2021: 9 ......... Interpretation

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Mistakes and oversights can lead to enlightenment. The image above was the result of my inability to remember to advance the film on my Holga Panoramic 120 camera properly. I’ve shot with this plastic beast enough times to have maybe been able to figure out this very basic step. Still, I’m prone to error. I am human, after all.

What I find fascinating about this particular photograph is that does not look anything like the reality of the day it was created. That morning, the sun was shining, the air was crisp, the sky clear blue. Ducks and geese were flying and landing in the pond just beyond the reeds. Yet, the overlapping of exposures definitely created a sense of otherworldliness, and setting my camera at ground level also helped me take advantage of the pinhole camera’s extreme depth of field.It all feels post apocalyptic.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my departure from showing the world “as it appears” in my photography. So true: everything has been seen in every which way, certainly as far as photography goes, there truly is nothing new under the sun. A friend recently shared a great quote by artist David Hockney: “There’s a point where you’ve got to interpret the world, not make a replica of it.” I have been going “all in” on interpretation. It has given my vision a serious push into exciting new directions. It has been liberating and satisfying. Maybe a few years ago I would have been disappointed by a roll of overlapping exposures. This week, it felt like a gift.

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“Honor thy error as a hidden intention.” - Brian Eno

2021:6 ...... Contact Sheets

My love of the photographic process reaches far back, as it probably does for most of us who toil in this practice. I have distinct memories of so many aspects of image making, that have wormed into my brain. Memories of things I hardly remember from long ago. Memories of the smell of a darkroom, memories of a print coming to life in a tray of developer. The feel of a roll of film in my hand, in complete darkness, as I fumble with a metal reel and tank. The smell of the inside of a film container, the plastic and latent silver scent intoxicating my young mind.

Recently, I was recalling an early memory that I had forgotten about, from many years ago. A childhood memory that laid buried in my brain, almost completely forgotten. Growing up in 1970s New Jersey I lived in a suburban, middle class town. Our entire neighborhood was populated with families with kids. So many kids, ages from pre-K to teens. We all interacted with little regard for any age-inflicted stratification. There was one particular house at the far end of our street, that a group of the older kids (teens) lived in. They were also part of the most liberal, progressive family on the block (in the 70s they were the “hippie” family.) The teens were, to my eyes, a bit wild… long hair and wire framed glasses, like John Lennon. One of the boys was also a photographer. Well, he owned a Nikon camera, that much I recall. One day he arrived in our driveway, showing off to me and my sisters, a mysterious sheet of black and white paper, with little rectangles of images on it. I didn’t comprehend really what it was, and where it came from. But I do remember being intrigued by a series of images, that looked like they told a little story. I think they were from some road trip, in upstate New York, perhaps. There were a few rectangles showing our neighbor urinating on the side of a road. I remember reacting in a confused manner to those few frames. Why would you take a picture of that? Thirty six little pictures. Thirty six moments of magic.

Up until that point, photos were things I saw in frames on a living room table, or pressed in a photo album, behind a thin layer of static cling, plastic sheeting. Sometimes a snapshot or a Polaroid would be shuffled out of a shoebox. This was a new thing… now I know the reason for a contact sheet, and the inherent magic of it, too. The outtakes, the misfires, the hidden gems, the one or two “winners” of the roll… they’re all there. The photographer’s secret story. Often not seen by any audience besides themselves. Hunched over a table, with a magnifying loupe in one hand, a grease pencil in the other. Contact sheets are something that get lost in today’s digital photography world. You can replicate the experience with a simple setting in Lightroom, which I use as my own virtual version of the darkroom practice nowadays. But something is already lost, as these are usually curated sheets that I’ve culled the duds from. Those of you who have spent any time shooting film and exposing paper in a darkroom know there really is no substitution for a contact sheet. It’s as elemental to the photographic process as the sharp smell of stop bath, wafting from a red lit tray.

