The Setting Comes First

MEG member Fred Zafran shares some teachings that have helped him become more patient, open and and receptive whenever he's behind the lens. 

We all begin the same way.

We first pick up a camera because we want to “take pictures of things that interest us” … most often of family, friends, events and places we have been.  We take pictures to create a record.  We want a nice memory of what we have seen.

Sometimes, however, having been moved by a particular image, we begin to wonder why… and begin to think that perhaps there can be more to our photography.  As our interest grows and sensibility deepens, we move beyond taking pictures of interesting things to making images about subjects that intrigue us.

With newfound energy, we set out in hopes of making wonderful images. We search for subjects to capture… to create beautiful images, compelling images, truthful images, all emotionally moving.

“Pears in Window, Moscow” Sam Abell.  © National Geographic Society, 50 Greatest Photographs.

After much shooting and too many uninspired pictures, we begin to realize… this really isn’t so easy.  Yet we continue, we push through, and we reach a threshold of serious pursuit and commitment to our photography. 

But what now?  Where to turn?  Does anyone have a roadmap?  Putting aside the many technical aspects of our craft for the moment, let me consider the more “creative-expressive” aspects of our art.

It is at this point in our journey, if we listen carefully, many of photography’s greatest teachers quietly guide us.  As I listen, I hear them say… let our pursuit of the subject fall away and allow the setting to come first.  Compelling images come to visit more often when we are patient, open, receptive.

With this in mind, I wanted to share a few insights from a number of wonderful photographers who have influenced my work and continue to challenge and guide my efforts.  

Sam Abell
“I take photographs from the back to the front, and that’s different from most people, who approach the act of photography from subject first.”

“When I teach photography, I teach not seeking the picture, but seeking the setting. There’s always a subject, but there’s always a setting… and the two have to harmonize or work in some dynamic way.”

“The world is highly chaotic in visual terms. It’s out of control, really, visually. I don’t know how you can take pictures without composing and waiting.”

Alex Webb                                                                                                         
“My most basic process as a photographer is to wander, allowing the camera and my experiences to lead me where they will.”

“I try to arrive initially in a situation, or a place, with as few rational preconceptions as possible…  I make an effort to be as open as possible to alternative possibilities, possibilities that may contradict what I rationally might expect.”

Joel Meyerowitz
“My interest all along has not been in identifying a single thing, but in photographing the relationship between things.”

“If you choose to only make objects out of singular things, you get copies of objects in space.  I didn’t want copies of objects.  I wanted the ephemeral connections between unrelated things to vibrate.”

Yusuf Karsh
"My quest in making a photograph is for a quality that I know exists in the personality before me.”

“I'm looking for what I sometimes call 'the inward power,' and I am more anxious to capture that, or at least interpret it to my own satisfaction, than I am to create the facsimile of an interesting figure with no depth of soul."

Henri Cartier-Bresson
“I craved to seize, in the confines of one single photograph, the whole essence of some situation that was in the process of unrolling itself before my eyes.”

“To me, photography is the simultaneous recognition, in a fraction of a second, of the significance of an event as well as of a precise organization of forms which give that event its proper expression.”

These are insightful and motivating writings!  But how best to bring these teachings to life in our own work?  Best guidance perhaps, is to get out and photograph, do it again, and then as often as possible.  But still, is there a common thread, a way of working, and can we dig deeper?

One of Minor White’s greatest achievements, according to Ansel Adams, was to demonstrate that photographs “can point beyond themselves.”  For Minor White, the photographer is able to convey and evoke feelings about things and situations and events which “for some reason or other…cannot be photographed.”  

This was startling to me (…and the veil began to lift a little)!  I’ll close this Blog post with my humble attempt to tie it together.

Extraordinary images emerge from an (intuitive) awareness of the symbolic possibilities of the subject matter, and this becomes possible only, when we don’t pursue the subject.  Instead, might it not be better to proceed without preconception and remain open to the unforeseen?

That’s it for now.  I leave you with this nice quote from Walker Evans in 1974:

“The thing itself is such a secret… and so unapproachable.”
                                                                            

On Photobooks

MEG member Tim Hyde is both a fine art photographer and a collector of fine art photography. In another installment in his series on collecting, Tim explains why investing in photography books is a good way to get started.

One way to begin a photography collection is to buy photography books. "Photobooks" are less expensive than prints, easier to store, easier to “show and tell,” and allow a collector to experience a larger measure of an artist’s work. 

House Hunting by Todd Hido

They also are a great way to begin serious collecting. You can spend a few tens of dollars on an artist’s monograph and both acquire something of growing value AND get better sense of what it is like to live with a particular photographer.  Then, when you are more certain of your affection for a body of work (and perhaps when you can better afford it) you can buy one of the artist's photographic prints.

Photobooks have taken off in recent years as fine art collectibles.  Today, auction houses list them along with photographic prints, and there are many specialty booksellers—both online and bricks and mortar bookshops—that focus primarily on photobooks. As a rule, the editions are so small—in the low thousands or in many cases, hundreds—that their rarity is a given.

