Do you remember that precise moment in your life when you realized, acknowledged and knew, "I am in love."? What about the first time you flew to another country and got off the airplane... and all the signs were different?
I remember the moment when my dog, Paloma, took her last breath and died. At that moment of transition I felt so suddenly alone, sad, and raw. My favorite place in Montana is driving east along Highway 200 between Missoula and Great Falls and getting to that magic moment where the Rocky Mountains suddenly end and the Great Plains hits you with its great expanse.
Rocky Mountain Front/Great Plains outside of Browning, MT - 010611
I am fleshing out an idea for a photo series. It is still very abstract and nebulous to me. The theme is "Borders, Boundaries, and Tipping Points". As a psychology and education graduate, I've always been both perplexed and fascinated by that moment, location, feeling, event, etc., that signals the change or demarcation of what was and what is and will be. We can see what came before and maybe even predict what comes after it, but what is special about that place, time, and experience that turns us around, points us in a into new direction, puts us in another country, or makes us realize we are in love or the love is gone.
Valya - 010611
Courtney - 010611
Even though these areas have always subconsciously interested me all my life, I never thought to formally explore them. I stumbled upon this idea of trying to capture it after showing an artist/photographer friend these photos of Valya and Courtney. He said, "Karl - these two photos are important. They are threshold moments. What is about to happen right now in each changes everything."
Where is that line in SF between the high-end Union Square area and its rough and dirty neighbor, the Tenderloin? What is going through the mind of the beautiful woman at the moment where "yes" becomes the answer? When is the point in time where an era ends and another one replaces it? Where is that point when one more RPM destroys the engine? At what point does that person in from of you become "one of us" or "one of them"?
Right now I am exploring the meaning for words like decision, boundary, border, etc., to find that gossamer of a moment where we pivot, retreat, or march ahead and all changes. I need to figure out where these locations are in the world and in our minds. The challenge will then be to figure out how to capture that moment.
I encourage everyone to share moments of when everything changed, what made that instant powerful, and what did that exact moment mean to you. You can share them in the comments section or send me an email at sidebphotography@gmail.com.
It is a low-key Christmas. I'm sitting in a Berkeley coffee shop while my wife is at mass at her uber-liberal Catholic parish. I'm neither jolly, nor ho-ho-ho, but I am not a Grinch either. After 41 Christmases, this day has little meaning to me other than a time to wish others well.
I am not asking for a Christmas miracle to thaw my frozen heart. My Christian belief does not rely on celebrating the false birthday of the religion's namesake. The fact that the church moved it to be near a pagan solstice makes the date meaningless. (I am not disparaging winter solstice, it is my favorite day of the year.)
Next year is tenuous. Over half of the department I work in will be laid off. We have four courses we will be tracked to. 1. Job is safe for another year. 2. Job is cut immediately. 3. Job will last x months until duties/responsibilities can be transferred or outsourced. 4. Job is relocated and I have to move or quit. We find out by January 31st.
My health has been declining for the past half year. Most of it is self-inflicted due to handling stress poorly and adding more stress by my own stupidity to my life. My life is no where near endangered in the short term, but I am doing a great job of taking a decade off it on the tail end.
My art is a high point. I am excited about it. I like the darker turn it has taken. I am not just thinking of the images I made with Courtney, Valya and Moon, but in general. I am starting to appreciate those tough bits of life around us that make us all the same, yet unique in how we approach them.
So, what are my plans for all this? I need to take better care of myself. That is going to be one of my two top priorities for 2011. I need to find time to eat better, workout, and be outside.
My other top priority is my art. It takes two paths. First, I need to actively and consistently creating and pushing it forward. Second, I need to plan and implement strategies to get to the next steps - an MFA and teaching.
Regardless of my job situation, I can work on these two areas. I'd prefer to get laid off in 2012 since my wife will have her PhD and I can follow her to whichever university/college she teaches at. The severance would be good seed money for helping with getting an MFA. If I get the axe this year, I will simplify and find temporary jobs to maintain until I can move to the next step. I guess if I get axed earlier, I will have lots of time to exercise.
So, I guess you were probably expecting a prophetic or (more likely) sappy Christmas message. Not this year. My wish for you though is based on the four gifts of faith - hope, joy, love, and peace. I don't care if you are of my faith, another one, or none at all. I think we all could use these four gifts.
A photograph is usually looked at - seldom looked into. ~Ansel Adams
For the final project in my class I photographed photographers I respect. I wanted to capture them with one of their own images they love and/or feel great pride or connection to. There are many examples of photographer portraits with their photos in the shot. I wanted these to be different. I wanted these to be big and for the photographer to become part of the photo since it is their art.
