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Nick Tauro Jr.

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2022: 7 Back to the Desert

February 12, 2022

Sometimes you have to throw caution to the wind and act impulsively. I am far from that kind of person, in all honesty. I labor over decisions and choices, looking at things from every possible angle before making up my mind.

*Note: maybe most of the time… perhaps that is why I love doing improv…thinking on my feet, in the moment…

In any event, this past weekend, I made a Saturday evening decision to jump in the car early on Sunday and drive the 6+ hours out to Tucson, Arizona. My long-term project shooting the saguaro cactus was in need of some “winter shooting” and I had a small window in my schedule. So, with the blessing of my wife, who is woodshedding in prep for a solo concerto, I headed out of town…camera in tow.

The skies were clear, the temps were warm…hardly the winter experience I was hoping for. Still, the light at golden hour (sunrise and sunset) was beautiful, and my Holgawide pinhole camera did not disappoint. Plus, I avoided the spiky surprises of the unnoticed cactus ripping into my flesh for this visit, so that’s a win, for sure.

Not sure how many more visits to the saguaro this project will require, but the silence of daybreak over the desert, with the sun peeking over the ridge of a distant mountain, not another person to be seen or heard… that is something I will treasure every time and is reason enough to return.

Experimenting with film, double exposures and Procreate. Pushing pixels is not a crime.

In film photography, thoughts, weekly blog Tags long term project, cactus, tucson, holga, pinhole photography, road trip, arizona
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2021:39 Why?

October 2, 2021

I just returned from a short road trip to the desert outside of Tuscon, Arizona. I was working on a long-term project, shooting the mighty saguaro cacti. The early fall days provided great light, and the nights were cool enough that a sleeping bag was welcome. I fell asleep to the sounds of coyotes yipping away in the distance. Not a bad trip at all.

So that is the reason ”why” I took the trip. On the way out and back, I of course shot the obligatory “road trip” photos. Somewhere into hour number 7 of the drive home, I went into deep thought mode. Why did I take these photos of old signs, rest stops, etc? Why? Really. We all do it, to some extent. Is it ruin porn? Is it a trope? Is it a cliche? This subject matter is like photographic catnip. Yet there is no good reason for me to take these photos. No good reason to share them, either. But I’m doing both. Why? Is there poetry in decay? Is there a feeling of superiority of not living in a place like this? Newsflash: I do live in a place like this. I’m a sucker for rust and dirt and sun bleached hues. I admit that. Folks come from far and wide to see and shoot these scenes. I don’t take my proximity for granted. But I really don’t know why I continue to take these kinds of photos.

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I rail against the sameness I see on social media. I get frustrated by the perfection of digital image making. I shoot pinhole cameras, or use a busted lens to free myself of the obligation of the perfect, pristine image. And yet… and yet, I use my posh new iPhone to capture the same eye candy that any other novelty seeking photographer would capture. I don’t know why I do it, but I do it. My phone and my hard drive are filled with these kinds of images. I don’t think they’ll ever amount to anything other than taking up digital storage space. But I still take these pictures. I can blame Walker Evans, or William Eggleston for this trend, but I still choose take part. So here I share, guilty as charged. Don’t ask me why.


Postscript: found this great snippet of Henry Wessel Jr. that adds some fuel to my fire…

In thoughts, weekly blog Tags why, thoughts, road trip, arizona, color photography, eggleston
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It’s time to shoot some film.

It’s time to shoot some film.

2021: 38 Heading South and West

September 25, 2021

Hard to believe that it was five months ago that I took my springtime road trip to the desert of Arizona. I am about to embark on another journey to spend some quality time with my cameras among the saguaro outside of Tucson. Guessing it will still be warm during the day, but hoping for a change in the light and the flora and fauna since my April visit. Plenty of film to expose, plenty of cameras to play with, and a new whip to carry it all in style and comfort. Very excited to move forward on the next phase of this ongoing project. As long as the spiders and snakes and javelinas behave, I should be in good shape.

