Metaphors are all fine and good, but sometimes the direct meaning of words is more appropriate. This year has been one of destruction, in ways small and large. And I’ll ignore stepping on the soapbox sitting next to me, holding off on the socio-political banter for the time being. We all need a break at this point, don’t we? Instead, i’m taking time to look more deeply at my work and process over the past year. Apropos, since this is entry number 50 for the year… how the fuck are we a few weeks away from the new year? Anyone who’s read this blog with any regularity (I know there are at least two of you) would know that my work has taken some radical directions this year. I’ve devoted myself almost exclusively to film photography in 2020, but there have been some forays into digital as well. I’m not a Luddite, I’m not a purist, and I’m not a film fetishist (um, maybe I’m guilty on that last count.) Most people don’t give a fuck what tools you use to create your work. It’s the final images that matter. At the same time, I can’t neglect the fact that the majority of my work this year has been a shift away from the pristine, singular image. There are roots to this shift to be found in my work over the past few years, but I think it’s been during this pandemically enforced, navel gazing year that I have allowed myself the freedom to pursue these ideas in many different ways. Some of my self-publishing projects have already reflected this move towards using several images to create a feeling, to convey my thoughts, to capture the character of a particular location. To push myself further away from relying on clarity, sharpness and other signs of a perfectionist slant, I started using my old friend, the Lensbaby, bringing unpredictability and happenstance to my photos. The deep dive into film brought another variable and an invitation to surprise. Further down the rabbit hole, pinhole lenses on my big boy dslr allowed for unrestrained exploration of shapes, forms and, as always light. Plastic cameras, slow film, home developing, scanning and post-production in Lightroom, along with a secret combo of software led me to a point where I took an even more dramatic step. I burned, scratched, pieced and otherwise degraded my roles of film, at once destroying while creating. Why stop there? I found an old lens for a Canon AE-1, that I knew was not functioning properly. So first, I threw it on the ground. Kicked it into the dirt. Stepped on it. I took a hammer to the lens. It did not break completely. Kudos to 1970s glass and metal. it still fit on my digital camera, by means of an adapter. And it became the latest tool for me to explore and record, without any hope of perfection. Or at least perfection in the literal sense. Because some of the photos I’ve been creating feel closer to an ideal to me than anything I have tried to create with “perfect” light, “perfect” focus or “perfect” composition. I’m not going to belabor the oft-quoted Picasso again, but to say that my destructive tendencies have lead to a fertile run of creation for me this year, well that’s an understatement. The muse is still here, and she brings deeper, more satisfying art from deep down in the well. And while that water flows, I’ll raise a glass and drink it. And then I’ll smash the glass against the wall.
2020:49 (Ten Things)
Trust me, this is not clickbait…here are ten things that occupied my time this week:
1) Diego Maradona died this week. I’m far from a serious football (soccer) fan, but I do know the importance of the “Hand of God” and the cult of Maradona that carries much weight in Napoli. A great remembrance here.
2) I watched “Birdman” last night. What a fantastic film. Edward Norton upstages Micheal Keaton on the stage and in the film, and Iñárritu copped some serious Godard vibes. Stellar.
3) Thank you to Sara and the Bridgewater Camera Club for inviting me to speak to their group, via Zoom. Nova Scotia, I will meet you in person, some day.
4) Bought me a Supersampler. Stand by for more multi-lens chaos.
5) I sent off four projects to the printer this week. Can’t stop, won’t stop,
6) Do you like cheese? I do.
7) Bill Callahan is a goddamn American treasure.
8) I will gladly buy Daido Moriyama re-issues, because a) his older work is impossible to find; b) he is clearly cashing in while he’s still alive to reap the benefits; c) I’m a fanboy.
9) Yoga helps.
10) I’ve got some new items for sale in my online store. Support the arts.
2020:48 (Keep Moving)
The virus is rearing its head here in New Mexico, and case numbers are almost three times what they were a month ago. The state went into a two week lockdown this Monday, severely limiting the opportunity to leave the house. After a particularly trying couple of days, I needed a time outside to breathe. I made my way over to the Nature Center, which was also off limits due to the lockdown. Instead, I made my way into the bosque through the public bike path. There were only a handful of people out, and everyone I saw was in a mask. I brought along my Holga wide pinhole camera, and loaded it with some expired 800 ASA film. The speed allowed me to shoot hand-held…quite unheard of for pinhole photography. But since sharpness is a bourgeois concept anyway, so who cares if the images aren’t tack sharp. It’s a pinhole camera, after all.
Photography has been my respite through this crisis, and for that, I am grateful. How are you coping?
Gear Review: Quad-Cam Film Camera
Here’s a gift for all the gear junkies out there. I’m jamming out another camera review!
