I'm sorry. I have tried my best. I have tried carrying my digital camera with me everywhere this summer. I have shot thousands upon thousands of photos with it. My camera has few limits. I can shoot and shoot to my heart's content. I can apply any effect. I can zoom hither and yon.
Although the results have sometimes been rewarding, the overall effect is one of emptiness. I look at my digital photos on a screen and they remind me of stills from a video game, and they feel just about as consequential. I feel I could erase every one with a button click just as effortlessly as I made them. It would be like swatting a mosquito. No big deal. How much easier my life would be if I felt something for that screen! And I've tried. I just can't go there.
This isn't meant to be a film vs digital rant. I know that battle has long been settled. I know digital is the future, the present even. I know most others have moved on and that I'll be left behind. No, this isn't an argument meant to sway opinion. Instead it's just an honest observation from a long-time photographer. Digital capture has no soul. It doesn't feel real to me and I doubt it ever will.
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Q & A with Mark Steinmetz
Photographer and teacher Mark Steinmetz is based in Athens, Georgia.
from South East by Mark Steinmetz
from South Central by Mark Steinmetz
Under the Eiffel Tower, 1929, Andre Kertesz
Blake Andrews: Many of your photo projects have a dated look, for example the book trilogy South Central, South East, Greater Atlanta feels very 80s-90s. I think this is because you sometimes wait several years to organize and show photos. What is your reasoning? Does it take that long to think through them? Or is there something about photos and their connection to past/history that you're trying to tap into?
Mark Steinmetz: The photos in South Central were made in the early 90s and the other two books were made in the mid-late 90s and the 00s - I think the most recent photo in Greater Atlanta was made in 2009. They don't feel that dated to me - just the recent past. Summertime, which is the latest book, dates back to the 80s, but not the other ones. The hairstyles and clothes and cars in Summertime are particular to that time - you can't find them now.
A few of the photos in the books were shown near the time they were taken, either in photo magazines, or literary reviews, or in shows. But these mostly pre-date the widespread use of the internet so in today's terms it's as if they never took place, except for the various people at the time who saw the work and perhaps took something away with them.
There were offers of publishing the work earlier as a book, but mostly everyone wanted me to bring money to the table. I was pretty poor and any money coming my way had to go to rent, food, and film, etc. - I couldn't afford to divert any money to a book and really knew of no one wealthy to ask for some financial help anyway. There wasn't anything like crowd funding in those days.
But the books are better for having waited. The edit is much better and the general quality of printing in photo books today is better. I don't advocate looking for short cuts or for being in a rush - one can always tell.
In what way would the edit be different if you'd published them at the time you'd shot them? I guess another way to ask that is, how has your understanding of the photos shifted since that time? And more generally, how do you think our appreciation of photos shifts as they recede into the past?
When I was young, I was too unorganized. I rented one-bedroom places and the bedroom was sealed off and became the darkroom. The print washer was out in the kitchen and I would sleep in the living area or hallway. I made my prints on small scraps of paper and nobody was really interested - not in any way that would lead to financial remuneration. It was like that for about fifteen years. Now I have a spacious darkroom that's separate from my house and my mind is more orderly. I have a better loupe and light table. When you are young, you spend a lot of energy trying to figure out your place in the grand scheme. Other people's realities get wedged into your subconscious and other people want you to walk down paths that aren't necessarily yours to walk - it takes a while to extricate yourself from that. Maybe back in the day I would have selected photographs for their complexity or difficulty; now it often seems to me the simplest ones are the strongest.
It's hard to say how our appreciation of photos will shift over time. Hopefully, if a photo is well made it will (like a fine wine) seem fresh and alive years after it was taken and in some way transcend its era. I don't think I give many points for nostalgia but perhaps others would.
Who do you think is the intended audience for your photos? Is it generally photographers? Or do you think they can appeal equally to a general layman audience? What does your family (both immediate and extended) think of your photography? Do they "get" it?
I went to a liberal arts college where I spent too many Friday and Saturday nights reading books and writing papers in the stacks of the library. The classes were usually small and maybe a dozen or so of us students would sit around a table delving into novels by Proust or Dostoevsky, really getting into the nihilism of Russian literature or whichever subject. There's no way I would have been able to do the work I've done in relative isolation for so long without having been fortified by this experience. So maybe my work is mostly for people who have done a careful reading of at least a few books and who might still be able to fathom the magnificence of literature (I include photo and film as literary forms). Photographers who know the medium well might get something out of my books that others who lack a background in photo history wouldn't, but for me, anyone sensitive and smart will do. I would be happy for my work to be known beyond the photo book ghetto. My family has been able to get my work well enough.
Photography is at its most basic a method for sharing. You stand in front of something, take a picture, and then someone else in a different place and a different time might be touched by it - so I think photography is just about always for some kind of audience, even if it's an imagined audience.
What do you look for when you're out photographing? When you are out walking around, what makes you stop and make a photo?
This question I can't really answer. I just want to mess with the photography gods (mess with their minds).
"Mess with the photography gods." That phrase infers that some portion of the act of photographing lies outside the photographer's control. Do you consciously seek out uncontrollable situations? Do you think some photographs (by others) are too controlled?
Most everyone wants to control their circumstances, to dictate outcomes, but I would say life gets better when you relax and embrace your powerlessness. I like to think (and sometimes it really feels this way) that we have unseen helpers and maybe in the realm of photography there's a heavenly pantheon of photographers like Evans, Atget, or Kertesz watching over us - and who behave like the gods of Greece - (this gets back to the question of exactly who is your audience) and who smile upon those who practice photography with sincerity and diligence and mischievous audacity. I am more interested in a photography that collaborates with chance events. Photographers who are too controlling come up with pictures where the viewer has little free will - the experience of looking at the photo is over-determined and so there's not so much lasting pleasure. You get their point and then move on.
Why do you shoot in black and white? What does this show that color can't? Do you ever shoot color?
I've shot a fair amount in color and like color photography a great deal, it's just that the materials have always been problematic for me. The green of the grass often seems off (like it's a strange chemical concoction) and the color of flesh can be a weird unconvincing orange, etc. If you carry your print from the processor you are shocked at how it changes as you pass by a window with daylight coming in or go under fluorescent lighting and then tungsten. I recognize I'm fussier than most, especially when it comes to my own work. The type C print is plastic, not very well washed, and if you live long enough, you'll see the colors shift. But matted, under glass, well lit, a Stephen Shore print from the 70s can look great and exciting - so I'm not really saying much of anything here. Digital ink prints on paper is the way to go I think but so often they have a nervous quality - each object in the print seems separate and distinct from every other object - some sort of relaxed harmony is lacking. But maybe others have already pointed this out and somebody somewhere is working on this technical fine point as we speak.
