Art and Beer

Eugene is an odd place to be a photographer. It's sort of a last-stop town which tends to attracts recluses and iconoclasts. There are many bright people here and even a few geniuses hiding in the woodwork but you'd never know it because people keep to themselves. Do your thing. Live and let live. Earn a Fulbright. Go topless. Whatever. It's very nonsocial in some ways, and that's especially true about the photo scene. There's no center and few galleries. I've lived here 8 years and I know very few photographers still, but that's mostly on me.

That's how I never realized until this week that David Bayles was my neighbor. He lives part-time just up the road on Spencer Hollow. I've had David's book on my shelf for many years and I consider it something of a classic. It's sort of about photography but mostly about other topics. And David too is sort of about photography but he's also a conservationist, writer, fly fisher, boater, and many other things. He stopped exhibiting photographs back in the 1980s, he has no photo website, and he lives happily off the photo radar. Search for an Oregon David Bayles online and you're likely to wind up at this site, but that's not him. One of his few online references is an old newspaper profile from 1980 which describes him living in the woods outside of town, with not much interaction with Eugene or the outer world. Thirty-four years later that news article is still pretty accurate.

So his photo show up now at Capper's caught me by surprise. A world-class photographer crammed into a hastily cleared back room of a busy frame shop with no advertising or fuss. Typical Eugene. For Bayles it's his first photo show in 30+ years. They are color landscapes shot in various places, some as recently as two weeks ago. The photos are very quiet and contemplative. They have a sort of elderly presence like an old cliff watching over a beach of youngsters. Nothing too flashy, but they're well seen. Plus it's David Bayles. The David Bayles. I found his email address in the show's accompanying text, asked him out for a beer, and two nights ago we met for a while to talk shop. 

I'd suggested The Beer Stein because it's central with a good tap selection. Unwittingly I'd picked the same building where David had written much of Art and Fear many years ago. Back then it had been an odd jumble of restaurants stabled under one collective roof. Now it was just one establishment, a large open pub. David had come here because someone had advised him it was easier to write in public settings. Less distractions. And it had worked for him back then. But looking around the pub I wasn't so sure. The wet hopped pale ale in front of me seemed like at least one possible distraction.

It turns out David and I have some things in common aside from being neighbors. Like me, he greatly values his monthly art salon where he can engage with friends and get feedback about current work. And like me, he has to travel to his. It's in Carmel, California. He spends about 40% of his time down there. The Center For Photographic Art (awesome URL) is the focus for most of his photo connections. Yikes. Carmel! And I thought Portland was a helluva commute. Anything for the cause though. 

David came to Eugene originally to pursue his MFA. That didn't work out so well. He soured on grad school, soured on exhibiting photos, and eventually found his muse at home in the woods, with the occasional photo/fishing trip thrown in. He met everyone in the biz back in the 1970s, and those connections still allow him to do workshops, mostly in California. Art and Fear has never fallen out of print and has just been translated into its eighth language —David's t-shirt read Kunst und Angst. He's got a pretty good setup. The world comes to him, not vice versa.

Listening to him talk I found myself again and again nodding my head. Why yeah... That makes sense. And that. And that and that and that. I've basically come to the same place as him independently. I'm basically done pushing my photos on photoland, done trying to convince anyone else to care about them. I'm just gonna hang out in the woods and deal with them on my own terms. Typical Eugene. 

I think we're putting a local salon together beginning in January. We'll each keep our distant groups but it'll be nice to have something local. Eventually we may have to tell some others. Do our thing. Live and let live. Earn a Fulbright. Go topless. Whatever.

Brief Preview

Twenty years after its original publication, authors Colin Westerbeck and Joel Meyerowitz are preparing a new revised edition of Bystander, to be released hopefully in 2015. I asked Joel Meyerowitz a few questions about the new edition.

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BA: What was the motivation to produce a second revised edition of Bystander? 

JM: This is the 3rd revision. We need to keep track of everything that is happening in the genre, particularly when the internet has added so many new  voices to it. We also have the opportunity to make a newly designed edition since the demise of our first publisher.

Were there things in the original version you regret or wish you could change?

We regretted that back then Robert Frank was reluctant to have his work published in history books. We are hoping that with time and the place this book has earned that he will willingly allow the work to be added.

