Searching After Wildness - journals of a photographic artist

Archive for the 'Images' Category

The Fifth Impression

Sunday, February 3rd, 2008
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Our daily interactions are filled with first impressions. Think of the strangers that you met earlier today, or that new pop song on the radio. Think of watching the auditions on American Idol, where you are encouraged to make a quick judgment on whether that person is worthy of additional attention. Most advertising is based upon first impressions. If they don’t catch your attention in the first few seconds, they don’t catch you at all. When we travel, much of the experience is based upon first impressions – the surroundings are different and novel. Wow, pretty! And, ooh shiny! That buzz and thrill. These are the reactions of a first impression.

Now, think about the photography that we’re exposed to in mass media. Calendars, National Geographic and travel shows. You’ll find many well done, eye catching images. These images are captured to give you a taste of what it would be like to be “there”, at the location of the image. A taste… a first impression.

First impressions are great and all, but they’re also only surface level interactions. So much of my busy, distracted life is surface level interactions.

A couple of days ago, I was out wandering around the woods with my camera. The location is one of my favorite places to photograph in the city, one that I’ve returned to many times. I was looking at the same tree for the twentieth time and thinking, what does it take to see beyond the first impression? What would I notice on the third and fourth impression?

When I first started photography, I was enamored with looking for new things. I would get up early to see the sunrise. I would stop and look at peeling paint. I would notice the patterns on a leaf. I took pictures of these things, but they were more documentary than anything. It was more to show that I noticed something, rather than, I got to know something. I thought I was seeing things in a new way, but all I had done was begin to look.

What type of images would you make, by the time you got to the fifth impression?

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The importance of color

Monday, July 30th, 2007
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Through various art shows in the past weeks, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting many wonderful people. If you’re reading this because of such a meeting – Welcome! And, thanks for keeping up with my efforts.

Photography shapes how we see. A still image, smooshed down flat to fit on a piece of paper, or on your computer screen, is a different experience than how we see the world through our eyes and how our eyes get processed by our brain. With the prevalence of photographs in our lives, this creates a strange cycle where we see something in a picture, which then shapes our perception of that subject in our minds, which is different from the perception we would have had if we encountered that subject with our own eyes.

This interpretation of seeing gets even trickier when considering color. Our perception of color seems subjective at best, and is complicated by different kinds of lighting, neighboring colors, cultural conditioning and probably even our moods. Just think of all the color patches available when selecting paint colors for the walls of your home. Take one home, put it up on the wall, and it looks different than what you saw in the store. Paint a whole wall with the color, and it looks different still. Put your couch next to it, and you have yet another perception.

So, what to do when rendering color in a photographic print? The best I can go for is to render colors in a way that suits the vision that I want to convey. Most times, I try to match a vision of how I “saw” the subject when taking the photograph. That is, imagining how the subject would look as a photograph while looking at the real thing with my eyes.

I have a photograph of a reddish/orange canyon wall that I first printed very saturated. This initial printing was just after I got home from hiking that canyon, and I was filled with a wonder of walking among colors that were bolder and richer than I would have expected. A few weeks later, the same orange made me think of Cheetos puffed cheese snacks, and I tweaked the color in the image and printed it again.

When people are viewing my photographs, I’ll often get the question, “Are those the real colors?” Well, they are as real as I can convey my perception of reality. And they are as biased as how I might recount the story of a first kiss.

A few weeks ago, at an outdoor art show, a woman spent some time looking at a print of the “Globemallows” picture that I’ve included with this post. She turns to me, and asks, “Are those the real colors? I wouldn’t expect the flower stems to be blue.” I replied saying that I remembered the stems as being a pastel green, perhaps a green-blue. She pauses, takes off her tinted sunglasses, and looks at the picture again. She responds, “Ah…. I suppose they are green.”

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New Studio In Progress

Thursday, June 21st, 2007
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My current studio within my house is small and cramped. Each time I switch tasks from printing to matting to framing, I have to rearrange things to make room. The trash can is in front of the filing cabinets, which is also where I have to stand to use the mat cutter. The mat cutter is on a table which needs to be slid away from the wall to be used. When the mat cutter is in use, the table then blocks the way to the computer. I use the counter in the bathroom as extra surface space to aid shuffling things around. I’ve worked out a system to where the small space and rearranging doesn’t bother me. But, maybe that’s because I’ve worked this way for long enough that I don’t know any better.

Working from home also results in a good amount of solitude. This is great and convenient at times, but I also miss having camaraderie.

So, I’m excited to say that I’ve been busy this week preparing a new studio space. The new space is in a building that houses around twenty other artists studios and a few galleries. I suppose the change of surroundings will result in a change in how I work.

This week has been a blur of dismantling and painting. Photos to come as the space progresses.

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Backpacking On Kindness

Friday, June 15th, 2007
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At the end of last month, Hannah and I set out to hike a portion of Grand Gulch, in southern Utah. We planned on a three to four day through-hike route, which means that the hike is one way, without a loop. To facilitate this, I arranged to park our car at the endpoint of the hike, and then have a shuttle drive us to the trailhead. We had a long drive from the airport to Grand Gulch, so I told the shuttle company that I’d give them a call with a specific pickup time as we got closer.

I didn’t expect, however that most all of southern Utah is long stretches of remote land. There were few towns or gas stations along the way, and no cell phone towers.

We arrived at the shuttle meeting point around 5:00pm. No cell phone signal in the last two or three hours. I had mentioned to the shuttle company that we would arrive around five, but without making the final confirmation call, I wasn’t sure if they would still come. At 6:00pm, with no sight of the shuttle, Hannah and I loaded up our packs and decided to walk the five miles of road to the trailhead. After 1.5 miles on the road, a car with two ladies pulls up and asks with concern and confusion, “What ever are you two doing out here?” After some quick hellos, and guarantees that we wouldn’t hurt them, they gave us a lift. I supposed it helped that we were just starting our hike and looked fresh. A few days later, we would exit the trail with days of sweat and covered in dust.