In weekly blog Tags arizona, tucson, saguaro, road trip, film photography, desert

2020: 37 - Road Trip Reflections: Albuquerque > Tucumcari > Southwestern Kansas > Southeast Colorado and the long drive home

September 5, 2020

Three days alone in a car. Cameras, film, a tent, a cooler, Spotify, Podcasts and my mind to keep me company. Time to think, to look, to stop and go as I please. To eat bad road food, to pitch a tent for the night, build a fire, drink cold beer from the cooler, stare at the flames, stare at the rising full moon. I’m not sure why I was drawn to explore the area I travelled through. Kansas was one of the few states I hadn’t yet set foot in, so there was that. I had imagined a certain type of environment. I had assumed it would be flat farmland (partly correct.) I also expected small town America to show it’s “oddness” to me. I also knew I was heading into a “red” state, and I was reminded numerous times that this was the case. I think it was Greil Marcus who coined the term “old, weird America.” I thought I might see some of that as I wandered. Alas, I did not. I did shoot a few rolls of film, not sure if there will be anything of merit or worth on these rolls, but we’ll see.

I started out of Albuquerque and took I-40 west to the town of Tucumcari. I’ve always held a soft spot in my heart for Tucumcari, and it seems I pass through there every five years or so. Not much changes. Or if it does change, it’s not for the better. There is a sadness that hangs over the town. Old Route 66 still crops up here, amidst the decay and neglect. I once had a fantasy of buying one of the old brick buildings in the middle of town, and opening up a photo studio, or a gallery, or some kind of “off the grid” type of destination, ala Marfa, Texas. Maybe when I have a million dollars to spare I might still do it. I shot about a roll of film while in Tucumcari, and I realized that I am drawn to decay, to debris, to old remnants of a past glory. Sounds cliché, I know. 

Look, I am able to recognize beauty in the world, even stand in awe of it. The sublime is something I’ve surrendered to. But I just can’t get excited to photograph it. I don’t think I could come close to being able to accurately represent it anyway. I can, and do, document the crumbling world, the dashed hopes, the sadness and depression that reflects out from my soul. That sounds too morose, especially considering that I consider myself an optimist, after all. I have come close a few times to losing hope, but I cling to it still. Glass half full. Yet even my attempts at exploring beauty through my work has my grubby fingerprints all over it. Black and white, blurs and grain, high contrast, scratches and dust and flares. I struggle to think of any reasons why a person would strictly photograph pretty scenery and make nice, pretty pictures. I just can’t do it, and I rarely want to look at it either. 

I realize my particular approach to creating images is a well-worn path. Sometimes it feels like the flavor of the month when I peruse Instagram or watch YouTube videos. Everyone seems to be shooting film with an old camera. Everyone is looking for the urban decay of the desert, of old broken capitalism. The Salton Sea, Route 66, neon signs and old rusty cars. Abandoned buildings falling down in a wind-swept desert. I’ve done my part to add to the myth. I’m waiting for a new way for seeing to arrive in my brain, focus (or un-focus) my eyes and see the world in a different way. I’m unsure it will happen. There is truly nothing new under the sun. 

My way of seeing may be unique to myself, but it does sometimes look like I’m just repeating tropes down often (and often times better) by others. I yearn to create images that look like only I could have taken them. I yearn to take images that are extraordinary. Not meaning superior, but truly extra ordinary. I stop myself from pressing the shutter plenty of times when I catch myself repeating a well-worn cliché. I think I am drawn to film photography because it still retains an element of surprise. I never really know what I’m getting in the frame until I see the film, hours or days or weeks later. I have embraced pinhole photography lately because it pushes even a modicum of planning and expectation right out the window. When I open the shutter on the wooden box camera, and count to 5 or 10 making an exposure, I am aware that I am in a moment, unrepeating and unrepeatable. No two exposures will look the same. Others may have shot from the same exact spot that I am standing on right at that moment, but my picture will not look like theirs, nor theirs mine. This is what drives me to continue.

