Finding Your Lost Mojo

(c) Clifford Wheeler

As MEG member Clifford Wheeler describes, taking a new class or embarking on a new project can help you get your creative mojo back if it's been dulled by the demands of daily life.

A few years ago I had the opportunity to take a seminar class with a Master Photographer and Educator with whom I had studied in college three decades ago. It seemed like an opportunity too good to pass up, especially since his was a voice that kept coming back to me through the years across occasions and experiences.

Once the class began I soon realized that I would be subjected to something I hadn't encountered in a long time — homework. Lesson #1: If I had been making a conscious effort to create artwork, to make time in my life to actually do the work on a regular basis, then the idea of homework would not have felt so foreign. I seemed to have gotten into some sort of rut over the years where little time was designated to anything other than making a living. Now, I appreciate how limited my energy levels are and that time must be budgeted no differently than finances.

The parameters of the course were as follows: plan a project, execute the workflow, and produce and exhibit the results. One thing about the creative process is that quite often what we first conceive as a plan can often take on a life of its own. Depending on how you interpret the results of the work in progress, we often produce a body of work quite different from the one originally conceived. Lesson #2, Evaluation of progress is impossible without the use of “work prints!” Careful analysis of the aesthetic events revealed is paramount to connecting with your intent, and establishing a direction forward.

For this class project, I chose to create a collection of photographic portraits using some rather archaic tools. I knew from experience that these tools would create the kind of image I wanted, and I suspected they could get me where I wanted to be very efficiently.

Portraiture is different than simply pointing a camera at something and capturing an image. It’s dependent on a dynamic that requires cooperation and collaboration between the subject and the photographer. This was the variable I was counting on for these pictures, because I planned on keeping almost everything else within the confines of the image area consistent.

(c) Clifford Wheeler

To get started, I set my view camera up in a parking space right next to the warehouse building that housed my studio and pointed it at the north-facing wall. I needed a subject and found an auto-body technician named Ray enjoying a smoke break next door and I encouraged him to spend his break in front of my camera. The resulting image was surprisingly satisfying, and it spurred me forward.

In reviewing my work prints (see Lesson Two), one issue was immediately obvious. My little kettle grill, which always sat on the sidewalk next to my studio door, was visible the left side of the image. Keeping in mind the lesson that all objects within an image area should serve or reinforce the subject, I moved the grill for subsequent shots because it added nothing to the image.  For the next two months, when the light was right, I'd round up some suspicious-looking character who was friendly enough to hang with me for a few moments to complete the project.

The portfolio came together nicely and as I spent time with it, I figured out why the class had been called Beyond The Image, a title I could not for the life of me figure out when I started taking the class. When the images were finally exhibited and I saw them hanging on the wall, I realized that the first photo I had taken was in early autumn, and Ray was wearing a t-shirt. The last photo I took was in November of Richard, and he was wearing a down jacket. When I hung the photo's, the chronological progression revealed something truly extraordinary and quite “Beyond The Image” — seasonal environmental change! The only visual change from the first photo to the last photo (besides the faces) was the the incremental bulk of the subject's outerwear.

Lesson #3: For cool stuff to happen, you have to be working!

Drive By: Abandoned Towns and A Lesson Learned

Sandy LeBrun-Evans learned a big lesson when developing Drive By: Utah Preserved In Time, her latest show at Multiple Exposures Gallery. Below Sandy talks about shooting in abandoned towns, what makes her feel jittery when out there alone and a lesson she'll carry with her forever.

(c) Sandy LeBrun-Evans

In this series as well as your prior show, Forgotten, you feature abandoned buildings and towns. What catches your eye and makes you stop as you are driving by? What makes a scene worthy of the time you spend photographing it?  While driving by, I'll just see something that makes me pull over or even drive miles to turn around so I can go back and photograph it. If I don't turn around, the image will haunt me.

Before planning a trip, I Google "abandoned places/towns" in the state where I"ll be.  Once I'm there, I'll travel to the areas I found on the Internet, but I also will find gems just driving by.

What makes the scene worthy of my time is what I see through my lens.  I have stopped places and pulled out the camera and tripod, looked through the viewfinder and then decided, "not so much."  Other times when I look through the viewfinder, it's a definite "yes!" and I will work that scene.  What makes it worthy is that it moves my spirit in some way, something that I think is tied to feelings about what used to take place there before it was abandoned.  If I'm looking at a subject and wondering "Who cooked in the kitchen? Who hitched that wagon to the horse? Who put that fence around the house and watched the children run through the yard?" then I'm probably going to be moved enough to photograph it.

(c) Sandy LeBrun-Evans

I actually view abandoned places differently now than I did even just a few years ago. Given our challenging economic times and people very close to me losing their homes in the housing crisis, I wonder a little more about why something was abandoned. Was it by choice? 

Are there people in these towns or are they truly abandoned? How far are these locations from towns or cities that are thriving? Thompson Springs had 39 people in the 2010 census. I would say there are even fewer now.  I met a man named Spydr Mike when he stopped by while I was photographing there. He gave me his card which read "SPYDR MIKE AND FRIENDS, Local Artists."  He makes spiders out of things he finds, but he would love to have the money to reopen the abandoned cafe in town.  Another person I met told me about the ghost that haunts former boardinghouse and its attached bar.  Unfortunately, I did not see the ghost.  I think Cisco is totally abandoned, but there could be some homeless people living in some of the abandoned cars and buildings. 

