Sometimes I shoot without any intended outcome other than to keep my eyes sharp and my control over my camera in the ready. Sometimes even those intentions go out the window, as they did on a recent jaunt through one of my favorite locations to shoot, the Rio Grande bosque. Late winter is a particularly good time to venture into the overgrowth along the river, as the temperature is pleasant, the late winter light is magical, and the lack of new spring foliage allows one to sift deeply through the remnants of dead flora. For tech dweebs, I turned the autofocus off on my camera, used a very shallow depth of field, and dragged along an external light source to fill in shadow areas. What resulted is a series of contrasty, abstract images that somehow convey the feelings I was experiencing on a late winter day. Not sure where these images fit in the grander scope of my work, but if nothing else, it felt good to follow the maxim "don't think, just shoot."
photo © Sally Mann
Worth A Thousand Words: Sally Mann
Portraiture has always confounded me. As a photographer, I’ve struggled when I’ve had to deal with actual human beings as subject matter. Especially when they are directly in front of me, posing for a formal portrait. I am just unable to capture the essence of a person through a photograph. That’s not to say that I don’t ever take pictures of people. It’s just that they tend to be in an environment, usually on the street, or part of a larger, more complex scene. At the same time, as a viewer, I am constantly drawn to a great photographic portrait. Needless to say that our western pop culture is awash in portraits, many focusing on those in power, or those with celebrity. Add to the mix the current frenzy of selfies clogging up social media platforms, and one could deduce that perhaps we’ve hit the breaking point where the whole idea of a photographic portrait has transformed into something other than a thoughtful study of not just the appearance of the subject, but also a deeper exploration of their mood, their character, their psychological makeup. Most portraits today, to my eyes, seem more self-aggrandizing, self-serving; propaganda mechanisms more than anything else.
With this cynicism in mind, I focus my gaze today on a most beautiful portrait. Titled “Black Eye” it is by a true American master, Sally Mann. Sally Mann has made a career of photographing her immediate family, most notably her children. This approach has brought her much acclaim, but also much criticism. The critics are usually from outside the photography / art worlds. The puritanical, religious “moral police” that exists in the United States have, on numerous occasions, worked themselves into a foaming-mouth frenzy over the intimate work of Mann. Their objections are almost always due to the fact that Mann has no reservation for showing her (then) young children, both male and female, in the nude. The rabid critics have dismissed the work and pornographic at worst, exploitative of innocence at best.
The image I am discussing today is of a fully clothed child, the artist’s daughter, but still has been cause for alarm by many narrow-minded critics. More on that in a few moments. Let’s take a closer look at the photograph. It is a black and white image. A young girl sits in an antique looking chair, and is positioned squarely in the middle of the frame. Her eyes are closed, her arms are crossed. She is bathed in wonderful, soft natural light, coming from a window that is in the distance, the edge shown in the photo, out of focus. The hair on the girl looks like it has been blown to the side by a sudden soft breeze. The focus on this image is interesting to me. The detail on the white lace below her neck indicates a shallow depth of field. The hair and chair shows a varying degree of focus as well. The curls of hair along the lower neck is a foil to the unkemptness of the blown hair along the top of her head. Her hands are crossed, but at ease, and they look as though they are cradling something. The wonderful downslope of her dark lips brings a certain melancholy to her appearance. And then we have the black eye. How did this happen? The zealot critics have projected evidence of child abuse onto the photo. But as we know, kids get all sorts of bumps and bruises while the explore their world. And I can help but think that her eye looks swollen due to a bug bite. Especially when you consider that Mann and her family live in rural Virginia, there are all sorts of reasons a child might be sporting a swollen, black eye.
Photos by Julia Margaret Cameron
What I find most striking about this image is its timelessness. It looks like it could have been made in the later 1800s, and reminds me of the work of Julia Margaret Cameron, with its references to Pre-Raphaelite painting, featuring limp poses and soft lighting. Mann’s photo has the same qualities. The young girl’s dress furthers this timeless atmosphere, as does the chair she sits in. The photographer has captured not only a very intimate moment, but has, though her craft, imbued the image with so much psychological power. The photo not only seems to represent a girl lost in a dream, but also feels like a dream itself. And if I dive further in the subconscious elements seen here, I could also see this as a death portrait. Her eyes are closed, her hands are crossed. Is she laid out in a coffin? Is this a display, not only to the fleeting nature of youth, but the ever present spectre of death? Now consider that this photograph was taken by the girl’s mother. The sense of serenity is one that a mother would probably know better than anyone, when seeing your young child asleep. But isn’t also a parent’s greatest fear, the death of their child? Is Mann exploring this fear with her camera? Is she challenging the viewer to take stock of their own familial relationships? Could a stranger had been able to create such a powerful image of the same young girl? I doubt that the kind of gentle touch of the artist’s lens, the intimacy of the space, the softness of the light would be available to an outsider.
