Santa Fe Lecture

Going to be part of a lecture and show in Santa Fe regarding the "The Soul of Photography." If any of you are around during this time, feel free to come by and have a look.

"That's Him Officer!

Over the years I've heard from many different photographers, from many other parts of the country, that say, "I could not shoot your style where I live," meaning my style was too arty for their client base.

I always wondered about this, thinking that perhaps there is some validity to the idea, but in the end I don't know for sure.


Case in point, magazine photography. Let's say magazine photojournalism, something I truly love and wish I saw a lot more of.

The PJ pictures of the past few years have taken on a slightly new direction, filling our pages with hyper-complex, tilted, dark images that, most of the time, I like, even when they don't work. These images are not easy to make, make well I should say, and I think about one out of ten actually does work. But, we see a lot of them. And these same images are landing on gallery walls, which I also like, again, even if they don't work. I like the idea that we are contemplating them.

Now, who do these images relate to?

The editors and the photographers, but I don't believe they relate at all to the vast majority of readers. In fact, I think most viewers when looking at a tilted image will immediately ask, "Why is this crooked?" I know because I've heard them ask it.
And when looking at an image lacking critical focus, or containing a motion blur will ask, "Why is this blurry?"

I think we tend to place to much in the "benefit of the doubt" category when it comes to those viewing our pictures.

I'm not sure how many people are going to give a hyper-complex, tilted, out of focus image the time it requires. I think these images are done for a variety of reasons, none of which relate to the viewer.

But here is the kicker. I don't think this should change. I don't think the photographer should stop making these pictures, or change their style. Why? Because then everyone starts making the same pictures, something we have seen FAR too much of in recent years. Don't believe me, take a look at the wedding field, or portrait field. In fact, I think in some ways, success today is based on conforming to the standards created by the industry itself. Safety in numbers?

Take fine art. What's been hot for the past few years, disconnected urban moments, in color, printed 8x10 FEET. Huge prints, based mostly on the reality we now have the technology to make these prints, and the idea that if it is larger it is worth more. Oh, and hyper-small editions. These are trends, and there are plenty of folks who have decided to chase this trend, which again I think is odd, but not something that should be changed. Why? Because within about a year, this style of work will be so flooded on the market that it won't be selling like it did, and it will force the market in a "new" direction. Open additions of micro-prints? Who knows. It might take longer than a year, but it will change.

I think what is so great about all this is it turns the mirror, once again, back to the photographer and asks, "Okay, here we are again, so tell me, what is it you really want to do?" The most difficult question to answer.

If you are living in small town, rural America thinking that "arty" work won't sell, perhaps now is the time to give it another shot. Or if you are living in hip-town, ultra-cool, double earring, flame shirt, suede pants land and want to shoot weddings in 3D while wearing your blue ruffle tux from high school prom, then I say go for it. You just never know, and if this is what is TRUE to your heart then it can never be wrong.

Let's quit standing around lining up to conform and show our true colors. Or true black and white for you purists out there.

We're all derivative, but let's not get carried away. In a police lineup, you don't want to be the person picked out.(not basing this on experience.) But in a photo-lineup you do!

One of the greatest aspects of photography is that there really is no right or wrong, only what we desire to do as the creative.

Time On My Hands

One afternoon, one roll, a little time on my hands. This is a theme I've been working on for a while, something very different from what I've done in the past, but I like it. A very low success rate with this stuff, but that is half the fun. Most of the time, when I make these images I have NO idea what I'm getting. Then, out of what I did get, wondering what will be printable, with my skill set. If Ansel was alive I'm sure he could bang out these prints, but not me. I'm learning people, but taking baby steps.

What I like about this work is not knowing. When you can't see the image, you have to think more, perhaps wonder more, which is what keeps my interest up.

I also like the experimentation, and if you see these prints, 16x20, the size I printed them, it might make you wonder. If you saw me making them, you would laugh. I'm sure more than one person uttered to themselves, "Look at that idiot." Basically this is odd film, an odd technique and an odd method of getting the look. But, it works, at least for me. It's also one of the few ways I found of producing work locally that I really like. Portraits and this, for the most part, my most successful.