I think it's very hard to make truly legible color photographs of complicated scenes - like a busy street scene. Little things in the image that you don't care about so much, such as the red tail light of a parked car in the background, rise to claim undue attention - red is so aggressive - the tail light way in the back muscles its way to the forefront of the image. That's one reason so many color photographers tend to photograph in weaker, subdued light or de-saturate their images. Shadow areas, black hair and pants, etc. tend to be feeble in color prints - b/w tends to be more purely about light and structure, and as a technical object is vastly superior (it's silver on paper after all).
Also, color is very active - kind of loud and rowdy. The elements within a b/w photo are more at rest. In a color photo of a sunset, it always seems to me that that sunset is being forced upon you. What's there to ponder? In a b/w photo of a sunset, more is asked of your poetic imagination. (Please note: I am not a fan of sunset photos.) But it would seem b/w is becoming irrelevant to the larger world and not much can be done about that. Maybe today's viewers can't quite navigate (feel) their way through a b/w picture or they don't really make the effort and dismiss it as something belonging to the past. I still feel you can be completely modern in b/w. I'll probably get a digital camera one day and work in color and that will be that (or maybe not). As I said, I am interested in color - I see its allure - but the big drawback for me is the technical nature of the final print.
So the decision basically comes down to technical matters? The difficulty in making a satisfactory color print is the main obstacle? Does that same difficulty effect your decision to print b/w in a traditional darkroom? Thankfully you are one of the few people still working that way. I'm curious if you can explain why.
Difficulty isn't quite the right word. Printing b/w is difficult. So is developing all the film you've ever exposed yourself. Color materials are slightly disappointing which is a different experience than encountering difficulty. I really admire my friends in what were for me the olden days who had to make their color prints using slow-going tubes - this was before color processors. Their prints all shifted to yellow in less than a decade but they were pursuing color photography because it was exciting, because the b/w world was well-known and continuing working in that vein seemed boring to them. Now color is the norm and perhaps we are reaching a point of over-saturation with it. In oil painting, the artist has a true involvement with the choices of color. In color photography, there is much less involvement; much of the work you see in galleries is outsourced and it shows.
Color photography is more about color than it is about light (though I am on dangerous ground trying to untangle the two). If you suspect that this world might be an illusion, then b/w does us the favor of stripping away one of the veils of our illusion. I wonder if color photography can ever produce work as profound as Atget's or Evans'.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Constellation & Broadside
Two beautiful illustrations found recently in photo books:
Untitled (Woody Guthrie constellation mural), Zoe Strauss, 1998
from Zoe Strauss: 10 Years
A broadside of names collected through the years,
calligraphed by Kerstin Adams and illustrated by Robert Adams, 1995
from The Place We Lived, Volume III
from Zoe Strauss: 10 Years
calligraphed by Kerstin Adams and illustrated by Robert Adams, 1995
from The Place We Lived, Volume III
Friday, July 27, 2012
Q & A with Nick Haymes
Nick Haymes is the publisher of Little Big Man Books and the owner of Little Big Man Gallery, which opened its inaugural show last night featuring Nobuyoshi Araki's Past Tense - Future, 1979-2040
Blake Andrews: Can you tell me a little about Little Big Man Books. I saw your earlier book about the Gus Van Sant character (Gabe) but didn't realize until you sent me the Araki that you have several titles. How did it start? When? Where? Why? Etc.
Nick Haymes: Ah yeah, I'm the same person, but I try to keep my books separate from Little Big Man.
But some of the same publishing skills probably came into play in both.
Well my wife did the design on the Gabe book. Little Big Man started with my wife and a friend but I became involved later. I kinda took over Little Big Man books as they were kinda too busy. I had also just come out of curating a group photo show in NYC that was very well received, so it made sense for me to continue with the books. I also think coming in and speaking to other photographers as a photographer can make things a little easier when trying to persuade them to work with you. They both came out of some sort of feeling that something was dramatically lacking in both fields.
And what was lacking?
I think with the gallery boom a whole genre of photography is missing plus there is a generation of photographers whose main goal is the gallery wall. I also think the gallery misrepresents photos for the worst.
So your ideal venue for viewing photos is in a book?
Yeah, I suppose but that's pretty cliche thing to say. Books are funny. The more they came into the spotlight in recent years the worse they became. Something became really dry about them.
What do you mean dry? I've seen a wide range in quality. Many bad titles but also a lot of good stuff in recent years. I think we are living in a photobook renaissance.
It is if the artist has a clear narrative and/or intelligent dialog and understanding of books. But there are many books that lack some sort of vigor.
Vigor. A good word for Araki. Do you think Araki sees the book as his main avenue for getting work out? He's published 350. Can that possibly by right? That's like 10 per year.
More like 400+. You really have to captivate your viewer and also celebrate the printed form. I'm not saying all bells and whistles here. But man, there have been so many cloth bound books it makes me wanna puke.
The Araki book is cloth bound. Just saying.
Ha ha I know, you beat me to it. But there are reasons for all of the binding concepts on that book. It's funny, when we worked on the book designing thing I said I would quit doing books if I ever did cloth bound. But after all the busyness with opening the book it needed to become a little more sedate. Cloth binding made sense. It was such a complex packaging and so many elements in the earlier stages, with the Obi foil outside. It did have to become a little more understated at some point so as not to overshadow the work.
The tearing of the Obi band too was a bit of an in joke to the collector. Actually having to tear the book to get in, having to destroy something that you covet. I also like the idea that it's like opening something you shouldn't, as it's Araki's diary of life. So I wanted it to remind me of a diary in some way too in its appearance.
It's funny you mention tearing into the book because I spent a few minutes trying to figure out how to open it without damaging the band. It's an irreversible step. You should take a poll of the books sold so far. Ask how many owners have opened their book and how many keep it intact. The answers might reveal something about the nature of book collecting.
Yeah we glued it on the back so you have to rip into it. It's a funny thing. I hope that everyone opens it. It would be such a waste if the book is not looked at and enjoyed.
Were you the principle designer? How much say did Araki have?
