2022: 15. Get sick, get well, hang around a inkwell

I have been fortunate to have avoided the dreaded Covid over the past 2 plus years. I have also been fortunate to have been vaccinated and boostered. Due to my age, I received booster shot number four this week. With it came the expected cruddy feelings the following day. After shots two and three, I was pretty much down for the count the following day. Shot number four was no different. Body aches and extreme exhaustion were on the menu again. I made sure I had little work responsibilities for the day after, and spent most of the day in bed. I think I logged about 16 hours of sleep. Again, good fortune to be able to just stay in bed and sleep. There is an interesting element to this experience. Usually when one gets sick, one doesn’t know how bad or how long the illness will be. Add the unpredictability of the Covid pandemic to the mix and anxious days or weeks can easily follow. There is something very different when you know what to expect, having voluntarily introducing a small bit of disease into your system. Riding out the after effects was not pleasant at all, but the understanding that the pain and suffering would be finite made things much easier to process mentally. A surrender to the reality of the situation was comforting, as was a warm bed in a quiet house. Today, I feel almost back to normal. With the time to do nothing but rest came some time to sit quietly with my thoughts and ponder the plenty I have in my life, including the ability to get sick and then get well again.

2022: 14 Heart of Glass

I have been exploring alternative processes lately in my studio. My path away from digital photography has been quite the journey, taking me through various film stocks, pinhole cameras, instant film, encaustics… and most recently, cyanotypes. Hand coating paper with light sensitive chemicals is another world of challenge and experimentation. One thing I learned very quickly was the benefit of using a larger negative to create cyanotype prints. Yes, collaged 35mm negatives can work, in their own way, but nothing beats a 4 x 5 negative (or something even larger.)

With this in mind, I have begun to purchase old, glass negatives from eBay. There is a whole world of decades-old imagery out there, just waiting to be rediscovered. Sometimes the image might be so unique that it commands exorbitant prices; I generally stay away from those sellers. I found a good source of “lots” of negatives this week. reasonably priced, but in varying degrees of quality and condition. Still, there are a few gems in the stack of negatives that arrived in my mailbox.

The image above is a prime example. I’m not sure how old the negative is, but it looks like it is early 1900s for sure. It also looks like it might not be in the United States. The appearance of the wall behind the costumed man looks Mediterranean, or possibly Latin or South American. The outfit the man is wearing could be a costume, or could be a cultural outfit…again, I have no clue.

However, my favorite part of this photograph is the obvious shadow of the photographer. What is often considered an amateur mistake is, in this case, a special tribute to those of us who wield a camera, documenting our family and friends, with no desire for fame or glory or recognition. As young photographers, we are taught how to avoid harsh shadows, and most certainly our own shadow creeping inside of our pictures. There are exceptions to this rule, of course.. Lee Friedlander is a prime example of photographing one’s own shadow. This glass negative does not seem to intentionally include the shadow of the photographer.

Nonetheless, I find it charming to see the presence of the artist in the picture. I wonder who these people are, where this picture was made, and about the fact that they are dead and gone now. I wonder if they are remembered fondly by a handful of family members, or if my discovery of a long lost negative brings some kind of cosmic attention to people whose legacy was lost to time. And I think about the photographer him (or her) self, and the tangential connection we now share.

2022:13 (No) Heroes

I’ve been living a life in photography for a long time now. Decades, really. I fell in love with the medium when I was a teenager, and I think part of the allure were the artists that created the groundbreaking work that inspired and motivated me to become an artist myself. Like a teen that hangs posters of pop stars on their bedroom walls, or reads the weekly music magazines to gain insight into the lives of their “heroes,” I could rightfully be accused of being a fanboy of my favorite photographers. In my early 20s, I once sat in my car outside of Robert Frank’s Bowery studio, hoping that I would catch a glimpse of the master, out for a morning stroll. He never made an appearance that day. This attitude may have never fully left me as I matured and aged; certainly a bit of it still sits somewhere in my middle aged psyche.

No longer a child, I put away childish things. But my high regard for the artists that inspire me has caused me to sometimes forget that these are real people, with real shortcomings and real weaknesses, just live everybody else. Miles Davis was a musical genius. He was also a terrible person, sometimes. Pablo Picasso, contrary to what Jonathan Richman might lead you to believe, was certainly an asshole. My work on producing a podcast has recently put me in contact with a handful of people I hoped to interview for upcoming episodes. I reached out to three “heroes” of mine this week. Each declined to be interviewed. One was honest and gracious. One was honest and blunt. One was distant and difficult and then downright mean. I will not name names. But I will say that my eyes were opening in a way I hadn’t expected. You can love the work, but not the artist. Or, you can think you know someone through that work, but not really “know” them as real people. I was hurt by the rejection, for sure. But I also learned some lessons form the experience. And I worked very hard over the passing days to not let the rejection undermine my drive and desire to create something important. My ego bruised, but still, I persist.

2022: 12 Persistence

As an artist, are you a sprinter or are you a marathon runner? I often feel as if each day (each project) is a mad dash to an imaginary finish line. In actuality, each day ands up being just one stride in a creative marathon. It takes dedication to keep going. Sometimes, a good day in the studio can feel like a soft sprint through flat terrain, no leg pain, no fatigue, proceeding freely, unencumbered. Other days, it feels almost impossible to even lace up the shoes and hit the road. On top of the self-motivation needed, there are deeper thoughts that come into play. Especially when you are trying to build an audience, or get your work out into the world. Rejection is part of the process. But so is fatigue, or burn out, or feeling jaded, or just plain failure. The success one feels as an artist is not exclusive to art openings, a sale of a piece, or some online recognition. It also has to do with simply “showing up” day after day. Doing the work, without the external validation. Looking at the rejection, the dismissal, the shortcoming, the failed experiments… and deciding… nonetheless… to keep going. What else can we do?