Hey all you Sony ABc200x shooters! Calling all the Fujifilm fanboys! No, I’m not gonna sway you towards a Ricoh Daido GR5000, or micro 2/3 or 3/4 or 16/18th crop sensor, digital paperweight. I’m talking about a film camera. Not the YouTube, flavor of the month, medium format 6x7, or one of those Hasselblad panos that will cost you your first child. I’m not even drinking the Lomography kool-aid today (though to be fair, that cult saved my life, in the early 00’s, before it was cool to hate on Lomo…) but I digress. I’m going to wax poetic about the craptastic, plastic, 35mm film camera, known to me as the “Quad-Cam.” Damn, they even have one of these gems in the Cooper Hewitt / Smithsonian Design Museum, so you know it’s legit.
I wish I could tell you the technical specs of this wonder of post-modern technology, but the model I own did not come with much details. So instead, I’ll share some info I cribbed from an eBay post (apologies to whomever this is lifted from…)
The camera takes four consecutive pictures on a 24x36mm negative as the shutter spins round like clockwork. With fixed focus and shutter speed (about one second in total, so 1/4 second for each shot) and aperture. Pictures with four images taken after one another can be great fun. It works especially well with frantically moving people or sports. The shutter is a small plastic rotating disc placed behind the lenses. This disc has one small opening and in combination with the four light chambers, it gives four exposures. The Camera has four 26mm f/11 lenses and that everything from 1.2m to infinity is in focus. The shutter speed is set at 1/100s with .22 second intervals between each frame. The film advance is a thumb wheel cog. When loaded with film this also cocks the shutter. The camera has a small frame counter in the bottom that is automatically reset when you open the back. Pictures are composed through a folding frame finder on top.
Yada, yada, yada… all this info kind of goes out the window when you shoot with this camera. The only thing you have control over is 1) choice of film; and 2) where you point this thing. I found (PRO TIP) that ASA 100 film seems to work best, at least in this gorgeous New Mexico daylight. You might want to use ASA 200 or 400 if you live in a less-bright environment. My roll of ASA 400 was horribly overexposed. The sequence of exposures moves pretty quickly, so I would suggest moving the camera while you shoot, if you are shooting a non-moving subject… at least you’ll get four slightly different images on each frame of film. If you are shooting moving subjects, try not to move at all, and let the camera spin its magic. I really wish there was more control over the speed of the four exposures.
So, on to the results. There is something I really like about the grouping of four images on one standard 35mm frame. The image quality is surprisingly better than expected, from a shitty, fixed focus, plastic lens. I got some really nice results shooting directly towards the sun, where a nice blast of lens flare crept into a fe frames. I also enjoyed the reckless abandon of not even trying to frame up my shots. Just point and shoot, like God intended. I also like being able to hack the camera, by placing a finger or two over some of the lenses, resulting in a frame that has one or two images missing from the frame. Scan a few of these frames in a row and you have a geometric study in randomness.
My conclusions, and you may not agree… spend the 5 to 10 bucks on eBay and snag one of these cameras and try it out. Chances are it will probably break sooner than later, but in the meantime, it will free you up of any ideas of control and predictability. It will most likely disappoint you more often than not. It may also blindside you with wonder and surprise… and magical, fleeting joy. Just like life.
2020: 47 (Burn Blister)
The experimentation that this fucked up year has ushered in for me continues. Hours working from home allows for frequent, albeit short, diversions into my personal work. The equation is simple enough: a stack of negatives, some bleach, sandpaper, a lighter, plastic wrap, sharpies and some time on my hands. What started as a “what if?” proposition has been continually rewarding. From 4x5 negatives to 35mm negatives, from black and white, now to color. Freedom to play, without worrying too much about failure. That is the key, I truly believe it. Failure is often something we try to avoid at all costs. However, without the risk of failure, how do we make discoveries? How do we advance, when we only tread on the well-worn path? I have burned a lot of film this year (wink, wink) and some of it goes promptly into the trash can. Then, every so often, a wonderful moment of happenstance occurs, and I get something that is truly unique. One of a kind, not to be repeated. I think Picasso was credited with saying “Every act of creation is first an act of destruction.” Or maybe it's vice versa. In any event, I’ve embraced this dictum, and it has reaped rewards both large and small. And since making art is often a dispensation of blood, sweat and tears, I’d like to add “blisters” to that list. Nothing like a drop of burning plastic on your finger to remind you what pain feels like.
