For as long as I have loved photography, there has always been something extra special about film. Not just the process of shooting film, instead, something more elemental. Very simply, I like the “look” of film. I like the frame borders, the sprocket holes, the type and numbers along the edges, the grain, the eventual scratches and fingerprints. The film aesthetic is something I play with in my work. I like to exaggerate the unique characteristics of film, especially pushing grain and contrast beyond the limits of acceptability. As I’ve ventured further away from straight photography, it is the intrinsic visual look of film that keeps me grounded in the medium. I have recently been exposing film in a motion picture camera, then utilizing the multiple frames as an opportunity to tell a different kind of story; short narratives through a sequence of images. I really enjoy making the choice of which frames to highlight from a longer strip of film. This attraction has now led to me sourcing 16mm film reels from Ebay. One reel was in pretty bad shape when it arrived this week. Warped, scratched and moldy; yet intact enough to allow me to play freely with the footage. So much to discover and ponder on this film. The anonymous, family home movie reel shows various locations; most likely highlights of a family vacation. The frames feature men and women in dress that looks like it is from the 1930s or 1940s. I wonder, who are these people? They are surely dead by now. How did this random reel of film travel from its original owner, through years of storage and neglect, to wind up for sale online in 2023, and somehow appearing in front of me under such randomly stumbled upon circumstances? I guess my attraction to the film aesthetic has created yet another divergent path for me to wander down. What discoveries await?
Reelin' In The Years
Self-reflection is important. It is also something most of us do in private, if at all. With that in mind, the less I say here about my time back in my hometown, the better. Or at least better for me, as I never wanted to be the kind of person that airs their inner drama in public. (Irony is not lost on me that I’m writing this on a public platform…) Nonetheless, as an artist, part of my drive is to share, otherwise I might as well be building sandcastles on the shoreline, all by myself.
Sifting through decades-old ephemera found in closets and backs of drawers in my childhood home has pushed my inner reflection into overdrive. Spending time with my aging father, while finding little remnants of my younger self has created waves of ennui that wash over me, like low tide on the Atlantic coast. What is there to life but remnants of our past and hopes for the future, bookending the present. The ephemeral present.
There is silence to be found here, even though you need to search harder to find it.
In the middle of the dense population of northern New Jersey, it is still possible to find a bit of untamed nature. The Flat Rock Brook Nature Center in Englewood is a quiet, deserted little slice of forest and running water. A respite from family obligations and mounds of paperwork. This place reminds me how important the natural world has become to me.
Winter in New Jersey
Sanctuary
It’s been a hard year so far, and I have not felt grounded at all. Death has come, from both near and far. Work provides a modicum of distraction, but when things get quiet, my mind wanders often through darkness. These days have brought me a deeper appreciation for my studio practice; it truly is my sanctuary. I also find the destruction, the burning, bleaching and taping of my photographs to be even more cathartic than it was in the past…as is expected I suppose.
Apropos, I’ve been listening to a lot of bleak music lately. Lou Reed has made a regular appearance on my playlist. I spent some time with his rather dour album, entitled “Magic and Loss” and though I was very familiar with the record, this time it struck much closer to home for me. I channeled some of his words and thoughts into my current artwork. I’m not sure of the value that these words may add to my images, but for now hanging on my studio wall. They are a reminder that pain does indeed wash into all of our lives, but that we must forge forward regardless.
Upon Returning
I am taking tentative steps back into life after a challenging couple of weeks. Regular readers of this blog will notice that I tapered off a bit from the weekly posting towards then end of 2022. I have decided to continue a more sporadic posting for the time being. The weekly writing practice is less necessary for my thought process, I have found. The constant work that goes into my podcast, and my daily journaling feels like it is enough to keep me engaged in the “life of the mind.” I certainly have enough work on the horizon to make the blog section of this website a less than regular outlet. Yet, I refuse to let it go dormant completely. I think I’ll post when I have something relevant to say. Sometimes the strongest statements are made by saying as little as possible.
Rest In Peace, Mom
My mother passed away suddenly on January 1, 2023. I was lucky to be able to book a flight back to New Jersey quickly enough the day before to be with her in the hospital when she passed. It is astonishing how quickly things can happen. One day they are here, the next day they are gone. I know I am fortunate to have had her in my life for so long. 81 is not young, but in these days, it’s not exactly old either. Nonetheless, I spent a long week with my family, making arrangements and laying her to rest. These days to come will be hard, I’m sure. For today, I will rest as well, thinking about the woman who brought me into this world, with love and affection. I will miss you, Mom.
Goodbye 2022
This has been a year of dabbling, discovery, testing and playing in my studio. I took the foot off the gas pedal as far as self-publishing is concerned, though oftentimes I felt that I was hungry for the tangle direction and demands that those kinds of projects provide. Still, I enjoyed the luxury and privilege of time to tinker with new ideas, without any pressure or expectation from anyone except of myself. I kept myself busy in many ways, large and small, and I take the lessons learned this year with me as I look forward to 2023. I wish health, safety, creativity and peace to all of you in the coming year.
2022: 47 Winding Down
The last, waning days of autumn are very soon going to surrender to winter. The chill in the air has now evolved into true, bracing coldness. The time for quiet reflection is now upon me. Thus, I will take some time away from these pages and turn inwards. Silence can speak volumes.
2022:46 World Cup
Watching World Cup matches precludes my ability to write a full entry this week. Instead, above is a photo I took in Porto, Portugal in 2015.
2022: 45 Alternatives
Alternative photographic processes. Even the name feels a bit of a misnomer. Alternative to what? The centuries old processes may be an alternative to the current world of digital image making, but as an alternative to photographic image making, I take issue with the name. If processes date back to the mid-18th century, why are they not called “primary” processes? This is a futile argument, of course. Only a handful of people would even get riled up over this pithy choice of words. But it speaks to a deeper issue for me. I feel that almost every process I utilize is “alternative.” Perhaps by rejecting the status quo I am acting (creating) in an alternative manner. Whether its toiling with hand coated emulsions, combining my images with more sculptural elements, laying out handmade books, digital manipulation on my iPhone or pouring bleach over a stack of old negatives… every act can be an alternative to something else. It’s what keeps me interested, keeps me curious, keeps me creating.