It's very collaborative. For someone who has done so many books he really works full force on the printed matter. He was not lazy at all when working on the book. Constantly re-editing and reworking the form. It was a tricky one. Let's face it. You get to work with Mr Araki who has done more books than you have. You also want him to enjoy and be surprised too with the results. He was very responsive and thoroughly enjoyed the experience.
You enjoy books, right? Myles at Ampersand said you are very critical towards the justification of a book too.
Hmm. I guess that's a good thing. I always try to act judiciously in his shop. I don't openly criticize what he sells. Is he stocking your books? I haven't seen them there.
Yeah he does. Maybe he sold them : ) He is a decent chap. There are not many bookstores left.
Myles is great. I actually think Ampersand is a manifestation of what I mentioned earlier, the photobook renaissance. And Carte Blanche in SF too. These are brave shops and I think they're a manifestation of a movement.
Sorry I don't agree with Carte Blanche. They're like Ikea for photo.
How so? I haven't actually been in there. Just word of mouth.
Bland.
Do they carry your books?
Ha ha, nope, but that's not the reason. They are aiming at some bad demographic. Without rhyme or reason. You will see when you come to SF.
How else do you handle distribution? Do you sell mostly online or through stores?
I do online sales. And directly with bookstores. I tend not to do consignment. I recently got burned on a book doing that. Everyone is really good and supportive towards the indie seller. Dashwood in NYC has been really helpful and pushed in the beginning, even going so far as giving a mailing list. Which is really cool. I like Ampersand too a lot. He's a great breath of fresh air on the West Coast. I like Family Books in LA too as they are so different in approach.
I'm keying in on several things you've said above. Books are "dry". They lack "vigor". Carte Blanche is "bland". I think your motivation with Little Big Man might be to stir the pot a little? And with Araki specifically.
There is one really amazing bookstore in SF though, 871 Fine Arts Bookstore, mostly used books. It's on Hawthorne Street downstairs in a basement. You would never know it's there except for the glowing neon red sign that says "books". Sounds odd but true. She's a gem in there. It's the only place for photo books. I will take you when you are here next. I couldn't believe it when I moved here that I had to go to LA or Portland for a book shop. Pretty sad as it's such a photo centric city.
A shame but with the web no book is completely inaccessible. About the Araki book, what is the connection between the book and the show? The book goes to the present but the show goes to 2040. Why does the book stop at 2011?
That's as much as he gave me, LOL. But it left the viewer with an uncertain ending towards what the future may be. He knew what he was doing. It also seems a more honest book, as he is really known for cheating the dates, but viewing the book there is certainly an older man's nostalgia for living but yet it's so full of life too.
By cheating do you mean the dates were superimposed later?
No, he has compact cameras where you can put the date into the back and it burns it onto the neg with each exposure. He did this when his cat Chiro died too. He photographed the cat under multiple dates, so only he knows the truth. It's funny, he will give you everything but still leave you guessing. It also works really when when comprising a narrative dialog, especially in books.
And presumably some of the photos in the book are of his late wife too? Do you know which photos show her?
Hang on, let me get the book and I will tell you which plates exactly. That whole scenario starts from when you see the cut out of the girl with the cat, the cardboard cut out. 90 1 26. She is featured earlier too.
Don't worry about looking them all up. I can find others from recognizing that photo. Is that the day she died?
Yes I presume so. We also did a special edition where we did a traditional copper plate gravure. He totally flipped over this as he had never done gravure.
He'd never done it but he pulled it off himself?
No. I met this amazing Gravure etcher and printer in SF in San Rafael.
The design feels a bit 1980sish with the shiny cover, colored triangles, even the asymmetrical embossed cover reminds me a bit of my high school yearbook from 1987. To The Past…to the 80s.
Yeah it's kinda like like that. It's good to be a bit wrong with the design, otherwise I may as well do the books that ---- do.
I'm not following you.
I like the design of the book. But it's nice to take a little chance with it. Like throw a few things in like the asymmetrical idea. I still think all our books look like Little Big Man books. I just think -----'s books are very dry and formulaic. I don't think they are a celebration of the book.
I suppose that gets back to your idea of photos. That their best expression is in a book and not prints. So the book needs to live up to something beyond just a collection of photos.
When I was younger I loved Taschen for giving me the opportunity to buy art books for pretty much nothing.
But Taschen is hardly a bookmaking pioneer.
Yes and no. They did Wolgang Tillmans before anyone.
So maybe a pioneer with discovering talent but not in book design.
But when you are in college to buy an art book for $20 is great. It also moves you on from comics to books.
Yes. I have the U of O library nearby so that's pretty much my bookbin.
I met many publishers at the NY Book Fair. It was funny, being the new kids you get sized up a little. They like to sniff around like dogs, you know, see what you are up to, who you are publishing. But I liked very much the experience of the book fair. We are very small fish but I think people are supportive.
As everyone is all in it together all breaking their necks not earning any money trying their best to do good books and distribute by themselves for the most of it. You really have to fight against the Amazon book system. You talk to the big guns and it kills them too. Mack books does all their distribution themselves. It's an amazing feat to pull off.
I think distribution is a major bottleneck. I'm not saying it's easy to print a book but it's even harder to market it.
Yeah, it's true. In theory we should be printing more, as you know there are 1000 maybe even 10,000 folks that would buy the book. It's just reaching them. I know I can sell out of 350 to 400 books. And we live book to book. I also have a great printer that doesn't hassle me for the $$ straight away. He understands the small publisher.
I notice most of your books have sold out. Congrats on that. Possibly helped by small print runs. Would that situation be preferable to printing more and having them more accessible but not sell out? Like if you printed 5000 copies everyone who wanted one could have it but it might be less "special".
Yes for both. If I don't sell out I'm making a lot of furniture out of books. It's a number that I know I can sell. It does also make it pretty collectible. Any more books makes it a hell of a lot of work to get rid of. With only a handful of book shops who only take 5 books at a time that's 70 book shops you need to be in. I do feel like I am doing a disservice to the artist as I would love their work to be seen by more people.
Maybe it's a matter of time, gradually growing the print runs.
I would like to grow print runs and compete with the big guns for sure. But honestly I don't think that will ever happen. But I always like the idea of the collaborative thinking with photographers. It's such a solo process from the picture taking to the printing. I like the idea of photographers all working together.
