2019: 3 (Film)

January 19, 2019

I spent some time this week experimenting with a combination of 35mm film shot inside a few medium format cameras. The Agfa Clack is a 6x9 film camera that is about as low tech as you can get, but still having the benefit of a glass lens. I ran a roll of black and white film through this camera, but the results were below my expectations, even for something I would consider an “experiment.” I also ran a roll of 35mm film through my Russian tank, a Kiev 6C. Have not gotten that roll developed yet, but should be interesting to see the result of a wide angle Jena lens and a 6cm wide frame throwing imagery onto 35mm film.

I’m glad to have a lab in the city that still processes film, a big thanks to Picture Perfect Photo Lab for helping to feed my need for film based photography in 2019. Besides the 35mm / medium format rolls, I also had them process a roll of film I shot in the bosque along the Rio Grande sometime in 2018, a strip of which you can see above. These images will be part of a big project that will be revealed later this year… tease…. tease. Man, I am happy my scanner still works.

2019: 2 (Riding For The Feeling)

January 12, 2019

Trying to do one good thing a day to further along my creative practices.

This week included doing a small architectural photo shoot for a friend, which I found surprisingly enjoyable. Put my ultra-wide angle lens to good use.

Trying to bring my recent trip to Naples into tangible focus by working on a layout for my next self-publishing venture. Can’t stop, won’t stop.

On a related note, improv classes up in Santa Fe resumed this week. It’s a joy to play with nothing but thoughts in my head. I know there are correlations between my photography and my improv; I see it in my layouts for sure. I also see the irony of writing about improv (yes, and…) and posting a photo that blatantly speaks the opposite. Such is life, always opposing viewpoints, so often at the same time.

2019: 1 (So This Is The New Year)

January 5, 2019

Thoughts and Observations

Two snowstorms over the holidays, one on New Years Day. Rare sight for the middle of Albuquerque to see to roads completely covered and impassable. Spent the holiday with a fire in in the fireplace, drink in hand, occasionally looking out the window as the flakes drifted downward. Took a walk in the evening and enjoyed the silence. Not a bad way to start the year.

I’ll be making an effort to expand my photo book library this year, and with Photo-Eye less than an hour drive away, I’m guessing the jones will be easy enough to feed. I picked up a few titles to get the pump primed. I finally purchased a copy of Robert Frank’s The Lines of My Hand. A nice bridge from The Americans to his later work, and the printing by Steidl is outstanding. I also picked up a copy of Takuma Nakahira’s Overflow. Not very familiar with his work, but I read somewhere he was an “arch rival” of Daido Moriyama (who I adore) so I was intrigued to check out some of his work. The layout of this book is jarring, yet I found much inspiration from how the structure of the page spreads were broken from a conventional constraints of “one picture per page” approach. I plan on hijacking this idea for my next self-publishing project, coming sooner than you think.

I finally replaced my “backup” camera. Goodbye to the constraints of iso 1600. If you’re wondering, I bought a Canon T7i (gearheads be damned) with a sweet, ultra wide angle lens. I can’t wait to play with it, and shoot fast and loose, like God intended.

While shaking the cobwebs off of my brain to come up with a project for the year, I contemplated a few ideas. Maybe shoot a different film camera a month, or one roll of film a week for a year. But maybe the most realistic way to stay on some kind of routine is just simply write down my thoughts on a weekly basis. No pressure, no expectations beyond just sticking to this commitment. A tip of the hat to my friend Justin, who is a far better writer than I am; he did a similar thing a couple of year’s back, and I always enjoyed reading what he had on his mind from week to week. So here we go.

Arrivederci, 2018

December 31, 2018

Like most people, I like to take a moment on New Year’s Eve to reflect back upon the year as it comes to an end. This has been a very rewarding year for me creatively, and it feels appropriate that I spend some time sharing my gratitude. Even though the world seems like it’s often teetering towards chaos and confusion, there is still hope for good things to happen, for real connections to be made with other people, for celebrating our commonalities, and for some brazen optimism in the face of doubt and uncertainty.

