I made my journey to Auschwitz and Birkenau knowing fully that it would be sorrowful and perhaps impossible to photograph through tears and stunned disbelief. All these emotions swirled through me and rendered my whole being mute. Not just my voice, my entire being. I couldn’t formulate a thought, much less express one; verbally or photographically. Then, I raised my camera as I was stumbling along, stopped to make a photograph, and began to come back to myself. Gradually, I understood that this act of creation was more than an act of self-preservation, it was a way to look deeper. With this intent, the overwhelming sorrow lessened just enough for me to regain some composure and begin to walk purposefully, to see, purposefully.
The lasting impressions from both Terezin and Auschwitz/Birkenau are of silence and permeating cold. I created the photos below with this awareness. In the photographs I’ve chosen for this post, as an idea to portray a silent conversation, I have blended images from Terezin with images from Auschwitz/Birkenau. Most of the people that were sent from Terezin on the dreaded transports perished in Birkenau.
I hope my viewers will keep this in mind: the photos are an artistic expression of what I saw and felt. They are not indictments, religious commentary or judgement. My intent is to simply reflect my personal experience in a place that has infinite layers of horror, grief, loss, and teaching. My intent is not to create offense or add sorrow. If you are troubled by the imagery, write to me. I want to hear your thoughts.
I’ll close with a quote from Longfellow: “Therefore trust to thy heart, and to what the world calls illusions.” As all the places I visited retain only the faintest trace of the living, I had to rely on a deeper sensibility to gain a small foothold in the incalculable darkness. I hope that the images I offer will resonate with you. It is simply my heart speaking.
“All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware.” – Martin Buber
I am a student of history. What began for me, in the winter of 2000, as a fascination with medieval history, and particularly the history of the Knights Templar, has brought me to Tomar, in Portugal. It is one of the oldest Templar sites and one of the best preserved.
When I decided to come to Golegã for the Lusitano Festival, I thought briefly about visiting Tomar and then let it go. After all, I had serious work to do! When it came time to find a room, the best option – as Golegã was completely booked – was a lovely B&B in a little village called Vargos. Vargos is exactly half way between Tomar and Golegã. So I chuckled and booked the room. Over the years I have become used to the synchronicity of the Universe and am only mildly surprised (but always delighted) when it surfaces. Arriving in Lisbon after an overnight flight through London, I found myself in a rental car in pitch black night with tons of traffic in a driving rainstorm. Fun, right? With nothing to do but move forward, off I went with a GPS in search of a tiny village.
I arrived in the Vargos after several hours…no problem…but where was Casa dos Vargos? There are no numbers….no visible street signs….no lights. After a little scrambling on the Iphone for an email and number I located and called Dona Pilar, the proprietress of Casa dos Vargos. In no time I was warm and dry in a tremendous salon. I can’t call it a room. The ceiling was at least 16 feet high and the furnishings were tasteful and very very old. I was happy and relieved.
As I was trying to settle in to sleep, I read from the various literature in the room about the majesty and antiquity of Tomar. I resolved to go there before I visited Golegã the following day. Below you will see a gallery of images from the town of Tomar as well as the Convento do Cristo, which was the original 11th century fortress, church, and seat of Gualdim Pais, Master of the Order of the Temple in Portugal. The Convent of Christ has been home to many other important people, including Prince Henry the Navigator.
The Templars are famous, or infamous depending on your point of view, for many things, but most notably for the occult wisdom they were said to possess. Many people believe this wisdom was the basis for the Masonic Order and the Rosicrucians. During my time in Scotland in 2002, 2003, and 2005, I traveled to various villages in search of traces of this order, and to uncover connections with the aspect of the Divine Feminine in sacred and theological traditions.
Now the story returns to the present. After my visit to Tomar and the Convento do Cristo, I had to get to work in Golegã! I put all thoughts of mysteries and investigation aside….until Monday morning when Dona Pilar asked “have you seen the chapel?” What chapel? I had no idea what she was speaking of. At that very moment I was stuck in a quandary about what to do next and where to go…..but I went along with her, happy for the distraction. We went out the door and around the courtyard while she was explaining that the home had been in her family since the 16th century…and that I was going to view their private chapel. ”It is full of the most beautiful Azulejos….all very old and of very high quality…you will see, it’s lovely!”. Lovely doesn’t begin to describe it. Dedicated to Saint Anna, the artist had created a vision that enhanced the architecture of the church, fitting every piece in a tapestry of depth, detail and perfect symmetry. I was entranced. Upon leaving, we turned to have a last look at the door and Dona Pilar says oh so casually “Oh, have a look at the cross.” I lifted my head to see the cross on the tower and it was a perfect Rose Cross. With my mouth open I turned to look at my host and she said, “oh yes, they are very rare. As you may know, they were destroyed all across the country, but as this was a private chapel, it was left alone.”
What does any of this have to do with anything? Just this personal observation: when I am unsure of my next step or searching for the correct path, I am almost always given an assurance of some sort to ‘move forward’. This was one of those instances. It was the trip to Scotland in 2005 (for a deeper investigation of Rosicrucian philosophy and evidence of the Divine Feminine teaching in architecture) that got me started in photography. I have come a long way since then, but I remain grateful for all the guideposts, the mystery and abundance of the Universe, and for the care of people like Dona Pilar.
Images below from Tomar, the Convento do Cristo, from the Cistercian Abbey of Alcobaça, and the Casa Dos Vargos. Thank you for taking the journey with me.
Wow. Sometimes the synchronicity of existence stuns me. This morning I was reading my favorite photography blog (Lens, NYTimes) and the words of Bruce Davidson jumped off the page. While speaking of making a group of photographs nearly forty years ago, he said ”What’s great about looking at your work is the emotion comes back. The emotion comes back. The rhythm of what you were photographing comes back. It’s almost like a musical score.”
I had just come in from photographing the actual harvest of the grapes and was considering an edit to yesterday’s post on rhythm. Before I jumped into the edit I decided to stop and breathe a bit and open up the NYTimes Lens blog. There it was, my thought and emotion, my INTENT reflected in Mr. Davidson’s words. To celebrate the publishing of his retrospective, (“Outside Inside,” a three-volume, boxed set — published by the master printer Gerhard Steidl.) James Estrin and Josh Haner conducted this deeply thoughtful interview at Mr. Davidson’s home.
There is no way I could/would ever compare my work to Bruce Davidson’s, but I recognize the similarity in how we work and how we feel about what we do. This is incredibly affirming to me. I’ve always been grateful for the artistry and humanity of his work, now I feel just a little closer to it. Thank you, Bruce Davidson, for the images, your humility, and your thought.
Autumn has always been my favorite time of year. This year for the first time I’m in California during the grape harvest. Instead of watching the maples and oaks of Eastern forests clothe themselves in ruby and gold, I’ve been watching the grapes ripen. Tasting a few dew-covered purple sugar gems has been the morning’s highlight. Watching the leaves change color and listening to the local growers discuss the intermittent rain, the sugar content of the grapes, and whether the skins are still firm, has deepened my appreciation of the tenuous nature of all farming, of living close to the earth. I know nothing about their harvesting, but I’m enjoying language and rhythms of the grapes.
Learning the language and feeling the rhythm. Hmm. I think this may be a metaphor for living a good life. As we learn the language of our endeavor, be it photography, classical dressage, grape growing, or any other pursuit, we broaden our awareness and deepen our knowledge. It makes us fuller, more interesting humans. Now layer in the rhythm of life. We have all felt it when we are with the rhythm…..and maybe felt it a little stronger when we are out of rhythm. I’ve been practicing my ability to stop and appreciate when I am in it and stop and breathe when I am not.
Harvest (of any task or effort or sowing) has it’s own rhythm. Previously I have thought that it was an endpoint, a gathering of fruit from labor. Now I am seeing that the gathering clears the way for new effort. And that effort is most likely a result of your harvest, whether it has been a success or failure.
This fall has seen the release of my first book. It is very gratifying, but it is also a time to re-double the labor to ensure that the work that has gone into getting it this far will only be the platform for a greater bounty. So I have to immerse myself in the language and rhythm of promotion and publicity. (This is the real (read: unglamorous) life of a photographer.)
And along with this effort I am launching into the second phase of my personal project in the Czech Republic. I’ve written before on this blog about how I prepare for taking a photographic journey. My process remains the same. I read literature of the place and that place in time that I want to photograph. I listen to music and recorded books in the language of the destination. I slip into the feel and sound of my journey long before I arrive. I do not look at imagery as I want to see things new. To be successful at this I’ve learned that I must begin the process with an empty mind, an empty cup. There’s no room for expansion when your mind/cup is already full. No room to reap the sounds, smells, scenes when you have preconceived notions about your destination.
I’ll spend the next several weeks in hyper-drive to prepare for my trip and sow the seeds for greater promotion for Meditation for Two. But I’ll stop every so often and remember the dew on grapes, their luscious sweetness, the bite of the skins and crunch of the seeds, and the sounds of birdcalls in the early morning of the vineyard. Next time I see the vineyard the grapes will be gone and the vines will be pruned. The earth will rest for a time before offering new growth. This rhythm is eternal. Stepping into this rhythm and harvesting the memory of the light and softness, the delicious fullness of earth’s bounty, has expanded my world.
A note about the images: I used my favorite Fly Paper Textures to illustrate the juiciness and softness of the mornings here in the vineyard.
Here is a small gallery of images from last Monday during Arthur Meyerson’s workshop. There are more to come. Feedback, as always, is deeply appreciated.
You may think you know the most interesting man in the world. You don’t. I do. Some know him as El Don, The Great American. I know him as Arthur “Danger” Meyerson.
Workshops have an energy (when they are good) that keeps you in a state of flow and good humor. Such was the case this week with Arthur Meyerson in Coupeville. Once again, Pacific Northwest Art School was the venue for learning, friendship, and photographic exploration. A great mix of alumni and new students bonded on the first day and set the tone for the rest of the week.
At their best, workshops provide students and teachers a platform to push their boundaries. To a person, each student this week allowed Arthur to guide, encourage, and challenge them to expand their vision and make images beyond their established styles and skill levels. A lot of good work was produced, but most importantly, each student embraced the challenge and worked to create interesting images.
As the assistant it was my great pleasure to watch this unfold, to get to know new students, reconnect with alumni, and of course, enjoy the fabulous imagery and storytelling from Arthur. The encouragement I received for my own work from the class and from Arthur is deeply appreciated. It will keep me enthusiastic as I jump back into all the travel and work that keeps me in a state of “busy-ness” and often keeps me from feeling creative and engaged.
