Doldrums tend to strike if I sit idle for too long. Such was the case this weekend. A full tank of gas and a new camera to play with was enough motivation to get me out of town, for a quick day / road trip. Jump on the Interstate and head west, and all sorts of things await discovery. Even old haunts that I’ve tread through numerous times can yield new images. Especially when the weather takes a sudden, dramatic, turn for the worse. Desert rain is usually a cause for celebration, even on a day when photos are on the docket. The roads might get treacherous, but the views through the camera were worth the moments of white knuckle driving.
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.
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?
Central Ave and Morningside SE
2022:38 The Light
Many years ago, before I moved to New Mexico, I read somewhere about “the light.” The unique New Mexico light. The convergence of altitude, lack of pollution and maybe, something else, something magical. The light here is something I can take for granted. I sometimes resent the sunshine that arrives almost on a daily basis…300+ days a year here. Oh, please just a few more cloudy, overcast, grey, rainy days. But then, I roll up to my office, and see a simple street corner, bathed in perfect October light. No clouds. No filters. This is what “the light” can do; what it can show. And I am reminded, and I am grateful.
a barren Tomé Hill, looking east towards the Manzano Mountains, Good Friday, 2018
2020: 15 (Non-traditional)
Those of you who know me well, know that I am a person who values tradition. And even though most of my life is lived without the presence of any specific religious or cultural influences, I still choose to adhere to a cobbled-together smattering of rituals. Many revolve around my Catholic, Italian-American upbringing. A quick look at my pantry will prove my devotion to pasta, tomatoes, and pizza, never mind the odd collection of religious mass cards, rosary beads, and candles that are scattered throughout the hidden storage areas in my house.
Over the years, I have become more fascinated with the contemporary adherence to faith-based traditions. New Mexico is an ideal place to see this on display, especially around this time of year, as the 40 days of Lent lead to the celebration of Easter. Every year, for probably the past 10 years or so, I’ve taken part in two Lent-related rituals. One is my weekly Lenten Special lunch at Garcia’s Kitchen. Tortas de Huevos are a special treat, only available during Lent, and every Friday I’d head down to Central Ave in West Downtown to get my fill. The other thing I would do is the Good Friday pilgrimage walk up Tomé Hill, at sunrise. The site is truly magical, and to scramble up the rocky hill, and sit beneath the crosses as the sun peeks out over the Manzanos in the east; it is something very special, regardless of your own belief system.
Of course, this year, none of this was able to happen. I did get to enjoy a couple of meals at Garcia’s before the stay at home orders came out. But my annual trek up the Hill did not happen yesterday. I truly missed it. Even the pre-dawn drive south has a certain kind of feeling to it. I am sad I could not do it this year, but also grateful that I am home, safe, with my wife. We have food, alcohol, toilet paper and a fairly reliable wifi connection, so all things considered, I am lucky…blessed even.
As I said, I am not a religious person, but this weekend seems to be an appropriate time to have thoughts of renewal, recovery, return. While I breathe, I hope.
Photo by Robert Frank
2020: 4 (New Mexico in Photographs)
Having grown up on the east coast, one of the most common questions I am asked is how did I end up living in Albuquerque, New Mexico. It’s actually a fairly common query for anyone who is not a native of “‘burque,” or of New Mexico in general. In reality, many folks in the west have migrated here from other places. Many in search of warmer weather, a slower pace, a more affordable existence. All of these reasons could apply to my own experience, but none really get to the root of what appealed to me about New Mexico in the first place.
My first impressions of what New Mexico looked like came via artists. Like many people, I discovered the unique landscape and colors via the work of Georgia O’Keeffe and Ansel Adams. And though these initial views didn’t exactly call me to this place, it did shape my impression that New Mexico was nothing like the world I knew in New Jersey.
It wasn’t until a few years later, when I studied photography in college that the uniqueness and idiosyncrasies of New Mexico, and Albuquerque specifically, started to seep into my consciousness. I recall discovering the photos of Gary Winogrand, Lee Friedlander and Robert Frank. These artists each shot images here that conveys an oddness, a foreboding, a desolation unique to this place. I found these images perplexing. Not only in what they showed, but how they showed it. I have written elsewhere about Winogrand’s photo of an infant at the edge of the world, but there is also Robert Frank’s image of the desolate view of a lonely car on a distant highway, or his photo taken in a clandestine manner in a bar in Gallup. There is Friedlander’s image shot in downtown Albuquerque: a mishmash of poles, street lights, the Doghouse hot dog stand, and the wonderful dog itself. Toto, we’re not in New Jersey anymore.
Photo by Lee Friedlander
The more I learned of Albuquerque, the more enigmatic it became. That dark wizard, Joel Peter-Witkin, creating his jarring work in a South Valley studio. Is this place the freak scene he alludes to? “Who walks these streets after the sun goes down?” I wondered. Truth is sometimes stranger than fiction.