It is a sad fact that women are underrepresented in the arts, and photography is no exception. Men have most times taken the spotlight as innovators, or as the heroic masters of the art world, and certainly this holds true in photography as well. But it is the work of Sally Mann that proves the value, the legitimacy and the true artistry that a woman artist can possess, and should rightfully be recognized for. I would highly recommend reading Sally Mann’s autobiography, “Hold Still.” Her family history certainly informed her artistic development, but it’s also a wonderful look at the creative process of a true photographic master.
Arizona Landscape
Desert Sentinels: an introduction
A brief sojourn into Arizona last weekend offered a nice warm respite from the winter bleaks that are settling in here in New Mexico. I am endlessly fascinated by saguaro cactii. They appear almost human to me. As one traverses through the desert landscape near Tucson and Phoenix, the saguaro are ubiquitous. Each one looks unique. Each one seems to have it's own personality. The surrounding landscape offers other visual stimuli as well. The thick desert brush is both inviting and intimidating. At certain times of the year it can be deadly as well. Still, a quick jaunt with a new lens on my camera (an 85mm f/1.8 for you techie dorks) provided the seeds of desire for a future exploration and possible new project. Here are some results of my first tentative steps into the unknown.
Looking Back, Looking Forward
As we all do around this time of year, I'm taking a few moments to reflect on the year that is wrapping up, as well as looking toward the year ahead. Personally, 2017 was a rewarding year. My creativity seemed to be in an elevated state of flow, and I was fortunate enough have some health stability back in my life, after a challenging time in the previous year.
I dove deep into self-publishing, and I discovered the book (or zine) format was a platform for my photos that I really enjoy working with. My book collaboration with Fabio Miguel Roque, tilted "Beyond / Além" was released in the spring, and we were honored to also be able to exhibit the work in September in Évora, Portugal.
I was happy to launch a new series of zines called "Flaunt the Imperfections" that will act as an outlet for my own film photography, as well as an opportunity to collaborate with other film-based photographers. A special thank you goes out to Daniel Milnor and Justin Thor Simenson for being my compatriots in ink, dots, paper and pixels.
I'm continually thrilled to be part of the Latent Image Collective. The international circle of photographers are a source of inspiration and support for my work, and the feeling of connection with these wonderful artists is something I deeply value. Our group exhibit "Ongoing Conversation," as part of PhotoSummer, was a highlight of the year. Many thanks to my photo-sister Karen Mazur for being there in the trenches with me as we mounted to show.
A huge amount of gratitude goes out to Rocky Norton, who generously opened his studio space to me in October to show my "Covered Cars" series and release my limited edition zine.
Rounding out the year, I was proud to release my book of color photographs from New York City. I am so thankful for everyone who purchased the book. Your support keeps me motivated to create.
2017 has been a year of challenges for most of the world. There are so many social / economic / political issues that are creating divisions, pain and hatred... it is impossible not to be affected by it all. I have felt it as well, and have noticed this pessimism has crept into my work. I am by nature an optimist, but have struggled this year to see the light. This struggle has affected my photography, and the new work I've been focussing on definitely shows it.
I've also been reassessing my relationship with social media. I cannot deny that it has been helpful in my promotion of my photography, especially Facebook. I am so deeply entwined in that platform, that I can't honestly imagine deleting my account. I use it to communicate with my fellow Collective members, I keep up with creatives around the world; the self-publishers, artists, photographers, musicians... not to mention friends near and far. It is double edged sword, but still, the good outweighs the bad...if ever so slightly.
Instagram, on the other hand, is something I need to step away from. I find it too detrimental to my creativity and my self-worth to stay engaged with it. Instagram is like a night at a dance club, hoping you meet someone, but no one even buys you a drink, and all you get are catcalls on the way to your car. It's like going for a quick cheap laugh with a pun, as opposed to writing a 5-minute monologue. It's like eating a handful of Pop Rocks. The pursuit of "likes" is futile and unfulfilling and does nothing but fuck with my ego. I don't need it. So I'm saying goodbye to that. I will most likely leave my page up so folks can stumble upon it, but I just can't add to the endless stream of easily scrollable, easily swiped, easily dismissed images any longer.
I have many ideas to pursue in 2018, but I am too realistic to make any resolutions. Instead, I wrote a list and pinned it to the wall in my office. Things I hope to accomplish. Goals I believe I can achieve. With good health, financial stability, the love and support of my amazing wife, as well as the support of all of you who are reading this, I will take a stab at it. May your new year be one of health and satisfaction and peace.