So what’s the point of this love fest? It’s simple: Find your own. The camaraderie and collective vision that arises in a workshop will energize your own work and keep your spirits buoyed during creative down-time. The new skills and the expansion of your vision will give you confidence and a platform to launch new (and often, better) work.
Arthur says: “I don’t always do workshops, but when I do, I do it with Keron Psillas.” Arthur, it was an honor and a great pleasure.
If we are lucky, we get to experience an event that stays with us and molds us for the rest of our lives. I have had many blessings of this nature, but this last week reminded me of the importance of that initial experience.
In the late fall of 2005, I had the good fortune to take a workshop with Sam Abell on the mid-coast of Maine. The first night of the class offered us the opportunity to hear a lecture by Sam titled “The Photographic Life”. Sam’s sonorous story-telling style had the audience rapt, but I was struck by the deep humanity in the images as well as the personal stories of a life well-lived. Since that week I have worked hard to embody Sam’s advice of making the best picture in any situation and I have been helped by the voice that I hear while composing. It comes in from over my right shoulder and says things like this: check your edges; are the elements separated?; do they exist in their own world?; is it involving?; are there layers in the image?; setting, expression, gesture.
I’ve been assisting Sam in classes and with lectures for more than five years now. This past week I encouraged a number of good friends from all over the country to come to Whidbey Island for at least the lecture, if not the entire class. A number of (very intelligent) people took me up on the invitation. I heard from them the exact remarks that I made six years ago: It was wonderful; The sensitivity and depth of emotion in the images and the stories is deeply moving; it gives us a totally new way to see images and to think about our own photography.
Thankfully there are many wonderful teachers and mentors in the world. I’ve had several in different areas of my life. I suppose what I want to say with this blog post is this: Find a mentor or teacher whose vision and life you respect and emulate them. Make your own path, but hold on to the tenets they have lived by and see where it will lead you. The photographic life is just one life among millions of choices, but as Sam said, “it is the right life for me”. Building layers of depth and breadth in my life as well as my photographs has brought me to a place of deep appreciation and offered many moments of joy.
This state of being is open to us all but if you want to ignite a fire, take a Sam Abell course or at least experience a lecture he’s offering. Next up: Sam will be appearing at the INVision Photo Festival in Bethlehem, PA ( http://www.artsquest.org/invision/ ) Prior to that he is teaching at the Santa Fe Workshops in early October. Maybe I’ll see you there.
Here’s a gallery of images I’ve made over the years on Whidbey Island and around Seattle. I vow each year during the class to spend more time photographing…this time I made it happen. You can too.
First Drafts: How Sam Abell Makes a Photograph, Alex Hoyt and Ross McDermott
I’m busy finishing the book layout that was created in our week-long workshop at the Pacific Northwest Art School in Coupeville, Washington. The layered life on Whidbey Island, as it is everywhere, became the backdrop for Sam to teach his method of photography, one of layers, of “compose and wait” and one of still life scenes that have a life or incorporate life. This interview encapsulates that teaching in a marvelous 10 minutes of a deeply considered philosophy and lifelong process of making photographs. Take the time to view it and you’ll have the outline of our workshop and a sense of the meticulous care that Sam takes to create Life in a Still Life.
Next post:more thoughts and favorites images from Coupeville over the years of (gratefully) assisting Sam.
I’m away from home again so my thoughts often fly there. This blog is often introspective and therefore personal, but I rarely mention family in a direct way. This post is different. My niece, Jessica, has created a new business: Baby Cakes Creates. (Everyone in my family is a good cook or great baker…except me. I chose a different path.) I made some photographs for her to get the blog started and help her to see how marvelous her creations are. I’m often surprised when looking back through photographs when I experience a moment of “wow, did I do that?” I wanted Jess to have that same experience so I created the photographic evidence! Enjoy the sweetness and contact Jessi to satisfy your sweet tooth. Her email: baby.cakes.creates at gmail.com Enjoy one for me!
The trip to Portugal and Spain was one of abundance. Everywhere I turned was a feast for all the senses: sight, sound, smell, taste, and touch. Although I no longer like this word, it was dizzying.
But the strongest feeling I got was one of connection. Of course I am at home with the horses no matter on which continent I find them, but watching a bullfight?? or visiting the village of Goléga, and Mestre Nuno Oliveira’s old manege, a Flamenco performance in the Gitane area of Jerez, the famous Bodegas of Terry and Domecq, and then the Convento dos Capuchos? Each location was filled with a familiarity or sense memory for me that was suprisingly strong and completely unexpected. My challenge during this trip was to make meaningful images AND hold as much of the experience in my heart as possible. This can be very difficult when so much is packed into such a short time. In one day we saw a performance at the Portuguese School of Equestrian Art, had lunch on one of the most beautiful windswept beaches I’ve ever seen, visited a monastery built into the rocks at the top of a mountain, traveled back in time to visit the Manege of Mestre Nuno Oliveira, and finish the night (very very late) at a Fado restaurant in the Alfama district….smack in the middle of the celebration for the Feast of St. Anthony. And on top of that, I needed to make meaningful photographs of all the participants enjoying their trip.
I always remind myself that when I am working, I am happy to get ONE picture a day that reflects what I have seen and felt. It is hard to put into words the satisfaction I feel having created an image that speaks to me. If I had to use one word I would choose affirming. A successful photograph affirms my connection with the subject and in a very real way, my connection to life. This experience of being in the flow of BE-ING is one of the most rewarding parts of photography. As my friend and mentor says so often, “photography is a great way to BE in life”. He’s right.
It’s often demanding and tiring, especially during a trip like this. Folks are snug in their beds by 2 am and I’m up downloading images and cleaning cards and gear, preparing to be ready to go again at 8 am. Looking, with intent and a desire to see deeper is tiring as well, but often rewarding.
I’m at home now, working through a mountain of files, and video too, and trying not to think (yet) about the next trip. As always, thanks very very much for checking the blog. Please do tell a friend or two about it. Wishing you an abundant feast for all your senses. ~ Keron
The best feeling in the world for me is one of vibration and excitement when experiencing authentic artistry. This trip has been filled with those moments. Equestrian artistry was certainly the theme for the trip but today I had the pleasure to visit two lovely women that work in oils and fiber. They create the most exquisite works of art I’ve seen in a long time. I’ll do a separate blog about this tomorrow, but here are some images from the last two weeks….and a few from today. I hope you enjoy them and can feel a little of the joy I’ve experienced.
First, an apology to my regular readers. I’ve been blogged down. I am in Brasil and feeling upside down and spinning all around. Yes, the globe does this, but normally we don’t feel it. But I’ve been feeling every bit of it with something called labyrinthetie (in Portuguese). Basically, if I moved, I fell down. And when I wasn’t moving I felt as if I was on a magic carpet taking me to a very nasty place. With great care from dear friends (Debra, Dominique, and my dear Davi Carrano), strong medicines and some time in a Brasilian hospital I am on the mend! And the big news is that I must change my life. Meaning: I cannot have the iced tea with lemon and sugar that was my main food group. I’ll write more about this later as I digest this. (ha ha…not smiling).
For now…there are a couple of images from the lovely spot where we stay while visiting all the farms in the area of Sorocaba. Early on Sunday morning (too daggone early, actually) I heard a roaring sound and took my camera, in my jammies, to investigate. I’ll be posting more images of horses and riders, but here are a few for today to get me back into blogging mode.
So, Bom Dia! And my favorite expression in Portuguese…. Avanta, con coragem, tudo é beleza!
Magnum photographer Eve Arnold from her book Retrospect: “If the photographer is interested in the people in front of his lens, and if he is compassionate, it’s already a lot. The instrument is not the camera but the photographer.”
For a very long time I have wanted to photograph elements of our existence on earth that are troubling, unsettling, even tragic. There are many reasons to do this that probably only make sense to myself. I expect to learn a great deal more about my own motivations as the work progresses. I made a beginning last October with my trip to Eastern Europe. I’m taking another step now even as I develop a deeper project for the work in the Czech Republic. To say that it’s a departure from the equine photography is an understatement, but there is a uniting theme: I am interested in what is happening in front of my lens.
The suffering happening in Japan is mirrored in so many countries today. While the story is unfolding there and creating fear and apprehension for millions around the world, it offers us the chance to check-in with stories in other places…places that have experienced continual suffering and loss. Haiti is just one place on our planet that fits that description. With Grace and good fortune I’ll be going there in June to help several families and to photograph the stories I find. I’ll begin my self-assignment now and learn as much as I can about the history of the land, the literature, music, and culture of a people whose history stretches far across a divide hewn by violence and fear. Often this violence came at the hands of “Men of God”. And yet, blessings and goodness have also been offered from other good men. And there is one of the least understood aspects of the human personality: the capacity for unspeakable evil matched with the ability to offer Grace and compassion in its presence. I offer the photograph today not in judgement or evangelical spirit. I offer it for us to consider and understand the burden and connotation that human beings attach to a symbol. As potent a symbol as has ever been created, the Christian Cross has the power to divide, to call out, to separate, to OTHER~ more than any other banner, flag, or nation’s symbol. I understand our need to “tribe” ourselves, perhaps these days, more accurately BRAND ourselves. But must it be blindly? Always? Yes, I’m painting with a broad brush. I know that.
This photograph is as powerful for me as any other I’ve ever made. It makes me think. It stopped me in my tracks when I saw it ~ as it seemed totally out of place in the Small Fortress at Terézin. And when I made time to work on it I knew I wanted to emphasize the qualities I saw in it. I won’t describe those as I don’t want to prejudice your seeing of it. I’m interested in what you think. Your point of view matters to me.
Generally, I prefer to stay “in the moment”. But looking through my photos and finding this wild plum branch in full bloom has me looking ahead to spring. Yes, I have textured the image (with two of my favorite textures from Fly Paper…hint….see button at right!) but very lightly. Most of the softness and mottling in the image comes from a very shallow depth of field and a pretty strong backlight. So think sunshine, warmth, and softness. Make the sun your friend, break some rules and shoot into it!
I have a “button” on my blog. It’s a first. It’s big. I’m excited. (Ok, maybe it’s not really big, but it feels big to me.) The fine folks at Fly Paper Textures have asked me to pop on their link from my site. I agreed readily and presto, there it is. Look over on the links side and you’ll see the cool textured image with the blueberries. I’m enjoying the easy back and forth, the quid pro quo, that the internet allows. Fly Paper Textures has been sending readers to my blog every single day since late November. I’m delighted to be associated with them, and in turn, send them potential texturing newbies or old hands looking for new textures. So, push my button, please!