Photo by Joel-Peter Witkin
The images of Thomas Barrow, in his series “Cancellations” also held my attention. Of course, one might wonder why anyone would damage their own negatives in the way he was doing. What did it mean to cancel out a photo you took yourself, but still decided to print and display? But what I found more intriguing were the subjects of the photos themselves. Anyone who has spent even a short amount of time in Albuquerque would start to recognize Barrow’s locations, such as the big arrow at the corner of Carlisle and Indian School. As scan of his book would yield fodder for quite the scavenger hunt for a curious Burqueño.
Photo by Thomas Barrow
There are also the photographs of Danny Lyon. His book “Pictures From The New World” had a profound influence on my perception of the New Mexico landscape, the light and cultural fabric of this place. The NYC born and bred photographer somehow ended up in Bernalillo, New Mexico… a refugee from the pressures of the relentlessness of urban life, I would guess. I would follow that same path in the early 90s, and here I remain.
There are others, as well. Miguel Gandert, Robert D'Alessandro, Douglas Kent Hall and Patrick Nagatani, for example. As a group, all of these photographers did more to introduce me to the complexity and confounding nature of life in the 505 than any visitor’s guide ever could.
2019: 28 (Take Me To The River)
Here we go, formal announcement time. I am super stoked to finally announce the big exhibition of my collaboration with fellow Latent Image Collective members Fábio Miguel Roque and Hean Kuan Ong. I hope all local New Mexico readers can join me at the opening reception on Saturday, August 3rd, from 2 to 4pm.
The exhibition is at the Open Space Visitor Center Gallery on the westside of Albuquerque. The show will feature 90 photographs, and we’re planning a unique display approach to bring the images to life. I hope you can join me at the opening! More info as the date gets close.
2019 : 16 (Good Friday)
Every year for the past 4 or 5 years, on Good Friday, I’ve made a sunrise climb to the top of Tomé Hill, outside of Los Lunas, New Mexico. This is one of two main Catholic pilgrimage sites in the state, a much smaller, more intimate kind of experience than one would have up north in Chimayó. I like it because it is low-key. is a fairy challenging, yet short hike to the top of the Hill, and it always rewards my waking up at a criminally early hour with a glorious sunrise over the surrounding valley.
Though I’ve shot here numerous times, I tried to take a different approach this year and devote myself primarily to shooting on film. Those resulting images will have to wait for developing and scanning. I did take a few shots with my iPhone as well, but restricted myself to capturing in high contrast, black and white.
Though I am pretty much by this point an agnostic, there is still something about the Catholic exercise of faith that draws me in creatively. And spending a sunrise morning on top of a hill above the beautiful New Mexico desert is not a bad way to start a day.
flute unearthed after windstorm; mesa del sol, albuquerque, new mexico 2018
FluteBot Dossier: Excavation Photo Documentation
I recently completed a photo project inspired by the current Patrick Nagatani exhibition at the Albuquerque Museum. The approach for the project was quite different from how I usually shoot, as I conceptualized the series of images beforehand, then used props and specific locations to create each photograph. I presented images last night during a musical performance staged by Chatter at the Albuquerque Museum. A 16-page booklet was distributed to attendees of the concert by FluTeBot, a "time-traveling musician for the 24th Century." My photos and a video I edited were projected during the concert. Below are the notes and images from the publication. It was a nice way to challenge myself creatively, and to collaborate with an extraordinary musician. Brava, FluTeBot.
NOTES
The photographs in this dossier are submitted as evidence in a series of extraterrestrial musical incidents that occurred in New Mexico. This information was recently declassified by unnamed government officials.
According to numerous confidential sources, various items related to a space-traveling, woodwind-playing life form were discovered, scattered around numerous locations in central New Mexico. Each item was painstakingly recovered by researchers, and a complex picture began to emerge. Though various flute parts were initially discovered, subsequent search and excavation efforts yielded additional evidence of a musical alien presence in the region. Recovered items included what appeared to be protective garb, often emitting traces of radioactivity, as well as residue of interplanetary elements (including those not found on Earth).
Researchers were astounded to have also picked up numerous musical signals traveling towardsEarth, including distinct “flute sounding” passages captured via the “Very Small Array” satellite complex (located on Lomas Blvd. in Downtown Albuquerque). Further interpretations concluded that these were actual messages from an entity researchers have dubbed “FluTeBot.”
Translations of additional messages revealed that FluTeBot was, in actuality, a time-traveling musician from the 24th Century. She originally traveled through a time warp to New Mexico decades ago, drawn here by the bright lights emitted from the nuclear testing at Trinity Site. Seeking an atmosphere similar to her home planet of Syrinx, the alien was in dire need of an oxygen source that could be brought back to her home planet. While exploring Earth, FluTeBot was abruptly called home to Syrinx, due to an impending environmental disaster, a result of uncontrolled pollution. FluTeBot has recently returned to Earth to gather her hastily abandoned items. Chatter has negotiated with her for a one-time performance, as a thank you to the people of New Mexico for retrieving her scattered items and for their generous return.
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.
