Gallery XII is pleased to present Moving still, an invaluable insight into the life of filmmakers through photography and text. With over four decades of experience, Lauri Gaffin intertwines stunning visuals and compelling narrative to provide a rare glimpse into the intricate world of cinema.
From indie gems like Fargo and Land of the lost to blockbuster hits such as Iron man, Gaffin’s portfolio is as diverse as it is impressive. Whether braving the frozen landscape of Edmonton or the alien deserts of the Mohave, her photographs resonate with whimsy, curiosity, and an unyielding quest for beauty. Through behind the scenes images and insightful anecdotes, she unveils the collaborative spirit that binds directors, actors, production designers, and crew members together. In her reflections on Fargo, Gaffin captures not only the creative genius of icons like Roger Deakins but also the playful chaos orchestrated by the Coen brothers. Amidst the staging of murder mysteries and the challenges of Minnesota’s unforgiving winters, her own struggles back home in California serve as a poignant reminder that career triumphs do not shield one from the realities of life.
While navigating the demands of production, including deadlines, budgets, politics, and the turmoil of family life, Gaffin’s photography remains a steadfast beacon of inspiration. Viewed through a lens that is both professional and personal, her work transcends mere documentation of films, emerging instead as a heartfelt tribute to the art of moviemaking and the transformative power of photography. As Britt Salvesen aptly describes Moving Still, it is “so much more than an illustrated filmography. It is a loving tribute to moviemaking and photography and a reflective account of self-discovery.”
This is a visual diary of my thirty-five years as a Photographer and Set Decorator for feature films. It’s also, almost accidentally, a chronicle of the emotional life I led while pursuing success in the world of makebelieve. I’ve always been an observer, and I love photography because no one can tell me how to feel when I look through the viewfinder.