Here’s a new image, textured, from a local landscape that I know very very well. My goal was to create a universal image that had the feeling of a solitary journey. The little rise and bend to the left (with the tree doing the same) suggests that we don’t know what might be ahead, where each turn will lead.
Late afternoon in winter, Antietam National Battlefield, Sharpsburg, Maryland
The recipe was simple, the finishing was one of nuance. I used two textures, in overlay mode at different opacities, but then masked out some of the effect in certain areas. I smoothed out the texture on the road a little bit and blocked out some of the darkening of the tree to bring out the ochre tones and keep the detail. This image works well cropped square or cropped in vertical format with the tree being the focal point. When making images these days I try to remember to frame them, or take alternate images, so that they can work in any format and lend themselves for stock sales. In six months or so I’ll let you know how successful my thinking is.
In the end the feeling that remains and is “enough” is the feeling of satisfaction. I saw the scene, I felt the potential, and I made the image. I am grateful.
I am often thinking about this premise. Whether it’s a question of a family dynamic, a discussion with a collaborator, or simply reading a news item, I find myself wondering what filter I am placing on a discussion or opinion. But lately, photographically, I’ve been working at seeing things NOT as they are. I want to see what they could be. I want to visualize how an image could evolve. I want to be able to see the geometrics and dimensionality of a scene and take that and layer upon it a different reality. This is what I perceive could happen if I were a painter. I am not a painter, but I am really enjoying the ability to use a different technology to effect a painterly image. By creating something that was suggested by a three dimensional scene and translating that into a purely personal vision, I think I am truly photographing, and seeing, as I am.
Here is my workflow for an image I made on Wednesday evening at the height of a snowstorm:
The atmospherics of the scene are important in this image. The white vertical lines are not blown out highlights, it is snow plastered on the northwest side of the tree trunk. The image was fully focused, but the foggy nature is the blizzard effect of the heavy snowfall. I made the photograph about 5 pm with just enough light left to reveal the light and dark patterning. Image capture with swipe technique as a raw file (1DS Mk3, 24-70 2.8L, f22, 1 second exposure, ISO 160, 1.5+ stops exposure compensation (usually needed when photographing snow), then into Lightroom 3 to adjust exposure ( a touch lighter, with a bit of added contrast from default 25% to 31%), then crop to panoramic. The top was cropped out as the bottom of the photo is most important to me. I was keenly aware of the far right grouping while photographing, to be sure the transition from the tree trunks into the ground was smooth, and to be certain I had separation between all the tree trunks as they dance along the back layer of the photo.
Choose Edit photo in photoshop from Lightroom (Edit a copy) to add layers of texture. I chose two textures from FlyPaper Textures to add dreaminess and a hint of color to a black and white scene.
What you see above is the original file, out of Lightroom, cropped. Next I opened the two Flypaper Textures, Serafina Sky and Europium from Lightroom (Edit a copy in Photoshop).
When I opened Serafina Sky I needed to rotate the image 180 degrees, so the clouds would be in the top of my image. I was after a mistier look than what was in the original capture. Further, I wanted the slight blue-ish tone to add a bit of dreaminess to the straight black and white capture. So I put the image on top of the original as a separate layer in Photoshop CS4. I changed the blending mode to Overlay and dialed the opacity back to suit me. Then I added Europium in the same manner (separate layer, blending mode on overlay, then dial in the opacity to suit). With the Europium layer I was looking for a bit of the vignette effect and the added textures.
You will notice that the textures are SQUARE images and my image is a panoramic format. When you lay your texture over your image, choose EDIT>Transform>Scale and drag your sides to conform to the shape of your image. When you are satisfied (and you can move it around in the image with the move tool too) you hit the checkmark to okay the transformation and then go to your layer and work with your blending mode and opacity.
The image above is the initial image with Serafina Sky overlaid. I pulled the opacity back to 53% and then I used an HSL layer to take the cyan to a more purple-y blue. Just slightly. The key with each of these decisions is subtlety. Then, to add the mistier look (image below) I overlaid the Europium layer. I pulled the opacity to 74%. The Europium texture is one of my favorites for adding slight vignetting and mystery. It interacts with colors nicely and adds a touch of color in neutral images. This is my final image.
As I mentioned above, I believe that subtlety is the key in working with this type of processing. I want the viewer to become involved with the photograph, not to say “WOW…that’s intense processing”. I’d like my photographs to reveal a little about me, or even deepen the mystery. As always, comments welcome and deeply appreciated. For now, the forecast is for more snow on Tuesday. Can’t wait! And once again, my gratitude to Freeman Patterson and Tony Sweet for the inspiration, for lighting the path and to Fly Paper Textures for such a great product. They are tops to deal with and generous with their expertise.
I’ve been neglecting the blog lately. Bad form. One might think I’ve been enjoying a winter’s rest, but that hasn’t been the case.
I do have some wonderful news to share….news that I’ve been guarding for a while. Meditation For Two is going to be published in the United States by Trafalgar Square’s Horse and Rider Books! I couldn’t be happier about the whole experience. The people at Trafalgar are marvelous to work with and I have only optimism and hope for continued collaboration. None of this would have happened were it not for two people: Dominique Barbier and Sam Abell. Dominique has had an illustrious career as one of our finest living Masters of Classical Dressage and has a number of publishing successes to his name as well. This smoothed the way for me…..the newbie….to have a book published with such a respected organization. Thank you, Dominique. And to Sam Abell I offer thanks for the belief in the work, the encouragement to pursue a dream, and the tools to design and create a humble, meaning filled book.
And before the release in the US, the book will be available in Germany and Switzerland on March 1st. The title has been changed for the German edition. It will be published as: The True Nature of the Horse, and what it teaches those who love. It’s a mouthful for sure, but one of cultural nuance. And herein lies a lesson. The book is in the incredibly capable hands of the team at Wu-Wei Verlag. I had to keep telling myself that when the design was completely changed, when the title was changed, indeed even the shape of the book was changed. So authors and photographers beware: it is often the case that when your work is handed over your ability to control your product ceases.
Trafalgar Square has chosen to keep the original design, completely. It will be interesting to see how each volume performs in the marketplace, how each book is promoted, what the differences will be and how the public will perceive it. I’m looking forward to the journey.
As I have received a great deal of encouragement about my photography, my poetry in the book and my writing on the blog, I am now working on a book that combines the three. I’ll post excerpts from time to time here and invite comment. I thank you in advance for your participation in the discussion.
A friend just asked me if I feel settled in West Virginia yet. The short answer: No. The longer answer is that I don’t think I will, as I believe I will be traveling more than ever and therefore unable to nest properly. I’ll be testing my ability to feel at home in the world. The future holds travel for months on end in vastly different locations.
I am on the cusp of what could be a defining moment. The lead up has been exciting, excruciating, full of twists, with a few disappointments, but the forward momentum has held. As this has been a protracted process I have had plenty of time to consider the nuance and flow of this period. The moments that stick with me are the moments that I have been able to stop and make a photograph. I don’t mean click the shutter, I mean stop and see something that may have lasting value as a photograph. These are the nuances that give fullness to this experience of waiting, of being on the verge. It’s a prickly spot for me to endure as I am generally fond of action and clicking off items on the agenda. Yes, I often procrastinate, horribly, but once in motion I can be tough to rein in. So this limbo experience is uncomfortable and forces me to look to things that make it less so.
I’ve chosen these images for two reasons: they have all been made since I have been in West Virginia these last four weeks, and they speak to me of waiting with a feeling of motion, transition or impermance in the waiting. The train is moving in the shot, the rain drops are falling, I am still for 5 minutes. The snow has fallen in the river scene, lightly, ice remains on the sycamores to highlight its structure. But the river moves, unceasing, and the ice will melt to become the river. The apples have fallen, defiantly holding their cheeky color in the face of decay and blanketing snow. The tumbling weed is still, for a moment, in a landscape that has changed greatly in the years I have been away. The snow creates a quiet resting place, a backdrop of calm and quiet. It is, in fact, an intersection leading to a fast food restaurant.
In this flow…in all this motion, change, and possibility, I am still, Keron.
Merry Christmas to all my readers and friends. Once again this has been a year of change seasoned perfectly with dear friends and some good photography. I am filled to overflowing with gratitude.
The wreath in the photograph was crafted by my dear friend, Susie Wimer. She also made the gate from which it hangs. Providence gave us the snow and greenery. Sincerity has created the wish to share the joy of this creation with you.
I have just returned from Spain….it’s a tiny secret now but soon I will have an important announcement from the trip. Until then, and for all the coming year, I wish you a Joyous Holiday Season. If you have a portion of the love and friendship I have been offered through the year you will be happy, healthy, and very wealthy. With love and gratitude, Keron
I’m having fun with new processing these days. My shooting time is limited, but I try to make a conscious effort to “see things new” (thank you, Ernst Haas, for this wisdom). Looking around at other photographer’s work I became intrigued with what Tony Sweet was doing with textures. One facet of Tony’s genius is his ability to see a photograph in the field, but take that vision deeper to the end product. With such a feast of options in processing these days, having that kind of clarity is fabulous. My sense is that Tony has taught himself to see in layers and possibilities simultaneously.
Taking that inspiration, I purchased the collections available from Fly Paper Textures. They were fabulous to deal with through several downloading issues (not their issue, my server’s) and coupled with the quality of the product, I highly recommend them. I do not receive a percentage of sales from them….but if you log onto Tony’s site he might have a discount code. He often does for Nik and Topaz, among others.
No matter our chosen profession, we all compete in a market that is filled with talented people that work hard. In my own niche for horse and farm photography, there are great people in the field that have been working a lot longer than I. So I would like to be able to offer something that no one else does, or at least for a little while. Here’s where the textures come in. I’ve posted a gallery of before and after images. I’m just getting into this whole process and with any new idea I think that some of the glow will diminish after some time passes. But for right now I enjoy these images and the depth that I hope I’ve added with some subtlety. And can anyone answer why subtle is spelled like it is instead of suttle? Strange.
Comments, as always, welcome and deeply appreciated.
Here’s a long list of numbers to contemplate: 4925 (miles), 182 (gallons of gas), 21 (states), 6 (liters of Iced Tea), 4 (lemons), 1 (world’s largest cross…of this I am dubious), 1,000,000 (pictures seen and not taken).
