Grasses in Snow

If there is any single idea that has not only informed my photography but also helped to define it, it is the notion that the real subject of great photographs are visual relationships - the way objects in the picture relate not only to each other but also to the edge of the frame. The implications of that idea are far reaching and were easier, at least for me, to grasp in my earlier days of picture making than the idea itself.

The most profound of those implications, that great pictures can be made anywhere and in any light, was something I relized early and was reinforced by experience. While my images of the Susquehana River and it's bridges were made on a day that was truly exceptional much of my best work has been made in far less fantastic situations.

Not long after my trip to Harrisburg I made the short drive to my favorite area of the Shenango River Lake to look for pictures. The lake is formed by a large dam and the water level had been altered submerging most of my destination under a foot or more of water and forcing me to stop in a small parking lot near the edge of the newly formed shoreline. The sun was low and I had little time to drive somewhere else so I decided to grab my camera and see what I could see. Just across the road was a small grass covered hill. Most of the grasses had succumbed to the blanket of snow but some were still standing and casting shadows many times their length. The effect was incredible and I quickly set up my camera! Not long into the process a truck pulled up beside me and the driver asked what I was doing. I told him I was making pictures to which he laughed and said I must be crazy to take pictures of the ground. He watched for a moment, wished me luck and went on his way.

Without further distraction I was able to work intently in the angular, late afternoon light. I ended up making two exposures. The first being a subtle exercise in asymmetrical tension with a large area of negative space. The second was much more direct and featured a central blade of grass that seem to be presiding over the rest. Both seem to elevate the mundane to quite dramatic effect.

While no one questioned me as I made pictures in the foggy wonderland of Harrisburg a month earlier the lone soul I saw this particular day took me for a fool. I've shown both sets of images to several people and each of the four images seemed to have a similar impact. Aside from coming away with great prints and experiences I learned a valuable lesson those days. It's not what's in front of the camera but the person behind it that determines the success of a photograph.

"Do you paint your fingernails?"

If I had a dollar for every time someone asked me that question... Since I started making contact prints I've been using an Amidol paper developer similar to those used by the Westons and Michael A. Smith. It's a disgusting brew that only lasts about 12 hours once you mix it. Its stains however, last much longer. Days on the skin, forever on your fingernails and trays or whatever else you happen to spill it on. I always made sure not to get my right hand in it so I could still shake without freaking people out. Then why use it you ask ...? It's redeeming qualities made it worthwhile - deep rich blacks, great mid tone separation and amazing highlight detail. For the past couple of years I thought it was the end all be all of paper developers and worth all the trouble.

Well, I decided to do a bit of research on the subject over the past couple of weeks and found several people who where using Ansel's old Ansco 130 formula and comparing it favorably to Amidol. The benefits beyond cleanliness were considerable, 6 month + shelf life once you mix your stock solution and even a couple month life for the working solution in a tray! That meant instead of mixing my precious (read expen$ive) Amidol only when I could commit to printing for several hours I would now be able to keep developer mixed and print when I only had a little time. Well, that was all it took and I ordered myself the chemicals and mixed a batch tonight.

I ended up making a finished print of one negative and it is washing as I type this. I chose a negative with tons of contrast, deep shadows, bright highlights and it even had the sun in the frame. The print came out beautifully and the developer was active enough to allow a slight contrast reducing water bath. Now I obviously need to see the print dried down and do a few more tests before I officially switch but things sure look promising and after a couple months of fingernail growth you might not be able to tell I ever used dirty old Amidol.

Untitled #1

I recently decided to embark on a second long term project, photographing the Shenango River Lake and it's surroundings. The lake was created in 1965 when the Army Corp of Engineers built the Shenango Dam. The lake displaced my mother and her family, forcing them to move to a neighboring community. I've spent much time there myself - picnicking when I was young - night swimming, fishing and boating as I grew older. It's a comfortable and meaningful place for me to work and it is in a constant state of flux as the water level changes frequently.

I drove there after work last Wednesday with my 4x5 camera and after a hour or so found this wonderful group of sticks protruding from the water. I had one sheet of film left which I quickly used. I felt there was more there than I was seeing and decided to return the following night with the 8x10 camera and more film.

The next night I drove straight to this place and, being earlier, there was more light on the water. I began setting up to the dismay of a young family watching their son swim a few hundred yards to my right. I couldn't help overhear their conversation which did eventually lead to a consensus: the big green thing was a camera, like Ansel Adams used, and I must be crazy taking pictures of sticks in the water...