The first edition of Bystander helped organize and describe various strands in street photography. And by definition it also served as a historical marker, summing  up the state of the art at a specific date. Do you think there is a risk with Bystander of conveying street photography as a historic, old fashioned process whose time has come and gone? 

Our goal and point of view is to show how valuable and dynamic street photography still is, and how seriously new minds have brought fresh attitudes to bear on a form that has always been difficult for the art world to accept and find valuable. We still feel that this form is at the very heart of photography, basically a purely original photographic genre which does not take from the more conventional forms that belonged first to painting, such as; still life, portrait, landscapes, directorial mise en scene, etc. 

Do you think the basic nature of making street photographs has changed since the original edition? And if so, how?

There are implicit restraints and even resentment these days, from a general public whose fears about internet exposure make them constantly on the alert for people who might put them in some compromised situation. And, for example; in Paris there are laws forbidding this kind of approach, laws so daunting that Cartier-Bresson would have found it nearly impossible to make his work there on his home territory. That is just on the street side of the question. On the photographers side we have seen certain tropes appearing that reveal how much the actual street itself has changed, take Natan Dvir's work as an example; his response to the oversized scale of advertising on the boulevards of the world has produced a fresh approach to the way street photography usually describes the street. And we have seen far too many examples of photographers playing point-counterpoint with signage interacting in an ironic or humorous way with pedestrian traffic. We have also seen a more aggressive brand of in your face work in the style of Bruce Gilden, which is a punishing assault on innocent people all for the look of shock on their faces.

Are you still an active street shooter? Are you an active viewer/consumer of street photography?

Yes! I carry a Leica with me every day and find myself still looking to see what a man of my age might find interesting out on the streets now. There is a big difference between being 30 and dancing on the street and being 75. And by being 75 I recognize that I have seen a lot of street life so how do I not simply repeat myself but push on to seeing things that are fresh to me now?

You have one foot in the art world. How do you think that community views street photography generally?

I have both feet in the art world. I stopped making my living commercially, as a means of supporting my personal work, back in 1990 and I have always heard first hand from the many dealers I have worked with how difficult it was for them to convince their clients of the value of street photography. People generally don't get the art of it and would rather see some fashion shot or interior, or objects that have rusted and been colored up by time rather than do the hard work of looking which street photography demands. Yes, there are some great collectors who love our side of the game, but the greater collecting part of the art world prefers setups, conceptual, and easier work.

What's your most basic definition of street photography?

Street photography is at its best when the instantaneous consciousness of the photographer reveals, or draws, new meaning from the ordinary acts of human behavior and daily life.

Fifty-Fifty

Critical Mass Top 50 resequenced according to immediate visual cues:

Blue Sky Books

When I first heard about the new Blue Sky Books program it seemed almost too good to be true. Not only were there dozens of titles by some great photographers, but the books were very reasonably priced. Every title is an open edition printed on demand by Magcloud. If you enjoy racing to buy limited first editions before other collectors, these ain't for you. These are cheap and indefinitely accessible. The thinnest books are $10 while some of the larger ones, running 90+ images, fetch maybe $25. If you've purchased photobooks lately you know that's a relative bargain. 

But the biggest draw is the photographers. I was familiar with many from past Blue Sky shows, and some were new to me. And I liked just about all of them, but of the whole lot (37 photographers) I owned just two books. That's because until now few of these photographers had published monographs, and even fewer were still in print. The Blue Sky shows went up, they came down, and a few months later my memory began to fade. That's where books can help.

Well, here they were in permanent ink. It seemed like a good opportunity, so late one October night in a moment of weakness I wound up ordering seven. They came last week and I'm pleasantly surprised. The Magcloud print quality is pretty darned good. It's not up to Steidl or Mack standards, mind you, but it's comparable to National Geographic or The New Yorker. 

Maybe I should back up a minute to say that Blue Sky Books aren't exactly books. They more closely resemble a sturdy photo journal like Aperture or Blindspot. The cover is stiff and would probably repel a light spill, but it's not a true book binding. The interior pages are thin and glossy. There are no visual fireworks, not even a spine caption. So the word "books" is perhaps a misnomer. But Blue Sky Books sounds better than Blue Sky Magazines, so I understand the marketing strategy.