A couple of posts ago I commented on the journey I was about to undertake and my feeling of sadness for the images I wouldn’t be able to make. The experience was far more frustrating than I imagined. So instead of simply looking for images I couldn’t make, I started to try to feel the culture and the state of mind for each state I was passing through.
Reading the billboards proclaiming “The Land of Enchantment”, “Find Yourself Here”, and “It’s Like a Whole Other Country”, gave me the first impression of uncharted territory. Then I began to notice the structures, new and old, the way we have imprinted our values on the land by erecting modest farmsteads or garish strip malls. I noticed what the states were most proud of….”Home of Garth Brooks”….”Home of Tyler Hicks”…and then I began to see evidence of history and warnings of the future. The dust bowl of the 1930′s was not hard to imagine in the panhandles of Texas and Oklahoma, and all down I-5 South in California there were proclamations of a current dust bowl, created by Congress and Diane Feinstein apparently. The sign for The Chisolm Trail created images of calling cattle and weathered cowhands with dust-encrusted faces, but I was met with asphalt, a decrepit gas station, and a deep-fried menu.
Yet underlying all of these images was an eternal dynamic landscape. Altitude changes brought different vegetation and geology. The wind and water have created patterns in the land as well as patterns of habitation. The stark surreal beauty of hoodoos gave way to gently sloping hills and meadows with aging cottonwoods in the washes. Wide rivers with flood plains are still flanked by cotton fields….so many spindly dry stalks with puffy white marshmallow tops. Red clay roads are cloaked in kudzu and draping moss, the stars in the night sky and the moonlight through the pines (Thank you Ray Charles) the only relief from growing claustrophobia.
Our interaction with this earth, our home, reveals so much about us. Rolling across 21 states in four days has left my mind spinning….and working to find ways to return to each of them and discover the Enchantment, the Smiling Faces, and The South’s Warmest Welcome. I can’t wait to photograph as I am in these places.
Here’s a selection of photos from my phone, using a couple of applications from Best Camera and Hipstamatic. Fun.
This is a quick post….with more to come tonight. The link I’m sharing is all about gratitude and synchronicity. I was thinking of all the wonderful teaching that I have had over the last five years and how to express my thoughts about it when I clicked on my favorite blog and found a photo that has meant more to me than almost any other. It’s from my teacher, Sam Abell, and was taken during his first formal assignment for National Geographic. So my blog post is about another blog post, written by another grateful photographer from a cast of many thousands. Enjoy.
I am writing from California while looking at the late afternoon sun falling over the vineyards. It is warm and golden with the sweet sounds of birds in the olive trees. After a long summer the grass has turned green again following late October rains. It is a peaceful place for a pause before I begin the rest of my journey to the East. It reminds me of my favorite story, Frederick The Mouse. I’m storing the memory of the warmth and light and scent. This way I can use it to sustain me over the winter and as a guidepost for my return.
After four years I have left Seattle. Work and family cares are calling me to the East Coast for a time so I am driving across the country. I’ll be taking a southerly route and making notes of all the places that I’ll want to visit and photograph on a return trip. Driving south from the Oregon/California border was torturous at times because I could not stop. The light in the olive groves on the fresh green grass was arresting. The patterning, the color, the softness in the atmosphere….thinking of it all now brings the pain back of not being able to photograph it. I think I will have many bittersweet moments like that on this trip. As a photographer I know well the law that demands we “photograph it now”. We can never duplicate the light we see or the emotion generated by a scene when we first discover it. It’s a life lesson isn’t it: Carpe Diem….do not procrastinate…etc. But as it can not be helped, I will make the notes and plan to return.
Here are a few images from my trip to Florida last week. Photographing for Cindy, Simone, and Rosemary was a joy and one that I actually KNOW can be repeated. I’m looking forward to being in Florida again in February. I’ll harvest again the scent of the ocean, the call of the gulls and the chirps of the pipers while the atmosphere displays the orange, pink, purple and blue hues that announce the arrival and departure of the sun.
I’m spending a lot of time on planes now. For the most part I don’t mind it, and sometimes I rather enjoy it. Last night I flew from the East Coast to Seattle. Six hours of time without a (good) book to read allowed me to write in my journal. I’ve just completed a journey through parts of Holland, Germany and the Czech Republic. My mind has been occupied with sorting all the experiences I had…trying to create some cohesion in the face of such wide disparity. No success so far.
I thumbed through the older pages in my journal to see if there was a clue about my journey hidden away and I came across something I had written several months ago: ”We walk in the light cast by our searching soul.”
This is a time of change for me (time zones, homes, artistic direction). Birthdays are good markers for reflecting on what has come before…and to clarify our goals and desires for the coming year. My trip to Europe amplified so many questions for me. What direction will I take? Will I find answers to questions that have haunted me for years…questions of the nature of humanity and our propensity for destruction that exists as the twin to our capacity for love? Can I create even more solitude in my life and how do I balance that with working to create a more public face for my photography?
Though I have learned that change is the best way to move forward it can still be difficult. Often we can find direction in observing where we’ve been and how it’s led us to where we are. The path might surprise you. The unexpected turn can seem perfectly aligned when viewed from a distance. Embrace change, it’s our only constant.
Re-reading that one sentence gave me hope and a bit of added strength. When darkness envelops, even the tiniest spark of light offers warm, courage, and a direction, even if for only a few steps. We all have that spark within. So my birthday wish is that we all nurture our sparks so that they become flames and the flames create beacons. Those beacons will light our way and could ease the path for many others.
Shine your light.
And perhaps more eloquently: “Make the most of yourself by fanning the tiny, inner sparks of possibility into flames of achievement.” ~ Golda Meir
Light streaming through the windows of St. Vitus' Cathedral, Prague, Czech Republic
What can I tell you about Prague? My strongest impression: Prague is a powerful juxtaposition of new and old. After elbowing through a crowd of tourists navigating narrow lanes, you can discover restaurants in ancient vaulted spaces proclaiming “Slow Food Prague Approved”. You can see the Old Jewish Cemetery (with 12,000 tombstones succumbing to gravity and erosion) or new works by inspiring artists in galleries on every block. You can watch a new beginning take place on the steps of a centuries old castle……or turn the corner and have a meal and a beer at the oldest medieval pub in Prague while you put up your latest blog post (they have wifi). Tour St. Vitus’ Cathedral and discover a distinctly Czech color palette and style in new stained glass that coexists with an artisan’s window from the 14th century.
Though I have seen Prague, I feel like there is so much more to see. It is, in this way, very much like London, Paris, Florence, or Rome…..it is nearly unknowable. The pace of the change feels like it could be faster than the cities I’ve mentioned. Prague has long been a center of learning and expression in art, literature, science and music….but the desire to “catch up” since the fall of the Iron Curtain is manifested in the street scene and in the vibrancy of a very young population.
I think that it will soon be very difficult to find vestiges of mid-20th century Prague. Sophisticated architecture, fashion, cuisine, and a heavily centered tourist economy will erase what is left from this time. But the best parts will certainly remain. See Prague and you will see the height of Baroque (and earlier) European culture displayed in the churches, in the music, and the glorious decorated architecture. See Prague and you will see a populace alive with possibility while preserving its storied intellectual and social awareness. See Prague and you will see heart-rending evidence of loss and the annihilation of a population that gave so much to the life blood of a great city.
A caveat: I am not a scholar….I am not a philosopher…..I hesitate to write about this subject as so many have come before me and written profoundly and with tremendous compassion and knowledge. I offer my thoughts as a simple commentary from a caring human that happens to use a camera to add to the dialogue.
Terezin (or Theriesenstadt as it is more widely known) was a jolt. Having a cup of tea in what turned out to be one of the workshops for the inhabitants of the ghetto was simply surreal. The waiter, the furniture, the strange green gray paint on the wall, cobwebbed windows and the slightly dirty table cloth created an atmosphere of such oppression. It felt like all life had been drained from this town and in its place was poured inertia and darkness. I was unprepared for the fact that people LIVE in this town. I kept looking around for the “site” and then realized I was standing IN the site. This helped to explain the feeling that I was walking in a gray airless space.
After walking the perimeter I left the town and went to the Small Fortress. The town of Terezin was built originally as a fortified garrison town. To the north lies the small fortress…what became a center of torture and death for Czech political prisoners and resistance figures, locals accused of aiding prisoners, and people from Terezin who had defied some rule or conspired in some way to make life a little better. Again, the juxtaposition of horror (the cells of the fortress) existing within 30 feet of lovely homes and lawns (the lodging for the commandant and adjutants) filled me with revulsion and anger.
I walked through the fortress…..learned that it is a place of deep sadness for Czechs as so many of their heroes died here…..and learned about the citizens who risked their lives and often lost them to help a prisoner. Smuggling a letter or trying to get a bit of food for a prisoner was punishable by death, after having been tortured. The Small Fortress at Terezin is a blessedly silent monument to martyrdom, to true heroism, and to the values that compelled citizens to try to help, even in the smallest ways.
I went back to the town to visit the Ghetto Museum. This is a large building that borders a small park, with big leafy trees that line the sidewalk. It is housed in what was a boy’s dormitory. More than 10,500 children passed through Terezin from 1940 to 1945. Less than 300 survived. Walking the halls of the museum and looking at all the children’s drawings ~ of holidays, of seasons, of family and of home ~ was heartbreaking. And then beneath the incredibly precious works of art the artist’s name, birth date, and date and place of his or her death is inscribed. What can anyone say when faced with this much loss? Humanity’s loss? Photographs were forbidden and I certainly didn’t want to disrespect the memory of the children and their heart’s work…..but I did make a photo of a small part of a wall….just one of many….that was inscribed with the youngest victim’s names. I made it in a way that I hope invokes the feeling of their departure, but also their journey to a better place…..surrounding us all in the air we breath and the molecules that pass through us in each moment. They are us and we are them.
I write to understand as much as to be understood.
~Elie Wiesel
I’ve been traveling in Eastern Europe for four days. I chose the quote by Elie Wiesel to begin this post because I, too, write to understand. I photograph with the same desire in my heart. So as a student of World War II history, I came to photograph and to contemplate, while in this very landscape, the conflagration that was World War II.
Oerbke, Becklingen, Bergen-Belsen. While the last place-name is probably familiar, the first two are far less likely to be recognized. They all represent unspeakable violence and waste ~ sadness so profound that many have found it inescapable.
