something else about something else

The August 2008 issue of Focus Magazine has several worthwhile articles. This is the first issue I've seen. It's pretty slick looking, maybe too much so for my tastes. But the quality of printing is certainly extraordinary, and the interview with Joel Meyerowitz is an intriguing one.

Here's the piece that really caught my attention:

The question for me is, can I move away from the Pictorialist, Renaissance perspective point of view that photography does as a given, and instead make something that is a different kind of space closer to the two dimensional space inside photography...The phenomena require an immersion into the experience, rather than a picture of it from far away...

But can you do it with a photograph in a gallery, a museum setting that allows you to offer the viewer an experience of the phenomena like the original, without making a picture of it that conforms to tried and true methods of perspective and illusion.

Meyerowitz's search for a photograph inside the experience has led him to photograph the elements, prints of which have been displayed in Cologne, New York, and Tokyo. In a sense, much of the history of photography is about trying to recreate the photographer's experience for the viewer. Some from farther away than others, but much of photography has been documentation about what it was like to be there. Something that tries to transcend the "tried and true methods of perspective and illusion" is bound to be something to see. Anyone out there who's seen the prints got a comment about his success with getting the viewer inside the experience?

what was I thinking?

My awe and enthusiasm have waned in the intervening hours since dinner. It's not usual for me to say much of anything about tech, but this one is so cool I've got to mention it.

My brother loaned me his D70 a month or so ago to play with to learn about flash photography. That's been coming along. I won't bore anyone with details. I've become the most cooperative model I know... The most recent work has been within the house using the flash to light bits and pieces of rooms, usually with a lamp and a window somewhere in the frame. I've used my Sekonic meter to get a flash reading, then change the percentage readings and vary the settings on the camera accordingly. This has worked fine, but the problem is learning anything from this requires downloading the images to the computer and looking at them there.

Roger suggested Camera Control. Whoa... After installing it twice, charging the battery, changing the USB port setting on the camera, damned if it didn't work! Set the camera on a tripod, connect to a laptop via USB cable, and most of the basic functions (and a lot more) can be controlled from the computer, and then view the image on screen, instead of the shitty little LCD. Great for studio work, that's for sure. Or any kind of remote photography. In fact, with the addition of another $580 wireless device, you can connect the camera to a WiFi network and go wireless. Wouldn't that be too cool? On top of that, the newer more expensive cameras (Nikons) will generate a live feed to the computer.

I can see that these are the tools I should be using for the architectural photography that I've started to do. Especially with interior lighting, it's nice to be able to get instant feedback on the settings that work the best. One more example for me that there is no reason to do any commercial photography using film. I still prefer using the view camera, but these digital tools do way more a lot faster. For the sizes that I'm likely to need for people, a current SLR is likely to have plenty enough quality.

Alas - another nail in the coffin. I exposed five pieces of 4 x 5 film in the past three days, and it was still a lot more fun. Not as gee wizz, but still ultimatley more satisfying. I see a possible division of tools coming: more digital capture for other people, architecture, and that sort; continued use of the 4 x 5 for more personal work which I might want to print larger.

something else

click 'er for bigger -
my homage to the Westons - from Weston Beach, Point Lobos State Park April 2007

Going back to one of the early greats, I've recently been through Photographs From Five Decades by Brett Weston. On page after page are phenomenal black and white images. Second son of Edward, Brett was a master at seeing the world for photographs. Remarkably, he was taking pictures of car rust, chipped paint, broken glass, and ice forms as far back as 1935. We're still seeing the world through his eyes, 70 years later. He was doing photographic abstraction during a time when painters were doing the same with paint.  In the included profile R.H. Cravens writes,

An intriguing quality in Brett's work is that the greater the distance his lens encompasses, the less movement there is. The closer the subject, the more intense the rhythmic relationships.

It is the images which "encompass the greater distance" which are the more traditional windows on a beautiful world. On the other hand, the "closer subject" asks to be viewed as it is, for its surface reality, its shallowness. Yet they are the most successful and challenging. But I suspect it's time to find something else to work with.

Cravens quotes Brett,

Hell, it's all been done - rocks, nudes, dunes, kelp. But nature is such a magnificent arranger, and it is - all of it - always changing. You have to have an almost microscopic sense, a discerning, restless eye.

