Light variation of decay # 19 • click to embiggenAs much as I rail against the limitations of the digital capture world of photography, I have come to the conclusion that I am, for all intents and purposes, trapped in that world.

As much as I would like to shoot film, it is, by the very nature of where I live, very impractical - if for no other reason than the closest lab is over 35 miles away. The thought of driving 140 miles for a roll of film - 70 miles round trip x2 (drop off and pick up) - is both logistically and environmentally absurd. Yes, I know I could wait until I had 10 rolls (or more) of film or I could use the US Mail, but, to be perfectly honest, I am too impatient to wait for up to 3-4 weeks to see the results of my picturing.

And even that's a moote point, in as much as that lab is scheduled to shut down within a year. Then what?

The only opinion I can think of is to get back in the business of developing my own film. This is not exactly Mission Impossible but it does require an investment in time, money, and space - space being the most difficult issue. That means isolating and renovating a space - albeit small - that can be made light-tight, virtually dust free, and has water and a drain. With all of the household renovations that have been going on here, the thought of another one leaves me a bit cold.

Althougth, while thinking about a new darkroom (as I write this), there is a new small closet right next to an about to be built new bathroom - all part of our bedroom / upstairs renovation ......

<Green water and sunflowers • click to embiggenEveryone here knows of my 'thing' for the real / truth in photography. Unless, of course, you're a relative newbie and haven't spent the last 50 hours of your life reading the archives.

If you have been following my postulations, opinions, theories, and assorted folderol, you probably also know that I believe that the current rage of 'fake'/staged pictures can also contain truth(s) and an accurate representation of the real.

Furthermore, the medium of photography has a decided advantage in all the visual arts at conveying / suggesting truth and real simply because the referents in photographs look so damn 'real'.

So, that said, talk to me about decay # 19 ...

Spring bounty, decay-wise • click to embiggenFirst, a note to the wife; while moving some stuff on the upstairs porch, look what I found - a little bit of decay heaven. I will, really I will, try to remove it from the kitchen counter before your arrival.

Now, on to business - I want to express thanks to all who have contributed of late to The Landscapist with your all your comments and feedback. I've enjoyed hearing from some new voices as well as the 'regulars' and I sincerely hope that you are all appreciative of the added value that this brings to the site. Thanks much.

One particular comment that especially interested me was that from Ana regarding yesterday's limited imagination - ouch! entry.

I think you'd enjoy reading "towards a philosophy of photography" by Vilem Flusser. It's all about creative (as opposed to redundant) photography as a game against the machine (where, by machine, he means the entire technology and infrastructure behind photography). The work of all the photographers who have gone before have, to a certain extent, entered the arsenal of the machine --they become limiting and redundant. The point of the game is to outwit the machine by opening up a possibility that hasn't been seen before.

To which I will add, "Exactly." I'll probably buy (and read) the book, if for no other reason than Ana (she's a smart cookie) suggested it. Although my insatiable curiosity is a driving factor as well.

I have always been a fan of raging against the machine, any machine. Just pick one and I'll most likely be game to try and 'outwit' it in one fashion or another. Hey, ask the wife, I'm aways trying to outwit her machine. And, I really like Flusser's notion of thinking of the idea of "originality" as a game (of opportunity / possibility) as opposed to just trying like hell to be "original".

Another idea that seems to be implicit in Ana's synopsis of Flosser's philosophy is one of my favorite ideas of what it takes to avoid being redundant - the knowledge and understanding of what came before, or, as he (you?) put it, of the what, who, why, of the arsenal of the photography machine.

A question for all - how many of you have made an effort to really know and understand the arsenal of the machine, aka, the history of the medium? Do you think that it's important for your photography to do so?

Decay and remains • click to embiggenThere is a minor brouhaha of sorts going on urban ku # 181 involving,of all things, gear - a topic rarely discussed here.

It stems from a comment by Adam Maas that the newest and best of digital cameras can, in fact, match the dynamic range and tonal quality of color negative film. I have no desire to debate the issue but I still stand by my opinion that color negative capture is superior to digital capture in ways that matter to my eye. The differences may be small but my eye can see them.

To my eye, a digital capture has a visual 'digital' signature that is like the visual difference between motion picture film and video. Not as pronounced but, to my eye, still apparent. And, Adam's contention that I see this only in my work because I use an 'inferior' sensor is rather nonsensical because I see it in all still digital capture pictures - independent of the specific equipment in use.

As for Adam's contention that "the smaller sensor sites" (of my camera) " deliver less dynamic range" than the sensor in his D300 is also not true - both sensors deliver exactly the same dynamic range of 8.8. They do it in different ways - my camera sensor has less highlight headroom than his, his camera sensor doesn't reach as far into the shadows as mine. It's a trade off. In some cases, I might have to make a separate exposure for extreme highlight detail, and, in some cases, he might have to make a separate exposure for deep shadow detail - or either of us has to use some other workaround to get the full range that we want.