We have only produced a few books but we have had nominations for 3 of the 4. Surf Riot and Eden is a Magic World were nominated at the festival for art and film 2012. Eden is a Magic World made 2 Best-of lists in 2011. One by Soth and the other by Horacio Fernández. That totally put us on the map. The amount of traffic that came through Alec's website to us was astounding. I know this thanks to Google tracking. The Motoyuki Daifu LOVESODY was nominated for best book at this years Le Bal Photo Book Awards, by Laurence Vectin from OneYear of Books blog. The online world is in fact better for books than ever, I'm learning.
You said something earlier about preferring books to galleries to view photos. And now you're opening a gallery. Tell me about that.
The gallery is in our apartment. The gallery grew out of the books. I wanted to show works that could be exciting on the wall. I was in 49 Geary the other day and I wanted to vomit.
How big is your apartment?
Downstairs we built moveable walls to cover the kitchen. It's an open plan space. I have around 1000 sq ft to make the galley space work.
So it's a gallery at times and a home at others?
Nick Haymes' gallery/apartment
We sleep upstairs so it doesn't disrupt too much. I'm going to open 3 days a week and then by private appointment. It opens on the 26th of July with the Araki exhibit. Quite a feat to have Araki show in my house.
Yes, great going. What sort of prints/display? I imagine a wall of snapshots.
Well I have 60 black and white prints, and then I have built a massive light box table to house 1886 transparencies. Black and whites are from the book, 17x14 inches.
Transparencies, Past Tense - Future, Nobuyoshi Araki
Is he coming to the opening?
No, he never travels outside of Japan since he was diagnosed with cancer a few years back. He's not one for traveling.
You should dress up like him with the haircut and mustache and circle glasses.
Ha ha maybe.
Nobuyoshi Araki, Self Portrait, 2040
What else do you have planned? Monthly shows?
About every two months, so about 6 a year. Obviously we will host openings and book launches.
And tying in most shows with LBM books?
Yeah, but the idea of the gallery space will be less traditional. In November I will show Keizo Kitajima as we are doing a book on his Soviet series. In October I am showing a friend who self published his book.
What about the book/gallery dichotomy. If most of the projects you show are initially conceived as books where does that leave the prints?
The gallery will show both as an extension of each other. A lot of the books have a narrative so one lends to the other. We are pretty raw. The works are all unframed, just less pretentious I hope.
Where were you before San Francisco?
New York. I lived there for 11 years and before that London 5 years. But I was just very curious about photo on the West side of the US. I think potentially it could save American photography. I moved to San Francisco this past January.
Does it need saved? Is the West Coast style so different?
Yeah, it's crap at the moment but the UK is worse. Redheaded Peckerwood, LOL.
I haven't seen that book yet. You don't like it?
Nope. Too considered and very dry.
Everyone says it's hot shit so I guess it must be. Or not.
You can have my first edition copy. Haha. Yeah I know. That was the only reason I bought it. Just to see what the fuss was.
Patterson was very crafty in marketing that. Before the book was published there were items online about the process, with tastes of the project. So that by the time it was published there was an eager audience waiting for it.
Yeah you are very right about that. Excellent marketing. They even brought the prototype to the book fairs.
All part of the game, which I can't really criticize. Any method you can use to get your work out is valid. Except payola. So which books do you like?
Well I buy mine in Japan. I really like AKAAKA out there as a publisher of modern photo books. That didn't mean to sound how it came out.
I know there are many good Japanese books but I'm not very tuned to them. They are quite conscious of design. More than Americans I think.
I do like the Japanese photo book just because they use the book for all its worth, really cutting edge stuff. But then they totally break it too. They don't seem stuffy or tired in design. I want that sort of life in the Little Big Man books. Lina and James who work on the design of Little Big Man both come from editorial background, so I think they add some energy to the book. That's why the Avedon books were good. Lina was Russian Art school trained from the age of 5 (never say you like art as a child in Russia) and then went through the rigorous schooling of Conde Nast, Vogue, etc. So in a sense still will use the old principals of the greats like Brodovich and Lieberman.
OK, but wait. American Photography is crap? What's on the West Coast that's so different?
I'm not much of a Yale school fan, and that dictated a certain type of "Art Photographer". I like the sense of community that Photo seems to have on the West Coast. An amazing history of Photo here. I just worry that it drops into Retro a little out here. Y'know tintypes, found photos, etc. Photo is still such a contemporary thing, it's very young and very complex. I'm very pro FILM photo but it does have to be used in a modern way.
Many people associate the West Coast with f/64 which I'm not a huge fan of. But I think there's more to it. The West Coast in general invites a sense of re-identification or rebranding. People move here from someplace else. They want to recreate themselves. On the East Coast you tell someone you went to a certain school and it defines you in their eyes. Tell someone on the West Coast and who gives a shit. Sort of a stereotype but still sort of true.
Yes, you are right. I like the West Coast for all of that. It's not Europe anymore, and then it rapidly becomes close to Asia. There are some amazing influences happening here. There is also an incredibly articulate and responsive type of person here that I could never find in NYC. NY is very solo and competitive. Its also very commercially driven. But now I really like it out here.
Eugene has a thin photo community which I'm sort of engaged with but honestly I feel more connection to Portland's photo scene which is where I lived 1992 - 2006. The two are quite different. Portland's photo culture is very strong. I'd put it comfortably against any other scene in the country except maybe NY. Eugene's is less vital. It's about what you might find in most medium cities.
Anyway we've been at this a while and I need to wrap up. I had some other questions but I like what we've got without them.
Yeah me too. Kids are hungry and I spent the college fund on making books.
I pissed away mine on film.
Ha ha me too. Poor kids. I like to think it might make them smart.
Blake Andrews: Can you tell me a little about Little Big Man Books. I saw your earlier book about the Gus Van Sant character (Gabe) but didn't realize until you sent me the Araki that you have several titles. How did it start? When? Where? Why? Etc.
Nick Haymes: Ah yeah, I'm the same person, but I try to keep my books separate from Little Big Man.
But some of the same publishing skills probably came into play in both.
Well my wife did the design on the Gabe book. Little Big Man started with my wife and a friend but I became involved later. I kinda took over Little Big Man books as they were kinda too busy. I had also just come out of curating a group photo show in NYC that was very well received, so it made sense for me to continue with the books. I also think coming in and speaking to other photographers as a photographer can make things a little easier when trying to persuade them to work with you. They both came out of some sort of feeling that something was dramatically lacking in both fields.
And what was lacking?