Perhaps so, but there is only so much tolerance for pictures of more rocks, nudes, dunes, and kelp, even if they are done in a "new" way.

Brett also says,

You fall in love with the image right off, but the judgment is a long time coming.

I'm still self editing, perhaps too heavily. What the something else is I'm still searching for.

far from the last word

Dating from 1963, directed by Chris Marker, it is one of the more influential pieces of cinema in the latter half of the 20th century. Why it's taken so long to see it again, I'm not quite sure. It's been on the queue for months, and finally made it to the top. Possibly one of those pieces of work that you know is supposed to be fabulous, but is so out of currency that it becomes something like a chore to watch it again?

The credits actually list Marker as the creator of this photo-roman, rather than as le directeur. According to the included interview with Marker's friend Jean-Pierre Gorin, they were a form of popular entertainment in post-war Italy and France. It's not clear whether La Jetee was the first of its kind, to be put on film rather than paper, but certainly through the usage of montage and sound, it achieves a remarkable sense of movement and story telling. A film about time travel from a post apocalyptic Paris, this collection of still images put on film has a remarkably gentle tone to it. The connection between the male prisoner/time traveler and the woman he meets regularly in the past is not a typical film romance, but a meeting of individuals giving freely.  Marker is primarily interested in memory and time, both particularly well suited to investigation through images and their manipulation. Adding density to the story, he makes reference to Hitchcock's Vertigo, another film concerned primarily with images about memory, time, and image.

Although it's been since 1975 that I last saw this 25 minute classic, and nothing in particular was remembered about it other than it's structure and look, the power of the single moving image - set amidst all the other stills - in which the woman blinks her eyes has never been forgotten. This lone shot - using the artificiality of motion pictures which is after all nothing but a succession of still photographs which our minds put together as movement due to the persistence of vision - shatters the simplicity of the remainder of the film, moving it to a level of abstraction and obvious greatness.

Update on Thursday, August 28, 2008 at 07:31PM by KMW

After another viewing of La Jetee before sending the disc back to Netflix Roanoke, I was struck by the music. Knowing now that Vertigo had a large influence on Marker, it's obvious to hear the similarities as well as see some of the visual references. According to this article on the composer Trevor Duncan, the score for La Jetee is "library" music. Who then made the selections, and were they in order to sound eerily similar to Bernard Hermann's score for Vertigo? Only Marker knows for sure...

no news is good news

You won't see or hear me bouncing off what's happening elsewhere on the worldwideinterweb very often. I can only consume so much of it to begin with. But the basic problem is that in essence it's commenting on the news. There are many in the world of talk radio who have no program without the function of commenting on the news. The first I ever heard was Stern, some time back in the mid 80's when he was on NBC radio in New York and talking about his prostate. Rush and his ilk rely on the news a great deal, and now the blogosphere does the same. They have lots of dead air to fill. I'm one guy at a keyboard with no qualms about being silent if there's nothing to say.

we might be green!

Feeling oh so very righteous about our recent train trip on Amtrak, I decided to look into what the media sources have to say about what's going on with this federally subsidized entity. While ridership on the railroad is up nearly 14% for July of 2008, probably due mostly to increased fuel costs for auto travel, and certain routes on certain dates are sold out, it's obvious that Amtrak is struggling to keep up service and on time records. In fact, they don't really want any more riders. The equipment in use is often 30 years old, and on some routes is already filled. Our travels between Charlottesville and Washington led us to believe the Crescent is well used and nearly full of passengers. But what happens to the ridership as the train heads into North and South Carolina?

It was the leg between Albany and Montreal that was the most problematic in terms of efficiency and time savings. The Transportation Energy Databook shows that Btu's per passenger mile for autos is 3512, and for Amtrak it is 2650. But this is over the entire system, and the Adirondack would have to be far from one of the more efficient routes. The roadbed north of Saratoga is pretty worn, limited to a single track that must be shared with freight. Add in the two hour + customs delay each way at Rousses Point for the border crossing between the U.S. and Canada, and the frustration level rises along with the inefficiency.

All of which still doesn't negate the carefree feeling of traveling without a car - or should I say carfree feeling of traveling without care? By it's nature this sort of travel necessitates that one visit larger, more populous destinations. To an extent this is fine. But I think we may be souring on travel to large and mid sized cities where trains are located. It was certainly a pleasant alternative to be able to go away for a week and not be concerned with driving, parking, fueling. (Although it must be confessed that we took advantage of Mark Hobson's offer of a free car and a house while visiting in the Adirondacks.) Having not been to any of the stops before - other than Manhattan island - we were perfectly satisfied with the range we were able to reach on foot and via buses and metros.