So, in no order of importance:

Gratitude towards my good friend, David Garcia. We spend an amazing weekend at the Sundance Film Festival, where we hatched the idea of collaborating on a music / photography project, released in the early months of 2018 as The Cabin Sessions.

Gratitude towards all the guys at the Tuesday Night Photo Book Geek Club, spearheaded by my photo compatriot Justin Thor Simenson, whose prolific self-publishing efforts remained a constant inspiration for me.

Grateful for the opportunity to spend time on an extended work assignment in New York City, even though they were dark days for me emotionally, they were productive and rewarding photographically.

Grateful for the Albuquerque chamber music organization Chatter, for allowing me to collaborate on a musical performance by Flutebot at the Albuquerque Museum in August. The resulting zine and projections were a challenging and satisfying experience for me.

Grateful for the three weeks traveling through Italy with my incredible wife, eating and photographing from Rome to Naples, from Puglia to Sicily.

Grateful for the following for sharing my photography with their audiences this year: Edge of Humanity, Click Magazine, Photo/Foto Magazine, Shifter Media, Funzilla Zine Fest, Lux the Zine, and the Photographic Mercadillo.

My deepest, heartfelt thanks to the wonderful ladies at the Magazzini Fotografici in Naples, Italy. They literally made a dream come true for me by presenting my work “Rodeo Nights” as a solo show. I was thrilled to be able to attend the opening, and spend a week in their great city. It was an incredible way to finish off the year.

Lastly, I would like to thank everyone who has visited this website, purchased a print, book or zine from me, shared words of encouragement, collaborated with me, challenged me creatively, or inspired me through their own work. I am deeply, deeply grateful to all of you.

2019 is already shaping up to be a great one, as I’ve got a couple of long-term projects that will finally see the light of day. I look forwarding to sharing it with all of you. I wish you health, happiness and creativity in the coming year.

The Fertile Void

September 7, 2018

The past month or so has been a time of in-between activities for me. A pause. A deep breath. Things in the past have the dust finally settling. Solid things on the horizon seem at a comfortable distance. Now has been a time of tinkering, playing, testing out new ideas. Trying different formats to shoot with, new ways of presenting my work, new methods for making photographs.

I have a disposition to get bored easily. When given just a small amount of "too much time on my hands" I can easily slide into ennui. I become impatient, I think that I'm wasting time, squandering a precious resource. I am trying to be at ease with these moments, to embrace the lower hum of obligations and expectations. In regards to my personal artwork, I am using this time to try new things that may or may not inform future projects.

There are a variety of interpretations or definitions for the idea of "The Fertile Void." I like to think of it as that time in between, when nothing can become something. When the "pause" is an undefined first step in the "next thing."

Lannan Foundation in Santa Fe, New Mexico. June 2018

Thoughts on "Teju Cole: Blind Spot"

June 29, 2018

Why do we take photographs? What is it that first draws our eyes and then creates the impulse to capture the image with a camera? At that exact moment, what does the camera see that our eyes do not? And afterwards, when we look at the resulting image, what do we see then? What evidence emerges from the photograph that wasn't there before? What stories do our photographs have embedded within? What thoughts are jarred loose from our subconscious mind when we gaze at the image we created? What latent meaning is there now that wasn't evident previously?

These questions, and many more, swirled around in my head as I viewed to exhibit "Teju Cole: Blind Spot" at the Lannan Foundation in Santa Fe. On display was a selection of photographs and text, pulled from a much larger body of work that was published as a hardcover book last year. The strength of this work lies in the equal footing that both the photographs and the accompanying text maintain. Often times, text can seem at odds with the images in an exhibit, especially when the texts are on small placards near the bottom of the frame, or if the statements are plastered on the wall near the entrance of the gallery. The work here has the texts sharing the frame with the photos. This approach mimics the book, allowing the viewer to consider the image and the author's thoughts in a more immediate manner.