I bought a copy of Todd Hido’s House Hunting a few years ago when it was first published.  He was a new artist I had never heard of, but the book’s publisher was Nazraeli, a highly-regarded fine-art press.  I loved the work, so I picked it up for about a $100. Today, if you can find it, it would cost almost $1,000.

There are a couple lessons in this example.  Books published by known fine-art publishers, such as Nazraeli or Aperture or Twin Palms (and there are plenty of others), are quality productions. They are selected by keen and educated eyes and are generally published in small numbers.  Each of these is important in predicting how a photobook’s investment value might grow.

Here are a few rules about collecting books:

·      Signed books are always more valuable than unsigned, and if they are dated in the year they are published, all the better. Inscribed and signed is best of all.

·      As with all rare books, “price clipping” (cutting off the price of the book) will depress the value, as will any kind of “remaindering” marks.

·      First edition means everything (though one can pay a small fortune for second or even third edition of a few of Ed Ruscha’s early books or Robert Frank’s The Americans, so there are exceptions).

Coming soon in a new blog post – information about small presses and self-publishing.

"What Would Sudek Do?"

MEG member Michael Borek shares a connection with famed photographer, Josef Sudek. Is that why he named his new show, What Would Sudek Do? Get the details below.

When I was a teenager growing up in Prague, I used to see a one-armed man in a shabby coat schlepping a tripod and a large-view camera. A friend told me that it was Josef Sudek, a famous Czech photographer. I—a young and fledgling photographer—bought a book of his pictures and immediately fell in love. I was smitten with the photographs Sudek had taken through the windows of his studio. They were simple and beautiful.

I wished I were able to take such pictures. But I felt that Sudek had a competitive advantage. While I lived with my parents in an anonymous, uninspiring, Communist-built housing project, Sudek’s surroundings were clearly poetic. He had only to point his camera and release the shutter to create his beautiful art. Many years later, when I finally visited Sudek’s studio, I realized how wrong I was. This place was not at all poetic. No photographer would be inspired to take pictures there. At least, not before Sudek did it so masterfully. Sudek had an unmatched ability to notice sublime details, to include what is important, and to eliminate what is not. He created his own world in which the surrounding are only supporting actors.

Now, many photographers imitate his style. Even though I borrowed his name for the title of this exhibition, and as a Czech photographer I may have a little of Sudek in my DNA, I hope that I am not one of them. Rather, in this exhibition, I attempt to inspire viewers to reflect on the beauty that can be found in the places they see every day and no longer even notice. Or, to borrow from Thoreau, “It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.” So whenever I end up in seemingly uninspiring places that feel visually dull, I think of the old maestro’s dilapidated studio, open my eyes a bit wider, and ask myself:  What Would Sudek Do?

I printed all these photographs in small sizes (5” x 7.5”) for two main reasons. First, this is an homage to Sudek’s work, and most of his photographs were small contact prints. Second, lately I have felt that the works of contemporary photographers are often huge for no obvious reason other than they can be. As if bigger automatically means better. Some of these giant photographs remind me of the callouts in newspaper articles that summarize the whole article, so that there is no reason even to bother to read it – particularly given our short attention spans and the many things competing for our time. These little prints are not meant to be contrarian. Rather, I hope that their size will entice the viewer to come closer and spend some time with them, instead of skimming them as a “summary” from a distance.

Keep your eyes (and mind) open!

Attracted to desolate areas? MEG member Eric Johnson shares his experience in two virtual ghost towns in California. 

The area around the Salton Sea in southern California has long held an attraction for many photographers for its collection of semi-abandoned towns and its atmosphere of post-apocalyptic desolation.  The Salton Sea was formed in 1905 when springtime flooding breached irrigation canals along the Colorado River, inundating approximately 900 square miles of the Imperial Valley.  Development around the new lake began in the 1920s, making the Salton Sea a popular tourist destination for people from nearby Palm Springs and Los Angeles. 

Increasing agriculture in the Imperial Valley led to decreased water inflow into the lake.  At the same time, prehistoric salt beds under the lake increased its salinity, and the shore of the lake began to recede, leaving behind an inhospitable, salt-encrusted landscape.  All of these environmental changes made the Salton Sea less viable as a tourist destination, and the towns around the lake began their decline.  

While on a trip to southern California last October, I made a side trip to two of these towns, Bombay Beach and Salton Sea Shores.  I went with the intention of photographing some of the decaying structures in these soon-to-be ghost towns, and I certainly found what I was looking for, spending most of my brief visit there photographing abandoned residential and commercial buildings.  Each of the two towns has an odd mixture of occupied and abandoned blocks, with the blocks near the water being generally deserted, and the blocks closer to the roads into and out of town more populated.  However, despite clear signs of human habitation (cars in driveways, well-tended yards) in the more lived-in sections of town, I did not see more than two or three people the entire afternoon.  That may be attributable to desert dwellers’ reluctance to go out in the mid-afternoon sun, but whatever the reason, the whole area was eerily quiet, which even in the occupied parts of town.  This quiet only accentuated the feeling of being in a ghost town.  

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).