But the train... I keep coming back to trying to describe the train experience, for I think that's what this entry was really supposed to be about. There is no question that long distance train travel beats flying or driving in a car or a bus. It may not be inexpensive. But most likely the true costs of the other three modes are not really calculated into the fare. Well, trains probably aren't either. Even at the prices charged, the system still needs annual governmental support. The ability to move about the train while traveling through the landscape is surely the most attractive feature of this mode of transportation. The seats and legroom are larger than the other three modes. Add in the ability to bring electronic devices for computing and watching movies or teevee and listening to music to the traditional diversions of reading and sleeping (for some individuals - I always get a sore neck when trying to sleep sitting up), and there is usually plenty to keep you occupied for several hours. Beyond that, when approaching six or seven hours, the confinement factor begins to be a group malaise. Everybody wants to get out of there, and shows it with the endless pacing back and forth to the cafe car and the restrooms.

So what the hell has this got to do with photography? Not much, but here are a few snaps from our train experience. (Click the lead image twice to start a slide show.) I'll try to get more material together in the coming week.

some travels north - and a return

TAKE 2:

We've traveled far and wide, and landed back in pretty much the same place we departed from. Fancy that...

The farthest we journeyed was Montreal, yet another big city. I think we've had about enough of them for a while. Not knowing it very well, it seemed we were destined to experience the tourist attractions and hordes. As in the Biodome, a location that we probably should have skipped, but managed to attend along with several thousand parents and their baby strollers.

Our hotel, the Auberge du Vieux Port, is in a great location in the old part of the city, and the people there are wonderful. But my heart sank when Frederick took us out the back door, along Rue St. Paul to Rue St. Gabriel, and I saw the tee shirt shoppes.

The more fabulous sight was the Atwater market, a large city block of permanent shops, primarily food, with the fruit and vegetable vendors on the perimeter of the building under movable tarps, and the butchers and cheese and bakeries on the inside under a solid roof. A beautiful location that is largely for the locals and remains undiscovered by the touristas.

One of our more remarkable visits was with Landscapist Mark Hobson in Au Sable Forks, N.Y. He was generous enough to lend us the use of his house (while he and his family were away in North Jersey for a wedding) and a car. Fortunately Mark was able to return in time for us to have a personal encounter, after nearly two years of comments and contributions to his blog. We spent an afternoon and an evening that concluded late, and part of the following day in conversation about family and photography. Such generosity, which included complimentary passes to Lake Placid events courtesy of Aaron Hobson, surely deserves special mention.

Somewhat reluctantly, I reacquainted myself with the Mamiya 7II kit that has sat on the shelf for most of the past year. CLW and I have worked with it recently to come up with our annual photo/birthday gift. But I was hesitant to travel again with this camera because I've become so accustomed to working with the two 4 x 5's that are my usual tools. Getting on and off the train multiple times in ten days was what convinced me that the 7II was ultimately the camera to take, and I'm happy that I did. It's interesting that the use of the large format has taught me how to work faster with a smaller camera. This trip, although I carried a tripod, it wasn't necessary much of the time, now that I've learned from the 4 x 5 how to maximize on DOF. I'm not quite certain why I was always shooting at f/22 when using the Mamiya. It's certainly not necessary. So all the work that I did while travelling through Manhattan was done sans tripod. As a rangefinder tool, it's the perfect medium format camera to use off the tripod. With the use of a new (to me) emulsion for some of the exposures - Portra 400 - I was always able to work in the f/8-11 range. Some of this material should appear here during the coming weeks as I work my way through the ten rolls of 120 film.

a pause

It's going to be quiet around here for a while, but I'll be back in due time. Don't abandon me, I've not given up completely...yet.

more late night viewing

UZAK - Distant

A 2002 Turkish production, Uzak is set in a thoroughly modernized Istanbul of wintry emotions and lowered expectations. The downsized factory worker Yusuf begins the film with his trek across a snowy landscape from a small river town and ends it by staring at his future from the balcony of his cousin Mahmut's apartment in Istanbul, a city of equally frozen prospects. The idealism of youth is soon overcome by the realities of even the most simplistic existence. During a small gathering of photographer friends, Mahmut is accused by another photographer of abandoning the ideals of his youth, when Mahmut claimed he would make films like those of Tarkovsky. Mahmut says that "...photography  is finished... photography is dead."