The words provoke the viewer to go deeper into the individual images. Some of the photographs may seem mundane at first glance. The focal point not always apparent. The question of "why did he take this photo?" is often puzzling and unclear until one reads the text. Then, whole new avenues of understanding open up. Sometimes the texts themselves are only tangentially related to what we are seeing in the photos. In these moments, it seems the photos become more of an accompaniment to the words, and not vice versa.

The photos, taken in many different locations around the world, have a casualness to them that sometimes speaks to what William Eggleston referred to as the "democratic" quality of photography. Meaning a "democracy of vision, through which he represents the most mundane subjects with the same complexity and significance as the most elevated."

“If we are sighted, we tend not to notice the differentiated acts of looking and seeing. The given is that looking and seeing are central, but distinct to the process of picture-making.”

— photographer Thomas Joshua Cooper

If you are anywhere near Santa Fe, NM, I highly recommend seeing this show, which closes on Sunday July 1. And whether or not you can attend, I would also recommend buying a copy of the book "Blind Spot." It rewards the viewer / reader with an abundance of deep insight and inspiration.

New York City: Photo Exhibit Overload

June 15, 2018

I'm fortunate that I have the opportunity to travel to New York City, usually once a year for a stretch of a week or more. One of my biggest dilemmas is deciding what camera to bring with me, as I always feel inspired to shoot while there. After that, it's always exciting to check the gallery and museum listings to see what photo exhibits might be on display during my visit. My most recent trip afforded me the chance to see five different exhibits, ranging from the work of a few titans of the art form, to a couple of surprises in unexpected places.

Henri Cartier-Bresson at ICP

The International Center of Photography is a destination for me anytime I find myself in NYC, regardless of what they may be showing. I happened to arrive the day the Henri Cartier-Bresson "The Decisive Moment" exhibit opened to the public. Arriving just after the doors opened, I was rewarded with a near empty gallery, with plenty of time and space to explore the work. Of course, any photographer by now should know this famous body of work, or at least the concept behind "the decisive moment." What I found most intriguing was to revisit so many images I was familiar with, but haven't seen in a while. Time has only deepened my appreciation for this work. With the advent of social media, and the constant barrage of images, it is a testament to Cartier-Bresson that the photos are still remarkable in their energy, their timing, and their emotional impact. I was educational to see what he includes in the frame, as well as the serendipity that a fleeting moment provides. I wondered if the final images would appear differently had Cartier-Bresson had access to Photoshop, as the random appearance of a face in the corner of a frame, or a seemingly distracting element in the background does nothing to diminish the power of the whole image.

A face peeking out from a corner of a Henri Cartier-Bresson photo. No cloning tools back in the day.

William Eggleston at The Met

As luck would have it, I was in town with some time to view the William Eggleston "Los Alamos" exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The chance to see the richly colored body of work from this American master was not to be missed. The series, which was produced in late 1960s to the early 1970s, had not been seen in this configuration at any museum in New York City before. The groundbreaking set of color photographs were surprisingly controversial when they first appeared, since at that time "serious" art photography was always seen in black and white. Color photos were seen as the realm of the amateur, relegated to family snapshots, or left to the world of commerce and advertising. Championed by John Szarkowski at MoMA, Eggleston pushed color photography toward acceptance and legitimacy.

The photos in the "Los Alamos" exhibit are Eggleston in his prime. Wandering mostly throughout Memphis and further into the Deep South of the United States, he compiled a series of images that both delight and confound. Color-wise, I can't think of anyone who would not be intoxicated by the deep hues that radiate off the walls of the gallery. What is most striking to me, though, is the profound sadness that permeates these photos. There is a pronounced streak of death and loss that resides in this work, perhaps it's just another manifestation of the tradition of "Southern Gothic" so present through the history of American art.

Stephen Shore at MoMA

Speaking of photographers who pushed color photography towards acceptance, The Museum of Modern Art had an excellent retrospective of the work of Stephen Shore. What I find most fascinating about the work of Shore is that it straddles the line between the vernacular photography of the everyday, and the conceptual, intellectual ground of the art world. He has always used the most common of means for his work, from the drugstore photo labs for his earliest color work, to his current embrace of Instagram and digital /print on demand publishers.