Oerbke is a cemetery for the Soviet prisoners of war who died of starvation and disease. Becklingen is a cemetery for British, Polish, Soviet, and other soldiers of the Allied powers. Bergen-Belsen is yet another hell created by man to destroy fellow human beings for reasons of ethnicity, sexual preference, political ideology, and other equally inane characterizations.
Let me say this: I have no understanding of it. I don’t have the slightest idea of how to gain one bit of perspective on any of it. I have tried through reading, through serious meditation, and now by traveling to these places to walk the same earth. I have failed.
I was as moved at Oerbke as I was at Bergen-Belsen. Thinking of loved ones far from home, family members left wondering for months and years about the fate of their families, whether Soviet or Jew or Communist, I could only think about the grief that must still live in the hearts of so many. A grief this large, a pain this immense can only be resolved in acts of loving kindness. Are there enough of us to do this? To heal this earth, our hearts?
While at Becklingen, reading the grave markers of young men from age 18 to 30, I could only think “what an immoral, insupportable waste”. These graves were so few among the millions…..but each one dear, each one precious and mourned by their families.
Walking in Bergen-Belsen I was struck by the beauty of the landscape that visitors see now. Fall color, with blue skies and gentle winds nudging birch leaves into flight seemed an unholy slight-of-hand. Why wasn’t I seeing everything in black and white? Where were the clouds? Where was the rain? Where was the mud? I had only to close my eyes for it to come rushing up to me. And when I did close my eyes I was overwhelmed.
I put my camera back in my hand, (added a barrier) and went back to work. Tomorrow I travel further East, into the Czech Republic. I’ll be thinking of what’s ahead, Auschwitz perhaps, Theriesenstadt…..I have ideas for images now that I’ve walked in places of such suffering.
Back to the opening quote and to my reason for being here: I’ve not gained any understanding, but I am not giving up. I do know that this type of violence continues and is insidious. Rwanda, Sierra Leone, Uganda, Croatia and Serbia begin a shameful litany that stretches through Cambodia, China, the Sudan. When will it end? Perhaps when we have come to know ourselves. We created these horrors and we will continue until we understand that what we do to others we do to ourselves.
“We see things not as they are. We see things as we are.” — Anais Nin
This quote mirrors my thought that “we photograph as we are”. As I am preparing to depart for a long trip through Eastern Europe, I am thinking about who I am and how that will manifest in my photographs. Because of my long interest in the history of World War II and the resulting human and cultural destruction, I will be visiting a number of areas that were filled with violence and hate. This energy is the opposite of what I try to photograph. So who will I be, and what photographs will I make in these locations? The short answer: I don’t know. The deeper thought: I suspect that I will excavate a few layers in my seeing and in my soul.
In preparation for the trip, I’ve been doing some housecleaning of my files. I came across two images from last fall….images I failed to appreciate at the time so they were marked for deletion. Looking at them now I find that I am enjoying the motion and the layers in the images. The concept is not new, but I like the way the abstract nature brings forward the structure that underlies the scene. In the second image I can sense a bit of the style of the brushwork in Cezanne’s series from Mont Sainte Victoire. Recognizing this prompted me to look again at an image of a reflection from later in that same fall. In the reflected image I had immediately recognized the resemblance….why hadn’t I seen it in the earlier images?
My thought is that we see things differently as we grow, age, change, mature….or perhaps, excavate layers. I’m looking forward to fall as it is my favorite season. This fall promises to be memorable. The quote that opened the blog post has especially poignant meaning when viewed through the lens of history, especially the history of human conflict and war. I hope you’ll check the blog for images and the archaeology of my trip.
Clicking on the link above will take you to an article written about Sam Abell in the Powell Tribune. It’s worth the time to read the entire article. I promise.
“The greatness of a craft consists firstly in how it brings comradeship to men.” ~Antoine de St. Exupery
The last 30 days have been a whirlwind of teaching, travel, and photography. It was my great pleasure (as it is each year) to assist Sam Abell on Whidbey Island at the Pacific Northwest Art School in Coupeville. The class this year was built around creating a book of Whidbey Island. Books are dear to Sam and dear to me. For this reason we were excited to offer the class the opportunity to develop an essay on a topic of their choosing about Whidbey Island. The assembly of these essays created our book. It will soon be available on Blurb for all the students. By all reports, the workshop was a great success and we will be doing the same thing again next year with a few minor adjustments.
Following the workshop I flew immediately to California to photograph participants in a clinic at Debra and Dominique Barbier’s farm in Healdsburg. Thirty or more people enjoyed participating in the first ever formal clinic at Batbier Farm…..riding their horses, learning from both Dominique and Debra, hearing Dominique’s Meditation for Two lecture, and enjoying great food, conversation, and wine. The group, though diverse, came together easily because of the common love of the horse and their dedication to classical teaching and the compassionate training of the horse.
After a few days back in Seattle I was off to the East Coast to visit family and collaborate with Linda Bertschinger of Classicus Farm on her new book: Alchemy, Transforming Your Horse in Lightness. After 30 hours non-stop work, we declared the book designed and well on its way to completion. It was a pleasure to put in this time as the book is a gentle recitation of Linda’s experiences with different horses, each illustrating a pillar of classical training. I will have an announcement on this blog when it is available. (Soon!)
And then I was off to Wyoming. I was a sheer delight to accompany Sam Abell and make a pilgrimage of sorts to a little town in Wyoming, prior to giving a lecture at Northwest College in Powell, Wyoming. Our good friend, Anthony Polvere, had arranged for the talk after we all met the previous year at the workshop on Whidbey Island. The talk was the finest I’ve heard Sam give in the last five years. The students of Northwest College and the citizens of Powell, Cody, Billings, and points in between, were given a talk that illustrated Sam’s practice and philosophy of photography. Even more importantly, they walked away having witnessed a man that has examined life, a life in photography and from photography, a life writ large but lived humbly. It’s a stunning combination: inspiring, uplifting, whole. And then….off we went to Yellowstone National Park with the photography faculty from Northwest College! There was such great fun, laughter, joy, remarkable story-telling, in short, camaraderie. With the majesty of Yellowstone as our backdrop and great cowboy songs for our soundtrack, we toured, photographed, and enjoyed much of the Park.
And now I am just back from Santa Fe, having photographed participants there in a clinic with Dominique. The very talented Lynn Clifford was the organizer of the clinic and our gracious hostess. Again, a diverse group met for three days, enjoyed each other’s company, and shared their lives and experience with one another….all from their love of the horse.
In thinking about this whirlwind 30 days, the experience of fraternity and the spirit of collaboration are the thoughts that keep rising up. Friendship built on common interest, but friendship that respects each other’s vision and tradition creates an easy but deep and lasting bond. The experience of collaboration, whether creating a book, editing a slideshow, shooting a video, or just exploring somewhere new, provides a foundation for each person to offer their insight and their strengths to the completion of a project. With this collaboration, the project has a greater chance of having more depth and lasting meaning.
I have seen this with other book projects, I have experienced it with my own, and I have been honored to collaborate with and assist Sam and other teachers and photographers in many different ways. So for photographers, horsemen and horsewomen, and all the readers of my blog, I say this: find a collaborator or teacher, join a group of friends and make new ones, and navigate to a place of joy and meaning.
“Friendship is borne from an identity of spiritual goals ~ From common navigation toward a star.” A. de S. E.
Here’s a gallery, including friends and collaborators, from recent travels.
I’m delighted to tell all my readers that Meditation for Two is going to be published in Germany, Switzerland, and Brazil! I’m so excited and deeply gratified. All the thanks goes to Dominique for without his tremendous success with Dressage for the New Age (published in 5 countries and in its third edition in the US) this would not have happened. I’m working now on finalizing a publisher in France and the US and hope to announce the details quickly. The message here: Dreams do come true. Of course, the book is still available on Blurb.com (and would make a GREAT gift at Christmas for Zen-leaning equestrian enthusiasts).
I’m hard at work completing the book project that the class from the Pacific Northwest Arts School created during their week-long course with Sam Abell. The book title is Portrait of Whidbey Island. I had the great pleasure to assist this class for the fourth year in a row and am already looking ahead to a reunion next August. The level of engagement on behalf of the students was extraordinary and surpassed only by the generosity and quality of Sam’s instruction. His alumni know that the discussions during the week will be thought provoking and erudite. That is why they return each year. New students are treated to original thought and genuine care about their work and progress. Sam is unparalleled as an instructor. It is my great honor to have assisted him on so many occasions. In addition to the week-long course in Coupeville, area residents had the opportunity to hear Sam speak. The Life of A Photograph was the topic, to be followed next year with the second half of the lecture, The Photographic Life. I’m certain that every person present last week will return and bring a friend. It was THAT good. Thank you, Lisa, Karen, and Sue, for all your hard work and dedication. PNAS adds so much to the quality of life on Whidbey Island.
As soon as I finished on Whidbey Island last Friday night I zipped down to Healdsburg, CA, to photograph the clinic at Dominique’s farm. This was the first time a formal clinic was held there and it was incredibly well-attended. The organization, Shanna, Meredith, Beth, and Linda’s help, and of course Debra and Dominique’s instruction made for fun-filled days that were packed with information and philosophy…all with the benefit of the horse as the focus. Riders and auditors alike went away with a renewed dedication to communicate with and learn from their horses. If you are a rider you’ll want to attend the next clinic at their home in January 2011….the 5th thru the 11th. Reserve your spot quickly as space is limited and the August clinic was over-subscribed.
Here are recent images of several of my favorite equestrian subjects. Enjoy!
“Earth is crammed with heaven, Every common bush afire with God:
But only he who sees takes off his shoes.”
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
After three months of near constant travel and work I am back in Seattle for a week to catch my breath. I have a lot of work to complete and great events on the horizon, but I am going to stop for a bit and reflect on the heaven and bushes afire that I have seen during my latest travels.
The heaven brought forth was the meeting of dear friends in several spots in Europe. I am so fortunate to have met and come to care deeply for people in many different places. Traveling to see them along familiar rail lines or unfamiliar highways through ripening summer fields was a source of great joy to me. Creating new memories while laughing, dining, or walking together will keep us in an embrace until our next meeting or even if we are never to meet again. This, along with a few photographs, is my sustenance. The heart holds joy and after a while, will release suffering.
I often visit museums to see the same paintings time and time again. Viewing The Sower and the Place du Forum and one of Vincent’s self portraits with those piercing blue eyes felt just like greeting old friends, or perhaps the echo of those meetings…with a touch of wistfulness and the longing to talk again.
