another edge - closer to home

more from on the edges

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on the edges

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While on a trip yesterday in search of the older Henrico County Courthouse, I was lured into this "wasteland" across the river from developed, downtown Richmond. Others may gravitate towards shops and restaraunts and bars and crowds. I am looking for evidence of some wilder aspect of life. Something that shows the natural world still abounds, even when dotted with steel towers and criss crossed by steel rails. It's a fabulous world of imagination, something like the Zone of Tarkovsky's Stalker. Without the resources of a famous Russian film maker, or those evident in the recent Crewdson book Beneath the Roses, I'm left to make pictures of what I saw one afternoon while scouting around an industrial landscape.

crewdson

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Gregory Crewdson's Beneath the Roses has been sitting on the table in it's plastic wrapping for several weeks now. This afternoon I finally opened it up. Since I've already got a copy of his previous book Twilight, there isn't really anything new. It's pretty much more of the same, which I find to be enormously intriguing. He's moved some of his compositions from the outskirts of the small Massachusetts towns to their "downtown" sections, to good effect. But the staging of his "actors" I find to be remarkably wooden. While there isn't a close up anywhere, there is enough detail in these large format photographs to see that the modern malaise that overcomes these people renders them much like zombies. Heads down, they plod across the landscape hoping for some motivation from their director. They're fun pictures, nonetheless. The last section of the book includes production photos, lighting diagrams, and set designs. What would have been more interesting would have been production budgets and financing agreements. But no one wants to air their financial laundry, do they?

These are first impressions. After I've spent some more time with the book, I'll try to write something about Russell Banks' introductory essay. This is a clever pairing, since Banks' early, powerful books are set in the very towns where Crewdson photographs.

how far should one go?

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While working on the set up that became yesterday's entry, an odor of decay was occasionally quite prevalent in the air. Without intentionally looking for its source, I eventually found it nonetheless. These remains of some canine were under the bridge right above me. I took four quick exposures but didn't study what was before me in any detail. So none of them were the least bit artfully composed - they are indeed snap shots, more so than even most of the entry photos left here.

But while working on this photograph (Full disclosure: only contrast has been adjusted through the use of masks; nothing was moved or added; no colors were altered.) it was inevitable that I begin to think about what it captured. The physical evidence is highly suggestive. The sturdy green collar and the size of the jaw bone show the animal to have been quite large, probably in the 80 -100 lb. range. The position of the head and upper spine in relation to the rear leg show a powerful disconnect. All of which leads me to believe the animal that consumed the dog was incredibly powerful. In these parts, bear is about all that are left that are wild and have this kind of power. Humans don't leave these kinds of evidence behind. Not a pretty image to imagine.

Which leaves me wondering whether I should even be posting this picture. Exactly how upsetting is this image? What would have been more unsettling to me personally would have been the sight of recent carnage. Blood and gore tip over the edge into disgusting, whereas this image may have - and certainly implies - gore but is removed from the incident long enough that there are no traces of blood. It's not exactly antiseptic, and the stench of death is still occasionally present, but whatever suffering took place is long past.

While this is "only" the remains of a dog, why is this less unsettling than if it were human? Simply put: we place more value on human life than any other life form on this planet. This seems to be skewed, but understandable: to each his own. As our connection to "the wild" decreases, our sense of loss seems to increase when unexplained incidents such as this occur.

Coming back to the photograph itself, it is one of those simple documents of what was there. In a scientific sense, it both piques and satisfies my curiosity about events at which I was not present. But what are my motives for showing it here? Merely to titillate with a display of drama and death? I have the same thoughts about much of contemporary photographic reportage. I don't need to see it to be reminded of the cruelty of humans. I see enough of it in daily life in the manner in which we treat other species and the environment in which we live.

Our motives for photographs never seem to be clear or totally unambiguous.

an appropriation or an homage? Pt. 5

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Jeff Wall's The Storyteller may have been the photograph that got me thinking several years ago about the problem of the "pretty picture." Others have articulated it far better in words than I am able, but it comes down to being truthful about the state of the world today. Which this entire site, devoted to the Man Made Wilderness, is all about.

I see that William Eggleston's "democratic" photographs are on display at the Whitney Museum of Art in New York and will travel next year. His influence is everywhere, is profound. Without it, would digital cameras have bothered to come into existence? His vision is that nothing in the landscape is more worthy of being photographed than anything else.