These images have to be studied, and these little web version won't do them justice. There is much going on in the dark spaces, and the sky, which you really can't see.

This is only the beginning. I'll be out experimenting more on this.

You Can Lead A Photographer to Water...AND You Can Make Them Drink

I'm confused.

If you've read this blog you will already know this little fact, but I thought I would state it again, just to cement my position.

I don't get photographers. I don't. Well, a few I do, but the rest, not so sure. Including myself sometimes.

The last time I did any research, I came to the conclusion that the photo-industry was supposed to be a creative industry, filled with pioneering individuals who bring to the table style, vision and creative direction. Perhaps times have changed, but I think the basic idea of this is still...somewhat valid.

But, what I don't get, the confusing part, is how many of us stand around waiting to be told what to do?

I think we should all stop using these phrases, "I can't." "I have to." "I'm stuck doing it this way." "I have accepted my fate for better or worse."

Let me give you an analogy. When the plumber comes to your house at 2 am because your friends put fireworks in your toilet, do you tell the plumber you would prefer him to use a wooden plunger as opposed to his metal snake tool? No, because if you did he would either ignore you, leave, say "no" or ask you what your problem was.

Also, when he has finished snaking the M80s of your pristine bowl do you turn around and say, "Well, I think that job was worth about $30." No. It doesn't work this way. The plumber says, "Look, your friends are maniacs, and this is going to cost you $300 to fix." You have choices, call around for another plumber or pay his, or her fee! Plumbers don't stand around being told what tools to use and how much their work is worth.

But photographers do. Our first dreaded question tends to be, "What is your budget?" I always found this a really odd question because what should we ever expect to hear? "Aahhh, I've got eight dollars and a coupon for free ribs." "Great! I"ll take it."

I can't tell you how often I speak with photographers, globally, who are so trampled I can't stand it. I feel bad for us, in a way, but also realize we need to change the way we do things. Nothing will improve unless we adapt a new plan, starting from today.

"I hate digital but I have to use it." I've said this myself and have heard it HUNDREDS of times from other photographers. Take a look around, there are A LOT of really fantastic photographers NOT using digital and doing just fine. In fact, check out a few of the major magazine profiles, and often times, the featured person is using film. In fact, I've seen magazines where EVERY feature was presenting film users, but every add in the magazine was highlighting digital equipment. We have been sold that digital is "just another tool," but behind the scenes we are told you have to be using it, and in reality it is the ONLY tool. Many of us are faced with clients who think they have to use it, but really don't have valid reasons for why. "Wait, I thought digital was better?" How many times have you heard that? This is simply an education issue, educating yourself, and your clients, in regards to what tool works best for what job. If you like film, stand up for yourself and make your argument. You might lose a job, but so what, in the end what benefit is it to make yourself miserable when doing what you love?

And as for budget. I think the "what's your budget" question should be put to rest. Clients, like us, are in business, something that you can't forget, even when clients are your friends. If the gas station attendant asks me today, "What do you want to pay for those ten gallons?" I would love to say, "Ummmm, nothing?"

Lastly, we need to stop being conformists. Many of us seem to stand around, look what everyone else is doing, then get in line to try and haggle away with everyone else, then wonder why people lowball each other on price. Well, if your work, and my work, and my Uncle Melvin's work all look EXACTLY the same, why would anyone really want to pay a decent rate for ANY of us? Anyone? Anyone?

I think we all must stop, perhaps Saturday at 11:23 am and asked ourselves, "What is it that I REALLY want to do?"

If you pursue what is in the DNA of your creative heart, and I do as well, we will develop our styles and our signatures, thus creating unique work, which in turn has an inherent VALUE.

Here is the most important part of this. IT AIN'T EASY.

It is far easier to conform and fight for scraps. It takes boldness to go alone, but in the end what benefits is the INDUSTRY, as well as what you leave this Earth with, and what you leave behind. In the end the images are the only thing that matters.

Look at the history of our industry and those you can remember, those that left their mark, were those who stood tall and demanded to be heard.

Maybe I'm wrong, or off base here, but I can't imagine a client saying to Salgado, "Your black and white work is okay, but we want you to shoot tethered digital." I have a feeling he has more creative control than that. But I don't know him, and could be wrong.