This blog is a toddler. It is starting to walk on its own and speak simple thoughts. Since December 15, 2008, this blog has:
been reborn not once, but twice and been renamed three or four times.
371 published posts still accessible
60 published posts deleted due to self censorship, poor writing, culling, and other issues
123 draft posts that were never published
15,070 visits
50,558 pages visited
an average reader spending 2 minutes and 33 seconds per visit.
visitors from 114 countries
one evil offspring/brother blog, Hear Me Roar. - A stuttering attempt at validating, defending, and defining masculinity.
are you bored yet with the "greatness"stats??? I am.
I read last years post, One year onand got bored in the first few paragraphs. I wrote last year about all the changes in substance, style, yada yada yada. I am not as sentimental about this blog now as I was a year ago.
Moi, but I've changed since then
My art has changed in the past year. I've given up the notion that I want to be another Edward Weston, Ruth Bernhard, or Imogen Cunningham. You can read more about that here. I am more interested in mixing it up with a sprinkle of those giants, a bit of Robert Frank, a dash of Bob Guccione (RIP) and lots of my own psyche. I am less into celebrating the aesthetic art of the form and more into what the context of the moment means.
My two highlights for the year were trips to Rome and New York City. In Rome I found my spirit. In New York I found my soul. Both changed me forever.
Over the years I've made friends along the way, interviewed a few of them, and savored the comments they shared. Thanks to Carla, Joe, Terrell, Valya, Alex, Z, and many others.
So, enough rambles. Here are my favorite photos of 2010. You may disagree, but all of these are personal, beautiful, and somehow changed me. Some more than others, but they were important. Thanks to locations for being open to me. Thanks to the models for opening themselves to me.
I worked with Courtney again last night. It is part of a series honoring photographers I greatly respect. Photos will be coming soon. It is always interesting having a photographer model for you. They behave very differently from all other types of models. Most are reluctant to be in front of the camera and most know a bit about how the camera functions so the communication is very different.
Sorry about yesterday's rant. I am trying to stay away from politics in this blog, but some days are tiresome.
It rained hard yesterday in my area of California. I love seeing how the world looks on a dark rainy day through a wet windshield. It is how the world is.
We drove to Sacramento and went to the newly renovated Crocker Art Museum. If you went to it before the grand re-opening, it was great regional art museum that drew some impressive shows. With the remodel, they doubled exhibit space and have an amazing series of exhibits on African and Asian art, modern and postmodern art, European classics and one of the best western US and California landscapes paintings and sculpture collections. It is well worth the $10 adult admission. The Wayne Thiebaud exhibit was may favorite.
I overheard that during a critique. It was not directed at me, but it could have been. As I swim deeper into the art world I am noticing a few common character traits among artists. The first trait is a sense of self aggrandizing of the artist's work and the second is a jealousy of other artist's success.
As I grew up, my parents showered compliments on anything I created. They wanted to encourage my creativity. Every picture I drew was beautiful and every concert I played in was amazing.
The first time I received criticism on my music or art came in ninth grade. I took both art and band. Both teachers were trained in their field and were very accomplished in their talents. Both teachers wanted to encourage us and gave us time to develop, but also made sure to let us know where we could do better. It was tough hearing the truth, "Karl, sounds like you didn't practice or put much effort into it. Is that true?" Tough feedback pissed me off, especially when it was true.
When you take art in college, you had better get used to the critique. Most students, but not all, are easy on each other. The professors are much tougher. Most of the time I admitted the faults of the work and learned how I could do better. Once in a while though I got defensive and stood up for my art. "I did it right. You are seeing it wrong." That is a common mantra in my mind during critique. I bet it is the same one for many artists.
As we develop, we grow our own artistic styles. We choose our tools, tonal palette, media, materials, subject matter, angles, and aesthetic that speaks to and from our artistic soul. As a tuba player, I live for playing Bach. I come alive as I play the contrapuntal bass line that completes the harmonies and gives it a foundation for the whole piece and ensemble. I don't really care for marches since the tubas only exist to keep the rhythm (Except for some of Sousa's marches. Listen to the tuba line in Stars and Stripes Forever (check out the video at 1:29). You can also see the great tradition of when the brass (trumpets, trombones, baritones, and tuba) stand up for the last chorus. I don't know where the tradition started, but it makes the march come alive at the end.)
I know most artists do not find an appreciative audience who truly understand their work. They continually have to put up with "that's nice" from family and either silence, obscurity or criticism from the public. With out that support, the artist has only two choices - fight for their art or drop it. To remain an artist, he/she must fight for it, believe the art is important, be open to suggestions, but in the end know it is his/her art.
This self defensive wall is a big challenge in critiques. It is important to listen to the criticism and decide how to improve the art. At what point do you say to the the critic, "You just don't get it." ? When do you defend your art?