Van Gogh's self portrait from 1887
I had the great pleasure to see several really fine exhibits and one new (to me) museum. In London I went to the brand new show at the Royal Academy titled Sargent and the Sea, and saw the Renaissance Drawings exhibit at the British Museum. Sargent and the Sea was a particular joy as it showed the artist in the beginning of his career, with paintings that exhibited vigor and freedom, what one might expect from a young man visiting seaside resorts around Europe. What was entirely unexpected was the quality and maturity of the work. While we might be familiar with the glory of Sargent portraiture, the mastery of his early compositions is stunning. The texture of and reflections in the wet sand that he created made me want to take off my shoes and wade into the painting. The side-light creating a corona around a child’s head made you feel the late afternoon sun, a feeling that you are caught between wanting to stay on the shore to take in the last rays of sun and warmth while beginning to think about dinner and rest.
Setting out to Fish, 1878, Corcoran Gallery of Art
The Renaissance Drawings exhibit at the British Museum was familiar territory for me as I have spent many hours in the Uffizi Gallery in Florence. But there were delights: The painting of two cheetahs from about 1410 was a real surprise and it was eye opening to see the freedom of expression in the preparatory drawings that was rarely seen in a finished work. But to see the evolution of drawing from the early 1400′s to the height of the Renaissance was revelatory. The progressive refinement and use of perspective, texture, detail, and expression of movement and emotion all culminated in the masterpieces by Da Vinci, Titian, and Michelangelo that we revere.
Drawing/painting on vellum, c. 1410, Workshop of Giovannino de'Grassi
Where is the photography in all this? It’s in our awareness of every sight, every step, every line, every shadow, every bush afire. While looking at a canvas by Seurat at the Kroller-Muller museum I was thrilled to see three distinct compositions in one painting. While talking with my mother about the Sargent works I could see clearly the use of negative space, separation of elements, and side-light to highlight portions of the composition. This charged me, energetically, to go out and SEE more deeply. The inspiration I derive from the Masters of Painting and Sculpture feeds me and helps me to refine my ability to create whole engaging images. Having that experience while preparing for a camera club lecture provided great examples and re-ignited my passion for describing how we can expand our awareness by feeding our brains and our souls with the best imagery available to us.
The gift of awareness is the greatest gift we can offer ourselves. Cultivate it. Take off your shoes and touch the warmth of the soil and surf. You will reap an earth crammed with Heaven.
I’ve just returned from a long trip to Brazil that was hard work, thought-provoking, and often just plain good fun. But the circumstances just prior and after the trip have kept me thinking about the deeper meaning of travel. I’ll explain:
Our destination is usually what we’re thinking of when preparing for a trip. The excitement, the planning, the packing and preparation all combine to keep us looking forward….ahead to our destination. This is especially true when traveling to a new location or an exotic locale. But this time, all I could think about was the act of leaving and how that had impacted me and changed the nature of my travel.
Leaving West Virginia to go to New Jersey and then to Brazil to work was a heart-rending experience this time. I left the hospital, my Grandmother’s bedside, with the doctors telling me I would not see her again. She had been in a coma for 5 days and I had spent the last several nights with her, doing whatever I could to comfort her, and I hoped, ease her passage. I was also leaving my mother to walk the rest of this journey by herself. I had no choice, but that only made me feel worse. And so my departure this time was filled with sadness and introspection.
I began to think about what “home” means to me. I live on two coasts these days with a lot of travel in between to other destinations. So I’m never really sure where “home” is. I refer to home as the “other” place that I live depending on where I am at the time. Several years ago, while living in Europe for a spell, I came to know Paris as my home. I also experience that going home feeling when I visit and work in California at Barbier Farm or Hope Township, New Jersey. I know a bit of “home” in the southwest corner of Dartmoor National Park in a little place called Lydia Bridge, on a tree filled hillside in Hunting Valley, Ohio, and on Borgo Pinti in Florence, Italy. And now, having spent several weeks in Brazil, I find myself longing for the home that I discovered just outside of Sao Paolo.
I’ve been lucky in my travel these last ten years. Often I’ve been able to stay longer than the usual week or so in whatever my destination has been, and I’ve made good friends that I look forward to seeing again. As I’m writing this I am beginning to understand that I have been able to give myself the comfort of home no matter where I am on the planet, that it is the world we create for ourselves that resonates and lasts. I’ve learned that departures can be devastating and still the right thing. I’ve learned that the best part of home is a smile and a hug from a loved one. And I’ve learned that those things are waiting for me wherever I go.
When I returned from a walk across Spain in 2001, I was asked repeatedly, “what did you discover?” It took a long time for me to answer that question appropriately. I discovered that the world is a vast and wondrous place, made intimate by the connections we share with others.
Next time I’m departing I’ll remember that I’m always headed home.
Yes, it’s strange that I would have a boxing picture (of Rubin “Hurricane” Carter) on my blog. I don’t enjoy violence or violence as sport…..but here are the reasons that it appears.
While reading the NYTimes Lens blog (my favorite photography blog) I saw that Marty Lederhandler had passed at age 92. He’s an AP Legend and I wanted to spend some time with his work….so I came across this photo. A very few close friends know that I had the nickname “Lil Larry” as a teenager. It was more of an endearment, but there it is. Why “Lil Larry”? Because my boyfriend at the time playfully said that I was always ready to fight about something. I think he meant that in a good way…..that I was strong willed. I looked at the photo and recalled that time and smiled. Then I looked at the caption on the photo and was very surprised to see that it was taken on October 27, 1962, the night of my birth. It could have been the instant of my birth for all I know, as I was born at 10:25 pm.
I’ve been feeling a little overwhelmed lately with many personal projects, change, mundane complications with computer and car, care and concern for aging family members, larger issues of the political climate and rancor, the lack of meaningful progress in so many issues that matter to me, and the unrelenting pace of activity in the world….so I’ve been walling myself off a bit. At the same time, I’ve been kicking myself about it. Now I have a new perspective and the inspiration is that boxing photograph.
Spring is a time of rebirth, the time after the quiet of winter when new shoots seek the sun and the pulse and purity of life glistens. Winter and introspection give way to the body’s desire to rouse itself and seek warmth. So “Lil Larry” is back! I’ve arrived in California to work with Dominique and Debra Barbier and bask in the warmth of friendship, common purpose, and California sunshine. I’ll suffer through the first three days of accomodating my seatbones to a saddle and smile all the way through it. There is work to be done and new growth to be nurtured, maybe even change to be effected.
I won’t be taking any photos of boxing, but I will continue to explore new avenues of growth. I can only hope that one day someone will see a photo of mine and be encouraged to press on, to gather up their strength, tap into all the swirling pace of the world and make their voice heard. Thank you, Marty Lederhandler, for the inspiration and the reminder that there’s a huge world out there….moving along at a furious pace. After a time of rest and contemplation, all we can do is jump in and start swinging.
Readers of this blog know that I do a great deal of work with horses. I’m expanding that by offering horse owners, breeders, and barn owners the opportunity to have a custom portfolio made that expresses the love and passion you have for your horses and farm. This offer is fully custom tailored. After talking with you, I will propose an outline for your shoot. I’m most interested in learning your desires and what you envision for your portfolio, including the following: how the work will be used, is it a treasured volume to hold memories, would you like to create a portrait of the farm or barn, not just the horses, would you like to use images to develop or enhance a website, would you like to enhance or create a blog or newsletter campaign, would you like to include video portraits, or perhaps you would like to create a custom book to offer clients, barn mates, or prospective buyers.
I am able to provide all the services above, including the consulting and implementation to create or enhance your website, blog, or newsletter campaign and the design and production of a fully custom book for your farm or operation. I’m pleased to note that I’ll be working closely with Rick Holt, teacher/writer/photographer/digital darkroom expert, and with Tim Feather of 110 Front Communications for web implementation, all on an as needed basis. Rick and Tim have years of experience and the up-to-date knowledge to insure seamless transitions for your internet communications.
The most important ingredient for a successful shoot is a knowledge of and passion for the horse. I bring along over 25 years of horsemanship to supplement my experience behind the lens. As a farm owner I know the long hours of labor that goes into creating a haven that exhibits your care for the horse’s well-being. I’ll work hard to reflect all these attributes in your portfolio. I look forward to helping you portray and capture the unique qualities of your horses and their home.
Spring is upon us and the horses will be shedding their furriness…..contact me! keron@tanatyva.com
Here’s an eclectic mix from farms and events around the world. I hope you enjoy…..and please, explore the rest of the blog for other equestrian images. You might like to visit Dominique Barbier’s blog as well: www.dominiqueanddebrabarbier.wordpress.com
It’s been too long since I’ve been able to put up a blog post. My apologies. I’ve been thinking about it nearly every day though and until yesterday I hadn’t a clear idea of what I wanted to say.
One of my favorite concepts in relationship (any kind of relationship….friend, child, parent, employer, among many) is mirroring. That is, when you are engaged with someone in a conversation you might consider that you are talking to yourself, or that the issues that arise between you are really your own issues. Bear with me, this does relate to photography. If you find yourself, like me, in a bit of a rut or just working on too many other projects to clear some time for introspection, try this idea: Reach out to a friend working on a project and listen to what they are doing, what they might need, or some area of struggle for them. Chances are, if you have listened deeply and begin to create a response from the heart, those words will be meant for you as well. In the middle of my conversation with my marvelous friend Honey, I heard myself saying to her just exactly what I needed to hear as well. It was one of those great AHA moments.
What were the words? ”When you are clear in yourself about the value of your work, then you will speak with authority about it and the Universe will bring opportunities to demonstrate an appropriate response.”
So now I’m going to listen to that and FINISH my proposal for private shoots with horses and farms. In April, May, and June, I’ll be traveling to photograph horses and farms in the Chicago area and in New Jersey. I’m excited to begin this new endeavor and will post some of the results upon completion. Until then, here are a couple of photographs that pop into my mind when thinking of mirroring. Mirroring is not simply reflection…..for me, it is seeing something that reflects a state of mind or contemplation, and even communication.
As I type this I am struck by how awkward the word glow looks. Yet the quality or attribute of glowing in a photograph is anything but awkward. I’m talking about subtlety…not a plug-in or technique. I’m not anti-plug-ins, the truth is I have very little knowledge of or experience with them. But I’m talking about recognizing something in the light and tone of shapes and moments that translate into glowing photographs. This morning, I had a wonderful breakfast with my son in a favorite spot here in Seattle. As is my habit, I photographed the setting. A fleeting glance at the display told me that I might have a nicely glowing photograph. It’s not a prize winner, but it is a sweet reminder of a glowing moment, and a reminder too, of many other happy moments in this spot. And when I started to gather a few photos for this blog post I was struck by the happy memories that each called forth. A coincidence? No. I feel very strongly that when we are in a glowing mood…the energy attracts the same. We see how we feel. It’s just another variation of my belief that we photograph as we are.
