Playing with Scale: Jillian Meyer Sees People in Petals

There’s something dreamlike about a Jillian Meyer photograph. The Utah-based photographer has a way of capturing stillness that feels alive. “I think it’s really beautiful, taking the time to recognize these things that are around us all the time and making them look beautiful — but also abstract in a way,” Meyer says. “There’s some truth and a kind of circularity in it all.”

Her start was simple. “I started taking photos with my dad,” she says. “[He’s] a really talented hobbyist photographer, and when I was a teenager, we used to go to this park by where I grew up in Michigan, and we would take photos of like, birds and flowers and whatever.” Those small trips shaped her eye. “He got me a DSLR when I was 15, and I just really ran with it. Even when I just had a flip phone, I was out trying to take artistic photos,” she says. “It’s honestly been my primary hobby since then.”

“I think it’s really beautiful, taking the time to recognize these things that are around us all the time.”

That habit became something larger during the COVID-19 pandemic. “I have a degree in hospitality, and I thought, ‘Oh, I just need to do something that makes me money.’ [But] once COVID happened, I was like ‘Fuck that, I want to do this thing, and I’m going to make it happen.’”

Now, slowing down has become central to how Meyer works. “I’ve kind of appreciated the slow hands process of photography, especially since for work I’m doing digital, looking at screens all day.” For her, that contrast is central — she shoots primarily on film for personal projects. “You can’t just take a million photos — you have to think about things a lot differently,” Meyer says. “It’s such a good way to get out of your head.”

“I started taking photos with my dad. He got me a DSLR when I was 15, and I just really ran with it.”

Her film work bleeds into more experimental processes, too. “I’m pretty obsessed with cyanotypes,” she says. “It’s so easy — watercolor paper works really well, but you’re basically just blocking the sun … People use flowers and stuff.” The process, simple as it sounds, scratches a deeper creative itch. “Everything’s so quick now, and we’re expected to do so much in the time that we have,” she says. “It’s a really nice relief for my personal work to be more deliberative and thought out and slow, at my own pace.”

That curiosity eventually led Meyer and two close friends, Sarah Taylor and Angelique Strachan, to build The Red Room, a women-founded community darkroom they constructed from scratch. “We kind of all learned together,” she says. “We didn’t really, at first, plan on opening it up to the public — we just wanted a space to make art with people that inspire us.” Over time, that shared space turned into a place for others to create, too. “We just want to create an open space. Space for everyone,” she says.

“I take photos of flowers and plants, almost photographing them as people.”

These days, Meyer’s personal work leans toward nature, but not in the usual sense. “I’m having a lot of fun with this Flora project,” she says. “I’ve been using a speed light [which adds] different kinds of light to the plants … and color gels — red flash gels a lot.” The technique is careful, but her approach stays intuitive. “I think nature is such a core part of who I am,” she says. “There’s just so much we can learn from [it]. I take photos of flowers and plants, almost photographing them as people … taking the time to light the subject as if I’m taking a photo of a fashion model. There’s just something there for me.”

Meyer describes her style as “honest, but abstract.” Her compositions often play with scale — “a small silhouette against a giant mountain” — to explore that feeling of smallness she finds comforting. “The things we spend most of our life worrying about are kind of unimportant in the grand scheme,” she says. “The world is so much bigger than us, and I think that I am reminded of that most in nature. There’s this purity and innocence that comes out in all of us when we go outside and play and look at a big waterfall or mountain.”

Looking ahead, Meyer wants to exhibit more, refine her darkroom printing and keep balancing her commercial and personal work. “I’ve come to this peaceful realization that the fine art aspect can be separate from the money-making aspect,” she says. “Before, I was putting pressure on myself — like, ‘Am I going to be a full-time artist or a commercial photographer?’ And I’m like, ‘Actually, I can do both!’”

“The world is so much bigger than us, and I think that I am reminded of that most in nature.”

Through it all, Meyer’s work carries a quiet sincerity and serves as proof that slowing down can still move you forward. Keep up with Meyer by following her on Instagram at @jillianmeyerphoto. To learn more about The Red Room, visit their website, theredroomslc.com.

Read more features on local photographers:
The Bold, Bright and Beautiful World of Sharon Reza
Finding Beauty Where It Shouldn’t Be: The Work of Photographer Dom Ducote