A section of "American Surfaces" on display at MoMA.

His early series of images, titled "American Surfaces" was created during a number of road trips across the United Sates in the late 1960s and early 1970s. The body of work is comprised of hundreds of snapshots Shore created and had developed and printed at inexpensive, consumer grade photo labs. I had seen this work published in a hardcover book years ago, but seeing it displayed on the walls of the museum, in the original manner Shore intended (row of small prints, running across an entire room) made me appreciate the full power of the set of photos. Part travelogue, part diary, part conceptual exploration of the mundane... the work is a reassessment of what one might consider "fine art" photography, and a rejection of the chasm between high and low art.

I was also excited to see a series of Shore's self-published photo book, interestingly displayed hanging from wires from the ceiling of the gallery. They are a great example of the removal of barriers to producing an immediate body of work, by using an online, digital printer to create the books. An inspiration to all of us who self-publish, and a testament to pursuing an idea quickly yet deeply.

Stephen Shore's self-published books, not exactly low hanging fruit.

Nobuyoshi Araki at The Museum of Sex

A ride on the subway on a rainy Sunday morning proved fortuitous, for while I was riding the Number 6 Uptown, I saw an advertisement for an exhibit at The Museum of Sex (stay with me here, people.) They were staging an exhibit by Japanese photographer, and all around force-of-nature, Nobuyoshi Araki. Though I was aware of some of his work, I was intrigued to see what kind of show might be going on at such a non-traditional venue for art.

Logically, since it was a sex museum, the work revolved around sex. Yes, Araki is well-known (at least in his home country) for his sexually provocative images. Many people have said it's pornographic, many have said it's sexist, many have said it demeaning towards women, and many have said it does nothing but perpetuate Western stereotypes about Japanese women. I can see truth in much of these criticisms. And I am not sure I am in the position to dispute any of it.

The show itself was nicely displayed, and showed a huge amount and varied amount of work. Large format, black and white images of bound women, hung next to a wall of Polaroids (of women in suggestive poses), sitting across from a 30 foot long display case of Araki photo books and magazines (some sexually explicit, many not.) The man is nothing if not prolific.

Though labeled as a renegade, and sometimes as a pornographer, Araki is nothing if not provocative. I'm not sure where I stand on his work. At the same time, it was an opportunity to explore a body of work I might not have considered otherwise.

Zoe Leonard at The Whitney

On a "pay what you wish" Friday evening at The Whitney Museum, I took in one last photo-related exhibit, seeing the work of Zoe Leonard. I was not familiar with this artist, except for a short article I read in the New York Times about a series of photos of storefronts that she created. So I was walking in with no expectations, and very little preconceptions. The overall exhibit was a combination of original photographs, sculpture, found imagery (including a magnificent wall of postcards from Niagara Falls) and found objects. The overarching theme seemed to be a exploration of the mass production of imagery, along with an exploration of loss and impermanence.

Niagara Falls, step by step, inch by inch.

The series of color photographs of storefronts and streets scenes of the East Village, as well as countries like Cuba and Uganda, were the most straightforward set of images in the entire exhibit. Titled "Analogue," they proved to be a nice counter to the work of Eggleston that I saw earlier in my trip. Both used the dye transfer printing process, renowned for its rich color saturation, however, Leonard's work retained a level of grit, worthy of its subject matter.

The work that I was most pleasantly surprised by, was a series of sculptural pieces, utilizing books. One piece in particular, a row of stacked Kodak instructional photo books, tracing the publishing history of a specific title "How To Make Good Pictures" was a clever rumination on not only the passage of time, but also about the advances of image making technology, and the need to understand it.

Though there is no shortage of photography available online or at a bookshop, sometimes it's really important to wander through a gallery or museum, and see the work up close and personal. I'm grateful that I have the ways and means to be have been able to see so much great photography during my travels. I find it motivating and inspiring.