I should also mention that their car pulled up just as we were approaching a dead, decomposing cow. I actually didn’t notice, but Hannah did. So not only were we saved precious miles of racing the sun hiking, we were also excused from experiencing the lovely aroma of decay in the desert sun.

Once at the trailhead, we had another four miles ahead of us. We setup camp in the last few minutes of dusk.

To those two ladies, who risked their lives to help two helpless backpackers, I again give you my heartfelt thanks. I hope you had a wonderful time exploring Monument Valley. My gratitude to you for seeing us off to a most wonderful journey.

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Trophy Hunting

Thursday, June 14th, 2007
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I recently spent nine days hiking and backpacking in southern Utah. I love being out in the desert, surrounded by majestic canyon walls. As you walk among the canyon floor, you are surrounded by the strip of thriving life that is nourished by the river bed and washes. Each bend in the canyon provides colors and shapes to inspire a lifetime’s worth of abstract art.

For the first four days of the trip, my wife and I hiked in the back country, pretty much in isolation, savoring the wonders of each step. Other than the supplies on our backs, we were at the mercy of the environment.

And then, we arrived in Bryce Canyon National Park and encountered, well, I guess it was culture shock. The incredible landscape was still there, but it was paved and easily accessible, with glossy brochures describing the most popular sights. Early in the morning, we drove our car up to the parking lot for Sunrise Point, and walked a couple of minutes to get to the overlook. And there were the photographers, all along the railing loaded with expensive cameras and lenses. The cameras let out a chorus of autofocus-locking whirs and beeps as the sun works it’s way above the horizon. Whirrreeee—zzzz…beep, beep go the throng of cameras, as if the very whizzing of gadgetry is enticing the sun to rise.

This was probably my first time among a mass group of photography enthusiasts pursuing the same subject. And especially following the days of being in the back country, the experience felt very strange. I wasn’t sure why.

Later in a bookstore, I came across a photography guide covering southwest Utah. The “critically acclaimed photographer and author gives you the tools to find and shoot these locations…. [The author] will guide you on how to find the precise locations to shoot those postcard-perfect shots.”

I think the strangeness I felt was because the photographers at Bryce had a very different approach to photography than I do. Theirs seems to be an approach that looks for a specific destination and subject, a “trophy”. This is aided by easy access to popularly defined locations. For me, the value of my time was largely in the experience of being out in the wilderness, the journey. My photographs are part of the expression of the wonder I felt along the way.

I am surprised that it hasn’t really occurred to me that many, perhaps most photographers use the trophy hunting approach. This approach may be similar to what commercial photographers do – with a focused subject in mind. Is my approach any better or worse? I’m not sure. An any case, it’s fascinating to take in why people create the way that they do.

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Out Photographing

Thursday, May 24th, 2007

I’ll be out hiking and photographing over the next couple of weeks, so blog updates may be sparse. To give you a taste of my wanderings, here’s an image from the Smokey Mountains over the past weekend.

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Have a great Memorial Day weekend.

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Small Pieces All Together

Thursday, May 17th, 2007
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I started taking violin lessons in third grade. I hated to practice, but my parents would insist that I play for at least half an hour each day. I took private lessons through the end of high school. Along the way, I had the privilege of playing in several orchestras. I never really appreciated playing in an orchestra. I wonder how I would feel about playing in one today.

In my pre-teen years, I was also part of a men and boy’s choir. I was among those boys, gathered in new rows of robes, singing in crystal clear voices. We got to hear stories of men and boy’s choirs from days past, where the very best singers would be castrated to maintain their voice.

Today, I still play violin and sing, but within a context of a small band (guitars, drums, etc.), rather than in orchestras or large choirs.

Bands are well and good, but there is something really amazing about orchestras and choirs. Perhaps it’s the large group of people, each with their own talents, textures, voices and parts. When they all move together, they create something wonderful, something larger and outside of themselves. For those few moments, the participants are together toward a common work. The process is invigorating. Everyone present is a participant, whether they are on the stage or in the audience.

This fascination has tumbled into an appropriation – at first subconscious and now intentional. I’m viewing nature and considering the orchestra. And, it feels appropriate.

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The Last of the Lilacs

Wednesday, May 9th, 2007
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I was out photographing with a friend yesterday morning. We had just crossed a bridge over the White River when we came across a couple of lilac bushes. I took a few pictures and he asked me, what is it you see when you point your camera at such a mess of blooms? Patterns, I replied. I’m looking for patterns, rhythm and motion.

Later in the day, I took a walk in the same area with Hannah. As we walked up, a woman was sitting beside the two lilac bushes, taking her lunch break. She mentioned that these are perhaps the only blooming lilacs in the city. All the rest had fallen victim to false Spring we had at the end of March, which was followed by a week of snow and frost. Flowers never smelled so good.

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Entryways – New Orleans

Tuesday, April 24th, 2007
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I was reviewing my recent photographs from the French Quarter, and noticed that almost all of the images depict people interacting with either a door or a window. Doors and windows, along with images of cats, lighthouses, and lone trees are classic cliches of photography. But cliches become so because there is an inherent draw to these subjects. Windows and doors are portals into and out of intimate places, opportunities, adventures, temptation and healing. They can be guarded, left, opened, closed, and ignored.

Just because the subject matter is overused, doesn’t mean it’s no longer useful. There is more to a cliched subject than the cliched presentation. Look deeper.

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Guitar Player – New Orleans

Friday, April 20th, 2007
GuitarBusker.jpg
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