When I was a kid, one of my hobbies was collecting stamps. Every few Saturdays I would walk to the next town over where they had a stamp and coin collection shop, and I would browse the cardboard boxes of canceled stamps that sat on the counter top. I’d spend about an hour filling up an envelope with (easy to find) postage stamps to add to my collection. The more I got into the hobby, the more I saw the value in finding stamps that had unique artwork or especially stamps from far away countries to fill my album.
I had these thoughts in my head as I checked on the traffic for this website earlier this week. It’s interesting to see where visitors to the website come from, especially when they’re from far away places. As a photographer and an artist, I always wonder who is seeing my work. The majority (I’m guessing) are people I’ve never met. This is especially true when it comes to people visiting the website. I enjoy seeing the names of small towns and obscure locations scattered all over the globe when they pop up in my web traffic analytics.
Again, it reminds me of being a child and wondering about other places in the world; how people lived, what they ate, how they dressed. Even then I think that I had a curiosity about the world that would grow into my desire to travel when I got old enough. It also manifests itself in a desire to interact with people (specifically other creative people and photographers) who in one way or another share a common aesthetic or sensibility with me and my work.
I might never visit these countries, the cities, these far-flung places… But just the idea of knowing that someone somewhere halfway across the world is looking at my work, that’s still a thrill for me.
2022: 22 Don't Shoot
A kid is raised in an abusive home. He grows up damaged. He probably hurts someone, maybe just himself.
A kid grows up being picked on. He lashes out and picks on other kids.
A kid grows up with feelings of inferiority. He can deal with it constructively or destructively.
A kid grows up with no friends. He is alone, with no one to talk to.
A kid grows up angry and ignored. He gets a gun. He kills innocent people; innocent children in a school classroom.
We’ve heard this story (or a different version of it) enough. And yet….
2022: 21 Is Art Necessary?
Why do humans make art? It serves no utilitarian purpose yet it does have value in our lives. But what forced human beings originally to create art? Is it some glitch in the development of our brain? What is it that sprung out of human evolution that spurred this need to create? Art is not integral for our survival. Art, however, does make our lives worth living. Art embellishes our existence. But we can survive without it. We need to eat to sleep for shit and piss and fuck but we don’t need to make art. Art and its value is completely reliant on how it’s perceived by our brains. I find this whole idea not only intriguing but also confounding. And I say this as an artist; I say this as someone who is driven to create. Even the creation of commercial art (advertising something to sell) is rooted in some deep-seated place in our brain that response to pretty things, colorful things, loud things. I don’t know where this comes from. I don’t know if anyone knows where this comes from. I am not proposing that we shouldn’t make art. Most of my days are filled with thoughts about art (if not straight down right creating.) But why do I do it? Why do we do it? Is there an answer to this question?
2022: 20 Chatter
After a busy week, I had the privilege to show some video work in Santa Fe. I performed a collaboration with the remarkable musicians Jesse Tatum and David Felberg, two core members of Chatter, Albuquerque’s hot as hell, chamber music ensemble. I created two original video pieces that I projected during a performance at SITE Santa Fe. The music was beautiful, the performers top-notch, and the crowd, appreciative. All in all, a little taste of what I hope will be more video art to be made and shared in the future.
2022: 19 Iduare
Most of my time, I toil on my work alone, isolated in my studio, headphones on, in my own little world. This is not unique to artists or photographers, of course. The pandemic has only exacerbated this isolation. On the plus side, it has proved very productive for me, but I do find the urge to reach out and connect (both literally and figuratively) with other people, other creatives, other photographers.
To that end, I reached out to my frequent collaborator Fábio Miguel Roque in Portugal, and asked him to connect me with one of his frequent collaborators, Peter Oey in the Netherlands. My hope was to work together on “something.” What that was I had no idea. Both of these artists are prolific and create unique photographic work, mostly in book form.
After numerous exchanges over WhatsApp, we devised a plan to collaborate on a set of self-published books. We combined a pool of photos from which we each would pull from, and then design a book in our own chosen manner. The images were loosely based on a common theme (explained in detail at the end of this post) but the final choice and layout was at the discretion of each artist. To further the uniqueness of each book, hand assembly and / or binding techniques were employed. We each produced 14 books in total, 11 to sell, and 3 artist’s proofs…one for each of us.