My birthday just passed, and I used it as an opportunity to reflect on my age and my mortality. I don’t know if I’ll have one more day  to live, or 40 more years. When I’m gone, will anyone give two shits about my photographs? I’m betting no. My thoughts? Maybe a few curiosity seekers who go down a google enabled rabbit hole will stumble upon my psychobabble. It’s clear I do these things for my own gratification, though I’m grateful when anyone else pays attention. Even more so when they reach out and share a thought about a photo or a passage I’ve written.

So back to the road trip. Kansas… corn fields and wheat fields for miles and miles. Small towns with little houses, Trump signs and American flags everywhere. Dots on the map that are home to grain silos and 24 /7 filling stations and not much more. As a suburban / city boy, I guess I needed to see this land for myself at least once in my life. Heck, this is where our food comes from, at least a good chunk of the processed stuff we rely on. This is farmland and cattle land and railroad land. Built by sturdy folks who came and took from the land… after taking it from the original inhabitants of this land. This is the place that was called “Bleeding Kansas” right before the Civil War. This is the place where the struggle for workers rights and progressive politics has been usurped by a unique brand of conservatism. Jesus. Guns. And the soil. Not weird, old America for sure. Confusing new America, perhaps. 

Even when I crossed the border into Colorado, not much changed. Not the signs or the flags or the farms, or the dots on the map. It wasn’t until I could see the Rockies, off in the distance as I approached Trinidad, CO that things started to feel familiar again. And as I crossed the Raton Pass and re-entered New Mexico, I immediately felt like I was back in my place again. Even though I was still hundreds of miles from home. I’m guessing the non-Anglo elements of New Mexico’s population, along with its tough economic luck, and a scrappy, defiant mentality helped create a diverse place that just feels right to me. It is still “weird” here. Maybe ominously so, sometimes. When the sun goes down, there is still a sense of foreboding I haven’t felt in other places. Certainly not in places as strikingly beautiful as here. My muse seems to dance freely here in the desert. She dances to slow sad songs, I guess.

In film photography, thoughts Tags route 66, road trip, film photography, existentialism, coronavirus, thoughts
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A still from the new Beloved video, shot by Dean Mitchell

A still from the new Beloved video, shot by Dean Mitchell

2020: 18 (Maybe Love Will Save Us)

May 2, 2020

All this time in lockdown has made me itch for a long road trip, to where…it doesn’t matter. Open highway, my camera sitting in the passenger seat, and a set of great songs on the stereo. The romance of the endless drive, with time to think, to see, to sing out loud…to feel free; these are part of our American birthright. Unfortunately, these thoughts are just dreams right now, but I can take a momentary escape, via the new video by Beloved.

The song is titled “Burning Van (Maybe Love Will Save Us) and it perfectly encapsulates the feeling of driving down some New Mexico back road, the windows rolled down, the hot summer air swirling through your hair, the stereo cranked up, the sun shining a path to the horizon. David Garcia and his wife Nikelle are the beating heart of Beloved, and the vocals and violin (that they respectively bring to the track) create a lovely dance that winds its way into your soul. I’ve been privileged to see the development of Beloved from up close, and this latest track shows the band on confident, new ground.

The new video, beautifully shot by Dean Mitchell, is a visual love letter to the quintessential New Mexico experience, the summer road trip. And even thought lyrically the song may be a somber ode to loss and the fragility of things we care for, it is also, ultimately, a song of hope. I dare you to sing along with the “la la la la”s at the end of the tracking not have a big smile on your face while doing it. Maybe we’re not done for after all.

Watch the video below:

In press Tags Beloved, music video, friends, road trip, music
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Beloved: The Cabin Sessions; 12 inch square hardcover book, 8 inch square softcover book, and gatefold CD.