While I still find it difficult to let go of the ideal view of the landscape, Eggleston's viewpoint is much more obvious to me as I look around at my world and try to find a wilderness that we can live in.

an appropriation or an homage? Pt. 4

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Maybe there needs to be a concept for this? I'm not there yet, but the photos are coming along nonetheless. What is known is that it's important to get out there and do something, whether there is a fully formed concept or not. For now, I'll leave it at that.

BTW, this is from the same location shown in a earlier entry, which might give it a bit more context.

decay yes - disgust no

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Now that Mark Hobson seems to have abandoned - at least online - his Decay & Disgust series, I might as well add my 2 cents. This from a rather large bouquet that JDW received as a sympathy gift. Rarely do I find myself writing about the photograph at the head of the entry, but this one seemed to merit doing so. The flowers are almost more beautiful now than when they were fresh - but maybe that's me. Not surprisingly for such a large mass of organic material, they are indeed still quite fragrant. But that too is past its prime. I'll be curious to see how they manage further in time, now that they're safely stored in the multi-purpose-studio-extra-room space.

one of those places

 

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We've all got them as photographers. The place that we drive past daily or weekly, trying desperately to figure out what it is that draws our attention, but never quite figuring out how to present/photograph either. This one is behind the airport rental car service area. I've tried to photograph it before - without much success. This past Saturday I was in the vicinity once again. This time in a pouring rain, and it was obvious that what's been missing from the view of this landscape is the reason for this feature's existence: water. P&S in hand, I went out in the rain, got moderately wet, and got a picture that finally makes some sense to me.

It's another good example of having a tool along that can help with the capture, even during inhospitable weather conditions.

the scary mind

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After an extremely rough tech rehearsal Thursday evening for the annual Spirit Walk, and a loud and scary start Friday, I eventually settled down into a much more natural performance style that included more gesture and less bluster. This may not be exactly what Custer embodied, but how is anyone to know for sure? With smaller groups I'm finding I can tone it down and tell more story with complete confidence. The text is in there, I know the words and all the variations possible on the words that have been chosen, so all I have to do is relax enough to let them out. There is this perhaps irrational belief in the power of words that propels me to order them exactly as written on the page. It's more attention to detail while striving for perfection. I've spent a fair amount of time choosing the words while writing the script - as presumably all writers do - so as a performer I want to recite those lines word for word out of respect for the effort the writer expended.

But the performer inevitably finds gaps in the writing that need to be covered. And I'm getting comfortable enough that an additional word here and there for clarification purposes adds to the natural flow. Along with an occasional swapping around of words throughout the text doesn't totally destroy my concentration.

Probably the more amazing effect, which of course is the reason why people perform "on stage" in the first place, is the transportation effect. During one of the interviews in the excellent 2008 Scorsese film Shine A Light, Keith Richards speaks about getting into a state where he feels he's floating several feet above the stage while playing. At other times he can play things that amaze his conscious mind. In a similar vein, there are times while reciting lines that I'm observing being observed by audience members, wondering what they are thinking about the performance, assessing how it could be modulated for greater effect, as well as wondering about their judgement of the historical accuracy of the text, all in the split seconds between the utterance out loud of the prepared text. This truly is multi-tasking, or surely as close to it as I'm likely to achieve.

There is a photographic analogue. One makes instantaneous decisions about technical details while trying to determine the meaning and context of a particular image, whether viewing prints in a book or especially while on location with a camera: the thousand stimuli that are present in the natural world must be sifted and selected. When we really get in the photographic zone, we are definitively multi-tasking.

14th Annual Spirit Walk

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The annual Spirit Walk fund raiser for the Albemarle Charlottesville Historical Society happens next weekend. More info here. Groups of ticket purchasers are led through the town by famous Charlottesville characters of the past. Along the route they encounter a number of famous and not so famous real persons from the past who have passed through or lived in Charlottesville. As actors and performers, we get to research and write our own material, as long is it is kept to about two minutes long. This will be the third year of my participation. It doesn't get any easier learning lines, but at least this year there is plenty of material for my character. It's a kick performing literally on the street, and by the end of the 45 or so 2 minute perfomances/monologue, I'm ready for a new character.

For those of you not able to attend, here's my text for this year, from a man much maligned in our revisionist historical times:

Well well well... Tis true, my dear listeners, that the Rebels deceived my men into flight back across the Rivanna from Rio Hills in 1864.* But let me tell you the rest of the story that snake out back didn't tell you.