Shortly after this gathering, Mahmut and Yusuf are in Mahmut's apartment watching a video of Tarkovsky's Stalker, during one of the long takes of the early train ride into The Zone.

 The unsophisticated Yusuf bails on the film and goes to bed. Mahmut continues to watch, but as soon as his cousin has closed his door, removes the Tarkovsky tape and begins to watch some unknown porn.

The primary question posed to the viewer is: why has this self made small town success abandoned his art and become a commercial hack who photographs static ceramic tile for a tile manufacturer? Is photography really dead? Or is it dead only for the director Nuri Bilge Ceylan, a  photographer himself?  Or only to  Mahmut, who has lost the idealism of his youth? Most likely the latter, for Mahmut's challenger Arif  asks which he Mahmut prefers, "Photogtraphy or women?" There seems to be no real answer from Mahmut directly - his use of porn and prostitutes is clear enough an answer -  but Arif answers for him, "I prefer photography."

Meanwhile, his unemployed cousin Yusuf wanders around a snow filled Istanbul in search of a dream job that doesn't exist, refusing to tell the truth about his prospects to either his host or himself. Eventually he disappears without any announcement or traces, other than some cheap cigarettes Mahmut finds between the wall and the couch.

Earlier Mahmut had railed against Yusuf for smoking such "shit" that was commonly consumed by the sailors Yusuf wanted to join. Yusuf's idealism crushed also, we're left with the image of his cousin, the sophisticate and equally as dissolute photographer, watching the harbor with boats busily steaming past as he smokes the last of Yusuf's ordinary cigarettes.

The distant of the title rather explicitly refers to the separation the characters feel from each other, from their environment, from themselves. Not a particularly cheery or unique view, but one well rendered nonetheless.

a printed "Landscapist"

Mark Hobson, of Landscapist fame, has in mind to print a quarterly version of the blog. He's calling for submissions. All types of photography, with a minimum of text, are acceptable.  Apparently he's looking at some kind of POD model, about which I know ziltch. Look at this entry to learn more. BTW, it has a great "picture window" photo @ the top of the entry.

upgrade - whether you want it or not

Yikes! A good thing I finally looked at the Landscapist again. Mark's entry for today alerted me to the "upgrade" we've received by the Squarespace host. It's going to take some time to get it sorted out again, back to some semblance of what it had been. I've lost my banner and have been changed to a three column format that doesn't really suit me. Hang on while I go through the necessary changes to get things to look better. It doesn't appear as if there's any going back to the old layout. It is possible to revert to the original manmadewilderness layout, but apparently functionality is diminished. It's time for a new look here anyway. Any comments about that?

almost fallen by the wayside

 

click 'er for bigger 

No doubt there should be some kind of "post op for the workshop." If I was more prolific there would surely be something of consequence to say. Since that's not the case, and not much has transpired photographically, perhaps it's time to write about other media.

Without meaning to pile on the bandwagon, I've still got to comment on some recent reading. It's been both non-fiction and fiction, by the same writer: David Foster Wallace. The man is scary he's so good. Two weeks ago I was reading Consider the Lobster, a collection of pieces that originally appeared in periodicals such as Atlantic, Gourmet, The New Yorker, Rolling Stone, and others. Despite his tendency to run-on and lose the reader in the convolutions of his asides & footnotes within footnotes, he has a remarkably democratic outlook that never fails to illuminate. Whether he's writing about Porn star awards, dictionary wars, Rabid Right Wing talk show hosts, the McCain2000 campaign trail, or lobsters, his sympathetic outlook inevitably expresses some universal thought, but in a much more eloquent and clearly defined manner than anyone else is able to put it.