The other way they're not books is in the production and editing. The word "photobook" nowadays has come to mean so much more than just a collection of images bound in a book. Emphasis is placed on the design, sequencing, materials, references to tradition and to other books, combination of forms, the works. Many photobooks are collectible art pieces in their own right. The cart pulls the horse, and the actual photographs —the process of going out into the world to record what's there– almost seem like an afterthought. 

Not so with Blue Sky Books. No, these titles are quite plain. Most follow the same formula, with one photo after another printed at uniform size, captioned along the bottom. If the sequences feel a bit like walking along a gallery wall, it's because each of these books are taken directly from Blue Sky exhibitions. The Blue Sky books don't exactly replace the gallery experience, but they're the next best thing if you didn't make the original show, or if you want a nice souvenir to remember it by. Souvenir. Does that word sound tacky? Does it sound a million miles away from fine art publishing? Well, maybe at least once in a while, it's nice to see a book like this with no pretention beyond the simple goal of showing kick-ass photos. No collectibility, no year-end list, just pictures for the sake of pictures.

Here's the 8 I have so far (7 bought plus a freebie). There's not a bad one in the bunch. My purchasing bias here is pretty evident. I tend to like photographers who pull directly from reality without too much preconceptual or postproduction influence. That's generally also true of Blue Sky, but not always. So we're a good match. Maybe you are too? If so, take the plunge and buy a few.

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I got Julie Mihaly's The View From Here mostly out of curiosity, because I'm a recovering Diana addict and I don't see a lot of Diana work in print. The Instagram revolution seems to have swept it aside, and Holga before that, leaving us with Rexroth, Blakemore, a Friends of Photography compilation, and that's about it. But at one point in the 1970s Diana was the plastic art camera of choice. Begun during the Diana heyday, this series showed at Blue Sky in 1982, then continued until 2006. The work here is inconsistent, with a few clunkers to go along with many nicely seen pix. A tighter edit would've helped. But if you've got the Diana jones —One word: Plastics— this book is a must.

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Ken Graves and Eva Lipman's Proms approaches the bewitching high school ritual with a sly street sensibility. The photos use direct flash to catch kids in odd juxtapositions and expressions, with the harsh glare of monochrome mixing layers to add confusion. Fans of Public Relations or Billy Monk will dig this. I have no idea how the couple got access. The series was exhibited in 1993 and probably shot during the 1980s when people were less squeamish about kids and cameras. I think it would be very difficult for an outsider to shoot this style of voyeuristic candid photography during proms now.

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Bill McCullough's Technicolor Life is well named. This project has a very unusual color palette which falls somewhere between 1960s TV and recent hypersaturated digital. I'm not sure what's going on but the moments are great. McCullough shot them all during private event assignments but they appear to be out-takes with no practical application. Combining a street photographer's sense of timing and chopped framing with a commercial photographer's mastery of lighting and intimate access, McCullough creates Mise-en-scènes so perfectly quirky they look montaged. Who knows how he made them. I'm not going to pry too deeply. I'll take him at his word. Good stuff.

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For someone with big accomplishments under her belt, Mary Frey continues to fly under the radar. Domestic Rituals is the only book I've seen by her and that's a shame. These photos are wonderful. Bang-Bang-Bang perfect moments which take their cue from the 1970s street scene. Imagine Henry Wessel combined with Michael Jang, twisted by an offbeat sense of humor. It's the full package. 

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I've been a fan of Karl Baden's for a while. Contact Sheet 106 is amazing, as is his Covering Photography site. Both show evidence of a playful iconoclast at work. Sex, Death, and the History of Photography, which bounced around on Facebook last year, does the same. Now it appears in print form, collected in Work from Two Bodies. But the real hit here is the second body in question, Cliche-Verre and Shadow Pictures. This odd series doesn't look like much at first, until you realize the level of precise detail involved in the process. Painting on negatives! Who does that? It's an homage to photo history, an exploration of Pre-Photoshop possibilities, and visual pranks which recall Magritte. I'm a sucker for photographer interviews, and this issue comes with a nice long Q & A discussing Baden's process.

