Visual Bias

For some time now I have had a sort of visual bias against certain subject matter. Be it a waterfall, sunset or nautilus shell these subjects have been photographed again and again. At the same time I have held the belief that visual relationships in the context of my own personal experience is the real subject matter of my work. In other words, it doesn't matter what is photographed but how, when, and by whom it's photographed.

So, carrying this prejudice against cliched subject matter around with me not only conflicts with my most fundamental beliefs as an artist but also interferes with my ability to openly and honestly interpret the world around me. Photographically speaking, I aim to become an equal opportunity seeker of beauty and whether I'm focused on the fungus laden interior of a decaying stump or the powerful grace of a woodland falls, what's important is being open to the possibilities they each present. Both have been photographed before, but not in this moment, and never by me.

Tularosa, New Mexico

This photograph, from a Tularosa Cemetery, was my last on a March trip to Arizona and New Mexico. It was the 18th exposure I'd made with my 8x10 view camera that day and the second sheet of film in my final holder. While my traveling companions generously offered me use of their extras I was simply out of gas and ready to relax and enjoy my surroundings.

Later on we found our way to a hill top in the middle of the Tularosa Basin where the moment moved me to capture what I could, but this time with a pen and my trusty Moleskin.

3/10/09 Sometime in the late afternoon. Valley of Fires.
A young man plays his guitar and sings with quiet, brooding emotion as I look east from a perch atop the Tularosa Valley. Mount Carrizo looms large in the distance while the sun glistens off the snow shrouded peak of his big brother, Sierra Blanca. A soft breeze adds a slight chill to an otherwise warm and sunny day. The valley's yellow grasses come alive, blazing against the black lava strewn about me by some ancient event, still evident so many years later. Time has slowed to a crawl and troubles seem far away, nearly forgotten in the simple splendor of this moment. Sunshine and song reign supreme here. Even the yuccas pay homage, raising their many hands in worship and warmth. It's hard to imagine leaving this place... so many promises to keep.

Wanderings

“The artist's world is limitless. It can be found anywhere, far from where he lives or a few feet away. It is always on his doorstep”. Paul Strand

This idea is central to my work and a constant source of inspiration as I explore the visual relationships of my immediate environment and their subsequent physical and emotional manifestations. After all, art is more than just something to be a sought, found and presented. Art is something we create from inside ourselves... and if we're diligent about the work it begins to flow out of us naturally, revealing layers of our subconscious we're simply unable to express any other way.

Yet sometimes it's just nice to blow the dust off and head out with nothing on our minds at all. To respond to new and exciting surroundings in a completely intuitive way. It's been a while since I've done that...

Time in a 3-Ring Binder

These exposures were made in McConnells Mills over the holidays and are among my last prints from 2008.

I've been keeping my negatives in plastic sleeves and 3 ring binders marked by year since 2004 and I can't help but think that as each year passes, so passes my opportunity to add to another set of binders.Each year's work becomes fixed in potential. With these thoughts comes the urge to try and make up time, to take one last shot at creating something from the passing cycle... Of course that cycle ends whether we're ready or not.

Thankfully, the new year brings with it another beginning. Unknown sights, discoveries and experiences await as well as a new binder, empty, yet full of possibility. Tonight I added my first group of negatives to it and printed 2009 on the spine in black marker. A wonderful feeling.

The "Little Things" Portfolio

While I'm just starting to make my final set of prints from Project Pond Scum on Michael Smith & Paula Chamlee's new silver chloride paper I'm also beginning a new series. I was fortunate enough to buy 1500 little sheets (2.5inches square) of vintage Kodak Azo silver chloride paper at a great price. I've fallen in love with having my new to me 6x6cm camera (tiny compared to my 8x10) on me most of the time and being ready to capture those little visual miracles we encounter so often if we're open to them. I've also fallen in the love with the way small contact prints draw the viewer in and the intimate nature of that experience. This particular photograph was exposed in the parking lot where I work... Unfortunately the tree shedding all the leaves was cut down a few days ago so this was the last such display I'll find when I park my car for the day.

This image is really a prime example of what I have in mind moving forward. I've decided to use the paper to create a portfolio called "Little Things", a reference to both the size of the prints as well as the subject matter. I'm more excited about my photography than ever and can't wait to see what else I discover on this journey. I'll be sure to post my ongoing results here as I did with my last series. I hope you enjoy viewing them, I sure love making them.