A few days ago I was able to attend a June Newton lecture, the wife of legendary photography Helmet Newton, and someone asked, "What freedom did he have while working?" She responded, "The clients told him to do whatever he wanted to do."
Why? Because HE was the photographer. HE was the creative one. HE was the one who brought vision. The clients realized if they wanted a fantastic Helmet Newton image, the best thing they could do was get out of the way and let Helmet Newton create it.

Think about it.

The idea of this rambling mess is that our personal work SHOULD be our commercial work. How fantastic, and fun, and thrilling is it to work on "your" work?" It is the best. And, get this, clients, friends, family, etc, are equally as thrilled when you create this work. They really are. How fast does your heart race when you are working on something you KNOW is good. How fast does that heart race when you know you are making "real" pictures? It's the coolest thing in the world!

So, to practice what I preach, I have begun marketing, using the same techniques I've used in the past, but now sending links to my personal work, and fewer regarding my "commercial" work. I'm sure this will be PAINFUL, akin to hammering my thumb with a fence post driver, but it NEEDS To be done. If I had to guess, I will be faced with irate people receiving my emails, angrily asking to be removed from my list, additional people thinking I'm out of my mind, and those who are just confused, but I think, in the end, justice will prevail.

I think if I don't do this I will continually be bound only by the needs of the people viewing my work, instead of the limits of my imagination.

Now, I gotta go bang out a digi headshot on deadline. JUST KIDDING!!!!

Go forth, be strong.

The Grass is Greener....Maybe.

I don't know if this story is true. I can't even remember where I heard it, or read it, or if I made it up.

The story goes like this.

A successful commercial photographer, from the United States, is burned out. This guy is "successful," works all the time, and is viewed by those around him as being one of the "it" guys in the commercial photo-world.

But again, he's burned out. So, he decides to take a break, to take off and do something for himself. He envisions time away, a return to his photographic roots.

So, he flies to Guatemala and begins making pictures, not for a client, not for an assignment, an art director, etc, but just for himself, like he did before he gained his reputation in the pro-market.

Guatemala is in celebration mode, with what I think was Easter Processions or Holy Week events, so there is much to be had, visually speaking.

(Popcorn break....maybe a beer here people.)

Okay, where were we.

As his boots scrape along the cobbled streets and the air shrieks with celebratorial horns, he begins to feel as if he is relearning his craft. Perhaps his inner child, once in a shame spiral, has begun to close the umbrella and realize that the clouds have parted and sun shines once again. (Okay, way over the top on that one.)

As this photographer works he looks across the narrow street and sees another photographer working. Younger, thinner, with more hair. Black pants, black jacket, Leica in hand, shooting the same scenes. (Okay, making this up at this point, just filler, hang with me.)

It's impossible not to notice each other, really impossible not to do the "bro nod" registering the presence of one other.

Time passes, many winds of the advance lever, many failed moments, but a few that just might work. Life is good, there is no phone to reach for, no tethered rig to take the surprise out of life, only the pocket full of film to wonder about.

As the days events wind down and the revelry tapers off, both photographers end up at the same intersection and make their introductions.

The younger photographer is from Eastern Europe, is on a longer trip through Central America, and is staying at a hostel close by, but they decide to head to the American photographer's hotel which is the same distance, but has a better bar. (Photographers, bars, a long, long relationship here.")

Beers all around. Gallo if I remember correctly. Glug, glug, glug.

The talk is about photography, about Guatemala, about what they have seen, heard and photographed. They handle each others cameras, one using the tiny Leica, the other a larger, modern slr. Nothing to serious.

And then something subtle yet dramatic happens. The young photographer pulls a box of images from his small shoulder bag. 5x7, black and white silver prints.

What's in the box is only his life, his entire photographic life, existence, etc, is on these small prints. His life's work, the pursuit, his passion, whatever you want to call it.

The images are from all over the globe. One shot here, one from there, great, powerful, simple moments.

Deep inside his heart the American photographers feels a pull he cannot deny. Jealousy? Envy? Awe? Admiration? All the above?

This person across from him, and this magic box hold what he knows, or believes is a representation of the ultimate goal.

