Cyanotype week in my studio. Damn right, I got the blues.
2022: 16 Go south, go west
The desert awakens, and with that, it also beckons. Six hours in the car takes me from Albuquerque to Tucson. Similar places in ways, very different in others. I have grown accustomed to the desert, the unique dryness of the air, even in springtime, when things bloom, and the sweet smell of flowers is added to the mix. Sleeping under a blanket of stars with an early morning visit with Venus, and I am reminded how insignificant my personal troubles can be against this backdrop of the wider universe.
2021: 38 Heading South and West
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.
2021: 21 A Complete Meltdown
Shooting film sets its own limitations on the photographer. You don’t work with a “raw” file… a pristine, neutral “capture.” A digital file ready and waiting for its pixels to pushed and pulled in countless directions. Film has boundaries inherent in its manufacture. Light sensitivity in particular, but also more simple restrictions, such as “black and white” or “color.” I recently picked up a couple of rolls from the great folks at Lomography. All were color film, and the one that I was most looking forward to playing with was their Lomochrome Purple offering. Color shifting is inherent in this particular film, with greens shifting to purple, and reds and blues being accentuated in an unpredictable manner. I decided to expose the film on my recent sojourn to the deserts of Arizona. I figured the flora and fauna of springtime would be an excellent opportunity to test the boundaries of this film.
Upon development (at my local film lab) I scanned the resulting negatives. I must be honest, I wasn’t initially pleased with the results. Maybe I just don’t like the color purple (sorry, Prince) but I was underwhelmed by the images, save for a few photos that had more going on from a compositional standpoint. Working in color is always a stretch for me, but this particular exercise was beyond what I would consider a success. I scanned the film, posted a few of my favorites online, and put my negative binder back on the shelf.
…and then this week I took another look at the negatives. This time, I decided that a drastic revisit was in order. In a move now familiar to a few friends (and the handful of readers to this blog) I released my toolkit of scissors, tape, bleach, sandpaper and heat gun onto the unsuspecting strips of film. My dulled Xacto blade was surely striking a dagger into the ghost of Ansel Adams. I’ve been obsessed with Julian Schnabel lately, and the time in my studio, with the scent of burning plastic mixing with the warming New Mexico spring air, was driving me to channel his heroic attitude towards image making to the extreme. I approached the film with reckless abandon, not giving a f*ck about the results. The process of destruction being the act of creation was all that mattered.
As for the results, I am much happier now. Bleach and heat transformed the Lomo-color-shift into another realm. Is it good? Debatable. Is it art? Probably. Is it satisfying? Definitely.
2021: 16 Desert Life
Short and sweet… off the grid for a long delayed trip to Arizona. Photographing the “desert sentinels” also know as Saguaro cactus. Pinholes, and Lomos, and busted lenses, oh my! See you next week.
Flaunt The imperfections Issue #3: Available Now
I am happy to announce the release of my new zine. Issue #3 of my film-based photography zine "Flaunt The Imperfections" is available for purchase today at my website shop. The photos featured in this issue were created in 2017, during a trip from New Mexico, through Arizona, into the Salton Sea area of Southern California, before rolling briefly into Los Angeles... and a long drive home along the remnants of Route 66.
The title of this series is "Expiration Date." There are several reasons behind this choice. First off, I listened to the entire Pavement discography while making my solo trip through the desert. The lyrics of Stephen Malkmus were a subliminal roadmap for my image making. At times abstract, at other times bitingly critical, these words (and songs) were a great inspiration for my journey.
Secondly, as the social / political landscape in the USA continues to shift (or spiral out of control) I think it is a good time to assess the expiration date of long held beliefs, to look at the impermanence of man-made things, a time to ponder hope vs. pessimism, while being as good a moment as any to reflect on the idea of hubris.
As always when I shoot film, the excitement of not knowing what I've captured until much later is a re-connection with the original allure photography has held for me. The editing and layout process allows for a focused amount of time with the images, and by having the final results in printed form, I am returning the permanence that photographs once held, but is too often overlooked in our digital present.
The zine is available for purchase at my online shop for $15, (US sales only.)
You can view the work in a new gallery on my website as well.
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.