Kick In The Eye

KICK IN THE EYE

My new self-publishing project

After a few pauses, I am a thrilled to announce the release of my new self-publishing project. “Kick In The Eye” is a multi-format photo book. I will be releasing three different formats of this collection of photographs. The body of work is from a trip to Japan in 2019. The book layout is a continuation of my desire to depart from a reliance on and the sanctity of the “single” photograph. Each page of the book is a grouping of images meant to work as a whole. These pages I then envisioned as “visual songs.” I followed this quasi-musical approach to the packaging of each format. Being a vinyl collector, I wanted to replicate the 12” LP format, which seemed an appropriate way to package the main book. I then created a smaller “CD” version of the set of photos, as a small booklet in a CD jewel case. Finally, I produced a small number of “cassette” versions of the work, creating a deck of smaller cards that come encased in a classic cassette case.

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ABOUT THE PHOTOS

How well can one prepare for a place they have never been, where none of the words make sense, where activity never ceases, with all senses on hyper-alert? In Japan, you either surrender to it and let the flow take you where it wants you to go, otherwise you could easily be pulled under the current. As much as you could hope to be a traveler and not a tourist, there are some hurdles that are not so easy to overcome. Weeks of being completely adrift in a never-ending maze of commotion and confusion are sure to shift one’s comprehension of what is predictable... what is recognizable... what is understandable.

EXPLORE THE DIFFERENT FORMATS

GRAB YOUR COPY NOW

All three formats are limited editions, so once they’re gone, they’re gone.
Don’t miss out, order your copy today.
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2020: 24 (Casual Transcendentalism)

Sometimes we need isolation, even if it’s from our own isolation. Sometimes we need to be somewhere with “no service” on our iPhones. Sometimes we need to sleep on the ground. Sometimes we need to see a thousand stars in a dark sky. I remind myself from time to time how blessed I am to be living in New Mexico. It certainly has its drawbacks, but the ability to jump in the car and drive four hours into the remote wilderness is a gift that I unfortunately don’t accept often enough.

My sweetie and I headed down to the southwest corner of the state last weekend, for three days in the Gila Wilderness. The area is enormous and mostly undeveloped; a wonderful mix of forest and desert. Having arrived on a Sunday afternoon, we were pleasantly surprised by the lack of other people around us. The campsite we found for the trip was almost completely devoid of other people. The first night, we heard an amazing array of bird calls, owl hoots, squirrel chirps, and most surprisingly, elk howls.

A day trip to the Gila Cliff Dwellings offered another chance to explore crowd-free. This sliver lining of the pandemic has been a gift to introverts like myself. It was at this point of the trip that we noticed the smoke from a nearby forest fire. We were concerned when the wind blew smoke in our direction, but we stayed the course for the final night, and with a late evening wind shift we were treated to another display of stars.

The final day was a chance to hike through the remains of a 2013 forest fire. It was both humbling and intriguing to walk through the remnants of such destruction. However, the forest was already in the obvious throws of rebirth and regeneration. Burnt trunks of dead trees were ringed by thousands of new saplings, flowers and grasses. Colorful butterflies flitted around fallen tree “snags.” It was the perfect metaphor for so many recent problems.

Nature heals itself… if we stay out of its way. We are part of a larger system of life on this small, blue dot. Humans are not the most significant form of life on the planet… I’m realizing more and more this point. Our lives are brief. Much shorter than that of the tall pines that stretch across the Gila. Much shorter than the age of the cliffside dwellings that stand to remind us of those who came before us. The burned hills reminded me…even in the midst of pain and destruction, fire and death…there are signs of life and regeneration. Sometime you just need to step away from the everyday and let enlightenment show itself to you.

2020: 19 (Try To Maintain Focus)

The long pause continues. Things can crest and dissipate, as the wind blows, as the sun rises and sets. Feelings sway, reactions sharpen, or get dulled to a nub. Facing the unknown, an unknowable, with plenty of time to reflect. Could have, would have, should have. I will, someday. I might, someday. I definitely will not, ever again.

I continue to work, I continue to sleep, to eat, to drink. To hold, to love. To cry, to get anxious, angry, bored, excited. I have trouble concentrating, especially when I’m reading. I listen: to podcasts, to music, to the birds, to the wind, to the neighborhood dogs that bark too much. Sometimes I have energy to spare, often times I am tired. Sometimes I create, sometime I spiral, aimlessly. Sometimes I shoot, sometimes I imagine pictures in my head. Sometimes I look, and most of the time, I see.