The conversation continues but the American is distracted. He hears himself speaking but doesn't know what he is actually saying.

He begins to describe his life, as he has no prints, no remnants of his life, other than the family photos riding next to his passport.

He describes his work, his studio, his clients, his ads, etc.

The younger photographer asks more and more questions. He is contemplating what is next in his life. Where does he want to go? When will his luck run out? Or his money?

If he could get one or two of these ad jobs the American is describing then perhaps he could continue his pursuit with more ease, with more wiggle room.

He listens to the American with envious ears, slightly jealous and admiring this guy who has managed to land the big jobs.

Both participants looking across the photographic fence at the potential of the other's grass. If I could only get to another place. If, if, if, I could only get........what?

I don't know the moral of this story. Or the lesson, if there even is one. But, I've found myself in both of these positions over the years, and look back and wonder what would have happened had I made the other choice. What if I took that damn blue pill instead of the red?

Maybe the moral is that certain questions must be answered, or maybe just should be answered before we proceed.

Starting with, "What do I really want to do?"

I See You

A few days ago I was drilling holes in my library wall in an attempt to install new bookshelves for my rapidly growing photo-book collection. I'm not exactly skilled at home improvement, so this simple gesture took all of my concentration.

By some miracle it worked. I hit the studs, the screws hit home, the shelves held, and as of a few hours ago, my books were still standing.

After the shelves went up, I slowly began to gather the stacks of books and place them on the shelves.

I noticed something that stuck with me throughout the day, the night and into the following day, like that cloud over Pigpen in the Peanuts cartoon. First, I should have made more shelves...idiot!

I also realized that my favorite books, and the photographers who made them, all had something in common; an immediately recognizable style.

All I needed to see was the image and it unleashed the power of their individual style, regardless of anything else.

Moriyama, Webb, Salgado, Mann, etc.

When I see these names, see their images, hear their names, it instantly creates a legion of imagery in my mind. Like fingerprints in their uniqueness. Like memories.

Now you might think this is an obvious point, but I don't think it is. Today there are photographers working who have this distinctive look and feel, but there are fewer and fewer of them, and if I had to guess, the future will reduce this number even more. And, some of the most successful of the current crop really don't have any style at all. Or perhaps their style is that there is no style, which can be said of cultures as well, some of which are thriving in this fashion.

Even Bruce Lee, when cornered on the boat on the way to Han's secret island, replied, "My style?" "You could call it the art of fighting without fighting." What? What he meant to say was, "I'm going to try my best to remove your head," but doing this could have jeopardized his employment at the tournament of death. When being hired to do battle perhaps you want to remain below the radar until you are called upon. Same is true for the photo world????? (This was a kick ass analogy. Get it? Come on, kick ass??)


I'll give you a photo case study. Me.

I printed in the darkroom the other day and created six new pictures. After I was done printing, and was in the process of the great, final wash, I realized these images looked like they could have been done by six different people.

Perhaps in some way, this could be a good thing, but I think overall, it isn't. It took me years to really figure out what my style was, years of trial and error basically. I do like different looks and formats, but I know what my style would be if I had to shelve everything and choose one thing.

I probably won't have to do this, but you never know. Being a photographer today, a real one, is so damn difficult, and with the current economic situation, it will only get harder, and a part of me thinks that perhaps the only thing that will survive is our true style. And a part of me thinks this is the way it should be.

I think with all the different kinds of work I have done in the past ten years, I've really lost a good portion of my style. I think the ONLY way to get it back is time in the field, time ALONE and time NOT on assignment, not connected to the constant chatter of the social networking sites, the blogs, the cell phone, etc, and return to the idea of disappearing into your mind and your vision.

I think sometimes we think you can make up for this stuff with gadgets, gear, post production, shows, press, etc, but I frankly believe this is pure charade.

When you strip everything down you are left with only the images. The tricks of today are the laughter of tomorrow, but when something is really strong, it stands alone, in need of nothing other than the viewer.

Images like this don't happen often, and can't be created later. They just happen, and typically, when they do, you know it. You don't need to see it because that 250th of second becomes a part of your soul.