I think with the gallery boom a whole genre of photography is missing plus there is a generation of photographers whose main goal is the gallery wall. I also think the gallery misrepresents photos for the worst.
So your ideal venue for viewing photos is in a book?
Yeah, I suppose but that's pretty cliche thing to say. Books are funny. The more they came into the spotlight in recent years the worse they became. Something became really dry about them.
What do you mean dry? I've seen a wide range in quality. Many bad titles but also a lot of good stuff in recent years. I think we are living in a photobook renaissance.
It is if the artist has a clear narrative and/or intelligent dialog and understanding of books. But there are many books that lack some sort of vigor.
Vigor. A good word for Araki. Do you think Araki sees the book as his main avenue for getting work out? He's published 350. Can that possibly by right? That's like 10 per year.
More like 400+. You really have to captivate your viewer and also celebrate the printed form. I'm not saying all bells and whistles here. But man, there have been so many cloth bound books it makes me wanna puke.
The Araki book is cloth bound. Just saying.
Ha ha I know, you beat me to it. But there are reasons for all of the binding concepts on that book. It's funny, when we worked on the book designing thing I said I would quit doing books if I ever did cloth bound. But after all the busyness with opening the book it needed to become a little more sedate. Cloth binding made sense. It was such a complex packaging and so many elements in the earlier stages, with the Obi foil outside. It did have to become a little more understated at some point so as not to overshadow the work.
The tearing of the Obi band too was a bit of an in joke to the collector. Actually having to tear the book to get in, having to destroy something that you covet. I also like the idea that it's like opening something you shouldn't, as it's Araki's diary of life. So I wanted it to remind me of a diary in some way too in its appearance.
It's funny you mention tearing into the book because I spent a few minutes trying to figure out how to open it without damaging the band. It's an irreversible step. You should take a poll of the books sold so far. Ask how many owners have opened their book and how many keep it intact. The answers might reveal something about the nature of book collecting.
Yeah we glued it on the back so you have to rip into it. It's a funny thing. I hope that everyone opens it. It would be such a waste if the book is not looked at and enjoyed.
Were you the principle designer? How much say did Araki have?
It's very collaborative. For someone who has done so many books he really works full force on the printed matter. He was not lazy at all when working on the book. Constantly re-editing and reworking the form. It was a tricky one. Let's face it. You get to work with Mr Araki who has done more books than you have. You also want him to enjoy and be surprised too with the results. He was very responsive and thoroughly enjoyed the experience.
You enjoy books, right? Myles at Ampersand said you are very critical towards the justification of a book too.
Hmm. I guess that's a good thing. I always try to act judiciously in his shop. I don't openly criticize what he sells. Is he stocking your books? I haven't seen them there.
Yeah he does. Maybe he sold them : ) He is a decent chap. There are not many bookstores left.
Myles is great. I actually think Ampersand is a manifestation of what I mentioned earlier, the photobook renaissance. And Carte Blanche in SF too. These are brave shops and I think they're a manifestation of a movement.
Sorry I don't agree with Carte Blanche. They're like Ikea for photo.
How so? I haven't actually been in there. Just word of mouth.
Bland.
Do they carry your books?
Ha ha, nope, but that's not the reason. They are aiming at some bad demographic. Without rhyme or reason. You will see when you come to SF.
How else do you handle distribution? Do you sell mostly online or through stores?
I do online sales. And directly with bookstores. I tend not to do consignment. I recently got burned on a book doing that. Everyone is really good and supportive towards the indie seller. Dashwood in NYC has been really helpful and pushed in the beginning, even going so far as giving a mailing list. Which is really cool. I like Ampersand too a lot. He's a great breath of fresh air on the West Coast. I like Family Books in LA too as they are so different in approach.
I'm keying in on several things you've said above. Books are "dry". They lack "vigor". Carte Blanche is "bland". I think your motivation with Little Big Man might be to stir the pot a little? And with Araki specifically.
There is one really amazing bookstore in SF though, 871 Fine Arts Bookstore, mostly used books. It's on Hawthorne Street downstairs in a basement. You would never know it's there except for the glowing neon red sign that says "books". Sounds odd but true. She's a gem in there. It's the only place for photo books. I will take you when you are here next. I couldn't believe it when I moved here that I had to go to LA or Portland for a book shop. Pretty sad as it's such a photo centric city.
A shame but with the web no book is completely inaccessible. About the Araki book, what is the connection between the book and the show? The book goes to the present but the show goes to 2040. Why does the book stop at 2011?
That's as much as he gave me, LOL. But it left the viewer with an uncertain ending towards what the future may be. He knew what he was doing. It also seems a more honest book, as he is really known for cheating the dates, but viewing the book there is certainly an older man's nostalgia for living but yet it's so full of life too.
By cheating do you mean the dates were superimposed later?
No, he has compact cameras where you can put the date into the back and it burns it onto the neg with each exposure. He did this when his cat Chiro died too. He photographed the cat under multiple dates, so only he knows the truth. It's funny, he will give you everything but still leave you guessing. It also works really when when comprising a narrative dialog, especially in books.
And presumably some of the photos in the book are of his late wife too? Do you know which photos show her?
Hang on, let me get the book and I will tell you which plates exactly. That whole scenario starts from when you see the cut out of the girl with the cat, the cardboard cut out. 90 1 26. She is featured earlier too.
Don't worry about looking them all up. I can find others from recognizing that photo. Is that the day she died?
Yes I presume so. We also did a special edition where we did a traditional copper plate gravure. He totally flipped over this as he had never done gravure.
He'd never done it but he pulled it off himself?
No. I met this amazing Gravure etcher and printer in SF in San Rafael.
The design feels a bit 1980sish with the shiny cover, colored triangles, even the asymmetrical embossed cover reminds me a bit of my high school yearbook from 1987. To The Past…to the 80s.
Yeah it's kinda like like that. It's good to be a bit wrong with the design, otherwise I may as well do the books that ---- do.
I'm not following you.
I like the design of the book. But it's nice to take a little chance with it. Like throw a few things in like the asymmetrical idea. I still think all our books look like Little Big Man books. I just think -----'s books are very dry and formulaic. I don't think they are a celebration of the book.
I suppose that gets back to your idea of photos. That their best expression is in a book and not prints. So the book needs to live up to something beyond just a collection of photos.
When I was younger I loved Taschen for giving me the opportunity to buy art books for pretty much nothing.
