6, Charleston Heights Arts Center Gallery, 800 S. Brush St., free, 229-1012.

Rebranding Holsum

A few months ago tenants at Holsum Lofts realized that "lofts" didn't actually describe what was happening at the refurbished bread factory at 231 W. Charleston Blvd.

So they rebranded the building, calling it the Holsum Design Center, a name that appears to be more fitting.

The Art & Soul gallery and boutique is gone. Tager Gallery and L Maynard Galleries are gone. Spaces that are filled are design-related - Bergamo Fabrics, Colours Inc. and One11, a branding firm that fills out the main space in the building.

Central Kitchen & Bath Studios is still there and Mario Industries Inc., a family-owned lighting manufacturer in Virginia, just opened a Las Vegas showroom in the Holsum Design Center.

But some older tenants are concerned. "We opened with the understanding that it was going to be an art and retail-driven space," says James Drewry at Lyn Peri Collections. "Ever since (the galleries) have closed, First Friday numbers have gone down."

Business is slow. On the other hand, he says, the design units might help draw attention to the store.

Anne Kellogg, who owns the stationery boutique, Las Vegas Paper Doll, sees it as a positive change, saying that she would rather see healthy businesses than shops with inconsistent hours.

Regarding the name, she says, "It's awesome. It has a lot more cha-cha-cha. People see the word 'lofts' and think residential. It didn't convey what this property is. It didn't say 'destination.' "

In addition to the recent changes, the mood at Holsum is a little dim right now. Eugene Keslow, owner of the Charleston Grill, died March 1 of pancreatic cancer. Tenants are saddened and say that he'll be missed. Kimberly Arruda, manager of the Charleston Grill, says the restaurant won't be closing and that it will stay as it is.