I was back one year later, in March 1865, we crushed General Early's army in Waynesboro and turned towards Richmond. Charlottesville stood in our way. When we reached this rather pathetic village, leaders of town and University pleaded with me, on their knees, to spare their dear little college from the same torch that consumed VMI. Some 10,000 soldiers descended upon the town for three days, like a plague of locusts. I won't deny that the townsfolk were badly abused by the occupation. But the boys must have something for their efforts, or surely they will leave me.

Friday afternoon I installed my office in the Farish family homestead down on East Jefferson Street. Later that evening a rough sort of laborer was brought to me by scouts who thought they had captured General Early out of uniform. A spy! Thought they. The man's real identity came to light when one of the Farish girls cried out, "Mama, they've got Papa!" Alas, he was Captain Thomas Farish, with a three day furlough and thoughts of aiding his family. General Sheridan determined the man should hang as a spy, eh? I was set up in the man's parlor, how could I see him swing from his own oak tree? Phil Sheridan eventually agreed Farish was doing what we all would have done under the circumstances: trying to protect his family and home during hateful times. I took pity upon his life. I'll never forget what he yelled the next day when I departed for Gordonsville to chase after some Rebs, "Custer, I hate you as an enemy, but I love you as a brother!" Barely a month later Lee surrendered to Grant at Appomattox Court House and the great conflagration between the states was ended.

I never pretended I wanted people to pass me by unnoticed. By God you'll remember my name eh, George Armstrong Custer, youngest general in the army of the North. Now be gone, I am sorely weary.

* Reference to the previous character who tells audiences about the "battle" of Rio Hills when the Union cavalry was confused by their own men in the smoke of the gunfire from their attack.

an appropriation or an homage? Pt. 3

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It wasn't much of a stretch to come up with this one. Struth's combination of images - Paradise & Dusseldorf - are probably more provocative than mine - putting his Paradise in my back yard. I feel like I'm still testing the waters with this "project." Which I'm giving the working title Landscapes in the Landscape. Certainly the 4 x 5 image created during this set up is rather different: more or less no depth of field in order to place the book appropriately and be able to distinguish what it is. The focus is on the book with the background a blur of color. Unlike others, I have little to say about what this is about, other than my love of photography books and making photographs myself. Why not combine them?

in search of ugly

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It's not particularly important to know what this image is of. I'm simply wondering how far ugly can be taken. It's not very difficult, I suppose. But how far am I going to willingly look for the unattractive in order to prove a point? As photographers we spend half a lifetime looking for "pretty" compositions. What happens when that criteria is abandoned? Is it simply that people stop looking? It's not that simple - no. After all, there is the phenomenal success of Damien Hirst. The art critic  Robert Hughes

...attacked the artist for "functioning like a commercial brand", making the case that Hirst and his work proved that financial value was now the only meaning that remained for art.

At my level, there's not even that. So what is the point of doing "ugly?" It's all an exercise to see what happens. What is done today leads to something else tomorrow that might be of more interest. One foot in front of the other. But will we recognize "it" when we get there?

upon entering the zone

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The photographic zone, that is. I'm certain many have similar experiences. While working on a photographic project one becomes so intent on the work, that the rest of the world seems to fall away. It happened again for me several days ago while doing some architectural photography. It was not easy set ups, as nearly all of them were interiors with windows included. Always a difficult decision: expose for the interior and not worry about what happens with the exterior, or try to find some way to capture both? What color balance to use? How much interior/practical lighting to use?

I proceeded around the house for about four hours, then did three set ups outside. The light was perfectly clear, the sky nearly cloudless. Not exactly the light I consider "perfect" for photographing architectural subjects, but certainly what we humans consider beautiful weather for every day enjoyment of life. The photo above is one of the last I took for the day prior to departure from the location. It's only real significance is that it's part of an incredibly lovely afternoon landscape.

The drive home was on roads that I've travelled hundreds of times previously, but somehow, through the intensity of my concenration during the prior four or five hours, took on the appearance of places that I had never seen before. My ordinary life was momentarily lost to me, banished by an activity so satisfactory that it borders on pleasure.

No doubt this is the ideal state for humans. The challenge is to find what the activity is that gets you into "the zone" the most efficiently and doesn't interfere with the rights of others. Anybody else care to add what works for you?

we carry on

A bad month for the living, for those of you living under a rock:

Paul Newman 1925 - 2008 - A phenomenally well accomplished individual who lived a full life. He raced with my brother.

