ku # 531 ~ on seeing

Fallen tree and red berries • click
to embiggenAre you ever shocked when you realize that some of things that you do without thinking - things that are "second nature" to you - seem to be very foreign concepts to others?

Say, like ... walking, chewing gum, and breathing all at the same time. Some can do it with ease, others end up tripping all over themselves. Now maybe that's bit of an exaggeration, but you probably get the point.

In any event, I have become very aware, over the past year in particular, that a whole lot of people simply don't see in the way that I see. Some might opine that that's because I have, as a photographer, "trained my eye" to see things that others don't notice but, as I have mentioned before, that ability / condition / freak of nature / whatever you want to call it has been with me long before I ever picked up a camera. When I think about it, I am consciously aware of my propensity for intense looking as far back as early childhood. Consequently, you could say that looking and seeing are second nature to me.

And, in fact, since early childhood, I have always had a desire / need to express that looking / seeing as some form of visual "art". Throughout my youthful festering, I was repeatedly plucked from the obscurity of the lunch box rabble / blackboard jungle and presented with awards, adulation, privileges, honors, and, yes, even cold hard cash simply by doing what came easy - drawing things that I saw all around me.

Oddly enough, even though I grew up literally in the shadow of the Great Yellow Father, AKA, Kodak in Rochester NY, I never picked up a camera in earnest until I found myself living in Japan. I wanted to take pictures of the place / experience, cameras were dirt cheap and, once again, within 3 months of buying my first camera, a Petri 7s, I was plucked from obscurity and given awards, privileges, and a cushy job (as a photographer) because I was doing something that came easy - making pictures of things that I saw all around me.

Now, 41 years after that photo-awakening, I can look back upon a life in photography. It's how I made a living and how I expressed my personal looking and seeing (and continue to do both) and I have to say that the picture making always seemed easy and second nature to me.

So, it comes as a surprise to me that most others do not look and see in anything like the manner I do. It has become increasingly obvious to me that most people are almost blind to the physical world around them. They seem to look and see enough just to navigate (I mean that literally) their way around the planet but beyond that actually take notice of very little of the physical world that they inhabit.

2 cases in point -

Yesterday's picture of my picture. This framed picture, 44×30 inches, sits right inside our front door - the door that everyone uses to come and go through. One does not actually have to navigate around it when coming and going but I am at a loss to figure how anyone could not see it. So, imagine my surprise when I asked a friend of coma girl what she thought of the picture and the response was, "What picture?". I responded, "The rainbow picture." She responded, "What rainbow picture?"

It should be noted that this person had to have come and gone many times since the picture made its appearance. Apparently, it was "invisible". But even more amazing was the fact that, once we were standing in front of it, she asked, "Where was this picture taken?" I was flabbergasted - it was taken on a stretch of main highway that she must have driven by, oh, say, about a billion times in the last 19 years of her life. Once I explained where it was, she could even name the people who lived there but apparently she never "noticed" the place before. Simply amazing.

The Jersey Shore. The wife has been going to the Jersey Shore, Stone Harbor in particular, for, oh, say, 40+ years or so. It's a family affair (and it's a big family). When I first began to picture the place in earnest, 2 years ago, her response to the pictures was simply, "When I go to the Shore, that's not what I see."

Yikes.

What the hell else is there to see? Apparently, the physical world of Stone Harbor is just an incidental backdrop to family, friends, and fun. Nothing wrong or (apparently) unusual about that but I am left wondering if she would notice the physical surroundings if the family got together on the moon. Maybe. Maybe not.

It is often remarked, when someone does something remarkably stupid, "Where was he/she when they passed out the brains?" I am beginning to wonder, "Where the hell were they when they passed out the eyes?"

ku # 531 ~ it's hip to be square

Summit cloud ~ Whiteface
click to embiggenOn yesterday's entry Andreas Manessinger had a few questions:

All your images are square .... but you most probably shoot with a 3:2 format camera ... How do you compose for square images? and, And now that I think of it: why square at all?