So as I look into the near and distant future, I wonder to myself what it is I REALLY should be doing. Should I shelve the distractions, both photographic and otherwise, and commit to rediscovering my path? This is far easier said than done, but I have to consider it.

I'm older now, have responsibilities, so the layers of doubt, of question, of fear are far more complex and powerful than ever before.

I realize I've skirted the edges of the cliff that leads to "content" and know I would rather never photograph again than walk further into this style of photographic being where the bulk of images flash across your retina but never make the trip to your brain.

However, I did just read, I think, somewhere, that a significant portion of the public eats fast food something like twenty times a month? Did I read that wrong? But, if I didn't, it might explain a lot about photography as well. Ouch! Safe, expected, controlled, conformed, mainstream, dare I say....nope, can't say it. Remember the Bruce Lee reference.

I keep hearing, "Yes, but you have to make a living." Agreed, but is it better to choose this mainstream path, or do something else for your income and then work solely on "your" images for your personal needs? I think this second choice would actually be far better for my industry, and only far worse for my ego. A very successful photographer recently wrote a post about "reskilling" or "retooling" his life, learning another trade to make the living so that he could continue his work. I think that post was like a rifle shot to a lot of people. I know it was to me.

I'm fortunate, have a good business, one that I try to evolve and change every four to five years, and I really mean change. I have to work hard to keep changing and starting over, but it is totally worth it(All but the losing my style part.) I'm more alive today than I was twenty years ago, when it comes to making pictures. At least until my bookshelves come crashing down on my skull. Or they stop making film and I have no reason to shoot any longer.

I think it is a fantastic job, working as a photographer. It really is. However, I sometimes wonder if I'm at a crossroads, where I have to begin looking at a broader scene, but with a far more focused pair of eyes.

PS: the attached photos are unrelated, done while I was writing this. Just fyi.

Keep snapping.

Ready for Liftoff

Just spotted, signed, numbered, captioned and sleeved 27 copies of an image for a "project" I am a part of.

A few images from around the office.

ROSS BLOG

Most of the blogs I read, about photography anyway, are either way too technical, too sales tooly or too phony, but occasionally I find a blog that hits home.

Ross is an interesting dude, wicked smart, but also well versed in the art/design/history/photography world, but most importantly, he has a sense of HUMOR.

Yes, HUMOR.

humor


Main Entry:
1hu·mor
Pronunciation:
\ˈhyü-mər, ˈyü-\
Function:
noun
Etymology:
Middle English humour, from Anglo-French umor, umour, from Medieval Latin & Latin; Medieval Latin humor, from Latin humor, umor moisture; akin to Old Norse vǫkr damp, Latin humēre to be moist, and perhaps to Greek hygros wet
Date:
14th century

3 a: that quality which appeals to a sense of the ludicrous or absurdly incongruous b: the mental faculty of discovering, expressing, or appreciating the ludicrous or absurdly incongruous c: something that is or is designed to be comical or amusing

His blog touches on a range of items, and just has the feel that it is the same as the paper version he might be carrying around with him. When I talk to "industry" people, they often complain of "oh geez, I don't read blogs because there are too many and they just aren't interesting." I think this is because most blogs are not honest. In my opinion, a blog is like a journal, so if you can't write it like you would your journal, then why bother?

In addition, Ross is a very talented photographer, who works in a unique way, and also has a recognizable style, something that is difficult to find in today's photo-world.

His humor lives in his pictures. So, check out the blog, and check out his site. And he has Canadian hair.


BLOG

Trial and Error

So yesterday I'm printing these images, and starting to think I'm beginning to get the hang of things.

Same enlarger, same easel, same paper, same everything.

Fresh chemistry.

I get a negative in, take a read, make a print. It's a little off.

So, I make some adjustments, some mental, some physical and begin to make another print.

The base exposure was 25 seconds. But I then had to add about 40 more seconds of burn, here and there, corners, etc.

I'm dancing at the enlarger, clumsily, but I'm working it. Hands are moving here and there, I'm making odd shapes with my hands, concentrating,

I finish the exposure. I move to the burn, I dance. I dance a little more.

"Perfect," I think to myself.