There are few thriving cities in the areas where I traveled.  What supported most of the abandoned areas I photographed were mines that closed and roads that bypassed their towns.   From what I have read, I-70 bypassing Cisco and Thompson Springs was the downfall of these two towns.

Are you alone when you shoot these buildings and towns? Do you ever feel uneasy? My husband was with me in Utah, but he stays in the car while I wander around the empty buildings and towns.  I thank him for this because it is not easy traveling with a photographer. I have been spooked while out shooting, but usually it's by dogs. 

Cisco was a little scary this visit.  The number of abandoned cars had really risen.  It appeared to be a dumping stations for things and I just felt I was not alone.  I didn't wander much by myself there.
 
You mentioned you returned to Thompson Springs, an abandoned town that you photographed a few years ago. Did you notice any changes or has it stayed the same in its decay?  I noticed lots of changes in both Thompson Springs and Cisco.  It was not in my plans to return to Southeast Utah and visit Thompson Springs and Cisco, but I just did not find what I was looking for in Southwestern Utah.  Beautiful parks, but I was not finding any great abandoned images. 

(c) Sandy LeBrun-Evans

I did find many changes in both towns. In Thompson Springs, my favorite motel was boarded up and I could not walk through and photograph.  The cafe had a lot morejunk in it and the photograph I had taken two years ago could no longer be composed.  In Cisco, many buildings had completely fallen down and I just had an eerie feeling that it was no longer safe to wander around.   

This brought me to a very big lesson learned on this trip -- shoot, shoot, shoot; don't miss an angle or light; stay in a place until you feel you have worn that town out photographing it because it may be your last chance to do so.  You cannot always go back and reshoot!

What is your process when you shoot? Are you working on a tripod? What types of lenses and apertures do you typically use? On this trip I travelled light: tripod, Nikon D700 with two lenses (28-300 and a fisheye), Lumix converted IR camera, and, of course, my iPhone.  When traveling, I usually try and shoot on a tripod as I know I have to get the image right because I cannot go back the next day and reshoot.   I always shoot a minimum of three bracketed images of my subject.  If I am inside a dark building, I will shoot up to 20 bracketed images.  I try and capture the image so I don't lose any detail in the highlights and lowlights.  Typically, my aperture is set anywhere between F11 to F22.

The works in this show were printed on canvas and covered in resin.  Where did you learn to work with resin? Is it easy or hard to do? What is appealing to you about working with resin?   I saw a lot of work encased in resin in galleries out West and really wanted to try the process. Whenever I saw a resin-coated image in a gallery it pulled me in and I thought the process would make the images of abandonment in this show really shine. To learn how to do it, I spoke with a fellow photographer, I Googled and watched videos on YouTube on how to work with resin, and then I experimented.  I did two test images, one on paper and one on canvas and coated them with resin.  I liked the finished resin-coated image in canvas best, so I  decided to present my show on canvas.  It is not an easy process because of the toxicity of the resin. I wore a mask and worked by an open door with a fan pulling fumes out of the house. 

.Please join Sandy and the rest of Multiple Exposures Gallery for an opening reception on Sunday, May 19th from 2pm-4pm at MEG (Studio 312, Torpedo Factory Arts Center, Alexandria, VA).

Memorializing Freedom In Tibet: New Work By Danny Conant

Religious symbolism, alternative processes and beautiful imagery – Danny Conant’s new show has it all. Danny shared some thoughts below on her new series, Once Tibetan, The Wheel Turns. The series is on exhibit at MEG through June 16, 2013.

Buddha of The Rock  (c) Danny Conant

Your new show features work from Tibet. When were the images captured? I’ve traveled to Tibet five times and the images in this show were taken during my fifth trip in 2011. They were captured in Eastern Tibet, which is the home of the Kham Minority.

The photographs reflect religious symbols and imagery. Why did you focus on religious expression? I was inspired by Ai Weiwei’s exhibition  at the Hirshhorn Museum in Washington, D.C.  Weiwei is a Chinese activist artist whose work spoke of the lack of freedom.  For Tibetans, there is a serious lack of freedom as the Chinese try to destroy their culture. Tibetans are very spiritual and their religious symbols are very important to them. To me, these symbols signify hope for the continuance of the Tibetan culture and the future of the people.

Wheel Of Mercy  (c) Danny Conant

Once TIbetan, The Wheel Turns @ Multiple Exposures Gallery

While you started with your photographs as your base, you used an alternative process to create one-of-a-kind pieces of art for the show. Would you describe your process?  I begin by printing my images on a special film using archival pigment inks. Next, I prepare a wooden panel of birch by sometimes coating it with encaustic gesso or applying pastels or just sanding and applying the image to let the wood grain show through.  The panel is the coated with a gelatinous sauce and the film placed emulsion side down and rolled with a brayer. The film is lifted off and the inks remain. Then many coats of an encaustic medium, basically hot wax, is brushed on and colored wax and or an oil stick are added.

I chose to use an encaustic medium on the photographs because it reminds me of the yak butter that is used in so many ways by Tibetans. Yak butter is used to make small images for offerings in the monasteries, to fuel lamps, for food, and as a coating on the nomad’s tents for rain protection.

Please join Danny and the rest of Multiple Exposures Gallery for an opening reception on Sunday, May 19th from 2pm-4pm at MEG (Studio 312, Torpedo Factory Arts Center, Alexandria, VA).