Sunday, August 17, 2008

Quiz #4

Below is a list of birth years and birth places for 10 well known photographers. For each date and place, you must determine the photographer. When you've completed the list, the initials of the photographers can be rearranged to form the name of another well known photographer born in Calcutta, India in 1815.

The first person to correctly identify all 11 photographers receives a free print.

1. 1840, New York, NY
2. 1902, San Francisco, CA
3. 1907, Poughkeepsie, NY
4. 1913, Budapest, Hungary
5. 1923, New York, NY
6. 1923, Graz, Austria
7. 1928, Paris, France
8. 1934, Detroit, MI
9. 1937, Orange, NJ
10. 1953, Washington, DC

Friday, August 15, 2008

Miscellaneous roundup

Last spring I posted thoughts by Colin Wood, the subject of Diane Arbus' famous Grenade Boy photo. Following up on that, I've just discovered a Washington Post article (courtesy of The Year in Pictures) in which David Segal interviews Wood along with several other Arbus subjects, including the twins on her monograph cover. Great reading!

Anderson Cooper photographed as an infant by Diane Arbus

In other news, Chas Bowie has finally grabbed the reigns and performed a service that was long overdue: A regularly updated monthly critique of Portland photo shows. Thanks Chas! It's amazing that with all the photographic activity in the city Bowie is the first to tackle this. (I ran a top 60 photo shows list when I lived in Portland but it was less of a critique than compilation of personal preferences). Bowie is a smart critic and terse writer, and hopefully he can offer insight and guidance into what has become an exciting scene. His August review seemed to hit the nail on the head for each show.

Closer to home, two Eugene shows last month perfectly summed up the city's somewhat schizophrenic nature. Photozone had its annual group show at Emerald Art Center. I will probably ruffle some feathers when I say the show was generally amateur and cliche-ridden. Oceanscapes, waterfalls, hyper-saturated digital creations, you get the idea. Did I mention weathered barns? I guess I knew what to expect going in but still couldn't help feeling disappointed. After all, Photozone is supposedly the area's premier photography club. Oh well. Images from that show were quickly supplanted as I stopped on the ride home to catch Edward Burtynsky's photographs of China, for which the Jordan Schnitzer has wisely dedicated the entire main hall upstairs. The Burtynsky stuff was big and powerful in every way, from the size of the prints to the scale of the industrial scenes depicted to the general scope of modernization sweeping through China. If you have a hard to getting your head around the maelstrom of change that is contemporary China, this show is the pinprick that will explode your mental bubble. I couldn't help come away from the show with my nagging sense further affirmed that we as a planet are all fucked. Maybe a nice happy waterfall photo would cheer me up?

From Edward Burtynsky's China series

I know it's not fair to compare Photozone to Burtynsky. I just thought the fact that both shows sat side by side for a month really crystallized the nature of the arts scene here. On the one hand, Eugene embodies more intellect, expression and culture than should be expected of a city its size. On the other hand, it is basically a provincial outpost struggling to find identity in the post-timber age.

Lastly, in June I posted a note about the remaindering of Jeff Mermelstein's No Title Here. Looking through the latest Daedulus Books catalog, it seems the cover price of that book has been slashed even further, this time to $7.98. That's right, for about the price of two rolls of film you can buy one of the best photo books out there. If you are at all interested in street photography, you should own this book. No excuses.

Thursday, August 14, 2008

What's so special about the Eiffel Tower?

I shoot a pretty wide range of subject matter. Perhaps the thing that best ties it all together is that I am interested in my immediate surroundings, in the visual vernacular. I don't have much interest in visiting exotic countries or shooting celebrities, or anything else that has been deemed culturally "special". I know it sounds cliche but to me, the special is in the everyday.

Eugene Atget, Le Cirque

The more I shoot this way, the more amazed I am that Atget never shot the Eiffel Tower. Never! He took up photography in the 1890s shortly after the tower was completed. From that point onward he must've seen the thing popping above streets and roofs from all angles. Every journey into some Parisian neighborhood, the tower was present in the background. It would seem to be a natural draw for a photographer. Iconic. Romantic. Powerful. It would be like visiting Yosemite for 40 years and never shooting a waterfall. Wasn't he tempted, at least once? What made that guy tick? What kept him so focused on "nonspecial" subject matter?

I'm thinking about this today because I've been going through film from the past few weeks. The photos that seem to work best, the scenes I am drawn most to, are those with a wide range of distance. You can seem something close by, something a little further, a third thing at maybe 100 feet, and then some hills or trees in the distance. These are the scenes that seem to best convey the nature of my surroundings, and that best array visual information.

From the Big Pink series

If I was shooting this style in Paris, the thing that would pop up in a lot of backgrounds is the Tower. The Tower would be my visual plaything. I would layer it, compositionally squeeze it, hide it, put it in windows, treat it like photographic silly putty the way I've treated Portland's Big Pink. It wouldn't be in every photo but it would at least be in some of them.

Not Atget. But why not? Why did he, as appears evident, make an effort not to include it in any photos? It wasn't that he was averse to documenting iconic structure. When he chose to he could send a viewer's attention to the skyline:



Perhaps the answer to this question reveals a key to Atget, something that explains why he's Atget and I'm, well, just me.
I think Atget considered the Eiffel Tower too much of a celebrity. Sure, it was vernacular, but it was also culturally "special". I want to reach back through time and tell me, "It's OK, Eugene, the thing's right in your backyard. People might consider it special but it belongs in your immediate surroundings. You can shoot the thing." Would I be lying?