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Mary Berridge's On The Eve may be my favorite book in the series. Her photographs of Post-Soviet Russia on the brink of Putin's hammer show a country adrift, free, and full of photographic potential. It's Hornstra meets Keizo, but more finely tuned than either, with Martin Kollar's sense of precision. Photographically Mary Berridge nails it, and the sequencing is also fine. Of all the Blue Sky books I've seen this one is probably most similar to the contemporary book spirit. The editing is loose and dreamy, narrative without being predictable. By the end you feel you've visited 1990s Russia.

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Ford Gilbreath is another old favorite. He self-published one monograph in the early 1980s combining street photos, hand painting, infrared, panoramics, and just about everything else you're not supposed to do nowadays. It was one of the first photobooks I ever bought and I was an immediate fan. 1997-2012 collects some of his more recent experiments, including nighttime marsh scenes shot from an aquarium tank, outdoor flatscans, stereoscopic views (with no viewer, sadly), and vertical slit composites with a homemade 8 x 10. In lesser hands these might feel gimmicky. But Gilbreath instead gives the sense of a free spirit following his muse, with complete disregard for convention or outside opinion.

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Full disclosure: I can't report impartially on M. Bruce Hall's Promised Land. Not only is Bruce a friend but I wrote the afterword. So there's that. But even if I'd stumbled on this book out of the blue it would win me over. If your mental image of Los Angeles is movie stars, liposuction, and sports cars, these photos will bust your myth. Bruce's B/W photos of 1980s downtown L.A. build a dark, gritty world of deferred promise. He spent 10 years shooting photos, then showed them to very few people before they were first exhibited at Blue Sky in 2007. Then they were lost to history for a while more —Bruce has no website and he may have moved to Mexico by now— before this publication rescued them for posterity. If you like classic street photography, buying this is a no brainer. 

Hold still, this will only hurt a sec

Target audience descriptions for selected photography sites...

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The Online Photographer: Older hobbyists with disposable income, 17 digital cameras meticulously shelved in the mancave, and a strong working knowledge of the zone system

Reciprocity Failure: San Francisco Peaceniks, conspiracy theorists, and the marginalized silent majority

The Great Leap Sideways: Scrabble nuts and Cunning linguists

Flak Photo: Olive Garden regulars

Prison Photography: Pussy liberal softies and the occasional felon

The Photobook: Visual thinkers

Collector's Daily: Old New York money, personal assistants, and serious critics

Lens Blog: Empty nesters in Long Island or New Jersey who must impose daily narrative structure on the infosphere lest it overwhelm

MPD: Potheads who think they're watching a glitchy movie trailer

The Literate Lens: Photo librarians, their thermoses ever brimming with chamomile

Eric Kim: Discovered photography 8 months ago, streets are now a life passion, seeking affirmation in likeminded souls online

A Photo Editor: Madison Avenue

Lenscratch: Serial emergers who've attended at least 2 portfolio reviews in the past year

Chase Jarvis: Moderate gearheads

Steve Huff: Hardcore gearheads

Leicaphilia: Thoughtful gearheads

HAFNY: Prius owners

Photocritic International: Windows XP holdouts who fondly recall the Golden Age of photography when Plebeians spoke when spoken to, and before this confounded internet had opened the floodgates to the masses

Photographs On the Brian: Photo nerds, deep walkers, and filtered 12 year olds seeking softcore

Fototazo: South Americans, Midwestern Americans, and fans of The Americans

Paper Journal: The art crowd. Mustaches. Thick framed glasses. Matching $500 jack boots 

Colin Pantall: Incorrigible book collectors living on English estates

Concientious: High school debate coaches, Talmudic scholars, and legal buffs

Sean O'Hagan: Connoisseurs and the jet set

Fraction Magazine: Prone to sprawl naked on the divan gazing dreamily out the window, with laptop handy and door left ajar

Behold: Too stubborn to click on Raw File

Searching For The Light: New York gallery goers and Savant-ish couch surfing thirty-somethings who've seen it all

Lens Culture: Leave Aperture visible on the coffee table but read Smithsonian when no one is looking 

Street Level Japan: Exiled Japanophiles

Peta Pixel: Wall Street traders, coke addicts, and adrenalin junkies

Photobooth: Can't decide which is more profound: Tintypes or New Yorker cartoons

Instagram: Fameballs

B: You