I’ve never been a reader of The Bible. My knowledge of scripture was filtered through my Catholic upbringing, and I must admit, even that is foggy at best. I could remember the prayers in Sunday morning mass, but I think the ritual alone settled into my brain… I never paid much attention to the words themselves, or what they meant. I guess it would help to buckle down and work my way through the “good book” at some point, if only to brush up on my trivia for my moment in the spotlight on Jeopardy (a guy can dream.) Nevertheless, I know enough about references to wandering in the desert, or the wilderness. A panacea for dealing with the world, not a forced exile, or an “exodus” to go back to the Bible, but a time of reflection in any event. In the days of my youth, I had no comprehension of the depths of nature, the extent of wilderness, no understanding of wide open spaces, where humans are but a blip in an unforgiving landscape. We didn’t have “wilds” in suburban NJ. My time in the American Southwest has giving me much, but probably the greatest gift is a chance to get out in the middle of nowhere, alone with my thoughts (and my cameras.) I’m far from a brave person; I’m generally anxious, and easily skittish. Animals that can hurt me, insects that bite and sting, an unrelenting sun… these are things that can rattle my mind quite easily. And yet, I can still muster the resolve to “get out there” into the desert, alone… and sometimes, unafraid. And the rewards are many. Sunrise in the desert is a glorious thing. Silence at maximum volume. The light, unique. A chill in the air, maybe for the first 30 minutes or so after the sun breaks over the horizon. Wandering through the Arizona desert last weekend, the world let me exhale… and then take a huge breath in again. Time alone is good for my soul, at least in small doses. To readjust, to recalibrate. And while my creativity continues to flow, I will tap into that river of inspiration, and see what it yields. Needless to say, I made many photographs on the trip. Primarily using my Holgawide 120 Pinhole camera to take in the breadth of the open landscape and the majesty of the stoic sentinels of the desert, the Saguaro cactus. Another step on a creative journey. A small step for now, as I do my own wandering through the desert, literally and figuratively. I’ll see where it leads me.
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.
2021: 15 Goodbye, Stranger...
Frequent visitors to this website know that I am far from being a “gear” guy. Most cameras are just a means to an end for me, and I generally swing to the cheaper end of the spectrum when it comes to equipment. Plastic craptastic cameras were a recent obsession; throw in a pinhole camera here, a busted lens there… you get the point. Nevertheless, this week I bit the bullet and upgraded my nicest 35mm film camera. Stimulus money was burning a hole in my pocket, and the premium glass I own needed a long-term body to fully live with. Not gonna get into the details of what I bought… you’ll have to watch this space closely to see if I spill the beans at some point. In order for me to make room on my shelf, I did decide to part with a particular camera that never quite fit into my workflow. My Texas Leica shipped out to a new home this week. I hope it finds a more loving, dedicated user. I never quite took to it, even though I had grandiose plans for it. A cheap plastic Holga stole my heart instead. In any event, as much as I try not to focus to much on gear, it is bittersweet that the Fuji 6 x 9 is heading off to another lover. “Goodbye, stranger…it’s been nice…hope you find your paradise.”
Tools of the trade
2021: 14 Hey, Lomography!
Short and sweet this week, since I actually just emerged from 5 days in the high desert of West Texas… a HUGE thank you to the great folks at Lomography for a featured article on their website and social media platforms that hits today. A nice deep dive into my latest “destruction” series, featuring (tongue in cheek) easy to follow instructions… so you too can make your own mess. All kidding aside, at numerous times in my life, Lomography films and cameras have inspired and reinvigorated my photography. It is indeed an honor to have my work featured by these film renegades.