How are you holding up?

2020: 16 (Me and My Shadow)

Staying home and staying safe are the rules of the day. That being the case, I still need to be outside, in the ever-warming New Mexico spring. I’ve been getting exercise by running three times a week… right at dawn, before anyone is out on the streets (save for a few dog walkers.) On one of my off days from running, I still got out as the sun was rising, for a pre-breakfast walk through the neighborhood. I decided to run a roll of film into my old K1000, popped on my headphones, and zoned out into the morning light.

I was listening to a tranquil, ambient album by Japanese musician Hiroshi Yoshimura called “Music For Nine Postcards.” It pushed me into a deep meditative state as I strolled. The light was bright, casting sharp shadows. I was alone with myself. I created a series of self-portraits, as my shadow was cast against the trees, sidewalks, streets and buildings in my hood. Everything became slower, my vision more clear as I walked. It was a perfect balm for the pangs of anxiety, boredom and ennui I have been basking in lately.

Grab your headphones, listen to the album and browse the gallery below to take a morning walk with me.

2020: 9 (A Trip To The Library)

There is such a wealth of information about photography available today. I admit, I spend countless hours online, listening to photo podcasts, watching YouTube videos of photographers shooting, scrolling through Instagram, or reading articles and blogs by photographers. But all of these things cannot replace the experience of holding a book in my hands, looking at photos on the printed page, and reading the thoughts of critical thinkers and artists.

I was inspired by an article I stumbled upon this week written by Teju Cole… who if you don’t him, you should check out his work. Not only is he a great writer on the medium, but he is also a great photographer in his own right. He recently wrote a very insightful article about the value of photography books. It is well worth the read. I had him in mind as I headed to the Ernie Pyle Library here in Albuquerque this week. I picked up a couple of photo criticism books that I’m looking forward to reading. These were in addition to a recent copy of Daido Moriyama’s “How I Take Photographs” that I picked up over the holidays.

I think it’s important to not only take photographs, not only look at photographs, but also to read about photographs. It is helpful to put some thought into analyzing the work of other artists. Trying to interpret the effort or reasoning behind their work. I also find that knowing how to “read” a photograph is a valuable skill, not only for image makers, but for our audience as well.

I am most excited to dive into the John Berger book “Understanding A Photograph.” Berger was an important artistic and social critic who’s book “Ways of Seeing” transformed my understanding of visual communication. He was required reading when I studied in art school. I am ready for my mind to be further expanded when I read this book.

I must say that though we can get plenty of free information from the internet, and as a faithful consumer there is the obvious attraction to buying books, but I truly believe a trip to the library is one of our greatest social / civic privileges. The opportunity to have access to so much valuable information, for no cost, is truly a gift not to be taken for granted.

2020: 6 (Film and Apple Pie)

Shooting film is very much like making an apple pie. You put so much effort into assembling the correct balance of ingredients, but you still have to wait for it to bake… and cool, before you even know if it tastes good or not.

In the world of “instant everything, order your food, your groceries, week, post text, chat, I want it now, I will not wait, I demand satisfaction” it is an almost meditative, zen like practice to shoot film. You don’t see what you get while you shoot. You aren’t sure if your film is even being exposed correctly. You have to wait until your film is developed before you see any results. And then, if you are like me and you scan your film, it is a longer process of scanning before the final, positive images pop up on my monitor.

Why do I do this? It slows me down, makes my shooting feel more intentional. The extra investment of time and money makes me value each image just a little bit more. I wait in anticipation to finally se my photos. Like waiting for a gift to arrive, or waiting for a stew to simmer on a stovetop for a few hours. It heightens my anticipation and makes the payoff more worthwhile every time. Even if my film is underexposed, or out of focus, or boring, or not “sharable.” It still have more substance to it.

If anyone would like to swap a nice apple pie for a few rolls of film, give me a shout.

2020: 2 (Mitch Epstein: Sunshine Hotel)

As I’ve mentioned in the past on this blog, I see it as a blessing and a curse that I live within an hour’s drive of the photo bookstore Photo-Eye in Santa Fe. It is a treat to be able to peruse their excellent collection of books. They have an outstanding selection, with many rare, out-of-print volumes on the shelves, next to the latest releases. There are a number of photo books I’ve had on my “wishlist” and of course, Photo-Eye had one that I would end up taking home with me.

