wish you were here

hey thanks all for the feedback so far... much appreciated.

There's much I want to write about, but not much time right now as I'm in L.A. for an editorial shoot. I scouted locations yesterday with the (at that time) forecast of sunny and 70 in mind, only to wake up this morning to find rain and a forecast for more. Seeing as how I keep the process really simple... no assistant, no lights, just a bald guy with a camera and a tripod, the options are limited. It looks like it's lightening up though... my fingers are crossed, but I'm off to find an umbrella or two...

An interesting discussion on APE that's been sticking in my head.

Thanks to Liz yet again for taking me over to Shotgun Space. A personal favorite from that show. I want this print.

Brian Widdis

"People in general are not that attractive"

Kudos to Liz for her self-directed yet public assignment to make one portrait of a stranger each day throughout the month of December. It's like a photo version of an advent calendar. If only I had the courage...

Though I've made a fair number of pictures with people in them, and admire those who do it well, I find solace in Eggleston's response to a query about why he photographs flowers and dogs, "... I approach a picture of a dog exactly the same way I do any other picture. The compositions are free. I've never known why there are so goddamned many pictures of people. People in general are not that attractive."

For me, the challenge of portraiture is in capturing, or perhaps inducing, some sense of authenticity in a contrived situation. My favorite portraiture leans toward the incidental- sure the framing, and perhaps even the location has been arranged and thought out, sometimes there's even been hair and makeup, lights, assistants, etc., but in the final picture that makes its way to my eyes, there's still an element of tension, of authenticy, that comes out of a fleeting moment, gesture, or relationship. Or, in some cases, the person photographed is simply just another another element in an interesting picture.

Doug Dubois

Chris Buck, Wes Anderson for Premiere, 2004

Michael Schmelling?, MIA, for Spin, 2004

Tierney Gearon, Diane Keaton for the NYTimes Mag, 2005

Joel Sternfeld, from Sweet Earth: Experimental Utopias in America

superf(o)und heartbreak

Page from Sandy's journal found in a huge pile of trash dumped down at the superfund site where I met Mary for a dog walk over the weekend. Previous superfinds include a dead body and these amazing polaroids (both compliments of Mary):


More from Mary about the site here. Also, John Ganis, in his book Consuming the American Landscape, has a photo from the other side of the railroad bridge:

John Ganis, Superfund Cleanup Site Williamette River, Portland, OR

cronyism... two from the home team

In my recent post about sour grapes, I failed to cover a facet of this issue that comes up time and time again… cronyism, or at least the appearance of it. Before I enter a juried show, I always do some research on the juror(s) to find out if my work will even be at all in line with their interests. Occasionally, after the winners have been announced, whether or not I'm among them, I've researched the winners (nothing stalkerish- just reading a bio or something) and have, in some cases, come across obvious connections between the winners and the jurors. For example, I can't help but notice that in one prominent quarterly juried exhibition, there have certainly been a high percentage of winners that come out of the school where one of the regular jurors teaches. But, truth is, I don't really see anything wrong with it. It just makes sense.

It makes sense to admire the work of people you know, doesn't it? If you like the person, chances are, you're going to better understand, and appreciate, their work. On the flipside, there are plenty of people I've never met who, judging from their work, I imagine I'd certainly get along with (here, here, here, here, here, here, ...). Of course you're going to be attracted to people you admire and respect. Chances are, in some dark corner of my mind, if I like your work, I also want to sleep with you. Shit… that being out there is going to make our meeting awkward, isn't it? Scratch that… I don't want to sleep with you. All I'm getting at is that attraction and admiration are intertwined.

The reason the topic comes up is that as I keep thinking about what I want this blog to do/be, I can't help but think that I don't want to turn this into yet another page of fan's notes to Alec, Joel, & the other heavy hitters (though they really are a couple favorites), but instead, I'd rather draw attention to others. But, that said, I also want to get beyond the simple "I like this" approach (though there are worse ways). I figure that anything worth drawing attention to, is worth thinking and writing about as well. That said, as I think of projects that I admire, many are by friends. So be it… the disclaimer's out there.

So, in what will likely be a continuing series on work I like that happens to have been made by people I like, I'll bring out two from the home team: Alexis Pike and Ron Jude. Alexis, Ron, and I all got into photography while under the spell of Brent Smith (not this one) at Boise State University, though all at separate times. The sequence of school being what it is, we've all explored similar themes, and fed off each other, without actually knowing one another outside of email for years. I didn't meet Ron until moving to Syracuse in 2000. I didn't meet Alexis until I moved to Portland in 2003.

Ron Jude, Shore Lodge, McCall, ID, 1996

Though each of them have made significant bodies of work dealing with a variety of themes, it seems fitting to bring out the work from our stomping grounds. Ron's "45th Parallel" blew me away when it was published in DoubleTake in 1999. A project that dealt with the commercialism and mythologizing of the West in his small logging-turned-resort hometown of McCall, Idaho, I was really impressed with the way that he approached the topic without the aggressive ironic punch I'd been so interested in up to that point (think David Graham). The subtlety in some of these pictures, I suppose a sort of deadpan quality, gives breathing room to the natural landscape that's being both cherished and commodified. There's a subtlety here that leads the viewer to a deeper complexity than the simple good vs. evil / nature vs. culture dichotomy.