Check out the full feature here:
https://www.lomography.com/magazine/346051-5-1-mastering-the-art-of-hand-manipulation-with-nick-tauro
2021: 13 Waxing and Waning
One of my challenges I make to myself, in order to keep out of the grip of the “big mutherfuckin’ sad” is stay engaged with my creativity. Shooting film certainly helps, and improv has been a life saver, for sure. But where to go when the unfamiliar starts to feel commonplace? Recently I decided to sign up for a six-week, online encaustic class. For those who don’t know, encaustic is a centuries old technique of melting wax and pigments, and then painting them onto a surface. In my case, I’ve been exploring the joys of laying wax on top of some of may photographic images. Hell, why not? I’ve already taken flame to my negatives and my prints, so it seems like a logical next step. It’s also a big leap out of my comfort zone. Back in college, I struggled through the painting classes that were part of my fine arts degree studies. Ever since, the idea of using brushes on any surface (besides painting the living room walls) has been foreign territory I’d chosen not to explore. However, the idea of trying something new with my photography proved to be too enticing to ignore, and I am convinced that I’ve made a good choice. It is liberating to brush melted wax onto a surface, then zap it with a heat gun, fusing the wax to the surface. There are myriad ways to manipulate the wax and the color further, and I’ve been trying many different approaches. Trust me, there have been many more failures than successes. But there is a sense of play at the root of this new direction that I find intoxicating. Or maybe it’s just that smell of melting wax that I love so much. It reminds me of the scent in the hallways of my college art department, as I scurried to the elevator to get up to the fourth floor darkroom, where I felt more comfortable than at an easel with my color theory professor chastising me. I sometime I wish I wasn’t so afraid of failure back then.
A melted strip of film, encased forever in resin… a future fossil from a pandemic.
2021: 12 "get sick, get well, hang around an inkwell"
Over a year into social isolation, virus anxiety and the pendulum swings of emotion have come to a turning point for me this week. I finally received my second covid vaccine dosage. Not wanting to rub salt in anyone’s wounds who are still waiting for their shot, of course… but thank goodness for my pre-existing condition… finally high blood pressure has its benefit. The side effects of the second shot (as many have prepped me for) came on strong within 24 hours of my shot. And it did hit me harder than I expected. Mostly fatigue, body aches, and a bit of fever. But I gladly rode it out, because I knew that the only way out was through it… to paraphrase a great movie. The interesting this about not feeling well for this short amount of time was that it made me realize that during the entire lockdown period, I never got a cold or the flu. Aside from some regular stomach duress (par for the course with my diet) I have not gotten sick this past year. I forgot what it felt like, honestly. And this isn’t some macabre, Munchausen-esque self-sabotage… it made me value the process of getting sick and then feeling well again. The day in bed reminded me of what recovery feels like. The emergence from illness, either mild or severe… it is part of being human. And from the existential standpoint, it is a process that will continue in life… until it doesn’t. What doesn’t kill me only makes me stronger. There is no joy without pain, there is no gain without loss. There is no light without dark. This past year I’ve learned many lessons, and will continue to do so, while putting into practice the insight gained. Case in point, I’ve explored creative avenues I would have never taken had I not been in enforced isolation. Sometimes bad, but more often good lessons learned. I have played with mediums completely new to me. At the top of this post is a strip of negatives from my “Sacrosanct” series. I encased it in clear resin, but of course not knowing how to do it correctly, created a rough surface with air bubbles and other deformities. But I like it that way. Flaunt those imperfections, indeed. The negative will never be printed again. Held in clear resin now and forever. Maybe a paperweight. Maybe ending at the bottom of a landfill someday. Dug up in a couple of hundred years by curious archaeologists, perhaps? I’m wondering how confused they will be by what they have discovered.
2021:11 Failure
I spent a good part of the past weekend lost in the bosque on the west side of Albuquerque. No need to get into the gory details, except to say that I now know the feeling of trying to find a needle in the hay. Adding insult to injury, I had brought along my ultra-UN-reliable Kiev 6C; a medium format film camera that the Soviets probably used as weapons while stomping down pro-democracy rallies back in the 80s. That is to say that this camera is a brick. Well, of course my roll of film was botched, the take up spool not really doing its job, the film was not tightly wound and thus, was royally fogged upon opening the back of the camera.
However, in the interest of full disclosure, and to prove to my faithful fanbase that I am fallible, I’m sharing the results here anyway. Because really, these photos actually look pretty good to me. Sure, proper exposure, good framing, and clear imagery in general is what most of us strive for, but there is something appealing about the blast of a light leak, the numbers and dots from the 120 backing paper superimposed onto my photos. It just looks nice to me.
We humans are never perfect. We make mistakes. Lots of mistakes. Over and over and over again. Even when you think you’ve gained enough experience to not make the same stupid mistakes, they always seem to crop up and knock you on your ass. Might as well own up to it.
2021: 10 Three New Publications
If you have been a frequent visitor to my site, you know that my primary outlet for my work is via self-published zines and books. I am proud to announce the release of three new publications, and offer them to you for pre-sale today.
