The pandemic dog days are upon us. August brings melancholy. It is my birthday at the end of the month. This is usually the month where travel and beach time beckons. Monsoon season brings needed rain, but also not needed hail. The light is beginning to change. The summer is close to its breaking point. I continue to plan new projects, as my Japan book makes its way out into the world. Branching out into new formats, thinking of new zine ideas, thinking about another long-term shooting project that will most likely need to wait until interstate travel is safe again. And, of course, the bosque beckons. Short and sweet this week. Welcome August, bring what you will.
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.
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: 30 The (Not-So) Subtle Art of Not Giving A F*ck
an addendum to my weekly posts… with a nod to Mark Manson
Fog, light leaks, lens flare, scratches, dust, grain, etc. I love everything about this image.
I had an epiphany this morning. Or just a “kick in the eye.” I already had a thought rattling around in my brain that needed to surface. And it did. There’s a dude out there on the internet named Mark Manson, whose newsletter I subscribe to. He’s also written a book that I did read, but maybe not fully embrace. But then again, it must have sunken in, or validated something inside of me, hence this rambling post.
I don’t give a fuck. Right now anyway. Here’s the rub: I shot a roll of film over the past few days, and wanted to develop and scan it over the weekend. So yesterday, I loaded the film in my changing bag and stand processed the film in my kitchen sink. Unbeknownst to me, a sizable tear had developed in the sleeve of my changing bag. Long story short, the roll of film suffered from some serious fogging (I’ll let you digital natives google that.) My roll was far from pristine… lots of light leak damage along the frame edges. I think the fact that I stand developed the roll for 37 minutes on a hot day probably exacerbated the results. The grain was pronounced, too.
Guess what? I didn’t give a fuck and scanned the roll anyway. And I love every fucking frame on the roll. The smattering of lights and darks creeping into the frames, the rough edges of the film sprockets, a bit of dust here and there. I love it all. Why? Because it is a mess, it is imperfect. It is not a perfect digital image. It is not a fast swipe through on Instagram. Which brings me to another point. I get really aggravated when I hear film shooters complain about how long it takes to scan their film. I think it’s an integral part of the process. And though it might take an hour or so for me to scan an entire roll on my archaic Epson 3200 Photo, I don’t fucking care. I put my headphones on, crank the Spotify, and focus on the task at hand. One at a time, the scans pop up on a folder on my desktop, and I do a quick crop and levels adjustment, while the scanner continues its work on the next image.
Spend some time on your photos, for Frank’s sake! Even if they are are failures. Especially if they are failures. You’ll learn from the experience. You’ll slow the fuck down and study your images. Why did I shoot this? Is it any good? IT IS GOOD solely because you took the time to make that photograph. It might not get 100 likes on Instagram. It might not end up as print, or in a zine. But who fucking cares? It is a moment of your life that you invested in. It is evidence that you saw something and responded to it. And if it’s covered in dust, or fogged, or scratched, or out of focus, or just a lame, boring photo, it just doesn’t matter. No one else gives a fuck, why should you? Embrace it.
A roll of film that I ran through my Diana Mini 35mm camera this week. No jams, no shredded sprockets.
2020: 29 (How Soon Is Now?)
This year has obviously been a challenge for everyone. Whether you have been directly affected by the coronavirus, or involved in the social upheaval that’s been ongoing, whether you lost your job, or work from home, have been anxious, or bored, or angry, or medicated, or drunk, or wide awake, or walking in your sleep… we’ve all had our expectations and our beliefs challenged. You either keep on moving or you get bogged down by the immense weight of it all.
My moods, my reactions, my motivations, my actions… all have swayed like the pendulum of a clock. Some days are overwhelmingly sad, some are anger inducing, some bring moments of peace and joy. Life is like that I guess. The thing that has helped keep me grounded, as I’ve said here before, is my photography. Sometimes it’s the brief escape with a camera in the middle of the day, mask over my nose and mouth, out fighting the harsh July sun. Sometimes it’s a film scanning session, with a good old slab of vinyl on the turntable, headphones on, swamp cooler on. It brings its own kind of meditative release.
I’ve gone deep back into film photography this year, and the slowing down of the process (from exposure to finished image) has been an appreciated diversion from the shit show outside. I’ve also sat on a particular project that I completed just as the pandemic lockdown took hold. I was waiting for the “right” time to release the project, and any time I was ready to pull the trigger, I found another good reason (or bad excuse) to hold off. Enough of that already. A small number of folks (my subscribers) already know the details of this project. For the general public, the details will be coming very soon. Regardless of the financial, social, health and political challenges we are all facing, there still needs to be place for art in the world. Take it if you need it. Let it be what you need it to be. A diversion. An inspiration. A motivation. An indulgence. A challenge.