I then reach down to lift my perfect print and realize I never put a sheet of paper in the easel. Nothing. Nada.

I was printing on metal.

Luckily I was alone.

The Bitter Fruits Of My Effort

So yesterday I had a horrid day in the darkroom. I knew the honeymoon wouldn't last, it couldn't.

I did everything wrong. Everything.

I dunked the first print and it took nearly 1.5 minutes to emerge. Something wasn't right.

So I changed the developer. The next print came up in 15 seconds, great, but it looked like SH^%.

Too dark, too muddy, too.....blah.

I burned more paper but it wasn't any use. I just wasn't there. The stars, the wind, the world, was off axis and my prints were far from stellar.

I changed negatives and it did nothing.

The bins filled with my waste.

I wanted to turn the lights on and watch as my wasted effort faded to black squares.

I printed with the second bellows set on 2 1/4 when I was printing 35.

My corners were hot.

I had dust.

I finally got a print where I wanted it only to head out into the light and realize my entire box of new, 16x20 paper was old, fogged and yellow around the edges.

If the counter was higher I would have banged my head repeatedly, but was too lazy to bend over.

And then something funny happened.

There was someone printing with me. An old school rock and roll photographer. Long white hair flowing out from under a backwards cap. A bounce in his step.

I confessed my sins of failure to him, casually, as if it was no big deal , and he turned around with a big grin and said, "Ya, I kinda like it when things like that happen, it gives me a chance to play around with things."

I looked down at the faces of Mick, Jimmy Page, David Crosby and the ever dominant Neil Young. The photographer told me tales of the old days as he quickly printed through negative after negative from 35 years ago.

There was pure joy and history in his words and it was the remedy I needed.

I wondered if any of my struggle was real. Should I believe what I see?

I changed the lens. I changed paper. I changed the negative. And I changed my attitude.

I could feel the fire. If I'd have been wearing plastic wrap my fire would have lit the room. It might have been an out of control kitchen fire, but it was a fire.

I started making prints.

My limbs moved with fluidity(kinda), tai chi of light, defending and feinting when needed. I counted to myself, forced myself to consider and reconsider every move.

Slowly the final fix grew fat with success.

Life had realigned.

Snaps Ready for the Wall

Three prints ready for hanging. Just dropped them off this morning. Digital prints....wink, wink.

PS: previous post was in regards to my documentary work, nothing more, although I'm printing portraits in the dark now too.

A Kick in the Teeth

All readers should have a mid-80's power ballad on while reading this.



As I have stated in past posts, I've recently returned to printing in the darkroom after a fifteen-year break. What drove me to print in this method was many fold. First, I was looking forward to a new challenge. Second, collectors I had spoken with preferred silver prints to inkjet prints. And finally, and most importantly, my realization that I had little attachment to my digital prints.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with these digi prints, and in fact, in some ways, they might be superior to my traditional prints.

However, like I said before, I don't have an attachment to these digital prints, and in fact have destroyed many of them over the years. You monster, why destroy your prints? I'm glad you asked.

Let's look back ten years into our glorious past. There I am (Vest, mullet, huge glasses). Shooting, editing, making prints. I do a story, make my edit, get my desktop printer revved up and begin to spit out sheet after sheet of pure genius.

Fast forward two years. In some cases, my sheets of pure genius have become sheets of magenta madness. Or, perhaps the prints were still neutral but my digital darkroom skills had progressed far beyond where they were. Or, perhaps my latest, greatest desktop printer had been replaced with a newer, fancier, smarter model and I realized, "Well, I guess I should reprint these things."

So, what do you do with the old ones?? Me, I shredded them.

And before you go thinking I'm a kook, alone on an island of temporary, destructive insanity, think again. I'm not the only one.

Who has hung around a tradeshow minutes after the closing bell? Huh? Anyone? When the construction crews come to turn the building into an ice rink or monster truck stomping ground?

Guess what you see in PILES around the floor. Prints, many, many, recently printed "works of art," tossed aside like that soggy pickle that comes with your BBQ plate. (And yes, I know about shipping costs, but I have NEVER seen this done with analog prints.)

Here is my key point...brace yourself.....

Something happens to us, all of us, when something becomes really, really easy.