Home / Light
You can travel the world, wander unknown streets, searching for the exotic, or, you can stay in your own home and let the light guide you to something just as intriguing.
Along the Rio Grande
A River Runs Through It
Those of us who live in New Mexico know the importance of the Rio Grande. One of its values is the wonderful, (mostly) undeveloped nature of the bosque that adorns its banks. The bosque offers a respite from the urban life of Albuquerque, and yet exists within minutes of the city itself. It's a thicket of salt cedar, fallen branches, various flowers and grasses, jetty jacks and the abundant cottonwood trees, which at this time of year, explode into yellow and gold. Today was a perfect, overcast day, so the wife and I headed out for a quick wander. Except for temporarily straying into an extremely muddy patch (as is evident in the photo of my destroyed Chuck Taylors) the day rewarded us with many sights and sounds. Of course, I decided to capture the glorious colors of autumn in black and white.
"Self and Shadow" near Cabezon Peak, New Mexico
Quo vadimus
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.
Gratitude: God Is In The Details
Many thanks to everyone who came by for my pop-up photo exhibit this weekend, and to those who purchased my zine or a framed print. I am grateful and humbled by your support and interest in my work. Extra special gratitude to Rocky Norton, a true artist and creative force of nature, for opening his studio space to me. While I had some time gallery-sitting, I was able to explore a bit of Rocky's world. They say God is in the details, and if so, he / she wears a coat of many colors.
Photograph © 1958 by Robert Frank
Worth A Thousand Words: Robert Frank
Up to this point, I’ve been hesitant to write any words about Robert Frank, for a number of reasons. Most of them are rooted in my deep love of his work and the profound influence he has had on my own image making. How do I pay due respect to an artist so important to me? Can I be objective when writing about a particular image of his? Another challenge would be deciding which of his images would I focus my attention on? There are just too many touchstone Robert Frank photographs to choose from. Nonetheless, with a looming exhibit of my own, it made sense to try to write about this week’s image “Covered Car, Long Beach, California.”
So, what do we see in this photograph? It is a car, covered in some kind of white fabric. The car is parked between two thick palm trees. Shadows from the trees are cast upon a plain looking, boxy building, the wall of which look covered in a dark stucco. The light seems like late afternoon to me. The composition is slightly off kilter, just slightly tilting to the right. The fabric that covers the car has an almost striped appearance to it, the result of bands that are stitched together. The contrast is somewhat stark, with the white of the cover offset by the deep shadows on the wall, and the tufts of palm leaves on the trees. All in all, a fairly non-complex photograph at first glance.
What is not seen in the photo? Well, this is an urban environment, but there are no people seen in the shot. And we of course assume there is a car under the tarp, being able to recognize the shape of the chassis, and the distinct poke of an antenna pushing up the covering as well. The next question I ask myself is why did Frank take this photo? It appears in his seminal book “The Americans” which creates a context for a deeper interpretation of the image. Frank explored the subject matter of the automobile extensively throughout the book. When Frank was shooting the photographs that eventually became "The Americans," the automobile was seen as a key component to the post-WW2 westward expansion in the United States, and was a symbol of freedom and mobility for a growing middle-class society. The fact that the car is covered brings what seems to me an elegiac quality; quite a mournful feeling to this image. Coupled with the fact that the lighting indicates late in the day, nearing sunset, I get a distinct feeling that there is an intrinsic sadness to this image. The car becomes a body covered, something to be mourned, hidden, and prepared for some kind of death. Of course, this is my personal projection on to the image, but if an astute viewer were to look at the photo in the context of where it appears in “The Americans” one would make a similar leap.
The image appears in a sequence of the book that begins with a close up, side view of two men in the front seat of a car, “US 91, leaving Blackfoot, Idaho.” Here we see the car as a means of escape, with Frank a passenger in a very tight front seat with two mean who look as though the are fleeing a crime scene. Next is an image of five elderly people sitting on a roadside bench, titled “St. Petersburg, Florida.” In the background, we see a car speeding by, slightly blurred. Is this a rumination on death, the life that is soon to be leaving these people speeding behind them as they wait for the inevitable? The “covered car” photo is the next image in the sequence. The photo that then immediately follows shows the aftermath of a car accident, with a group of four people standing beside the blanket covered remains of what is surely a dead body. The covered body echoing the covered par in the previous image. To complete this run of images, we see a long view of a lonely highway in New Mexico, stretching off into the far distance, with just a lone car driving towards us, seen very far off in a dark, foreboding environment, under a threatening sky. Seen as a whole, this sequence of images tells a sad story of life and death intertwined with the presence or influence of the automobile.