David Foster Wallace 1962 - 2008 - What a tragic loss. Little did I know when I wrote about him here and here that there wouldn't be any more coming from his pen.

Peggy Lane Desel 1928 - 2008 - My mother-in-law left us quickly. Not necessarily painlessly, but she didn't linger long, something we all hope for. Saturday's memorial service had a very respectable turn out, despite the inclement weather.

an image

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Same location - some time later.

before the blue door

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This one's from directly across the street from the previous entry. Obviously too far away to see anything at all, other than that it's a "pitcher book." I'm still trying to figure out the range, how close I need to be to really see what's going on in the book's picture and still have a "meaningful" surrounding that I can select and capture.

As a gauge, Shore has three photos in Uncommon Places that are overtly of pictures, either painted or photographed. What is most interesting about them to me is the relative distances between the surfaces of the pictures he is photographing and the surfaces on which these pictures "hang." One is a billboard in a spectacular natural landscape. Another is a painting of a northern Italian landscape hanging on a plain white concrete block wall. The third is a painted mountain landscape hanging on a wallpaper covered surface printed with images of Native American artifacts. The latter is more interesting for the wallpaper the picture hangs on, so the image more or less pushes the viewer outside the frame. The Italian landscape is a deep well that you fall immediately into, even while still holding onto the block wall around it. And the billboard with it's blanked out text is also a surface that pushes the eye outside it's frame, to have you pay more attention to the natural surroundings in which the billboard has been placed.

an appropriation or an homage?

 

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And so begins something new. I'm always hesitant to broadcast much of anything about ideas for projects, being paranoid about other people taking an idea before I can do anything with it, or more likely it being a lot of hot air about something that never materializes. But it appears I'm going to make an exception this time. At least in the near future I'm going to see what I can do with some of my favorite photo books. The one I'm currently in thrall of is Stephen Shore's Uncommon Places. I might even experiment with the experiments here. See what comes of it. On the surface, the book is a collection of 8x10 photographs of Shore's cross country travels in the early 70's. I feel like some of us are still working the vein.

There's another way that an 8-x-10 photograph bears a funny relationship to time. I have a camera and a tripod. I can spend several minutes looking at the scene in front of me, I can pay attention to small details, I can see relationships in space that may not reveal themselves, and have all of this inform a picture which is then taken in very quickly by the viewer. So there is a kind of compression of time in the picture. That to be there and to see everything the camera sees could take minutes; but it can all be grasped at once on this piece of paper.

Stephen Shore Uncommon Places 2003

fight the power

Is it it's ubiquity, or it's multiplicity, or it's technology that delegates photography to second class citizenship in the Art world? Or has it changed? Well, certainly to a degree. Look at the prices in the big name galleries. But the problem is a prevalent  attitude through the culture. I encountered it again in the final story in David Foster Wallace's Obivion collection, "The Suffering Channel." He heads in two distinct directions with the piece, but finally brings them together at the end. In a sense, the piece might be considered a mini Infinite Jest.

The story is a blatantly subversive discussion about art and its authenticity, which anyone involved in the art process or production would be wise to read. On the surface it's about the inner workings of the magazine publishing culture. During a brainstorming session, two very smart interns at Style magazine have this exchange,

     'But is the physical, so to speak handmade character of a piece of art part of the artwork's overall quality?'
     ...The executive intern responded: 'Do we all really value a painting more than a photograph anymore?'
     'Let's say we do.'
     The executive intern laughed. 'That's almost a textbook petitio principii.'...
     'A great painting certainly sells for more than a great photograph, doesn't it?'
     The executive intern was silent... Then she said: 'Why not just say rather that Style's readership would not have a problem with the assumption that a good painting or sculpture is intrinsically better, more human and meaningful, than a good photo.'
     ...Ellen Bactrian said: 'But now, if we agree the human element's key, then does the physical process or processes by which the painting is produced, or any artwork, have anything to do with the artwork's quality?'
     'By quality you're still referring to how good it is.'
     ...'Good quote unquote.'
     'Then the answer again is that what we're interested in is human interest, not some abstract aesthetic value.'

As producers of such consumables - photographs - with such a wide range of effort expended and results achieved, it's going to be difficult to ever disagree with this conversation.

Hyphantria cunea

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Don't worry, they didn't get away. Horribly P.I. indeed, but nonetheless I doused them and toasted their asses. At least they made for some interesting photos.

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