The entire process took a bit over one month to complete. Quick yes, but also liberating and at the same time, connecting me with two other creative friends, albeit thousands of miles apart. I am proud of this project, and hope you will consider purchasing one at my online shop. But even more important than sales is the satisfaction of forging connections as a panacea for the isolation of the past few years.
IDUARE (old Latin) or IDES refers to the middle day of each month in the Roman calendar. Every month has an Ides, with the Ides of March being the 15th.
The word I des comes from the old Latin verb, iduare, which means to divide. This day became well known as the date of the assassination of Julius Caesar, which made the Ides of March a turning point in Roman history. Julius Caesar heard and ignored the warnings about the Ides of March. That day has since become associated with doomsday.
Doomsday and ignoring warnings of visual signs is our theme for this trinity of books. Each is born out of brainstorming discussions between the three artists.
Each book takes on a unique format, decided upon by each artist; created from a pool of photographs each had submitted for this work, expressing diverse viewpoints on the theme. What unifies each book, beyond the recurrence of images, is a spirit of creative opposition in the face of the complicated, often dangerous world we live in.
Are we soothsayers? Ignore at your own peril.
2022: 18 Zine Exchange
If you know me, you know that I love to see my photos in print. That extends into photo books, photo zines and everything else related to self-publishing. I also try support other creative people in their pursuit of getting their work into print. To that end I decided to take a big step forward in the interest of community building and sharing each other’s vision. Inspired by conversations with fellow photographers and witnessing the proliferation of little free library‘s all over my hometown, I decided to create my own spin on this concept by creating a photo zine / book exchange.
Thanks to an inside scoop from a friend, I was able to get my hands on an old Albuquerque Journal newspaper distribution box. I cleaned it up and emblazoned it with custom graphics and now this box acts as a public, free, zine exchange. Special thanks to the good folks at Little Bear Coffee on Central Avenue in Nob Hill, Albuquerque for allowing me to place the scene box right out in front of their coffee shop.
I have stocked the box with zines from my personal collection that I have accumulated over the years, mostly from exchanges with other photographers and artists. I have also included some of my own zines just to get the ball rolling. Since it launched a couple of weeks ago it has been exciting to see people participate and even leave their own zines in the box. If you create your own photo zines or art zines or photo books, and would like to take part in this project, please send me a direct message and we can make arrangements for you to send your work. No strings attached, no money exchanged; just sharing the things that we create. Because, isn’t that what art is all about?
“The Steerage” by Alfred Stieglitz
2022: 17 Camera Work
I was going to give myself the day off today, chilling out with some non-photography related pursuits. A reward for spending the day in my studio yesterday, finishing off the next self-publishing project I’ve been working on. Hand-binding a stack of books was intense work, and I need a break. So, of course, I stumbled upon something too photographically relevant to avoid, and in the interest of sharing my obsession, I will let you in on this discovery.
Apparently a complete set of the seminal photo journal “Camera Work” is going up for auction. Unless you have about $200K burning a hole in your pocket, this treasure trove of early 20th century art photography will most likely be out of reach. Fear not, the entire collection has been digitized, and is available for downloading (as PDFs) from the good folks at the Modernist Journals Project. Enter this rabbit hole at your own risk. All I know is…there goes my peaceful, non-photographic Saturday.
For some background (thank you Wikipedia):
Camera Work was a quarterly photographic journal published by Alfred Stieglitz from 1903 to 1917. It is known for its many high-quality photogravures by some of the most important photographers in the world and its editorial purpose to establish photography as a fine art. It has been called "consummately intellectual" … "by far the most beautiful of all photographic magazines"… and "a portrait of an age [in which] the artistic sensibility of the nineteenth century was transformed into the artistic awareness of the present day."
2022: 16 Go south, go west
The desert awakens, and with that, it also beckons. Six hours in the car takes me from Albuquerque to Tucson. Similar places in ways, very different in others. I have grown accustomed to the desert, the unique dryness of the air, even in springtime, when things bloom, and the sweet smell of flowers is added to the mix. Sleeping under a blanket of stars with an early morning visit with Venus, and I am reminded how insignificant my personal troubles can be against this backdrop of the wider universe.
Lunar Abstraction
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.