Photograph © 1958 by Robert Frank
My own fascination with covered cars stems directly from the image made by Robert Frank. My approach to the subject matter is quite different. For one, I chose to show the cars in color. I have taken a clinical, studied approach to the subject matter, and have assembled well over fifty of such images, to date. I am fascinated when I look at them as a group of photos, when the variety of covers and locations become a foil to the consistency of the subjects. Yet, there is still that initial feeling of sadness that permeates the images I make. These vehicles are covered for reasons I don’t ever really know. Are they classic cars that require protection from the elements? Are the windows busted and leaking, requiring covering to protect the interior? Is the vehicle evidence of some crime? Has an accident occurred? They often look like Christ-like bodies, covered in shrouds. Or perhaps they represent something desirable yet hidden from view, their covering providing a layer of mystery and intrigue.
It is amazing to me that so many of these covered cars reveal themselves to me as I travel my home city, but also in locations that I travel to. They seem to be everywhere once I start looking for them. They serve as a constant reminder of the influence that Robert Frank has had on my work, and send a silent message of kinship and solidarity to me as I pursue my work. As the master has said, “The eye should learn to listen before it looks.” I am constantly listening and looking, too.
Addendum: I recently recorded a podcast about Robert Frank. Give it a listen!
Beyond Words, Beyond Expectations
Sometimes it takes a while to realize that you have made a good choice in your life's direction. Over two years ago, I decided to take my personal photography more seriously. One thing that I always dreamed of doing, but never had the guts to attempt, was an artist residency. So, in early 2015, I mustered the courage to apply for an opportunity to spend a month in the city of Porto, Portugal. My focus on Portugal was partly due to my connection with fellow photographer, Fabio Miguel Roque. He is based in Sintra, just outside of the capital of Lisbon. We are both members of the Latent Image Collective, and though we had never met in person, I was excited to finally connect and spend some time shooting together. Long story short, I was invited for a residency at De Liceiras 18, and spent a month focussing on my personal photographic work. I also spent two days shooting with Fábio, and our creative bonds deepened as a result.
Fast forward to October 2016. Fábio and I were looking for a project to collaborate on long-distance. We devised a plan to shoot simultaneously for 24 hours, each of us taking a solo, photographic road trip, each wandering without a set plan into the desert near our homes. We would share the results of the trip in a joint publication. We released the book "Beyond / Além" last year, and hoped that we could one day exhibit the work. That hope will be realized this weekend in Évora, Portugal.
I am so thrilled to be able to share the walls of a gallery with my friend and collaborator, and it stands as a tangible manifestation of the idea we had months ago. What is even more meaningful to me is that first step I took outside of my comfort zone, the decision to travel to Portugal in the first place, has reaped so many benefits for me personally and creatively.
The show opens this Saturday at the Palácio de D. Manuel in Évora. I received the text from the program, that was written by Eduardo Luciano, Councilor for Culture of the Municipality of Évora. I'd like to share it here, as it is an insightful analysis of the work that Fábio and I created. I am honored and humbled by these words.
“Only art could unite two realities that are two thousand kilometers away, and yet they feel so close. From these images we can perceive that the ocean that separates is, above all, the ocean that also unites us, just as the bridge that we share may be the element we need to overcome and to reach the other. The aridity, the loneliness, the paths that the work of these two photographers explore, seem to go nowhere. Yet, there have the common features: the existence of humans, both in the American desert and in the Alentejo. We look at the two realities from a point so far and yet so close, via the sensitivity of these two artists.
This exhibition is a challenge of reading reality, above prejudices and against prejudices. In a world where the unknown is the engine of our fear and in which there is a growing temptation to mortgage freedom on behalf of a false security, Fábio Miguel Roque and Nick Tauro Jr. show us, in an impressive way, the deep similarities that bind us.
The Municipality of Évora could not fail to accept and promote this universalist approach to space, as it explores the aesthetic convergence of two naturally divergent environments. It is our duty, as a public service, to promote unrest, stave off the doldrums, question certainties, and discuss the unknown. Without fear and knowing that the “invisible city”, that Italo Calvino brilliantly put into the words of Marco Polo, it will be whenever our imagination allows.
Welcome to the journey, welcome to the paths that lead us to the “other” landscape. So that the difficulty of finding it is not as difficult as José Samarago enunciated in his speech before accepting the Nobel Prize, “one arrives more easily at Mars than at our own fellow human.” Perhaps art is the map that enables the trip to the universe of the other, and is more pleasant and shorter than the hypothetical arrival to Mars.”
Click on the images above to see the program from the exhibit.