Why square? Well, first and foremost, I just have a feel and like for the square picture - it just feels right for the way I see the world. Not that I have any issues at all with rectangular pictures and lord knows I have made a zillion of them in commercial work. And, if you checked out my 8×10 view camera stuff, you know that I can handle myself well in the rectangular world.

But, I have always had a preference in my personal work for square pictures with a minor in the panoramic format and the late and much lamented SX-70 Polaroid square. I think that one of the reasons I really like the square is because the center of the frame is equidistant from the the 4 corners of the frame and much of what I want to direct the viewers attention to is at least somewhat centered in the frame. or, in some the cases, the visual action/energy "rotates" around the center of the frame.

I also know that the eye is more constrained within a square frame - there is less room to room. Since most of my pictures are also rather chock full of visual activity, to my eye and sensibility, the square (and the black edge) helps keep the viewer more focused on what I want them to see. The square creates a "tighter" composition, if you want to think in terms of "composition".

As to the question of how I compose within the entire visual field of the viewfinder, it's just a matter of experience. I know, within a very minor tolerance, how much of the viewfinder field I will be eliminating to get my square. This simply a matter of having it done it for so long. And, even though I just added a 3×2 format camera (Pentax K20D) to my longtime 4×3 format camera (Olympus 4/3rds), there has been no problem at all adapting to that viewfinder. 99.9% of the time, I crop a virtually equal amount of image off of both ends of the frame (give or take a hair width or two) in order to get my square picture.

That said, I do wish some sensor maker would grace use with a square sensor. One of the problems I have with the digital camera world is that, if the manufacturers don't see a BIG market in it, it won't exist. Sadly, unless you picture with film, there is no square viewfinder anymore.

ku # 529 ~ the vultures come home to roost in Shangri La

Turkey vulture (buzzard) • click to embiggenI assume that most of you understood my 4th of July upside down flag intentions. As Aaron correctly pointed out (in answer to a question about it), a US flag flown upside down is a signal of distress. This is the second year running that I have posted an upside down flag image on July 4th. IMO, if there had been blogging 30 years ago, I could have been doing it every year since then.

CAVEAT: this entry is actually about photography's ability to illustrate and illuminate the real and the truth - although that may not be clear until you reach the end of the entry.

I don't know how many of you took the time to read the linked article on the July 4th post. As Kent opined, it's "A scary, theoretical piece ...", which is true enough. The piece does lean heavily on political and economic theory - something that most Americans have little time to consider as they go about living their merry disillusions.

Nevertheless, all that theoretical rumination has a living, breathing, practical, everyday-life side. I've seen it coming for over 30 years or more. You can read about it in Part 2 of the (UK) Telegraph piece, America and China: The Eagle and the Dragon Part two: Requiem for a dream.

IMO, the most pertinent point of the article is as follows:

Once symbolic of optimism and certainty, America's credit-crunched suburbs may be facing a decline as dramatic as that of Detroit, itself once a beacon of industry ... America took all of its postwar wealth and invested it in a living arrangement that has no future ... The design of our living arrangement is simply inconsistent with the energy realities of the future. But Americans are just not able to process this. If you look hard enough at America, what you discover is a shockingly infantile belief system, with two fundamental ideas that are deleterious to our future. There's a widespread belief in America that it's possible to get something for nothing, and that mentality has been very destructive to our society. The other idea that has become normative is that when you wish upon a star your dream comes true. These two things have become the basis of the new American ideology ....

Since 1993, I have been calling this "ideology" the I'm not going to pay a lot for this muffler school of life. This nomenclature comes from the mouth of George Foreman in a tv commercial for Meineke Muffler.

This statement just about sums up life in America since the Reagan years - those are the years in which most Americans come to fully believe and endorse the idea - propagated by the big-business class, aka, vultures - that living the good life meant having things, lots of things, and the cheaper those thing could be, the better.

No thought given to the idea of what not paying a lot for that muffler (tv, car, toaster, tee shirt ... or whatever) meant to the American workforce, American cities and towns, American society and culture, and, oh yeah, the global environment. No, no time for that. Everyone was too busy living The Dream. So busy, in fact, that no one noticed that The Dream was little more than a scam by the big-business class to facilitate the largest (and quickest) transfer of wealth (from the middle class to the wealthy beyond imagining class) the world has ever seen.