It, whatever "it" is, loses something.

We don't have to fight for it, and consequently, part of the magic, the mojo, the blood, is lost. Well, actually, it isn't lost because it was never there in the first place.

This also applies to the front of the equation. Making images at high rates, with absolute ease, with less commitment, also dilutes the image gene pool.

Imagery, like our prints, has become disposable.

Again, you can think I'm a kook, and perhaps I am, but think about it. What have we been led to believe? Imaging is now "Fast, cheap, easy and if you don't like it.....just throw it away."

I can't imagine this NOT having an impact on the perception of photography, right down to it's very core.

I heard one editor recently say that they edit approximately 250,000 images PER WEEK!!! Let me say that again....PER WEEK!

How is that possible? And I'll bet there is someone out there right now saying, "Oh man, I see a lot more than that."

And I'll tell you why I bring this up.

I just had a MAJOR gut check.

The day I finally realized I was headed back in the darkroom I also realized I had to pick something to print.

That's it. I had to pick something.

What? What do I print?

Before, I printed it all. Bingo, bango, it spit out in minutes and I had myself a humdinger print.

But now.....now.... I have to REALLY THINK about what I'm doing. This new print won't be spit out. It won't be fast. I will have to work for it, sweat for it, concentrate, and focus on only the image. I will have to transform it, read it, sense it and make it live.

And you know what? I really didn't know what to print.

Suddenly, my images were not that good. Print after print, made digitally, and with ease, didn't make the cut.

My gut check was realizing that over a twenty year "career" I could probably "edit myself down" to twenty images for my entire life.

Ya, how you like them apples? Talk about getting kicked in the teeth. It's painful, but in some ways it is a really nice pain.

The pioneers of this field, this endeavor of photography, set the quality and commitment bar a long, long time ago, and I have to live by that code, that bar, otherwise, I'm part of the dilution process.

Tomorrow I will return to the darkroom and tonight I will once again have to face.....myself...and the truth, however painful, of who I am visually.



It is now okay to turn off the power ballad.

AMT: Super Dynamite Update

You might look at this photo and wonder, "Who is that?"

Is that the world's smallest bank robber?

Is that the world's smallest Zapatista rebel?

Nope, it's AMT: Super Dynamite showing off his new ski mask. He wears it well.

AMT: Super Dynamite

I wanted to showcase another recent book cover, this one a small chronicle of my other nephew. He might look like a tiny man, but good things come in small packages. Some call him by his first name, some his last, and perhaps a few by his middle name, but we refer to him by his mancode...

AMT: SUPER DYNAMITE

Time Away

Over the years I have read about many "old school" photographers who say that after they are done with a story, or an essay of photographs, they will set it aside, waiting a few weeks, a few months, a few years to finally sit down with it.

I always thought this a little odd, and being a child of the 1980's, my mind has always been about the right now.

In the words of Homer Simpson upon arrival of his first microwave oven, "What do you mean I have to wait thirty seconds, I want it NOW."

For years I never even made contact sheets, preferring to edit straight from the negatives, and knowing in my heart what I had on film even before it returned from the lab.

Now I make contact sheets, which are easier to see, and also give you a far better idea how something will print, but even still, I realize now might not be enough.

As I've noted here in the past few weeks, I've returned to printing in the darkroom, the best thing I have done in my adult life as a photographer, and yesterday I went in to print three images from a story from 2006.

These images I have printed before, digitally, and one of them has been shown twice. The contact sheets I have seen many times before.

But something strange happened yesterday. I made my first print, and as I was putting the negative back in the sleeve, I noticed an image I had not printed before.

"Wow, how did I miss that one?" I thought to myself.

So I printed it.

And as I was putting that one away, I notice another I had not "seen" before, even after looking at that contact sheet many, many times.

I made five new prints yesterday, most of them being "new" to me.

This is somewhat of a frustrating concept because it makes me realize what a rush I have been in, perhaps for my entire "career," but the positive far outweighs this small fact.

I've got the negs, and can now return and see what I have really done all these years.

I'm realizing, more and more, that speed has no place in my photography. There are times when I have to do shoots that are based on speed, but I'm hoping to do less and less of those. This bucks the current trend in imagery, where most everything is needed five minutes after it is produced, but I'm okay with that.