I’ll be back this week with some ‘serious’ photographs…but for now, Happy Valentine’s Day. Wishing you lots of glow for your day, your life, and your photographs.
“We live only to discover beauty. All else is a form of waiting.” Kahlil Gibran
Last weekend I went to Healdsburg to photograph a client. Because this was the first time I was photographing a person for a job I had more than the usual nervousness. As the insecurity and senseless internal dialogue was brewing I knew I had to do something to get out of that energy if I was going to create successful photographs. For me, a successful photograph includes many elements, but the foremost is the satisfaction of the client. Readers of this blog will know that I am familiar with the location and have photographed horses at Barbier Farms many times. I am always a little anxious about seeing things new in a setting that is somewhat limited and thoroughly known. So I slowed my breathing and switched the internal dialogue from the static channel to the compassionate, grateful channel. I met the client with a smile, listened to her desires for the photographs, suggested a few settings and started to work.
I know that everything I am saying is simple, perhaps even simplistic. But it is too easy to forget and get caught up in thinking about what comes next or what if this or what if that….rather than just being still and taking in all the information that is being sent. My client and friend, Candida, was giving me her thoughts about the movements that she wanted photographed….the light was changing rapidly….the dogs were playing…activity in the barn was picking up as it was feeding time…..other clients were coming to the barn for lessons….and through all of this, remembering to smile kept me centered and calm. Soon there was a flow to the shoot akin to the gentle pace of deep water moving. It was undisturbed and developed a quiet energy as we progressed. By this time the light was getting a little higher and stronger than I wanted and I let some doubt creep in….just as I silenced that thought and asked Candida to move to another area, I caught the reflected light off the horse’s mane onto my friend’s face. We were able to play with that for quite a few minutes and I enjoyed a bit of photographer’s luck.
The shoot was a tremendous gift for me as it brought more fullness to my resolve to create calm and expanded awareness in the midst of a great deal of activity. Further, I think that my ability to project that created ease for my client, and certainly for the horses as they are so aware of all that is happening on the physical, emotional, and etheric levels. I am looking forward to the next challenge of this kind and seeing what gift is in store, what serendipity arises. It’s all around us. We just have to remember to find and to feel our smile.
The Navajo Nation. From an outsider’s viewpoint, it seems to me that the Navajo people exist in several worlds at once, perhaps uneasily. I’ve traveled to the Chinle, Arizona, area many times now and have made good friends there. On several occasions I have been taken to areas to photograph petroglyphs and pictographs that aren’t generally accessible. I’m delighted by this as I have a deep interest in the history and cultures of the Southwest, but I am also puzzled as I know the Navajo have an incredibly strong taboo or set of behaviors around death and dying. Many of the sites I have seen incorporate death or the depiction of death/dying/suffering…but I am left with the feeling that these depictions and sites are reaching forward in time to reveal commonalities in the human experience.
There are modern scenes there as well that offer insights and ask more pressing questions. An American flag woven onto a fenceline signals fierce patriotism against the backdrop of appalling abuse and neglect from the U. S. Government and citizens. Rodeos are centers of cultural activity and practice goes on year ’round in preparation for the big events in Window Rock….yet the horse and the cowboy way of life are relatively recent additions to the Dine’. Coal and minerals mining provide jobs that are desperately needed, but these industries have pernicious effects. The water table is dropping creating crop failure and many springs and wells are poisoned, which causes Dine’ families to drive 40, 50, even 60 miles for water for their sheep and other livestock. Grandmothers survive in hogans miles from anyone….sometimes dependent on help from various groups… while braving cold winters with little warmth and no electricity.
I’m humbled by the generosity of spirit shown to me by my friends in Chinle. With their assistance, beginning this spring, I’ll be visiting the area to launch a photographic project that has two phases. I’ll create a personal body of work that I hope to have published in order to create awareness for the second part: I would like to create an ongoing project that involves the children of Chinle and other communities. With the help of a couple of photographic “stars” my goal is to launch a program that the communities will then take over that encourages children ages 10 t0 16 to look into their lives, their culture, and express the difficulty, triumph, love, sadness, hope, and myriad challenges the Nation faces. I’ll keep you informed of my progress. Projects live and die by funding. If you have contacts or ideas, please email me. I’m on my way, but additional help is welcome.
Without tradition, art is a flock of sheep without a shepherd. Without innovation, it is a corpse.
Winston Churchill
Family and close friends know that I am an ardent admirer of Winston Churchill. Aside from his magnificent careers in politics and literature and that little matter of holding the candle for the free world for a time, Mr. Churchill was a prolific and accomplished painter. He had the ability to stop whatever he was doing and totally focus on his painting when he felt the need to step back from his tremendous burdens. It was a comfort and a tonic to him his entire adult life. Photography and writing give me that gift….now I’m going to add some bubbles.
I’ve written about the impact that painting has on my photography and the way it opens my eyes and heart to see things new. The visual history and legacies that have been left to us by artists since time began can inform and help to shape new work. While reading a poem by Pablo Neruda, I saw an illustration today that I liked very much. It has triggered my desire expand my thinking when I am photographing to consider subjects for other uses; for example textures as overlays, or patterns to give structure…and images, like poetry, as allusions. This is not revolutionary, but it will help me to widen my field of view and express something that is new to me. With Uelsmann and Caponigro and other masters in the field as shepherds, I’ll breathe some more life into my own journey.
These are my first attempts to see with the idea of joining elements.
As a photographer I have dreamed of creating the kind of work that Damon Winter, James Nachtwey, Lynsey Addario, Ron Haviv, Colin Finlay and many other amazing people do every day. Perhaps one day I will. But for now, these folks are carrying the water…doing the heavy lifting to show the world the indelible face of tragedy, suffering, and loss on a scale that we struggle to comprehend. I follow this blog daily: Lens: The New York Times Photo Blog. Take a look. Visit their sites. Involve yourself in a reality far removed from our own…but in the most important way, inextricably linked, as we are all human. Now, let’s show some humanity.
Visit Partners in Health, Doctors without Borders, and help, please. It does make a difference. And if you do, email me. I’ll send you a 10×15 print of any image from this blog to say thank you. I’m not a registered 501(c)3…..I just want to help in the biggest way possible. (Empty hands, but full heart….)
I generally prefer to look at photographs without any distraction on the page. I enjoy clean lay-outs, devoid of the mark of the designer (though it was probably well designed if there are no distractions from the image). However, just as a good musical selection can add layering and fullness to a slide show, some texts compliment photographs so perfectly that the sum is greater than the parts. This is a difficult thing to achieve so I have set myself the task of doing just that. In addition to the projects that I have working currently, I am creating a book of the poems I have written that were inspired by photographs. I have often had the experience where words or a phrase will rise up from an image and will not go away until I’ve written them down, or worked out a poem from those initial sparks. It’s a very scary prospect, but I will be posting a few images and poems here on the blog. Allow me to say this: I know NOTHING about poetry other than what I like…..so please don’t recommend this blog to a poetry professor! (Or if so, find one capable of compassionate criticism?) I did include several poems in the book I collaborated on with Dominique Barbier, Meditation for Two. The response has been remarkably positive and I am encouraged to develop the work.
Here are a couple of images and excerpts of poems; the first from The Chapel of St. John in the Tower of London, circa 1080, and the second from the Dunker Church on Antietam Battlefield, Sharpsburg, Maryland, circa 1852.
….Cries of Princes, wail of lovers,
thoughts of Saints, and many others…
All these you´ve heard and sealed in stone.
Held in that light, that
glorious, golden tone.
SILENCE
No blast of rifles or
burst of cannons
No shouted orders or
pleas in desperation
pleas for life and for home
SILENCE
No clattering of wagon´s wheels
bearing shattered young men
No drips or splatters from the
surgeon´s work…the
rasp of steel on bone
SILENCE
No cries of mothers or daughters
of fathers and sons or wives in agonizing
frenzied search.
For the last couple of years I have made sure that I photograph first thing in the morning on the first day of the new year. This morning was no exception, but it had a little twist. I have been driving by this particular scene each day, twice a day, for over a year and today was my day to stop and photograph it. The delay is due mostly to the fact that it is only accessible from a busy on-ramp in the Washington Park Arboretum. But today being a holiday, and one that had many people sleeping in, I was able to park off to the side of the ramp and photograph undisturbed for long periods of time.
Tony Sweet, Eddie Soloway, and William Neill (among many) are doing marvelous impressionistic work. It’s fresh, engaging, and their work is expanding the boundary of our vision, much as the Impressionist painters did in the 1860′s and 1870′s. It took decades for their revolutionary way of seeing to catch on with the public and then with the art collectors. Things haven’t changed a great deal. During a layover in Denver International Airport on Tuesday, I looked up and saw Ernst Haas’ image of a toreador and bull in motion advertising some service or product….to which I paid no attention. But the image stuck. These were some of the first, and still most engaging, images of movement in color and they are from the 1950′s! Freeman Patterson carried that particular baton a long way with his dedication to impressionistic vision and experimenting with layers of images and other darkroom techniques. Tony, Bill, and Eddie are standing on his shoulders and reaching new heights and hopefully, new collectors and buyers.
Are my images radically different? Not at all. Then why make them, you might ask…..I make them to refine my vision, to teach me to see more deeply and to know what my camera will see when I am using a different technique. I make them to understand what it is that is pleasing or intriguing about a given image. In this way I might be able to teach with more clarity or to open a door to further exploration of the subject. And finally, I make my images to know myself, to stay engaged in the conversation of living.
Perhaps it’s the time of year and the time for looking back that has placed the word tenderness in my heart and on my mind. Holidays, combined with thoughts of re-birth with the coming new year keep thoughts of family and friends present.
I’ve been reviewing the year in pictures, both my own and the various collections spread all over the internet. One of the best compilations of images comes from The New York Times http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/world/2009-decade.html#/intro. The ones that have stayed with me are the tender photographs. The subject matter, in the case of The New York Times photographs, is often fierce, but the approach has been gentle and the respect for the dignity of the subject apparent. These are the photos that I want to make in the coming year. I have several personal projects under way that will demand attention to this objective: A story of the Navajo families in Canyon de Chelly and the life of the farm workers and inhabitants of several Lusitano fazendas in Brazil. These will be challenging for me as I am unused to photographing people. I’m looking forward to the deeper connection that this will bring to my life and my relationships with family, friends, and community.
