With family, work, art and performances taking up so much bandwidth, I finally have some time with “nothing much going on.” Which has it’s own challenges, to be sure. We humans like to be busy, or do we like to be lazy but are forced to be busy? Not sure if this drive is intrinsic in our DNA or if it is the result of some Christian work ethic (what is the source of the seven deadly sins, after all?) but it is the twin poles of an ongoing existential dilemma for me. Quiet times open the door for introspection, which opens the door for melancholy, which opens the door for depression. But the other side of that coin is overwork, over stress, tension, anxiety…and a desire to break free of all responsibility. So where is the middle ground? I have been trying hard to be at peace with the “in between” times, the silence, the quiet, the time of not much happening. Maybe there is some Buddhist tome that would explain it all to me. Maybe it’s just the burden of having a brain that never turns off, even when it is at rest. For now, I’ll just try to BE. Enjoy the silence.
Jetty Jacks and Futility
Along the Rio Grande in Albuquerque is the wild, wooded bosque. This buffer of land has traditionally acted as a flood zone, at the mercy of the rainfall and erosion that naturally occurs in these parts. Decades ago, an anti-flooding scheme was developed by the Army Corps of Engineers; an attempt to create some kind of defense to the whims of nature. Thus, much of the bosque is littered with these oversized steel and wire objects, known locally, affectionately as “jetty jacks.” There is an official name for them, I’m sure. I prefer the colloquial name, though. They acts as a sort of found sculpture for hikers and bikers along the river. They also remind me of something you might see along the front lines of a war zone ( in my mind it would be WW2, but I’m guess the war in Ukraine might be relevant as well.) The attempt to have the banks of the river conform to this kind of control may seem futile. Another thing that seems futile is my ongoing attempt at trying to create a good photograph of these jetty jacks. I’ve attempted dozens of times, and each time I fail to capture the essence of these metal beasts that dot the landscape near the river. I have yet to find a way to capture the scale, the geometry, the complexity and the oddity of these objects in their environment. I tried again today, while out on a (hopeful) mood shifting walk; see attempt above. Maybe this white whale will elude me forever. I’m sure to keep trying nonetheless, even if it is just an exercise in futility.
Reelin' In The Years
Self-reflection is important. It is also something most of us do in private, if at all. With that in mind, the less I say here about my time back in my hometown, the better. Or at least better for me, as I never wanted to be the kind of person that airs their inner drama in public. (Irony is not lost on me that I’m writing this on a public platform…) Nonetheless, as an artist, part of my drive is to share, otherwise I might as well be building sandcastles on the shoreline, all by myself.
Sifting through decades-old ephemera found in closets and backs of drawers in my childhood home has pushed my inner reflection into overdrive. Spending time with my aging father, while finding little remnants of my younger self has created waves of ennui that wash over me, like low tide on the Atlantic coast. What is there to life but remnants of our past and hopes for the future, bookending the present. The ephemeral present.
Sanctuary
It’s been a hard year so far, and I have not felt grounded at all. Death has come, from both near and far. Work provides a modicum of distraction, but when things get quiet, my mind wanders often through darkness. These days have brought me a deeper appreciation for my studio practice; it truly is my sanctuary. I also find the destruction, the burning, bleaching and taping of my photographs to be even more cathartic than it was in the past…as is expected I suppose.
Apropos, I’ve been listening to a lot of bleak music lately. Lou Reed has made a regular appearance on my playlist. I spent some time with his rather dour album, entitled “Magic and Loss” and though I was very familiar with the record, this time it struck much closer to home for me. I channeled some of his words and thoughts into my current artwork. I’m not sure of the value that these words may add to my images, but for now hanging on my studio wall. They are a reminder that pain does indeed wash into all of our lives, but that we must forge forward regardless.
Goodbye 2022
This has been a year of dabbling, discovery, testing and playing in my studio. I took the foot off the gas pedal as far as self-publishing is concerned, though oftentimes I felt that I was hungry for the tangle direction and demands that those kinds of projects provide. Still, I enjoyed the luxury and privilege of time to tinker with new ideas, without any pressure or expectation from anyone except of myself. I kept myself busy in many ways, large and small, and I take the lessons learned this year with me as I look forward to 2023. I wish health, safety, creativity and peace to all of you in the coming year.
2022: 47 Winding Down
The last, waning days of autumn are very soon going to surrender to winter. The chill in the air has now evolved into true, bracing coldness. The time for quiet reflection is now upon me. Thus, I will take some time away from these pages and turn inwards. Silence can speak volumes.
2022:46 World Cup
Watching World Cup matches precludes my ability to write a full entry this week. Instead, above is a photo I took in Porto, Portugal in 2015.
2022: 45 Alternatives
Alternative photographic processes. Even the name feels a bit of a misnomer. Alternative to what? The centuries old processes may be an alternative to the current world of digital image making, but as an alternative to photographic image making, I take issue with the name. If processes date back to the mid-18th century, why are they not called “primary” processes? This is a futile argument, of course. Only a handful of people would even get riled up over this pithy choice of words. But it speaks to a deeper issue for me. I feel that almost every process I utilize is “alternative.” Perhaps by rejecting the status quo I am acting (creating) in an alternative manner. Whether its toiling with hand coated emulsions, combining my images with more sculptural elements, laying out handmade books, digital manipulation on my iPhone or pouring bleach over a stack of old negatives… every act can be an alternative to something else. It’s what keeps me interested, keeps me curious, keeps me creating.
2022: 44 To The Trees
A long weekend gives me ample time to think about a new project. The draw of nature continues to inspire my photography. A 90 mile drive north and west of Albuquerque landed me in the mountains north of Grants, NM. The forests rise towards Mount Taylor. A perfect place to explore the abundance of trees that somehow continue to exist in a world of threats, both natural and man-made. My camera leads me to this place, my mind pushes me to wander further. Off the dirt road, among fallen trees, under a light dusting of snow… what will be revealed to me?
2022:43 The Blues
Cyanotype week in my studio. Damn right, I got the blues.