But Taschen is hardly a bookmaking pioneer.
Yes and no. They did Wolgang Tillmans before anyone.
So maybe a pioneer with discovering talent but not in book design.
But when you are in college to buy an art book for $20 is great. It also moves you on from comics to books.
Yes. I have the U of O library nearby so that's pretty much my bookbin.
I met many publishers at the NY Book Fair. It was funny, being the new kids you get sized up a little. They like to sniff around like dogs, you know, see what you are up to, who you are publishing. But I liked very much the experience of the book fair. We are very small fish but I think people are supportive.
As everyone is all in it together all breaking their necks not earning any money trying their best to do good books and distribute by themselves for the most of it. You really have to fight against the Amazon book system. You talk to the big guns and it kills them too. Mack books does all their distribution themselves. It's an amazing feat to pull off.
I think distribution is a major bottleneck. I'm not saying it's easy to print a book but it's even harder to market it.
Yeah, it's true. In theory we should be printing more, as you know there are 1000 maybe even 10,000 folks that would buy the book. It's just reaching them. I know I can sell out of 350 to 400 books. And we live book to book. I also have a great printer that doesn't hassle me for the $$ straight away. He understands the small publisher.
I notice most of your books have sold out. Congrats on that. Possibly helped by small print runs. Would that situation be preferable to printing more and having them more accessible but not sell out? Like if you printed 5000 copies everyone who wanted one could have it but it might be less "special".
Yes for both. If I don't sell out I'm making a lot of furniture out of books. It's a number that I know I can sell. It does also make it pretty collectible. Any more books makes it a hell of a lot of work to get rid of. With only a handful of book shops who only take 5 books at a time that's 70 book shops you need to be in. I do feel like I am doing a disservice to the artist as I would love their work to be seen by more people.
Maybe it's a matter of time, gradually growing the print runs.
I would like to grow print runs and compete with the big guns for sure. But honestly I don't think that will ever happen. But I always like the idea of the collaborative thinking with photographers. It's such a solo process from the picture taking to the printing. I like the idea of photographers all working together.
We have only produced a few books but we have had nominations for 3 of the 4. Surf Riot and Eden is a Magic World were nominated at the festival for art and film 2012. Eden is a Magic World made 2 Best-of lists in 2011. One by Soth and the other by Horacio Fernández. That totally put us on the map. The amount of traffic that came through Alec's website to us was astounding. I know this thanks to Google tracking. The Motoyuki Daifu LOVESODY was nominated for best book at this years Le Bal Photo Book Awards, by Laurence Vectin from OneYear of Books blog. The online world is in fact better for books than ever, I'm learning.
You said something earlier about preferring books to galleries to view photos. And now you're opening a gallery. Tell me about that.
The gallery is in our apartment. The gallery grew out of the books. I wanted to show works that could be exciting on the wall. I was in 49 Geary the other day and I wanted to vomit.
How big is your apartment?
Downstairs we built moveable walls to cover the kitchen. It's an open plan space. I have around 1000 sq ft to make the galley space work.
So it's a gallery at times and a home at others?
We sleep upstairs so it doesn't disrupt too much. I'm going to open 3 days a week and then by private appointment. It opens on the 26th of July with the Araki exhibit. Quite a feat to have Araki show in my house.
Yes, great going. What sort of prints/display? I imagine a wall of snapshots.
Well I have 60 black and white prints, and then I have built a massive light box table to house 1886 transparencies. Black and whites are from the book, 17x14 inches.
Is he coming to the opening?
No, he never travels outside of Japan since he was diagnosed with cancer a few years back. He's not one for traveling.
You should dress up like him with the haircut and mustache and circle glasses.
Ha ha maybe.
What else do you have planned? Monthly shows?
About every two months, so about 6 a year. Obviously we will host openings and book launches.
And tying in most shows with LBM books?
Yeah, but the idea of the gallery space will be less traditional. In November I will show Keizo Kitajima as we are doing a book on his Soviet series. In October I am showing a friend who self published his book.
What about the book/gallery dichotomy. If most of the projects you show are initially conceived as books where does that leave the prints?
The gallery will show both as an extension of each other. A lot of the books have a narrative so one lends to the other. We are pretty raw. The works are all unframed, just less pretentious I hope.
Where were you before San Francisco?
New York. I lived there for 11 years and before that London 5 years. But I was just very curious about photo on the West side of the US. I think potentially it could save American photography. I moved to San Francisco this past January.
Does it need saved? Is the West Coast style so different?
Yeah, it's crap at the moment but the UK is worse. Redheaded Peckerwood, LOL.
I haven't seen that book yet. You don't like it?
Nope. Too considered and very dry.
Everyone says it's hot shit so I guess it must be. Or not.
You can have my first edition copy. Haha. Yeah I know. That was the only reason I bought it. Just to see what the fuss was.
Patterson was very crafty in marketing that. Before the book was published there were items online about the process, with tastes of the project. So that by the time it was published there was an eager audience waiting for it.
Yeah you are very right about that. Excellent marketing. They even brought the prototype to the book fairs.
All part of the game, which I can't really criticize. Any method you can use to get your work out is valid. Except payola. So which books do you like?
Well I buy mine in Japan. I really like AKAAKA out there as a publisher of modern photo books. That didn't mean to sound how it came out.
I know there are many good Japanese books but I'm not very tuned to them. They are quite conscious of design. More than Americans I think.
I do like the Japanese photo book just because they use the book for all its worth, really cutting edge stuff. But then they totally break it too. They don't seem stuffy or tired in design. I want that sort of life in the Little Big Man books. Lina and James who work on the design of Little Big Man both come from editorial background, so I think they add some energy to the book. That's why the Avedon books were good. Lina was Russian Art school trained from the age of 5 (never say you like art as a child in Russia) and then went through the rigorous schooling of Conde Nast, Vogue, etc. So in a sense still will use the old principals of the greats like Brodovich and Lieberman.
OK, but wait. American Photography is crap? What's on the West Coast that's so different?
I'm not much of a Yale school fan, and that dictated a certain type of "Art Photographer". I like the sense of community that Photo seems to have on the West Coast. An amazing history of Photo here. I just worry that it drops into Retro a little out here. Y'know tintypes, found photos, etc. Photo is still such a contemporary thing, it's very young and very complex. I'm very pro FILM photo but it does have to be used in a modern way.