Beloved: The Cabin Sessions; 12 inch square hardcover book, 8 inch square softcover book, and gatefold CD.

Creative Collaboration: The Cabin Sessions

January 30, 2018

I'm really excited to announce the imminent release of my next photo publishing project. The soon to be available book is titled "Beloved: The Cabin Sessions." My good friend David Garcia has assembled Beloved; a tight and talented circle of New Mexico musicians to help create his first musical release. I am honored that David has asked me to collaborate on all the visual components for the upcoming release. This includes CD and vinyl LP artwork, which is cool all by itself. The release will also include a book of my photographs, that are combined with the lyrics of David's amazing songs. We are awaiting the release of our deluxe edition 12" square, hardcover bound book. It contains 54 pages of images and words, and it is the result of a wonderful collaboration between myself and David. He has given me full creative freedom to not only choose the photos, but also to layout the book. My art is featured prominently throughout, and some of my "behind the scenes" photos of the band's recording sessions are featured as well. David will have a limited number of the hardcover book for sale, starting at the album release show on February 3rd here in Albuquerque. We are also producing a lower cost, 8" square, soft cover version of the book, which I will have copies available to purchase on my online shop after the launch gig.

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I can't stress enough the value of print on demand platforms like Blurb and MagCloud. They have allowed me to create this amazing project, with David's help, in a very timely and cost effective manner. The quality of the printed pieces, especially the hardcover book, are truly impressive. We took inspiration from an "art" book Wilco released a few years back. The idea was to have my photographs match tangentially to David's lyrics. There is so much common ground between his words and my images. The American West, the long lonely highways, dreams of hope, and the realities of loss... all factor into the resulting book. The cover design is also a nod to U2's "Achtung Baby" album, which might go without saying if you are familiar with that iconic album. 

The power of collaborating with like-minded creatives, regardless of their area of expression, cannot be stressed enough. Sometimes we need to crawl from our solitary creative cocoon to produce our art. The sum is indeed greater than the parts.

In book Tags photobook, self publish, blurb, magcloud, beloved, david garcia, albuquerque, road trip
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"Self and Shadow" near Cabezon Peak, New Mexico

"Self and Shadow" near Cabezon Peak, New Mexico

Quo vadimus

October 24, 2017

I had the pleasure of taking a day-long road trip with my good friend Bob Ayre this past weekend. Bob knows New Mexico like the back of his hand, so it was a treat to let him guide me into uncharted territory in the northwest part of the state. My Fiat would never have survived some of the unpaved back roads we traversed, and I probably would have chickened out heading down some of the routes by myself. With Bob at the helm, I saw some difficult to reach locations for the first time. Here's a sample of our journey. Thank you, Bob.

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In photography, thoughts Tags road trip, black and white photography, new mexico
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"Beyond / Além" : My newest book project

April 12, 2017

I am very pleased to announce the release of my new photo book. It is a collaboration with my good friend Fábio Miguel Roque, a wonderful photographer, based in Portugal. We each set out to shoot on October 22, 2016, each taking a solo road trip, departing from our homes at midnight, and shot over the next full 24 hours. The resulting book contains twenty four images from each of us, and the book is designed to feature each of our series in a unique manner. The book reads as an English version, featuring my photos, and if you flip the book over, it reads as a Portuguese version, with Fabio's photos featured. Two books in one!

The books will be available for purchase starting on April 15, 2017. we only printed twenty four copies, so this will be extremely limited edition. International buyers can purchase through Fabio's website The Unknown Books, and US buyers can purchase via my store. Local Albuquerque buyers can contact me for in person purchases. I am proud of the project that Fábio and I have created, and I hope you all like the work. 

Sample spread by Fabio Miguel Roque (left) and Nick Tauro Jr. (right)

Sample spread by Fabio Miguel Roque (left) and Nick Tauro Jr. (right)

Tags photography, photobook, black and white photography, road trip, portugal, fabio miguel roque, nick tauro jr, new mexico