I continue to be surprised that this solitary effort of mine has reaped such rewards. Friends and strangers who have supported my work. People who want to hear my perspective on photography and creativity. A review of my website traffic always delights me, especially when I see visitors from countries scattered all over the world. It makes me feel a little less alone, a little less isolated.
Thank you for supporting me, for reading these words, for looking at my work, for investing in my vision, via a purchase or just a kind word. It keeps me motivated. So much more to come.
2020: 28 (4 x 5)
I recently moved the location of my home office, and with the transition comes the customary “stumbling upon things I forgot I still had.” In this particular case, I found a stash of old 4x5 transparencies that I shot in college. I took a large format camera class during my junior year of school, and the class required us to choose a project that we could pursue throughout the semester, while still learning the skills it took to work a behemoth 4x5 view camera.
My project was a series of images of the Pulaski Skyway, a steel structure highway that connects Newark, NJ with the entrance of the Holland Tunnel in Jersey City. The imposing structure can be seen from many vantage points, most of which in 1988 were a rag tag collection of litter strewn riverside docks, shipping warehouses, dead end industrial streets, and a place where you might find a real-life version of a Sopranos body dump occurring. Now imagine me wandering around with a huge, expensive camera that required me to focus underneath a dark cloth, completely vulnerable to a whack on the back of the head. Early morning in 1980s Jersey City, no one would hear me scream.
I am amazed looking at these images 32 years later. I am sure much of that landscape has changed, or maybe some of it looks exactly the same today. But what I find impressive is the 4 x 5 transparencies themselves. Beautiful Kodak Ektachrome! The color still looks fantastic. A quick scan and a tweak in Lightroom and this photo looks as good (or even better) than the day it was exposed. I didn’t put in the effort to remove the abundant dust from the digital file, but it is an amazing testament to the quality of shooting film that this image still exists today.
2020: 27 (Thinkin' About America Blues)
The Fourth of July, 2020. What are you celebrating? I’m wondering what my country will look like tomorrow. Literally: tomorrow. So much upheaval, so much struggle, so much violence, so much fear, so much inequality, so much pain and suffering, so much ignorance, so much division. Yet, so much hope that things can get better. So much faith that voices are being heard. So much motivation to vote this November. So much gratitude for the freedoms we have, even if they sometimes seem precariously close to being taken away. We are not a country of equality, even if that what we aspire to be. So much work still needs to be done. Time to get to work.
2020:26 (Halfway Through)
I will not add too much to the chorus of voices who have waxed (poetically or not) on how shitty this year has been. Making these weekly posts has been mostly therapeutic for me, and lo and behold… we are at week 26 of the year. Halfway home? Halfway down? Are we halfway to the bottom or are we destined to rise up from this, the lowest depth?
Only time will tell.
I will listen to Bill Callahan or maybe Broken Social Scene and tap deep into my optimistic self, drinking from a glass that is half full.
p.s.
Someone from my distant past died this week. I hadn’t seen her in many years, but when I was a young boy, she was an important part of my life. I’ll hold the memory of a bashful kiss on the ferris wheel at the St. Mary’s carnival deep in my heart. Rest in peace, Linda.
2020: 25 (Talk About The Passion)
Photography has been a constant companion for many years. It started innocently enough with my first walk into a high school darkroom. Now it is an integral part of my life. It has been a hobby, an amateur pursuit, a release, a means of expression and a crutch through tough times. It has been a fleeting lover, a long-lost friend, a confidant. It has gone away but always comes back. It stays with me and goes places only I seem to go…so I guess I’m never really alone if I have a camera in my hand.
I have thought a lot lately about the professional vs. amateur approach to photography. I have dabbled in shooting commercial work; just enough to scare me a way from it, honestly. I have had my work exhibited and published. I have sold prints, books and zines. So I’m not quite sure what column that puts me in. I most often consider myself a “passionate” photographer. I do it strictly out of my passion for creating. I am constantly thinking of different ways of getting my work out in the world, connecting with other like-minded souls. I listen, read, watch so much photo-related content. It never gets boring. It is often inspiring.
I love the look of photos in print. I love the feel of paper with images printed on them. I love the fresh smell of ink when I receive a zine from a friend. I love leafing through a classic photo book from my library… it’s like spending time with an old friend. I love discovering work by photographers I’ve never heard of, whether they are young, new talent, or an old master, unknown to me until today.
When I think back on the harder moments in my life, and it has always been photography that has helped me cope.
Call it what you will.
I call it passion.
Burn scar and re-growth; Emory Pass, Gila Wilderness 2020
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: 23 (A Pause)
So many other things need to be heard that supersede anything I might add right now.
Work for change.
Support those who are fighting for their rights and their lives.