Ron Jude, Housing Development, McCall, ID, 1998

Alexis Pike, A Teton, St. Anthony, Idaho, 2005

Alexis deals with similar issues in her series "Human Nature," through her examination of murals painted throughout Southern Idaho towns. More often than not, the murals depict a pristine natural wilderness, an idealized portrayal of nature in all its majesty, yet in image after image, it's the juxtaposition of the here and now that stands out… the peeling base of a cinder block wall or a bright garden hose & red vinyl chairs gathered at the base of a mysterious forest with a winter palette. These juxtapositions bring us back to the idea that while we may adore, glorify, and/or crave nature, we certainly don't see ourselves as part of it.

Alexis Pike, Red Chairs- Bliss, Idaho, 2006

Aside from his recent ventures into publishing (Ron and wife Danielle [more on her later- she's fucking great) have founded A-Jump books), Jude's recently had work published in Blind Spot and I've heard he's got a new project coming together. Looking forward to it. Harass your academically connected friends in coming months for Exposure, the magazine put out by SPE for a portfolio of Alexis's work, along with an interview by me that we conducted & reconducted over a beer or two.

craigslist

http://www.kasperhauser.com/khmc/

As great as the above fake ads are, they're only funny because of the real thing. Three real ones from the "Craigslist Scrapbook" folder I keep on my laptop:





Thanks Mary. You certainly have not become a waste of my heart.

aaah shitbag (special offer- act now)

I spent my coffee time this morning catching up on blogs and found that Christian Patterson has already beaten me to praising & writing about those "new color" books. Officially noted (and appreciated). You know, Michael Bishop (not this one) was someone I wanted to mention soon as being under-recognized and hard to find images from outside of those books. I happen to have, however, 22 small postcard books, Michael Bishop's View of the NYS Barge Canal, that Bishop put out with LightWork back in 1980. I've held on to them for about five years now, simply because I wanted them to be appreciated (I saved them from a janitor who'd had enough). Anyhow, until they're gone, just send me an address and I'll mail you one.

yet another thanksgiving rediscovery

While one of the things that I cherish about other blogs are the reviews and insights about new books and projects that I don't know about or can't afford, one way I plan on filling the grey Portland winter is rediscovering the books on my own shelves. For starters, in the afterglow of yesterday's meal, I flipped through some of my all time favorite books, The New Color series, by Sally Eauclaire. Published in conjunction with a traveling exhibition that originated at the Everson Museum of Art in Syracuse, NY, the exhibition & books, The New Color Photography (1981), New Color/New Work (1984), and American Independents (1987), focused on many photographers who are considered the grand masters today (Shore, Sternfeld, Eggleston, Pfahl, Epstein...) and analyses the strategies that they, and others, were (and still are) using. One of the most satisfying parts of these books is seeing the early, and less touted images by some of the masters… Sternfeld's flashlit street work, for example, or Stephen Shore's "Montana Suite," a series of quiet (of course) landscapes of, more often than not, blue sky, green hills, and maybe a few patches of scrubby trees, sometimes set against the ironic hint of a more traditionally scenic snowy peak in the background. There is the majestic, and there is the everyday… these photos recognize both, yet seem to praise the latter.

Of course, the other unique pleasure of these books is seeing the work of some other photographers whose work is great, but hasn't achieved that same level of recognition and/or distribution. For example, for my money, a couple of the big highlights in the whole series of books are the projects in American Independents by Roger Mertin and Stephen Scheer, both accomplished photographers who, in these projects, direct their attention to distinctly American themes. With clear 8"x10" deadpan clarity, Mertin photographs window displays, school decorations, monuments, etc. that highlight Rochester, New York's Sesquicentennial and draw attention to the small, but significant ways that history is mythologized & commercialized in our culture. In his "Texas Tourney," Stephen Scheer takes on the big American dream, while contrasting it with the banality of reality. In one image, a father and his two daughters escape the heat by having a snack of "Thirstbusters" and "Mega" animal crackers under the shade of their truck trailer. In another, we see the edge of a suburban parking lot on parade day, a float and car, decorated with LP's and books (Ricky Nelson,"Angelica", "Alive", "The Bermuda Triangle" and others) fill the foreground, while in the background a prom queen of sorts in full finery waits patiently at the edge of a sprawling backlot of concrete and trailers, the line between fantasy and reality made clear. Good, good stuff here. I can't help but wonder if these projects were inspirational for someone like say, Greta Pratt, who's sense of fascination, humor, absurdity, and timing, are incredibly well developed (just check out "Using History.") Greta?

Roger Mertin, Great Canal Caper, Genesee Valley Park, Rochester, New York, July 8, 1984

Stephen Scheer, Supermarket Parking Lot, Beeville, Texas, 1984

note… of course, I couldn't find images from either series that I'm mentioning so I'm going to go ahead and scan them just to put more pictures from each out into the world. Again. Was anyone as disappointed as I was to realize Sally Eauclaire's interests later turned to cats?