As 2020 drew to its conclusion, and the new year kicked off in inauspicious fashion, I hunkered down in my studio, focussing on several projects that were in various stages of completion. Social isolation has proven an ideal scenario for me to wrap up these three new publications, and I thought "why not release them all at once?" Though the subject matter definitely has some commonality, each publication has its own unique look and feel. Each is a limited edition, signed and numbered. I am now taking pre-order for a late March shipment.
Collateral Damage: A big step outside my comfort zone. A continuation of the destructive path started with my "Sacrosanct" series. These photo collages are the result of burning, bleaching, melting, cutting, gluing and taping original photo prints to create unique new pieces of art. The oversized format allows the viewer to take a deep dive into the work, exploring textures and colors that deserve to be seen in person. Web galleries pale in comparison. I'm very proud to share this new body of work in this large format zine.
Twelve Kinds of Silence: A zine that took me over a year to produce. Twelve monthly visits to the bosque along the Rio Grande in New Mexico, with a half-frame film camera. One day a month, one roll of film shot each visit. A study in time and change in a location near and dear to me.
Sacrosanct: Based on an earlier publication from the "Flaunt" series, this new zine is an expanded exploration of the film destruction I started in the middle of 2020. Featuring a larger size, more pages, new writing and lots of new imagery.
For the keen-eyed visitor, you will also notice that my website has been updated to include galleries of all three bodies of new work. Viewing online is obviously not the same experience as holding a real object in your hands, but I hope seeing the various images will whet your appetite to make a purchase. So…take a look and if you are willing and able, click the button below to pre-order your copies today. I am extremely grateful and humbled by your ongoing interest and your support. Ars longa, vita brevis.
I apologize if this message is a duplicate of an earlier email from me. I respect your privacy and your patience.
click on image for a closer look
2021: 9 ......... Interpretation
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.
Ice studies from an alley in Downtown Albuquerque
2021: 8 ........ Get Closer
Winter came down hard on the US this week, and New Mexico was no exception. Thankfully, we never lost power or water or internet… count your blessings, right? The snow cancelled my weekly sojourn to the bosque on Thursday, depriving me and my fellow photographer our time to talk process, to vent about sundry frustrations, and to make some photographs. Luckily, snow doesn’t stick around too long in these parts, our dry climate and abundant sunshine melting away most snowfall by midday.
I wandered Downtown Albuquerque on Friday for a few hours, expecting it to be fairly quiet, thanks to ongoing pandemic restrictions. The plus side of course was plenty of parking. Gear alert: I put extension tubes in between my lens and camera, allowing me to play a bit with extreme close up photography. Technical issues and approaches are not usually a big concern of mine. The end justifies the means, ultimately. I don’t care what tricks it takes to make an interesting image…most of the time. And I gather that with the exception of a few peers and inquisitive photo dweebs, most viewers don’t really care how you made your photograph.
This set up forced me to focus on small details, bending and kneeling and getting in within a few inches of my subject matter. Added bonus to this approach was the fact that I was doing this in a fairly barren back alley in the middle of the city. Not too worried about being smacked in the back of the head while setting up a shot…or getting run over by a distracted delivery driver, but you never know what’s lurking behind that dumpster. To my point, while I was hunched over a frozen pothole filled with ice and water, a random dude rolled up on his bicycle, with a full bottle of St. Germain in his hand. He asked for help unscrewing the cap, as it apparently had gotten gummed up from dried liquor and was impossible to open. I guess that’s why it ended up in the back alley, and then in his hands.
Anyway, the exploration taught me a few things. First off, there’s nothing wrong with playing with different approaches in my image making. I generally don’t likely “macro” photography. I find it a bit of a gimmick, and the whole idea of seeing a miniature world up close feels slightly cliche and predictable to me. But the process did force me to challenge those biases, and fight the urge to give up. I certainly wasn’t expecting to do a series of ice crystal studies behind a barber shop in downtown Albuquerque, but that’s where I landed. No harm, no foul. It was a fun diversion, and I’m not against the idea of pushing this approach further. “If your pictures aren’t good enough, you’re not close enough,” Robert Capa famously said. It’s been repeated ad nauseam. I guess it took a detour in my usual approach to discover the truth to it, after all. A lesson learned.