Friday, August 8, 2008

Candid Camera

A lot of Jackass isn't that funny. There's only so much one can take of people flipping golf carts or punching each other in the scrotum. It's amusing but not deep. The Jackass scenes that I do find funny are the ones which mentally tweak bystanders. For example, in one scene they call a cab for the airport. As the cabbie is lifting luggage from the curb, one of the duffels unzips and a dwarf emerges naked and bound in ducktape who begins running away shouting for help. WHAT IN THE...?!? This scene is repeated a few times with fresh cabbies and each time the cabbie jumps about a foot in the air.

What makes this funny-slash-absurd is that an incongruity is being forced on someone who doesn't expect it. You're shoving something mysterious in someone's face and the question becomes, "How is your worldview going to encompass this?" At that precise moment of shock is an "Aha!" moment, a zen-master's slap with a slick, the type of awakening a good street shot can create.

I have a few ideas for Jackass scenes. I'd like to do one in which a person emerges soaking wet from the restroom of a crowded airport, perhaps O'Hare or Hartsfield-Jackson. Another idea is to visit the scene of a long line, perhaps at a concert or sold-out sporting event, or maybe just at a supermarket around 5 pm. I'd like to walk in front of the line and cut in with no explanation, just to see how folks react. I believe worldviews would get pissed.

O'Hare's United Terminal designed by Helmut Jahn

Last weekend at the NW Reviews I came up with another. At the end of the weekend there was a big rooftop soirée on top of the Blue Sky building. All the participants and reviewers were there along with assorted Portland photographic glitterati. Movers and shakers were moving and shaking. I thought it would be a great environment for a telephoto lens. I'm talking about the huge lenses you see at pro sporting events, the ones which are so big and bulky that the camera body hangs off one end like a little speck. The rooftop soirée was the ideal environment to hang one of those around your neck. Like, here I am! I'm a BSD, and my lens is longer than yours! Perhaps a loud Hawaiian shirt would complement the effect. I wouldn't use the lens, it would just hang limply. Maybe I could swing it around to knock over a drink. I don't know. I just think it would be funny to see how fine art photographers reacted to such a spectacle.


I'm guessing the lens would not look to them like a zen master's stick.

Sigh,...I think I've been living alone for too long. Tab and the kids return Monday from Maine.

Thursday, August 7, 2008

Everyday photos

When I printed at U-Develop in the 1990s, a man whose name escapes me used the darkroom sometimes. For one of his projects he limited himself to one exposure per day. At the end of each year he would line the U-Develop stairwell with a grid of all 365 images, some of which were quite strong. This was back in the days of film, and each of these photos was processed and printed by hand. It was quite a project.

In the digital age, the one-photo-per-day idea seems to have caught on like wildfire. There are a huge number of such projects out there, ranging from the personal work of Doug Plummer or Joseph O. Holmes to composite filters such as Flak Photo, to the sublime weirdness of Noah Kalina's self portraits, just to name a handful.

July 31st, 2008 by Joseph O. Holmes

Generally I approach these projects with a leery eye. The constraint of finding one photo per day seems a bit artificial. Some days you might take five great shots and it could be another week before another good one turns up. That is the rhythm of photography. To package this rhythm into a one-a-day box seems a bit forced. Also, there's a certain motivational factor lurking in the background --"I'm going to kickstart my photography by forcing myself to keep my camera handy and find a photo today!" -- that I find bothersome. To me, the urge to take photographs should be so strong that no project should be necessary. I mean, it goes without saying that a photographer is naked without a camera.

August 3, 2008 by Doug Plummer

All of which is prelude to my discovery of Byron Wolfe's (no relation) book Everyday. When I first came across the title at the U of O library my inititial instinct was to pass, based on all my prejudices outlined above. But the name Byron Wolfe rang a bell. He'd been involved with Mark Klett's Third View series shown at last year's Blue Sky grand opening, and some of the more intriguing photos in that show had actually been taken by him. I started thumbing through the book and I liked what I saw. It went into the takehome pile, and later that evening I had a chance to study it in increments while waiting for negs to scan.


What emerges from the book is an intimate portrait of the everyday life of Byron Wolfe. After looking through it I feel as if I've read a year's worth of his diary. I know his kids, his yard, his work environment, his garden, his chickens, the inside of his car, the repeating syndrome of spills near his kitchen table, all of the small things that make up an everyday (there's that word again) existence. The current that holds everything together is the seasonal cycle. The project begins shortly after Summer Solstice, on Wolfe's birthday, and ends one year later. Many of the images focus on vegetation and weather events, and as the year progresses we see the seasons in the background. We see his young kids age, and by the end of the book we know Wolfe's a year older, and the whole experience made me think for a while about the aging process, about life's cycle, about time torrenting along like a river in flood.

The book is helped along by Wolfe's light touch. These are not crystalline f/64 shots from a tripod. They are not the broad cinematic vistas of Third View. They are snapshots, spontaneously exploring all visual aspects of Wolfe's life. Most of the photos are captioned in a natural, offbeat manner that offers alternative perspective. They celebrate the normal, the vernacular, the nonspecial, and in so doing Wolfe has actually created something special.