Now I'm into a more recent collection of D.F. Wallace fiction in the book Oblivion. His language tends towards jargonese, but only that used by the characters he's writing about. The opening piece "Mister Squishy" is a fascinating and damning deconstruction of advertising and the use of focus groups and statistics to "give consumers what they want." In the midst of his instructions to the latest focus group giving feedback on some snack cakes called Felonies, the facilitator manages to range through a vast internal commentary that might be best expressed thus:

...no no all that ever changed were the jargon and mechanisms and gilt rococo with which everyone in the whole huge blind grinding mechanism conspired to convince each other that they could figure out how to give the paying customer what they could prove he could be persuaded to believe he wanted, without anybody once ever saying stop a second or pointing out the absurdity of calling what they were doing collecting information or ever even saying aloud... what was going on or what it meant or what the simple truth was. That it made no difference. None of it...

In the end, Wallace's revelations are ones we've considered ourselves - albeit in abbreviated form - whereas his mind and imagination fully details them for our edification. He's a master at telling us what we already think for ourselves.

where does this leave us?

 

 
click 'er for bigger

Knowing I can usually knock these kinds of images out without too much trouble, I opted to do something completely different. I had the time, so all I had to do was make the effort. In fact my efforts went beyond my capabilities to keep up with them on film. At some point during the week I must have gotten in contact with four or five more people than I could find the time to go photograph.

So yeah, the project for the week - which really managed to center me for the workshop - was to photograph people working. It's an expansion of my efforts to get pictures of construction people. There was some of that, but rather broader too. I was concerned now and again that it was too broad, but it served as a suitable excuse to work with as many people I know as possible. If I'd not come up with a "project" like this, I know I would have really been lost @ sea. Others in the group expressed some serious feelings of disorientation because they had to find something to photograph in such a short period of time without knowing much of anything about Charlottesville. In a way, I wish I could have been more assistance to them. But alas, I was already by the second day rather deep into a schedule of appointments with a variety of people.

Tuesday was my heaviest day of work when I returned to the Coiner scrap yard and spent some time meeting and talking to the operator of the Liebherr trackhoe in the yard. Eventually I got a couple of photographs of him with the machine. Bill wasn't impressed. From there I stopped at the Laundry Building to see who I could find there. Fortunately Ed Brown of  Frontrunner Signs was there, and we did two exposures. Bill thought they were overexposed. Ed called around to the other side of the building for me to where his wife Tavia shares space with Martha Keith. I got a couple of really nice exposures with Martha, and had a wonderful conversation with her during the process, primarily about tools. (She may have more than I do.) I was rather nervous during the setup, because it was such a lovely setting and I didn't want to screw it up. My out loud thoughts were that I felt like I had to rely to a certain extent upon habitual processes, running in worn grooves through somewhat mechanical procedures in order to be assured that the check list is worked through. Results are satisfactory, although focus is on Martha's hands rather than her eyes. Once again Bill was unimpressed. After class - actually during it, I had to cut out early to make the appointment - I headed over to the university to work with Dave Metcalf in one of the lecture halls. Wide shot, closer, closer. Five exposures, three different emulsions, all fine in terms of exposure, but because they were in the 3 second range, Dave is not particularly sharp. Bill didn't even really look at these.

A wonderful day in which I think a learned a fair amount about working with people and setting them in an environment and giving some direction. What I've also learned is that I can do this "project" with the 4 x 5, but that many of the places I would like to go are inside, so some kind of supplemental light is going to be necessary due to the inadequacy of existing "natural" light and the horrendous color that it often is. I've got to learn how to work with flash, most likely even if I was to work exclusively in b&w - which I don't think I'm inclined to do. This is the piece of equipment I've neglected the most, and now that I'm doing people, it's the one that I need to learn the most.  I'd like to be able to practice with some digital equipment, but have nothing that will synch with an external flash. The excuse til now has mostly been that I didn't want to be burdened with another piece of equipment to set up and bother people with. But if I'm going to go to the trouble to meet with people and disrupt their schedules to pose for me, then I need to be sure that I'm getting something useable. Unfortunately, I don't think the exposures with Dave are useable beyond contact print size.