2020: 46 (Metaphors)
Photographic practice can act as a metaphor during these challenging times we find ourselves living in. I thought about this as I undertook my weekly wander through the bosque this Thursday. So much unknown hovering around me, even when the environment is familiar. There is change evident in my surroundings, even if it is not immediately obvious. Time takes its time, sometimes. The desire for quick answers and obvious results is an unreasonable expectation. I walk quietly, wearing a mask, even though there are no other people around. I rely on technology to make my images that has been around for decades. Even though cameras have been upgraded digitally, I still rely on old tools and easy-to-dismiss “toys” that require using my hands, my eyes, my patience. November feels different, especially this year…so much pain and loss and confusion. I walked with my camera on cold mornings back in March and April, when the pandemic first reared its head, and now I’m doing exactly the same thing. My work has become more layered, more dense, more dramatically contrasty, dirtier, more expressive, and ultimately… less restrained, more free. Perhaps in the past one image would suffice in telling a story, now layers upon layers combine to express what is in my mind and in my heart. In the end, my process relies on my ability to see. And it relies on the sun, rising as it does every day, helping me to record what I see, in all its jumbled, chaotic complexity, onto a frame of film. Where it sits, in its latency, to finally emerge in the world.
2020:45 VOTE
Enough said.
A Bible in the Bosque
2020: 44 (Hope and Change)
The weather is changing, autumn is in full effect. The colors in the bosque are at their peak. Golden yellow and reds dominate. Three visits this week yielded much comfort, and many photos. I wandered through the thicket on Thursday and came across this Bible, in the middle of the woods, not near any path. I snapped it with my iPhone (sacrilege, I know) while also doing a few shots with my Holga. I decided to revisit the scene on Friday, with some slide film in my Leica (again… sacrilege) that I intended to cross-process. Leaves had fallen on the open book since the day before. Change. Hope. In 2020 we need both.
I also voted yesterday, to complete the theme for the week.
Flaunt The Imperfections
Entry # 2020:43
Issue #5 is out now
I’m excited to share my newest self-published project with the world. I created my zine series “Flaunt The Imperfections” a few years ago, when I dove deeply back into film photography. I wanted an outlet for the work I created using my old cameras, all shot on film, showing the grain, contrast and the roughness that I love so much about non-digital image-making. I also wanted to make a strong commitment to the rejection of perfection. I had (and continue to have) a gnawing disdain for the flawlessness of a digitally captured and manipulated photograph. The use of film in old cameras allows for the introduction of happenstance, surprise, and yes, shortcomings and what some might deem as “failure.” The denial of these challenges can so easily be done when you can simply “delete” an image from your camera. Instead, I found these were attributes to exploit, and even celebrate.
The current issue of my zine is a radical step for me creatively. As many of us have felt through the past year…or four years… or even more… I have been afraid, insecure, worried, and angry about the state of the world, and the state of the union. The pandemic has of course weighed heavy on my mind, but so too have other pressing political and environmental issues. The world literally has been on fire. My artistic output has reflected this upheaval. And as I wandered through the remaining “burn scar” in the Rio Grande bosque earlier this summer, I had an abrupt realization that this damage I was witnessing could be reflected in my photography. I somehow decided that the subject matter, nature in general, and the forest and trees in particular, would be a platform for me to explore an intentional destruction and degradation of the film negatives I was creating. I started slowly, experimenting with different film stocks and sources of flame and heat. Then I went further, scraping, piercing, sanding, and then, finally stepping on the strips of film. The metaphors are obvious and need no further explanation.
As is my usual approach, I moved quickly to bring this body of work to publication. I had time to focus on the production (and destruction) of the work, and I worked on the final layout with little hesitation. As such, there are probably elements of the final piece that I might have changed or adjusted, but again, the purpose of this zine series is a celebration of imperfections. It’s all there on the page, like it or not.
I have started taking orders for the zine, and will ship in early November. I you’d like to order a copy, please click the link below. I am proud of this work, and hope to share it with as many of you as possible.
2020: 42 (Fail Forward)
I’ve been rolling the dice lately. Plastic cameras, nothing but film, no viewfinder, no meter, no plan, no expectations, no disappointments. Running 35mm film through medium format cameras, shooting pinhole, advancing film partially, double exposures. Shooting color film and developing it in black and white chemistry. Breaking all the rules. I’m feeling that this is all leading someplace… feels like I’m down in the sewers, just like Orson Welles in The Third Man. Darkness, dampness, dripping liquids, shadows, footsteps. Isolation, fear, paranoia. Yet free, and oddly self-assured. Or maybe just schizophrenic. My mind is popping, synapses firing in all directions, and then lethargic, confused, unable to focus and concentrate. This is life in 2020. The year of perfect vision, is that irony or not? So much more to come. While I breathe, I hope.
Orson Welles in the classic film, The Third Man. Watch it if you’ve never seen it.