I wish you a very Happy New Year, with the blessings of good health and connection to loved ones. And for photographers and non-photographers…..in the words of Irving King and Harry Woods by way of Otis Redding, try a little tenderness.
The most viewed images from the first road-trip post are the horse images…. so I thought I’d post a few more of my favorites. The inherent beauty of the horse makes them marvelous subjects and it also makes it easier to create a successful photograph. But there are challenges as well. I am terribly discerning with my horse photographs because I know what the correct postures are from an equestrian viewpoint, and I’m looking for meaningful gesture from a photographer’s viewpoint. Then I want good lighting, dramatic lighting even…..and the last component must be the essence or the soul of the horse. This is a tall order, but having access to Debra and Dominique’s farm makes it possible to have some success.
Visiting the farm is like going home for me. My stallion, Fol Amour, lives there now to enjoy his retirement in his first home. He’s the old man of the barn now at 26, and while still active and working it is bittersweet to see him aging. I am just beginning to photograph him. I don’t have an answer as to why I haven’t been doing it, seriously, for all these years. It’s a regret that I must live with.
Generally, I am happy with this group of images. I was able to produce a couple different types of images in the midst of action and changing light. We were there for less than two hours before we had to begin our trek up the coast. But of course that bit of modest success fuels the fire to return!
“If nature has made you a giver, your hands are born open, and so is your heart. And though there may be times when your hands are empty, your heart is always full, and you can give things out of that.”
-Frances Hodgson Burnett
I love this time of year. I find my senses heightened and tuned to the subtle vibrations of joy. I’m talking about a walking-around, tiny-bubbles, effervescent kind of joy ~ not the explosive noisy type. I’ve learned that I can summon this feeling with intention and I can also create it by photographing. One such experience happened the first time I used a Lensbaby. I’m not a gadget/gimmick/tricky photographer….but I do enjoy creative exploration. So I popped on a loaned lensbaby and started shooting, just to see. I like that idea “just to see”. How many times have we learned things that were transformative just because we were curious? And how much joy did that bring?
Regarding the opening quote: it’s not unusual that as a photographer my “hands are empty” but it is true that my heart is always full. This year I’ve been busy making prints and cards for friends and family as gifts. Then I thought I should take that one step further. I’m sending boxes of cards to some local nursing homes. While the residents don’t often have the ability to shop, many still write and send cards to family and friends. I know that you all have great ideas of your own that spread the joy of this season. Tell me about them! And remember: a thing of beauty is a joy forever.
I’ve spoken of gratitude in previous posts and yet today it seems appropriate to give thanks to my teachers and to teachers everywhere. I’ll take this idea a little further and give thanks to my students as well. For they are the reason that teaching is a joy.
The teachers I have had in my photographic life come from many different backgrounds. The one characteristic that sets the great ones apart from the good ones is their ability to set aside their personal vision and engage in a genuine manner the student’s interests and body of work. Simply, there is no ego in great teaching. When we are connected to another person in this selfless way then we allow magic to happen; perhaps a clearer vision emerges for the student, or the courage to show work publicly, or to tackle a completely new technique or project. It is likely that the teacher will not know the result of their effort or the lasting effect a conversation or workshop might have. But once in a while a little magic happens and we hear from a former student or see a book published or exhibit hung that allows you to think “Yes! I had a little part in that.” And as this is so inspiring, the circle is complete.
I had this bit of magic delivered to me last week in the form of an email from a student. And the week before I enjoyed a break from my routine and had lunch with a former student. In both instances I was deeply moved…and humbled…by their gracious remarks and their appropriate pride in the work they have been creating since our times together.
Teach, tutor, or mentor….whatever you have time for! You will see more deeply and appreciate the amazing ability of your students to see things in a way that you could never dream. It’s just another way to say that whatever we give comes back to us in far greater measure. Take a moment to email or write to a teacher whose efforts made a lasting impression. The joy you will create is immeasurable.
My small gallery today comes from a time when I was challenged, intimidated, yet determined after remarks from my dearest teacher set me on a collision course with my photographic inadequacies. And so, to use a word I learned from my fellow Pilgrims on the path to Santiago de Compostela: Ultreia! (Onward, with courage!)….and I would add, gratitude.
In my last post I mentioned that in order to photograph your subject well you must know it deeply. But knowing my subject too well became a challenge. Upon my return from Europe in the summer of 2006 I was deeply frustrated photographically. I had spent the previous four months photographing in France, Italy, England, and Holland, and then had a magical trip on a yacht up through the Southeast Passage in Alaska. The visual feast of having something new and exciting to see for virtually every second of every day had dulled my senses to the familiar. I turned back to my books for inspiration and a new subject. This statement, from Ernst Haas, changed my thinking in an instant: “I am not interested in shooting new things, I am interested to see things new.”
I am not overstating it to say this sentence changed my life. I went out that evening to see things new; things (my home town) that I had such familiarity with that I could tell you when a certain flower or shrub would bloom in a particular back yard, or when a building was last painted, and didn’t it need painting again? There is value in knowing something so well, I suppose it’s the meaning in the phrase “my home town”. Shepherdstown had been my home for 44 years at this point….and with the arrival of Ian and Jessica, my family had called Shepherdstown “home” for six generations. I never could have predicted that I would move, or move all the way across the country to Seattle…but that summer, my last summer in Shepherdstown, taught me that I can photograph wherever I am….an exotic locale or from my elevator each morning….and see things new.
Thinking of Eudora Welty’s landscape triggered thoughts of my own. Growing up on a small farm outside of Shepherdstown, WV, shaped me in particular ways. It was a quiet place with 40 acres to roam that was bordered by larger farms on all sides. There was a marsh and stream on the front of the property that would flood in the winter and spring, thereby making a long walk to the end of the lane for the bus a soggy, cold task. There were woods at the back of the farm that remained mysterious, there was a spring on the north side that I was convinced was a haven for cottonmouth snakes (probably not, but still scary), and we had a great old barn with a hay loft and stalls beneath. While the memory of that landscape is clear, and dear to me in many ways, what I’ve realized is that my personality was shaped by this experience of place. By nature I was a quiet child, content to be alone. Having the farm to roam and explore encouraged that and it also insisted that I develop the capacity for introspection and long periods of solitary pursuits. Walking and reading became the rhythm of my life on the farm. Book in hand, dog at my side, off I’d go to find a place to settle for a while. My two favorite books: Frederick the Mouse, by Leo Lionni, and Harriet the Spy, by Louise Fitzhugh.
What does all of this have to do with photography? I think it’s central to who I am as a photographer. Harriet was insistently curious and engaged with the world outside her, but in a stealthy, analytical way. Frederick was consumed with “storing” the rays of the sun, the colors of the poppies, and the scents of the new-mown meadows to offer to his extended mouse family when the days of winter were long and bleak. I believe it’s essential to know your subject deeply to photograph it well, so I put the time in to educate myself about a place or place in time (The South, or Pre-War Paris, for example). But after all that work is done, I open my heart while photographing, to absorb the feeling and gather the sensory feast in front of me. It can be a solitary pursuit, but offering the harvest connects me to an ever growing community.
late summer evening, Rocky Marsh, near Shepherdstown, West Virginia
I mentioned yesterday that I wanted to write about a literary background for photography, not just my photography, but how it shaped a landscape for others as well. When I first picked up the book, The Well and the Mine, by Gin Phillips, I was attracted to the cover photograph. As it was a staff pick at Elliott Bay, and a signed copy, I was happy to carry it home. Sometime during my reading of it, I saw that the cover photograph was one by Eudora Welty. This was a surprise to me as I was not then aware of her considerable talent and early devotion to photography. I knew Eudora Welty only through her marvelous novels and short stories. She makes this comment about photography: “Life doesn’t hold still……Photography taught me that to be able to capture transience, by being ready to click the shutter at the crucial moment, was the greatest need I had”. Traveling and photographing throughout the South during the Great Depression gave Welty the time to examine the lives of others and to hold those moments still….as if to gather them for a later harvest in her stories.
The cover photograph, along with the time and place of the story, planted a thought…..and then came the opportunity to take a road trip through Alabama by making a wide arc before my final destination in the Florida panhandle. While driving I remembered the other great photographers of the era and decided that Hale County was my destination. I had no particular spot that I wanted to visit, I just wanted to see the country they had seen. This means getting off the highway and searching for ever smaller roads. There were no interstates, shopping malls or travel plazas in 1935. I needed to find red clay roads.
I had only a day to wander, and I didn’t create a photographic masterpiece. No matter…….my intention was to travel in the footsteps of the Masters for a bit….to get my own sense of Gin Phillips’ physical and emotional landscape in The Well and the Mine. I knew, too, that Walker Evans’ masterpiece of the Fields family on their porch was photographed in Hale county. I wanted to find those porches, the sharecropper’s shacks. Not that porch or that shack, just a general feel for the time. I stopped at high noon in front of a dilapidated old crossroads store to make a couple of photographs. There were two stray dogs there and blazing light, little else. I made the landscape shot, then went closer and photographed some details on the storefront: the narrow strips of siding with inumerable coats of paint, a shutter with a horseshoe, vines covering the sides and growing over a doorway.
Fast forward to my return to Seattle. While browsing through photography books in Elliott Bay, I picked up a new volume on Walker Evans. The page fell open to a photograph titled Sprott Store, Hale County, Alabama. I was stunned. There was the the building I photographed. There was the horseshoe. The facade had a second story at that time, but there it was…..right at the intersection of those three dirt roads. Life did hold still for me in that moment, the intervening 80 years fell away and my heart was connected to that landscape, that time, those photographers. The literature of place and time was the underpinning for my journey and a deeper understanding of place and subject. That is its own reward. All else is an embarrassment of riches. As if to prove that point, at Christmas last year I was given an old copy of Walker Evans’ volume that accompanied his Museum of Modern Art collection in New York. The cover photograph: Sprott Store. Imagine the surprise when I recounted this story to the unsuspecting giver.
Bottle Tree, Eudora Welty, a scene later depicted in her short story "Livvie".
For additional images from Walker Evans and my photograph of Sprott Store, please click on “Walker Evans, etc.” in the menu bar under the blog title.