Many people associate the West Coast with f/64 which I'm not a huge fan of. But I think there's more to it. The West Coast in general invites a sense of re-identification or rebranding. People move here from someplace else. They want to recreate themselves. On the East Coast you tell someone you went to a certain school and it defines you in their eyes. Tell someone on the West Coast and who gives a shit. Sort of a stereotype but still sort of true.
Yes, you are right. I like the West Coast for all of that. It's not Europe anymore, and then it rapidly becomes close to Asia. There are some amazing influences happening here. There is also an incredibly articulate and responsive type of person here that I could never find in NYC. NY is very solo and competitive. Its also very commercially driven. But now I really like it out here.
Eugene has a thin photo community which I'm sort of engaged with but honestly I feel more connection to Portland's photo scene which is where I lived 1992 - 2006. The two are quite different. Portland's photo culture is very strong. I'd put it comfortably against any other scene in the country except maybe NY. Eugene's is less vital. It's about what you might find in most medium cities.
Anyway we've been at this a while and I need to wrap up. I had some other questions but I like what we've got without them.
Yeah me too. Kids are hungry and I spent the college fund on making books.
I pissed away mine on film.
Ha ha me too. Poor kids. I like to think it might make them smart.
Monday, July 23, 2012
Three Fingered Jack
I had a fun adventure with Pete Brook last weekend. The Prison Photography guru and I met up Friday evening and camped at Big Lake near Santiam Pass, about halfway between Eugene and Portland. We ate a big dinner, drank some brews, and lit a huge bonfire in the woods.
Pete's good company. You can take the blogger out of the internet but you can't take the internet out of the blogger. We compared notes on blogging, photography, and various nonpressing issues. I should've taken notes. We solved some shit but I forget what exactly.
The next morning we were up around 5 am and ready to tackle Three Fingered Jack, a crumbling volcanic remnant not far away. We hit the trailhead by 6:45. Not a cloud in the sky.
The trail started around 4900 feet and climbed steadily. About 4 miles in we began to hit snow.
The snow started as patches here and there. But after a half hour it had overpowered the path and we were just following prints, no trail. We were on the lookout for a cairn which marked the climber's turnoff to Three Fingered Jack. But with all the snow it was impossible to locate any landmarks. So we kept hiking, mostly traversing along the mountainside in thin forest. Here's a shot of Pete with our destination in the background.
The footprints ended at a Hungarian named Bob. He was huddled under a tree and looked ill prepared for the environment. He was on his way to Cascade Locks about 100 miles North but at this point wasn't sure which way that was, or if he was headed North or South, or if he should just forget about hiking and camp where he was. He said he'd camped last night on a sloping bank and it had been miserable. His boots were soaked. His butt was soaked. He looked bewildered.
Pete offered him some water. We chatted for a bit. Then we left him and headed up through the snow to the ridge somewhere above us. About a half hour later we topped out on the ridge. We found a shady flat spot where I tied up Annie.
The photo above by Pete shows Black Butte in the background, an old volcanic cindercone which will be recognizable to fans of Deschutes Brewing. Their porter is my staple beer.
Shortly after leaving Annie the climbing got more interesting. We passed a series of gendarmes leading to a slightly overhanging ledge which forces the climber to bend over, followed by a very exposed steep section. This section is called "The Crawl" and is relatively easy, maybe 5.1 or 5.2. But the consequence of a fall would be serious injury or death. Fortunately it gets climbed enough that the rotten holds have long ago been broken off by other climbers. The rock was solid with many holds. This photo shows the Crawl (circled) being climbed by the party before us, with the red line depicting the rest of the summit route.
Pete hadn't done any serious climbing before and he wound up doing The Crawl sight unseen, unroped. At the level section immediately above I asked Pete how it had gone for him. He said that at one point he'd asked himself "What the heck am I doing here on this bare cliff?" a question I've often asked myself. It's a question that always presents itself forcefully as the most central issue, always at interesting times and never with a clear answer. I love that question. I think I should marry that question.
A few hundred feet above The Crawl came the crux, a 40 foot knob wall to just below the summit which was relatively easy but unprotectable. Here's the party above ascending it. There isn't much room at the top, so we waited until this party and another group had come back down before proceeding.
At the top of the knob wall a strange colony of ladybugs had nestled into a crack. There were hundreds of them. I have no idea what they were doing there above any other flora or fauna. They were excellent climbers. Do they ever wonder "What the heck am I doing on this bare cliff?" Probably not.
Here's Pete ascending the last bulge below the summit, just past the ladybug crack...
And on the final summit block, a slightly unstable conglomerate of volcanic tuff. Classic Oregon scrapheap.
Pete and I sitting on the summit, 7844 feet. Mt. Jefferson is the big pyramid in the background:
The way down was a bit easier. We rappelled off the summit down the knob wall and a short hike brought us back to The Crawl. Since The Crawl is a traversing ledge the rap proved a little tricky. Pete had never rappelled before that day, and I wanted him to go first so I could ensure he was fastened in correctly. He attempted to take an angle descent.
But he couldn't quite hold the cliff and wound up swinging wildly back below the anchor, right to the spot he needed to be. He ribbed me later about missing The Decisive Moment and I have to say he was right. Would've made a great photo. Oh well. From there it was a short scramble over rotten scree to the bottom of The Crawl.
I followed with a rap, met him on the ridge and we descended to Annie who'd lost her shade by now and was rather thirsty. This was the first flat spot we'd seen in a while so we decided it would be the lunch area. Pete broke out the monster sub he'd made that morning, avacado, cheese, lettuce, mustard, tomato, on a huge roll. There was even enough left over for Annie. Sandwich at Annie. After lunch Pete made a goofy pose leaning on the distant summit.
We scrambled down scree and snow to footprints leading South. The PCT again. It wasn't long before we ran once more into Hungarian Bob who'd moved about a mile along the trail but was still unsure which way he should go or how to proceed or if he should just camp right there. This time we didn't chat as long. The prints made a clear path. The weather was clear. One way or another he was almost guaranteed to survive.
The 5 miles back to the trailhead went fairly quickly. We solved more shit. We even planned a bloggers backpacking conference. That morning I'd been anxious to leave the parking lot and sound of nearby Highway 20 but now it was the opposite. After a long hike there is no finer sight possible than the reflective gleam of a windshield.
We reached the cars, pulled off our boots, and cracked open the last three remaining beers. Then Pete had the brilliant idea of using the melted cooler water as a foot soak. So we removed the food and had at it. I could only keep my feet in for about 10 seconds. I'm an ice cold wimp.