It may be too late but it's time to wake the fuck up America. Read Part 3 of the Telegraph series, America and China: The Eagle and the Dragon Part Three: onward and upward to see where the money you are spending to not pay a lot for that muffler is actually going (after the big-business class has taken their extremely generous pound of flesh) - the money that used to go to American workers and American cities and towns.

FYI, the thing that got me all worked up over this issue is the wonderful photography of Alec Soth that accompanies the series. Photography that illustrates and illuminates a big heaping dose of the real and the truth - if one only takes the time and makes the effort to see it.

Thanks to Jörg Colberg over on Conscientious for bringing the Telegraph series to my attention.

ku # 528 ~ that accident that pricks me

Marshy evening dew * click to embiggenWhen last we spoke in earnest, it was on the topic of "the real" and how that relates to photographs. As many of you already know, I am a firm believer in photography's ability to illustrate and illuminate much that is real and true. That said, however, this past week I came to new / expanded understanding of the real / true in pictures.

For the past 7 months, I have been viewing pictures of my new grandson, Helmut. Helmut lives across the continent in Seattle and, until a week and a half ago, we had never met face-to-face. So, via the web, I followed him in pictures as he progressed from a newborn to a 7 month-old. As I now know, the pictures certainly and accurately portrayed Helmut's visage and, from my personal experience with my other grandson, Hugo, I could intuit, with the visual aid of the pictures, a modest amount of Helmut's personality.

After spending a week with Helmut in the flesh, all of the pictures I had viewed up until that point took on adding meaning and understanding. The pictures I made of him are now rich with "detail". Pictures of Helmut are now incredibly "real and true".
Now he's real • click to embiggenNow, there is a specificity that accompanies the previous generality contained in the pictures of him. There is a heightened sense of the specifics of Helmut in addition to the general sense of "infant" or "baby".

Lest you think that this is just the babbling of an infatuated grandparent, let me point out, photography-wise, that this heightened experience is exactly what Roland Barthes was writing about in his Camera Lucida re: studium and punctum:

studium denoting the cultural, linguistic, and political interpretation of a photograph - the general, and, punctum denoting the wounding, personally touching detail which establishes a direct relationship with the object or person within it - the specific.

Barthes went so far as to state:

The second and far more interesting element for the spectator is punctum. There are two kinds of punctum. The first is that which is "that accident which pricks, bruises me." It is the unintentional detail that could not not be taken, and that "fills the whole picture." Barthes says there is no rule that can be applied to the existence of studium and punctum within a photo except that "it is a matter of co-presence." These are the photos which take our breath away for some reason that was completely unintended by the photographer (or by the subject, for that matter). It is at the moment when the punctum strikes that the photograph will "annihilate itself as medium to be no longer a sign but the thing itself."

Now, I know that a picture of Helmut is not Helmut. But I also know that, especially now, the pictures are not only a true and accurate image of him but also that the feelings and emotions I experience when viewing a picture of him are as true, real, and complex as those I experience with him in the flesh.

Any questions? Thoughts? Ideas?

ku # 527 ~ getting real

Tangled fallen trees • click to embiggenOne of the comments that I regularly encounter, re: the truth and the real, especially as those notions apply to my conceptual approach and practical to making pictures, is the absolute relativist's claim that there is no absolute truth and that any notion of the nature of reality is highly speculative.

Now, I like to sit around with friends (and some drink) and speculate (philosophically, of course) about such matters and it's all very .... well .... speculative and philosophical.

That's all well and good, of course, but at the end of the day, what matters most is where the rubber meets the road - how, based on all that speculative and philosophical stuff, one actually lives one's life. And, what is obvious to any aware, sensate, and sentient human being is that, in order to live a decent life in a sane society, he/she must agree upon commonly held / shared truths (derived from reality) which become the glue that holds it all together. Some of these truths are even thought to self-evident.