Buy Photo Books, Not Photo Gear

April 12, 2018

A camera is a tool. A lens is a tool. More cameras and more lenses may give you more options to explore and capture the world. However, more important than any piece of equipment are your eyes. And no fancy pants, ultra high megapixel device is going to make you a better photographer if your eyes (and your mind) aren't functioning photographically. With the relentless torrent of images bombarding us everyday off of computer monitors, smart phones or other screen-based platforms, it is even more important to devote time to the tangible and the tactile. Investing in photo books will bring more lasting value to your life as a photographer than any new shiny piece of glass and metal (and plastic.)

There really is no replacement for seeing photographs in print. Many of us don't have the time or the access to a museum or gallery on a regular basis to view photos hanging in a frame on a wall. And not to diminish those opportunities, but the photo book format is, in many ways, the ultimate way to consume photographic images. You can spend as much time with each image, studying and contemplating. You can delve deeply into the sequencing of the images, which is a key component to a true body of work, as opposed to a single image that pops up on your Instagram feed. Books have permanence, and they will most likely increase in value. Try saying that about the latest mirrorless camera you just dropped a grand on.

Click on the image to find a copy for purchase

I recently added a few titles to my photo book library. I was thrilled to hear that the earliest books by the black and white master Ralph Gibson had been reissued in a new compilation. "The Black Trilogy" highlights the surreal, dreamlike work that Gibson soon became highly recognized for. What I find most striking about this body of work is how prevalently the vertical format is featured. I remember hearing once that Gibson felt that shifting to a vertical format subconsciously unsettles the viewer by a small degree, moving them away from the expected and more familiar horizontal presentation of an image. Combined with the inherent qualities of black and white, this helps push the work further from reality and deeper into the viewers psyche.

The second book I'm featuring is by the great Japanese photographer Daido Moriyama. "Record" is a hardbound, slipcased book that complies his work that was originally released in a series of self-published magazines. The work spans almost thirty years, and highlights Moriyama's are-bure-boke (“shaky-blurry”) style. It is a bit difficult to comprehend how revolutionary this style was when it first surfaced in the late 1960s, especially considering how many contemporary photographers now ape Daido's look. As the work progresses chronologically, it becomes perhaps sharper and clearer, but never any less provocative.

The last book up for discussion is a fairly obscure title, called "Meta Photographs" by Richard Gordon. Now before you go thinking this is some "johnny come lately, post-modern hipster, internet age" cash in, please note that the book was originally published in 1978. I had never heard of it, nor the photographer Richard Gordon, before I happened upon a set of images from this book on view at SFMOMA. This book falls squarely in my wheelhouse, as it is strictly photography about photography. Or more accurately, photos of items or environments that include some photographic representation in them. Photos of celebrity portraits on a wall, photos of people using cameras, photos of people being photographed. What I love the most about this book is how a simple undercurrent unites the whole project; how a photographic image can be recontextualized; how something that at first glance seems mundane, can actually be infinitely thought provoking.

What are some of your personal favorite photo books? Feel free to share your thoughts.

Imaginary Landscapes

March 26, 2018

Lately, I've been trying to push myself out of my comfort zone, shooting imagery that utilizes a new technique for me. Though the area of exploration is familiar (the Albuquerque bosque along the Rio Grande) I am looking at a new direction for my image creation. I am playing with the panoramic format, and really letting the pixels fly in post-production.

One of the challenges for me is to not over-think this work in progress. It is OK to play without any specific end result in mind. It is also OK to be unrestrained when it comes to digital manipulation. Because when you come down to it, all photos are manipulated.

That being said, I've been trying to replicate an old wet plate photo look, or other analogue techniques, while still staying safely in the digital realm. I'm not sure where this exercise may lead, but it certainly is nice to try to widen my perspective a bit (pun intended.) Feel free to share your thoughts on these photos.

Work in Progress: Abstraction and Textures

February 26, 2018

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."