All in all, not much personal feedback from Bill Allard. The comments that he made over and over during the few days we were together: "Take it apart. Break it down." Eventually I heard him add what we were supposed to do after that: "Put it back together." What he was trying to get at is to look at every element in the composition and move the camera to a position so that all those elements communicate their respective importance as powerfully as possible. His amazing ability is to read nearly every inch of a photograph in a split second. With that ability one is able to make the slight adjustments that might be necessary to improve the clarity of the composition. The other question we heard over and over was: "Is it sharp?" To which Michael Bednar proposed to paraphrase Dustin Hoffman's answer in Marathon Man. "Oh yeah, it's totally sharp."

a plan

Maybe not a simple one, but a plan nonetheless. It's not appropriate to detail what it is. I'm more process oriented at this point, and trying to work out the details of how I'm going to actually do what I've set forth in my mind. Our motto will surely come into play: keep those expectations low. That I have a plan for the week is what makes me feel like I can make it through the next few days. Past experiences when there was no plan and I was working cold have been pure misery. I'm going to try to work with what I know this time. If I show nothing for the week, that will be fine with me. What Bill Allard thinks of what I've done/will do is of little consequence. I know I will absorb a lot from the other participants along with Bill. Today he said, "Concentrate on a single pheasant. Don't worry about the covey." My pheasant will be the people I know.

today's solution

 

At least for now, I will take solace in the sentiments expressed by Joe Reifer in his recent decision to stop yapping online about photography and go out and do more. His earlier comments about the dearth of decent writing on the web echo thoughts I've had for years. I can spend only so much time - no, make that waste so much time - looking at shitty little online images before I feel choked and ready to dry up and blow away. I don't contribute here often enough to need to stop doing it. But it's a reaction that I can get behind. After all, I did stop consuming "news" some years ago after some unknown NPR commentator recommended that listeners stop listening. I took her word for what it was worth and turned them off. My news consumption is still miniscule in comparison to what media owners would prefer.

Never mind that.

I've come to the realization that what this coming (impending?) workshop needs to be about for me is entertainment. I refuse to lose any more sleep over it. I'm not going to become a Geographic photographer, I'm not going to become a travel photographer, I'm not going to become a photo journalist, I'm not going to become a professional photographer. I will remain an unknown weekend photographer, and I intend to enjoy my time doing so. Which does not include making myself crazy trying vainly to photograph people. I expect to be challenged in the coming week, but if it's no fun doing so, then I'll bag it.

welcome to the confessional - may I come in?

 

 
click 'er for bigger

The doubts swirl. I'm still a week away, and already the questions and turmoil is keeping me awake at night. Perhaps you, dear diary, can ease my mind and give me some peace.

It seemed like a good idea at the time, the concept of signing on to join the William Allard workshop that is to commence next Saturday. It is something going on here in our home town so I don't have to fly across country to participate. It's with a fabulous photographer whose work I have enjoyed in the past when I've looked at it in the C&O Gallery and last year through the window at Les Yieux du Monde . No requirements to sign up for the workshop, and a full pass to the Festival of the Photograph at the end of the week is included in the price.

Second thoughts now have me wondering about the validity of my original motives. I've been reading Allard's The Photographic Essay. It's become clear now that he is primarily a people photographer. One who works in color, who is a fabulous designer, who has a keen compositional eye. But still, all his subjects are people. In case anyone has taken the time to notice, I on the other hand, do not photograph people. It wouldn't surprise me if he has no interest in my type of work.

Third thoughts buoy me back up. I've also received a new copy of Robert Adams' The New West. The prints are entirely too small, but I can feel the intensity of the light, smell the dirt swirling in the air in these pictures. This is much more the direction I typically go with my photography. There is a massive tradition to non human photography - I don't need to make excuses for the dearth of humans in my photographs. Their works and remains are everywhere I turn my lens.

I read a little more Allard, and his supposed impatience with students who can't picture other people. So the past few days my mind is swirling with ideas of who and how I could go about photoing people. It's got to start with people I know. To that end, I'll try something today during CLW's graduation. The conditions may not be ideal, but I've got to make some kind of attempt.

I've also looked at a recent Eggelston book, 5 x 7, photographs he took in a TGIF in the mid 70's, as a companion piece to video work he was doing at the same time. Neither got shown until recently. They're fabulous pictures of people and places, obviously much more posed, much closer to the way I see myself working with the 4 x 5. The ultimate question is whether I can indeed make myself talk to people and ask to take their picture. 

an understanding - finally

 

 
click 'er for bigger

It's taken a while, but I finally understand better why I use the equipment that I do. Earlier today I thought this might be an excuse. But it doesn't feel that way any longer. It's more self discovery.

While I admittedly purchased both my preferred cameras late in the film vs. digital battle, at the time it seemed like a simple continuation of an established trend (in my life of chemical film based imagery). Being a slow learner, and one not taken to jumping from one equipment choice to another without some period of trying to learn the capabilities of the tools at hand, the chosen format has taken me in what I feel to be a good direction. I'm clearer about  what I want to photograph, even if it does mean that I photograph less  - and less frequently as well.