This need to believe in the importance of your art pushes most artists into the second issue, creative jealousy. I've seen this jealousy in myself and others manifest in different ways.
The first is a jealousy of another artist's work. Your colleague created something so amazing that you kick yourself for not having done it first. Maybe he or she was working on something similar to your work but took it to another level or direction and created masterpieces. I always ask myself, "Why didn't I think of that?" I feel deflated when I see that and wonder whether I should even try doing my work anymore because it has been done better by another. I also feel anger since as I begin to feel they took my idea and went further with it. At some point though I have to realize that unless they actually stole my idea, it is done and I have to learn and move on.
The second type of jealousy comes from seeing others get opportunities and recognition for their work that you feel is no better than your own. A month or so ago I found out a friend had orchestrated a major multi-artist exhibit and print edition. She knew I had worked in the same theme with the same exact materials. For some reason (and to be honest, I haven't asked) I was not considered for the collaboration. I've seen a few pieces from the collection and know my work is as good or better. She even notified me about it after it was done (that felt like a deep cut) so I could contact the people involved since I knew a few of them (and that was salt for the cut).
I felt a deep jealousy and anger toward all involved. I've supported their art and felt betrayed. After reflecting on it I came to a sadder conclusion. I wasn't betrayed or purposefully excluded. I was either forgotten or didn't even pop into the group's consciousness as a consideration. It wasn't that I was cast to the side - I wasn't even considered. It may have been my lack of a name in the community or not having enough ties, but in the end I wasn't even noticed.
My friend James is a writer. He has had a number of essays and short stories published, but his first novel (a truly great read that needs to get published) keeps getting rejected. James is a bit more zen than I am. He believes it will get published by the right publisher at the right time. He has a collection of the rejection letters and plans to burn them when his book gets published.
This type of jealousy burns deep and I have to figure out how to deal with it in healthier way like James does. He believes in his novel and knows it will get out there when the right opportunity opens up and he seizes it.
This photo of Courtney shows another side of her true self. She is tough as hell. As I mentioned in an earlier post, she enthusiastically worked with me through the session while nursing a freshly sliced and glued finger. Courtney is tough in many ways. She is kind, sweet and cares, but she is not a push over. Her art is tough too. I am hoping to work with her again this weekend.
On the topic of being tough, I wrote a short piece over at my other blog, Hear Me Roar, about the important lessons I learned from getting my ass kicked . Sometimes defeat is the best teacher.
I like photos that make the viewer feel a bit awkward and uncomfortable. This photo I took of Courtney makes me feel that way. Out of all the photos I took of her, this one keeps bringing me back.
Her pose, expression, youth, innocence, vulnerability, and demeanor gave this photo a depth and message of discomfort that I appreciate more each time I see it. I am glad she didn't over act the moment.
My photographing her from above (I'm 6'4" and she is 5'2") towers over her. With that aspect, that puts the viewer into a role beyond being just an observer. What does her body language say about that?
So many other elements add richness (in my humble opinion) to this photo: her red hair, her chipped blue finger nails, her hair blowing across her face, her necklace, the angular, harsh light. All of these elements add to contextual points that have different meanings to me depending on my mood and what I am looking for.
I am curious if you find anything in this photo. Do you find different things in the black and white version below? If you do, do you care to share?? I have a tough skin and take criticism as well.
PHOTO NOTE: Courtney is one tough lady. She is hiding her left hand ring finger under her lapel because it is wrapped in a huge bandage. Three hours before the photo session, she got an inch and half cut and the doctors glued it shut and bandaged it. She had throbbing pain from it if she held her hand below her heart. She never complained during the session. She swore once when she whacked her finger against a door frame. I appreciate her dedication to helping me get the photos I needed for school, and this one. I needed it for my art. Sometimes art hurts.
What is it about watching people smoke that is so damn sexy? Is it the sensual breathing, the smoke entering and then exiting their core? This sexiness of smoking is not just of women. One of the biggest draws for the great show Mad Men is the all the smoking, both the men and the women.
I recently worked on a photo assignment for my new class. The assignment was to photograph accessories as part of a portrait. We looked at a set of examples the instructor prepared. Most were beautiful images, but didn't inspire me. I saw examples of accessories that included necklaces, hair, piercings, masks, and other bits of bangles and baubles. None of them inspired me and I wanted to photograph something sensual and sexy.
Courtney - 092310 -2
Last Sunday I met with all the other photographers I went to New York with to work out the photos for our book. I talked with my friend Courtney, a gifted artist and fellow student, as she was smoking. I knew then that I had found the right accessory for her portrait. After some brief chatting we worked out a location and date and got these photos.
Thanks to Courtney. You are an artist and a muse, and you amuse.