Once I was set up I quickly forgot about everything else and began working under the dark cloth. After repositioning the tripod a couple of times I found a perspective that isolated the sticks and reflections. From this new position the scene took on the look of a flock of birds in flight! I quickly tightened down the camera, loaded a film holder and took a meter reading. There was only a stop and a half difference in brightness between the top and bottom of the water, little enough I knew I could print it evenly. I waited for the wind to still, pulled the lens cap for 5 seconds and just KNEW I had something.

A printing session on Saturday confirmed my excitement as the photograph was fairly easy to make and looked even better than I had hoped. From those I've shown so far the appeal is wide. It's incredibly satisfying, the feeling that I have really created something new and not merely recorded what was in front of me. Of course I can't help but wonder what the family at the lake would think of it.

You can view a larger version HERE.

Keeping up with the Equipment!?!?

I haven't sat down and pushed myself to write an essay on using traditional photographic processes yet. It's important and quite frankly I'm not sure I'm ready to do the subject justice. However, something happened this week that got my wheels spinning enough to mention. I received my Summer issue/copy/whatever of the giant B and H Photo/Video catalog.

It wasn't that long ago that I myself worked at a camera store, then as a digital product and wedding photographer. I knew all the brands, the latest hardware and software, and usually what the next big thing was going to be. Here I am only a couple years removed from the digital scene and suddenly almost everything is new to me. Now, I could probably jump back in and work my way through the learning curve if I was so inclined but it makes me wonder about artists choosing to work in that medium.

History shows that many if not most great artists have worked for a time to become proficient with their chosen tools, feel comfortable with them, allow them to become an extension of their vision... and then use them to create. I wonder how one can ever really become comfortable with a technology that is so volatile and ever changing as digital imaging?

When I bought my last digital camera a newer, better and fancier model had been released long before I could claim operating it was second nature. I now use 8x10 and 4x5 view cameras that were made in the 1960s. I'm quite comfortable with their operation and am free to concentrate on art making. Sure, I could handle a few more lenses and film holders but nothing major and it won't be that long until I won't need ANYTHING else. Just film, paper and chemicals to create my photographs. As long as those materials are around I can focus on improving my art and craft and not merely keeping up with the latest technologies. Isn't that what's really important in art?

Now I realize there are plenty of people out there more intelligent than I is who can surely keep pace without breaking a sweat while others are simply different... to each his own and that's fine. I for one will stick with traditional materials, learn to use them intuitively and become a better artist for it.

Assigning Value to Beauty

As we move about our daily lives we interact with the world around us based entirely on information provided by our senses. We evaluate, consider and retain this information on both conscious and unconcious levels. We then use it to make decisions. All of our decisions. If I feel a raindrop while I'm getting out of my car I may grab the umbrella out of my trunk. If I open a gallon of milk and smell an unpleasant odor I pour it out and buy more. While not every response is as directly reactionary all conscious decisions are based on information gathered by observing something or someone in some way. Even if we recieve complex verbal or written advice it must pass through the filter that starts with our senses and ends with our thoughts.

Consider the following: "We deal with the universe abstractly, as images and concepts created by our mind. We organize our lives around ideas, words, and other abstractions that never equate with reality. Because abstractions are about the world but not of it, they are always subject to interpretation, a process unavoidably dependent upon how our subjective mind has organized its accumulated experiences." Butler Shaffer

This idea can lead anywhere from simply reevaluating perspective to the fictionalized tale of The Matrix, where control of our senses is used to determine our perception of reality. Once this realization has occured it seems to beg the question: If everthing in our lives is based entirely on our senses why is it so many take them for granted? Sure, we use them to navigate our way through life but what about appreciation for the act of observing in and of itself? Who really stops to smell the flowers and how often? When was the last time you reveled in a warm summer rain? Where were you the last time you stopped everything just to sit back and admire the view or closed your eyes and just enjoyed the sound around you? Maybe the most important question is how much time each day have you alloted for such things? Or more succinctly, what value have you assigned them? As humans it's natural for us to identify something we value so what name do we ascribe the vivid sensations and emotions brought about by direct observation? At their best, I think of them as beauty.

Being a photographer and someone who is enamored with light, I revere visual beauty in all it's manifestations. While I spend considerable time photographing, crafting and viewing art I also travel the back way home from work more often than not. It takes less than 5 minutes longer but leads me through residential and rural areas as opposed to business and commercial zones and their ubiquitous American franchises. I know several people who travel to and from the same general areas and none of them take my route. Why? Because it takes 5 extra minutes and measures a couple of extra miles.

What is done with those extra minutes that makes the less pleasant course worth driving? People like to talk about how that time adds up and you can save hours or days by traveling the most direct route. While saving hours or days over time sounds exciting and romantic the reality is, unlike milage on an automobile, those minutes are not cumulative. They cannot be saved and added together for future use. You must live each moment as it comes and 5 minutes isn't very long... Hell, you just spent 5 minutes reading this.