I was glad to find a copy of the latest release by German printer-extraordinaire Steidl, the monograph entitled “Sunshine Hotel” by photographer, Mitch Epstein. As is the case with almost all of the books printed by Gerhardt Steidl, this hardcover book is gorgeous. The image quality is first-rate, the binding is stout and immaculate, the cover an intense red and white. One of the benefits of buying from Photo-Eye as opposed to Amazon is that not only can you actually hold the book, skim through the pages and really appreciate the quality, but also they happen to carry signed copies of books. This makes the purchase extra special and obviously, extra-collectable.

For those of you unfamiliar with Mitch Epstein or his work, he is of a generation of American photographers who worked almost exclusively in color, starting in the 1970s. At the time, color photography was not taken seriously in fine art circles, and it was only through the work of Epstein, Stephen Shore, Joel Meyorwitz and of course, William Eggleston, that color photos gained wider critical acceptance. It is somewhat curious that Epatein’s work has not gotten the same kind of attention as that of Eggleston or Shore, in particular. In my opinion, it is as strong and as important as those other lauded photographers. This book might go a long way to move Epstein to the forefront in the minds of the admittedly niche audience that I happen to be part of.

There is something so “American” about this book. Starting with the title, which I interpret as a metaphor for the Unites States itself. A place of escape, a place of hope, a place to aspire to, but also a place of temporality, of false surfaces, of pain, of winning and losing at the game of capitalism, as a place of fear, of hatred, of loneliness and sadness. These photos convey every side of the “American Dream.” The lonely roads that Robert Frank explored 50 years before, now windswept and covered in blowing snow when captured by Epstein. Our great monuments to democracy, now hidden or protected behind anti-terrorism barricades. Decay, debris, remnants of brutal natural disasters, all shown in subtle, tactful framing and realistic tones. The great experiment of the American experience is seen on these pages, in all its glory and folly. Peppered throughout are images that show us not only how we used to live, but also how we live today. The fashion may change, but the looks on the faces remain the same.

The book opens and closes with photographs taken on the Standing Rock Sioux Reservation. I think this is fitting, as all the work in-between was created on land that our forefathers took from the indigenous tribes, through a variety of dubious means. Does this make “Sunshine Hotel” a political book? One may think so. In larger sense, how can any creative statement at this time not bear some subtle political stance to it? At the same time, I think of Epstein as a documentarian, first and foremost. Of course, he is also an artist, one of great depth. His images are made to ponder individually, assessing the lives of those shown, the story behind the places. But also, in a grander way, it is an exploration of what our nation looks like, reflected in the mirror that is Mitch Epstein’s camera. I highly recommend spending time at the Sunshine Hotel, where you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.

2019: 31 (Grateful)

There’s a quote by Kurt Vonnegut that I try to keep in mind… “If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.” It’s a reminder that we all need to stop and recognize the sweet things in life, right in the moment. There is much pain and sadness in life, and in the world right now, so I am even more aware of savoring the good things that come to me. Yesterday was one of those times for me. After two years of working on a collaborative project, the fruits of our labor were finally shared with the world. “The River, The Ocean, The Sea” exhibition is now on view at the Open Space Visitor’s Center in Albuquerque, NM, until September 29th. Below are some great photos of the opening by my photo pal, Dan Shaffer.

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I am particularly grateful for the support of my friends through this entire project. Many people stepped up to contribute to the GoFundMe campaign, and that financial support helped offset the cost of printing and framing the exhibition. I was beyond thrilled to see so many of these same folks show up at the opening yesterday, along with many other people who spent time viewing the work. I am so, so grateful for such wonderful friends in my life. Thank you all.

Also, thank you to the great staff at the Open Space Gallery for giving me a venue to share the work. Thank you to KRQE for doing a nice story about the show on their broadcast yesterday.

Thank you to Clarke Conde and the Weekly Alibi for putting me on their front cover and running a wonderful interview. Thank you especially to my collaborators Fabio Miguel Roque and Hean Kuan Ong for sharing your vision with me. I am so proud of what we accomplished together.

“If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.”