But now that I  have made my decision to work with the present tools, the natural inclination in our family is to stick with what you've got until it wears out or breaks down. (Even then, we're likely to fix it and keep it running a while longer.) It's really an issue of conservation of materials and time. I'm not inclined to join the worldwide hordes in their rampage for the quick and easy digital because camera manufacturers made some compelling reasons for the entire planet to buy a new camera. What I have works - for me. I'm still learning how to use what I've got. It's not broken, so why should I switch to something else that runs on a cycle of six month obsolescence?

A familiar lament, I know. I'm concerned with the rampant consumer ism we're locked into. The glut of image capture is part of it. More and more, faster and faster. Does anyone benefit but appleadobecanondellhpleicamicrosoftnikonolympuspentax?

festival of the photograph

 

The 3rd annual Festival of the Photograph comes to Charlottesville, VA June 12-14. The town will be awash in photographs and photographers with exhibits, displays, lectures, critique sessions, workshops, and more. This year I'll attempt to make the scene. I'm registered for the William Allard workshop, which includes a festival pass after the workshop concludes. If anyone out there wants to meet in C'ville, let me know.

I'm already somewhat concerned about how I'll make out for the week. The description of the workshops says they "promise to be one of the most comprehensive and exciting learning opportunities for digital photographers today." Does this leave me out, being someone irretrievably stuck in the film realm? I continue to believe that the decision to utilize film as a recording media is a way to limit my options - in a positive manner. Instead of being able to do anything anywhere, my capabilities are noticeably limited. What is difficult to answer is whether my limited choices seriously affect what I see to photograph. Is it true that we only see what we are technically capable of recording, in the sense that my choice of using 4x5 cameras makes sports, war, street, and any spontaneous photography as nearly impossible for me to consider as it is to technically achieve? There is little doubt that it's simpler to stick with the tried and true, what I know works for me. I have a distinct comfort zone around architecture and landscapes. Perhaps this workshop will help me expand a little - if I am capable of permitting myself to do so.

new additions

 

A couple of "new" images added to the "Continued Exploration...in progress" page. 

time for photography?

 

click 'er for bigger

There does seem to be a lack of entries here for the recent past. An easy explanation - beyond having little to write about: too much other media. Naturally the primary culprit is the damn teevee. Think it's seductive? Try living with a 50 inch screen and full "surround-a-sound" and see if anything other than couch occupation gets done at night. I feel intellectually engaged by my viewing, so it's not an entirely passive activity. But it's not an activity which generates any useable output, either. Unless I make the effort to come here and comment upon the material that has been consumed. It's still a consumer enterprise, and I'm trying to limit such things. Obviously the time spent commenting has been limited.

In an interesting intersection of media, while I'm reading a copy of Richard Price's Clockers, we're also working our way through the first season of the HBO series The Wire on dvd. (Turns out, Price was one of the writers at some time during the production of the series. Not, I guess, of the material we're currently viewing.) Perhaps not co-incidentally, the similarities between the book and the series  are quite striking: they both are told from the perspectives of the two sides of the "war on drugs." On the one hand there are the Clockers - the dope peddlers - and on the other there are the Knockos - the narcs and cops who try to catch them. They are given equal billing and equal respect.

This was really supposed to be an entry about my excuses for not doing photography, because I've devoted so much time to reading and watching. Added to books and teevee are the occasional magazine, revisiting favorite recorded music with an expanded audio system, blog perusal, and general curiosity. On top of this would be some unease generated by The Wire viewing. It's so good that it makes one want to attempt something similar. Damn, I want to put on a show too! What do I know about? My life at work, in the construction industry. And what is the primary culprit for hijacked time? My life at work doing The J-O-B. It still requires attendance during the major portion of waking hours, leaving only scraps of time to be filled with this or that activity: writing teevee scripts, reading books and blogs, making still photographs; and occasionally writing a blog entry.

It's certainly not that there is a lack of material to write about. It's rather that there are so many things going on, that entries here get pushed farther down the list due to the inherent observational quality of the material. To live  a life of activity, it is necessary to do more than reflect upon the possibilities of a life.

Anybody out there got anything to add?