Pete lasted longer. I captured him with my last Instax photo.
But alas we couldn't soak all day in a filthy cooler. Pete had a punk show in Portland to attend that night. I hadn't been home in three days so I had to deal with domestic duties. We dumped the cooler water, packed up the gear, and piled into our respective cars. Pete was borrowing a late model BMW with touch sensitive trunk. One of those cars you hold your hands near the button and it senses you and opens. After a day of exertion it was good to have something like that, something that was automatic and easy.
Leaving the parking lot I realized it was 4:55 PM, 24 hours to the minute after I'd met Pete the day before. I think we solved some shit. Wish I'd taken notes.
Pete's good company. You can take the blogger out of the internet but you can't take the internet out of the blogger. We compared notes on blogging, photography, and various nonpressing issues. I should've taken notes. We solved some shit but I forget what exactly.
The next morning we were up around 5 am and ready to tackle Three Fingered Jack, a crumbling volcanic remnant not far away. We hit the trailhead by 6:45. Not a cloud in the sky.
The trail started around 4900 feet and climbed steadily. About 4 miles in we began to hit snow.
The snow started as patches here and there. But after a half hour it had overpowered the path and we were just following prints, no trail. We were on the lookout for a cairn which marked the climber's turnoff to Three Fingered Jack. But with all the snow it was impossible to locate any landmarks. So we kept hiking, mostly traversing along the mountainside in thin forest. Here's a shot of Pete with our destination in the background.
The footprints ended at a Hungarian named Bob. He was huddled under a tree and looked ill prepared for the environment. He was on his way to Cascade Locks about 100 miles North but at this point wasn't sure which way that was, or if he was headed North or South, or if he should just forget about hiking and camp where he was. He said he'd camped last night on a sloping bank and it had been miserable. His boots were soaked. His butt was soaked. He looked bewildered.
Pete offered him some water. We chatted for a bit. Then we left him and headed up through the snow to the ridge somewhere above us. About a half hour later we topped out on the ridge. We found a shady flat spot where I tied up Annie.
The photo above by Pete shows Black Butte in the background, an old volcanic cindercone which will be recognizable to fans of Deschutes Brewing. Their porter is my staple beer.
Shortly after leaving Annie the climbing got more interesting. We passed a series of gendarmes leading to a slightly overhanging ledge which forces the climber to bend over, followed by a very exposed steep section. This section is called "The Crawl" and is relatively easy, maybe 5.1 or 5.2. But the consequence of a fall would be serious injury or death. Fortunately it gets climbed enough that the rotten holds have long ago been broken off by other climbers. The rock was solid with many holds. This photo shows the Crawl (circled) being climbed by the party before us, with the red line depicting the rest of the summit route.
Pete hadn't done any serious climbing before and he wound up doing The Crawl sight unseen, unroped. At the level section immediately above I asked Pete how it had gone for him. He said that at one point he'd asked himself "What the heck am I doing here on this bare cliff?" a question I've often asked myself. It's a question that always presents itself forcefully as the most central issue, always at interesting times and never with a clear answer. I love that question. I think I should marry that question.
A few hundred feet above The Crawl came the crux, a 40 foot knob wall to just below the summit which was relatively easy but unprotectable. Here's the party above ascending it. There isn't much room at the top, so we waited until this party and another group had come back down before proceeding.
At the top of the knob wall a strange colony of ladybugs had nestled into a crack. There were hundreds of them. I have no idea what they were doing there above any other flora or fauna. They were excellent climbers. Do they ever wonder "What the heck am I doing on this bare cliff?" Probably not.
Here's Pete ascending the last bulge below the summit, just past the ladybug crack...
And on the final summit block, a slightly unstable conglomerate of volcanic tuff. Classic Oregon scrapheap.
Pete and I sitting on the summit, 7844 feet. Mt. Jefferson is the big pyramid in the background:
The way down was a bit easier. We rappelled off the summit down the knob wall and a short hike brought us back to The Crawl. Since The Crawl is a traversing ledge the rap proved a little tricky. Pete had never rappelled before that day, and I wanted him to go first so I could ensure he was fastened in correctly. He attempted to take an angle descent.
But he couldn't quite hold the cliff and wound up swinging wildly back below the anchor, right to the spot he needed to be. He ribbed me later about missing The Decisive Moment and I have to say he was right. Would've made a great photo. Oh well. From there it was a short scramble over rotten scree to the bottom of The Crawl.
I followed with a rap, met him on the ridge and we descended to Annie who'd lost her shade by now and was rather thirsty. This was the first flat spot we'd seen in a while so we decided it would be the lunch area. Pete broke out the monster sub he'd made that morning, avacado, cheese, lettuce, mustard, tomato, on a huge roll. There was even enough left over for Annie. Sandwich at Annie. After lunch Pete made a goofy pose leaning on the distant summit.
We scrambled down scree and snow to footprints leading South. The PCT again. It wasn't long before we ran once more into Hungarian Bob who'd moved about a mile along the trail but was still unsure which way he should go or how to proceed or if he should just camp right there. This time we didn't chat as long. The prints made a clear path. The weather was clear. One way or another he was almost guaranteed to survive.
The 5 miles back to the trailhead went fairly quickly. We solved more shit. We even planned a bloggers backpacking conference. That morning I'd been anxious to leave the parking lot and sound of nearby Highway 20 but now it was the opposite. After a long hike there is no finer sight possible than the reflective gleam of a windshield.
We reached the cars, pulled off our boots, and cracked open the last three remaining beers. Then Pete had the brilliant idea of using the melted cooler water as a foot soak. So we removed the food and had at it. I could only keep my feet in for about 10 seconds. I'm an ice cold wimp.
Pete lasted longer. I captured him with my last Instax photo.
But alas we couldn't soak all day in a filthy cooler. Pete had a punk show in Portland to attend that night. I hadn't been home in three days so I had to deal with domestic duties. We dumped the cooler water, packed up the gear, and piled into our respective cars. Pete was borrowing a late model BMW with touch sensitive trunk. One of those cars you hold your hands near the button and it senses you and opens. After a day of exertion it was good to have something like that, something that was automatic and easy.
Leaving the parking lot I realized it was 4:55 PM, 24 hours to the minute after I'd met Pete the day before. I think we solved some shit. Wish I'd taken notes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)