2022: 11 Envy

Comparison. Success. Recognition. Validation. Awards. Rewards. Endorsement. Jealousy. Schadenfreude. Equity. Representation. Accolades. Envy. Wants. Desires. Needs. Love. Acceptance. What is enough?

2022: 10 Kyiv

“Ball of confusion, that’s what the world is today…” A short stroll through the 21st Century…terrorism, war, market crash, war, racism, violence, mass shootings, political unrest, a pandemic… and now…another war. Growing up during the Cold War, I always had a fear and suspicion of Russia… or the Soviet Union, as it used to be called. Also, a fascination with the Eastern Bloc as well. Berlin split in two…the fear of a nuclear war. What’s old is new again. I have become obsessed with the plight of the Ukrainian people and their country, becoming surprisingly hawkish, in fact. But at the same time, I feel sad and powerless and afraid and… and… and…

I used to joke about this clunky 6 x 6 camera of mine, this Kiev 6; calling it a Russian tank. It weighs a ton, and is somewhat unreliable, but I love it anyway. Little did I know that the factory that brought this camera to the world, to my hands, was actually based in the Ukraine… then it was part of the Soviet Union, so what did I know? Anyway, my little personal connection to Kyiv (as the Ukrainians call it, thus I will as well) doesn’t really amount to a hill of beans, but still, I placed a new, different value on this camera this week. Whose hands worked to build it ? What are their offspring, or even them personally, doing right now?

2022: 9 A New Collaboration

Excited to be working on a new project with two fellow photo / artists from Europe.
Beware the Ides of March.

More to come soon…

2022: 8 Gratitude

Every once in a while, I am reminded of the good things in my life. It has been harder to do so after the past couple of years, for sure, but this week afforded me time to reflect. I am lucky to live in relative comfort, in a supportive relationship, with friends and (decent) health and no real “wants” as far as the basics of human life are concerned. Especially having carved out a creative life that fulfills and challenges me on a daly basis.

This past weekend, my amazing wife performed a solo concerto with the Santa Fe Symphony, and as I sat in the audience, I was reminded how special she is, and how good our life can be. We both have made choices to pursue our creative endeavors, often at the expense of more traditional societal choices and paths. But the rewards of the things we are able to do are so much worth it. Living an artistic life, with all of its ups and downs, is something I value deeply. The choice not to have children has also allowed us to pursue our creative journeys with more freedom and flexibility than others, and that, too is something I am keenly aware of and value deeply.

This week, aside from attending the symphony performance, I also worked on a new self-publishing project, recorded and edited my next podcast episode, and had two satisfying sessions with my improv team. I know that life throws curveballs all the time. health and wealth and stability are precious and precarious. But for this week, at least, I am able to feel satisfaction and gratitude. I wish the same for all of you, in whatever shape or form that might take. Thank you for being along for the ride.

2022: 7 Back to the Desert

Sometimes you have to throw caution to the wind and act impulsively. I am far from that kind of person, in all honesty. I labor over decisions and choices, looking at things from every possible angle before making up my mind.

*Note: maybe most of the time… perhaps that is why I love doing improv…thinking on my feet, in the moment…

In any event, this past weekend, I made a Saturday evening decision to jump in the car early on Sunday and drive the 6+ hours out to Tucson, Arizona. My long-term project shooting the saguaro cactus was in need of some “winter shooting” and I had a small window in my schedule. So, with the blessing of my wife, who is woodshedding in prep for a solo concerto, I headed out of town…camera in tow.

The skies were clear, the temps were warm…hardly the winter experience I was hoping for. Still, the light at golden hour (sunrise and sunset) was beautiful, and my Holgawide pinhole camera did not disappoint. Plus, I avoided the spiky surprises of the unnoticed cactus ripping into my flesh for this visit, so that’s a win, for sure.

Not sure how many more visits to the saguaro this project will require, but the silence of daybreak over the desert, with the sun peeking over the ridge of a distant mountain, not another person to be seen or heard… that is something I will treasure every time and is reason enough to return.

Experimenting with film, double exposures and Procreate. Pushing pixels is not a crime.

2022: 6 Follow Up

Last week on my blog post, I asked if anyone could figure out how I made the photo I shared. What camera, what film what method did I use to create the “stitched” image above. A few intrepid readers got close (Mr. Atkins, in particular.) So, in the interest in full disclosure…I used my iPhone with a swanky app that simulates a bevy of old film cameras. This sharing was an exercise for myself: to see how the method, the process of making a photo impacts how it is perceived by a viewer. I also wanted to challenge my own biases about film vs digital vs iPhone photography. I am working hard this year to NOT GIVE A FUCK about the semantics and the dogma of image making. Do I like the picture? Do others like it? Does it matter? Does it matter how it was made? Do the answers to these questions mean anything to anyone? Probably not. I work hard to create images that do”something.” But that something doesn’t have to be earth shaking, transformative or revolutionary. They could be mundane. They could be entertaining to me and only me. They could be failures…digital ephemera that will float way within a few minutes of being shared. Dust in the wind, so to speak. This transience can be depressing, or it can be liberating. I choose the latter.