I bring this up for 2 reasons; 1) because my next couple entries will be about my re-writing of my artist statement as it applies to both my ku and decay & disgust bodies of work - both of which are wrapped up in notions of the real and truth; and, 2) because the irrepressible Mark Meyer has "stated", "... What I did say (and I stand by it) is that you don't have a privileged view of the Real world", and, that my tag line - photography that aims at being true ... - is either "silly", "insane", or, quite possibly both.

Regarding item #2, just let me state unequivocally that I, in fact, do have a "privileged" view of the real world - at the very least, the real world of the Adirondacks. I live here. I know it intimately. I am immersed in both it's past and present cultural and natural history. I know and live the rhythms of its natural cycles, its topography, its uniqueness as a model of sustainability on the planet (and all of the cultural / societal realities, past and present, that have had and continue to have a profound influence on the shaping of that reality).

It short, I live here and I am "privileged" to be able to do so. By exploring, in depth, as many of the possibilities of that privilege as I am able, I have, indeed, arrived at a place of "a privileged view of the Real world", Adirondack-style. For one to deny that would be ... well ... more than a bit "silly". And, if not "insane", at the very least, a denial of reality.

PS a note to Don who didn't know that Art could be so "testy" - art without passion is no Art at all.

ku # 526 ~ guest host anyone?

Limb, moss, lichen • click to embiggenIt's that time again - this coming Saturday, the wife, the kids, the kids' kids, the ex, and a few assorted friends head out for a week in Shangri La. Really. Shangri-La, right here in the Adirondacks.

So what that means is that I am once again (like this time last year) extending an invitation for a one week stint as Guest Host here on The Landscapist. I'll give you the keys, you can fire it up and take it for a spin where ever you want to go. The only thing I ask is for at least an entry a day (more, if you like), next Monday through Friday - this Sunday and next Saturday are optional.

I'd like to stipulate that this is first come, first served but, if more than one volunteer steps forward, I am open to splitting the week up.

In any event, he who hesitates is lost. So, step right up and give me a email - last entry on the Navigation section on the right.

FYI, this picture is the one of my all-time favorites candidate from last week's forced march.

ku # 525 ~ thinking, thinking, thinking

QIntessential high peaks region river • click to embiggenYesterday I mentioned a waning enthusiasm for my landscape ku picturing. I guess that should come as no surprise after making more than 1,000 ku pictures.

Nevertheless, this week I did something that I have never done before - forced myself to take a hike with the intent of making ku pictures. The word "forced" may be too strong in as much as taking a hike up here is hardly a disagreeable thing whatever your intent but I did have to will myself to do it (where's the u-shaped electric cattle prod when you need it?) in a manner to which I was unaccustomed.

That said, the point of the exercise was to see, once I was out there, if the natural world was still speaking to me in the way it has up until this point, which could be summed up like this - I listen. Nature speaks. I picture. Or, like this:

That's one of the problems about taking pictures, some people think when they are taking pictures ... they shouldn't think, thinking is bad for taking pictures. Thinking is good for conceptualizing. Taking pictures has to do with seeing things, being surprised, being interested, it is not about thinking, it is about discovering." - Eliott Erwitt

Of course, Erwitt (and I) are speaking about making "conceptual snapshots" - those pictures with which the "mental labour employed in it" is expended well before one takes camera in hand and ventures forth to picture. And, as I mentioned in yesterday's entry, I have been more engaged recently in thinking as part an integral part of the act of picturing - "constructing" and "staging" the visual referents in my decay & disgust pictures.

I must admit that all of this picture-making thinking has led me to a moment of self-doubt about my non-thinking ku picturing - is it just the lazy way of making a picture? You know, you just do a few index finger stretching / flexing reps, use a little Visine, grab a camera, and get to it.

I mean, how hard is that?

OK. OK. Calm down. It is should be obvious from the sheer astronomical number of mediocre and outright bad pictures out there that making good pictures (see Ku # 522 ~ it's a matter of educated opinion for a notion about "good") is not all that easy. But, I think you get my point.