I think in times like we are now living in, and those times we and staring into, you have to proceed, not with caution, but with your heart.

In the end, your heart and your negatives are all you will have left.

Production Line

So, I had to make 27 copies of the same image, in 11x14. Stop! I know what you are thinking..."Print them on the inkjet man, save yourself a major headache."

Well, of course, that would have been REALLY easy, and depending on how things turn out, I might have to, but I went the long and winding road and made 27, 11x14 silver gelatin prints!

I was like a stone-age assembly line worker, cranking them out, ONE at a time. It took all day, but I think....think...it was worth it.

They are all different, which is great, even though I was trying like hell to make them all the same. But, that is why I wanted to do this run in this fashion.

Each person getting one of these babies is getting a unique object. Not just a print, but a unique print. And, the destination for these prints is, for me, really important, a destination that I really very lucky to be a part of.

So, I go to pick them up today, then try to flatten them all. Fingers crossed.

By the way, I didn't choose this print for the political statement it makes. Obviously, this image has a political statement, but for me it was simply about found art. In the middle of nowhere, out in the vast expanse of rural America, someone sprayed this. I just found it an interesting statement more than anything else.

Cover Me

I make books. A lot of books. I love making them, and I love the feeling the client gets when they see these things.

Most of the books I make are kept private, but a few are public and out there for others to see. However, many of the private books are compilations of images that I really like, so I thought I would share a few of the covers.

All of these books were done in the last month or so, a few of the nearly eighty books I have made to this point.

More...

more recent snaps, 16x20's.

Elf Boy and the Massive Guns

Okay, some recent snaps of the nephew, one of them, and the unveiling of his new tattoo, wink, wink.

I gave him the nickname "Elf Boy" this holiday season because he came up with this odd little dance and hand clapping move that was really strange, but also fascinating. He looked like a demented elf, hence the name.

I had to badger him to do these images, of course, because his nine-year-old schedule is so packed with critical things like football throwing, video games and doing the elf dance.

I shot a grand total of twelve images this time, but hey, you get what you get.

Western Land

Marfa, Texas.

Prior to this last trip, the last time I was in Marfa was when I was in school. I had driven west to explore Big Bend and had taken a quick pass through the small town, a town famous for it's petroleum past as well as it's dance with the Hollywood elite.

But, other than the occasional movie poster, there was little reference to the outside world. Marfa was, and still is, about the landscape, and what people do on that landscape, namely ranching. Unbeknownst to me, modern-art was also a part of this place.

With the arrival of Donald Judd, the face of Marfa was etched with new lines, those of world-class, minimal art, and the shock waves of the creative set began to emminate from this tiny, rural community.

Judd Foundation

The roots of Judd began to take hold, as did his footprint on the community. The landscape took on new objects, those beyond the cow and oil pumps, as the ferocious, West Texas wind now blew past enormous, outdoor art installations. Buildings once used as government offices and barracks were now massive warehouses for permanent Judd installations.

I'm not sure how the locals felt but I would imagine they were somewhat shocked by it all.

Being in Marfa today is a little different. Again, I had not been for many years, but it was somewhat odd to see ramshackle homes sitting next to brand new, contemporary art galleries. I wondered how the locals felt about the art world coming to town.

We arrived late on a Sunday and in Marfa's case, the art community is closed on Monday and Tuesday, as is much of the town.

Finding food can be difficult, unless you are like me and like nothing in this world more than a gas station delicacy of some sort.

Frankly, I found the energy in Marfa to be a little...offset shall we say. I wondered if the art world was tolerated due to the money they bring to the community or does it go beyond? Do the locals turn out for the openings? Is there truth to this merger , or has the town become just another "must see," on the hipster map of the United States?

I don't have any answers. As usual, I was on the move, only staying in town for a little more than a day, but I wonder just how things play out. I wonder why Marfa? And will this idea continue, or should it? There is a vastness to West Texas that just sucks you in, but a part of that vastness that is so important is the lack of humans.

You won't find two groups of people more different, ranchers and artists, but perhaps, in the end, that is what will save this place.