So, you might ask (getting back to the matter at hand), how did the forced march go? Quite well, in fact. Once in the environment, I found the natural world is still singing and speaking and my eye is still seeing. It was a very productive hike, picturing-wise. Several good additions to the ku body of work were created, including one that may turn out to be one of my all-time favorites.

It appears that I've still got the ku in me. In fact, I am relatively certain that I will always have it in me. It's just that, to paraphrase the Walrus, the time has come to think of other things ....

There is, however, plenty more ku to come.

ku # 524 ~ good grief, Charlie Brown

North Branch of the Boquet River • click to embiggenEvery now and then, for reasons I don't understand, I post a picture or 2 on an online nature photography forum. And, every now and then, there is a nugget of feedback that goes beyond the typical I would have ... stuff.

But, one thing that happens very regularly is very similar comments that help me understand more fully the notion that I have mentioned here before - the more you know, the more you can know. Or, to be more accurate in this case, the less you know, the less you can know.

Case in point - yesterday, I posted the above picture. It received the following 2 comments:

1) Wish the camera position was maybe a touch lower - I feel a little "crowded" by the fg on this one.

2) I would agree with ______, a lower look would help the view here. I also think its just a bit too dark as is.

Ignoring the wishful thinking, the thing that gets me, or, in fact, I should say, absolutely stuns me, is that both of these commenters actually "got" part of what I was trying to say. I just can't tell you how many times my pictures generate comments that demonstrate that the viewers actually see and feel what I am saying - they call out feeling that my pictures have incited - and then proceed to ignore the fact that what they see and feel is exactly what I was attempting to convey.

The only thing that I can figure is that they are more interested in what supposedly constitutes a "good" illustration to the point of ignoring the illuminative qualities of a picture - that which is beneath the surface of things.

Or, perhaps it is as simple as the fact that most people would rather revel in the idyllic than in the real.

In this case, and, to wit, the Adirondack natural world is a "crowded" place. The forest is densely packed. Bushwacking here does the word proud - virtually everywhere you go (off trail), you're gonna get wacked by a lot of "bushes". In the case of backwoods rivers, brooks, and streams, access to them is most often very limited because the dense forest and undergrowth goes right down to and overhangs the water's edge.
click to see what I mean

Therefore, while picturing this scene, it was my intent to illustrate the fact that the Adirondack forest is "crowded". There is a very real sense of being "cramped" and "hemmed in". Backcountry access to waterways is very often very limited to a bushwack through dense forested undergrowth, not to mention, over boulders and erratics. And, this should come as no surprise, under the densely packed Adirondack forest canopy, it is a bit dark, especially so on overcast days like the one pictured here. The sensation one has emerging from the forest to the water's edge is that of transitioning from the "dark" into the "light".

So, there you have it. The 2 commenters were actually able to see what I was saying, but, apparently, in their zeal to be good and helpful critics on the subject of "accepted" rules and regulations re: how - to - make - a - "good" - picture, they made suggestions that, if implemented, would have pretty much destroyed the feeling I was trying to (and apparently succeeding) convey.

I find this stunning. They both "got it". They were able to immediately understand my use of elements of the medium's visual vernacular. Nevertheless, they ignored what they seemed to intuitively "know" - some combination of their intellects and emotions told them that the pictured conveyed "crowded" and "dark" - and decided instead to convey to me what they had been told was a good picture.

This is why, for the most part (and in spite of those every now and then aberrations of thoughtful insight), I emphatically believe that online photo forums are harmful to the development of picturing what you see as opposed to picturing what you have been told is a good picture.

caveat - it should be understood that I am NOT impugning the intelligence and/or integrity of the aforementioned commenters. I am merely attempting to point out that the more you know about the medium's vernacular, as opposed to its technical aspects and "rules", the more you can know about the pictures you view. The more you know about metaphoric constructs and the metaphoric process as a connection between language (in this case, visual language) and life, the more you can know about the pictures you view. The more you know about the language of signs and symbols, the more you can know about the pictures you view.

And, guess what? The more you know about that stuff, the more you can know about making good pictures of what you see and feel.