But, ultimately, this is a stupid discussion because it is one of gear vs. aesthetics. My opinion that "Nothing in the digital world can match the smooth tonal transitions, subtle color rendition, and dynamic range of color negative film" is based on my aesthetic sense of how a picture made with cn film looks when compared to one made with digital capture (same scene, same light, comparable lens etc.).

Each medium - cn vs. dig - is a trompe-l'oeil. Each medium accomplishes its trompe-l'oeil in an entirely different manner. To the discerning eye, there is a difference in the final output (on closely matched papers) - the print. Hell, even Adam states that "I find the results from the D300 look a heck of a lot like the results I get from my Mamiya 645." - please note the omission of the phrase "exactly like".

Like I stated before, you make your choice and you stick with it - whether it's in the domain of film or that of digital. Either way, it's the emotional and intellectual impact of the pictures that matters most.

Cantaloupe and grater • click to embiggenAmongst many things, I have always considered the act of picturing to be an act in the process of self-discovery.

Why one pictures, what one pictures and how one pictures it speaks volumes about the photographer, especially so (but not entirely limited to) Fine Art photographers - who, for purposes of this entry, are those who are making pictures that are meant to be more than just decorative.

The more one knows about and understands his/her personal whys, whats, and hows, the better he/she is apt to become at forming and expressing one's personal vision, photography-wise. This is not rocket science - the best Art flows from within and the more one is in touch with the within, the better one's Art is apt to become.

That said, much of my personal vision that flows from within is an unthought known. I tend to follow my 'inner voice' which 'tells' me what to picture. Of course, I do not mean that I hear a voice in my head that says, "take a picture of that cantaloupe". Rather, I am acutely aware of an unbidden impulse to picture something that I am actually seeing at the time.

Currently, in addition to my attraction to the natural world and man's relationship to it, I am drawn to decay. Some have speculated that the attraction is that of someone who is himself, 'decaying' (commonly called "aging"). I wouldn't deny that that may play a part in the attraction but, in fact, I have been attracted to decay since early childhood.

I can say that I have never tried to understand the attraction nor have I ever pictured it as a body of work until quite recently. As a result of that picturing and the desire to better understand it, I have been thinking about decay (the "what") in a effort to discover (the) "why" I am picturing it.

Until last seek, the best I have been able to come up with is that, on a visual level, I find a great deal of visual beauty in decay. When asked about that idea of visual beauty, the best I can muster is to say that I like the colors and the textures of decay after which I throw in the metaphor bit about "the cycles of life" and the part of that cycle that most would rather not think about / deal with. At that point, I start to feel that I'm sounding a lot like a rather lame first-year art student mouthing art-cliches.

However, in my pursuit of knowing more, I went back to a resource that I knew about but never pursued - the book, The Anatomy of Disgust" (by William Ian Miller, Harvard University Press), because, regarding my decay pictures, I have heard the phrase "that's disgusting" quite a number of times. No big surprise - many find decay to be disgusting. Some have higher or lower thresholds of when decay becomes disgusting, but, inevitably, the word "disgusting" seems to be a common reaction to my decay pictures.

A quick perusal of Miller's book reveals that he believes, and for which he builds a very convincing case, that "Disgust helps mark boundaries of culture and boundaries of the self." I found that premise very interesting. Miller states "Consider that the boundary of the self is manned at its most crucial and vulnerable points by disgust ..."

By that he means that disgust is a barrier that humans erect to help define what they consider to be invasions of not only the "self" but also of "cultures". Who are the "intruders"? Miller considers them to range from humble items like hair, sweat, pus and excrement - what Mr. Miller calls "thick, greasy life" - up to more formidable threats from exotic ethnic groups or social classes higher or lower than our own. In short, he builds a great case for how disgust is clearly bound up with class, bourgeois good taste and moral values.

Now I feel much better. My decay pictures are all about class, bourgeois good taste, moral values, and cultural and personal boundaries, not just the lame "cycles of life" thing.

I knew that.

Really. As an unthought known, I have known that for most of my adult life. I have continually approached and broached cultural and personal barriers (since from I don't know when), not no much with pictures, but with words. If I had half a penny for every time I heard "you're/that's gross / disgusting" as result of something I've said, I'd be a multi-millionaire - just this past weekend, at the breakfast table (with Maggie, her 2 girlfriends, and 1 of their boyfriends), when Maggie took my last sausage patty, put it in her mouth, took it back out and then offered to share it with me, I responded by cutting it in half, saying "Sure. I'll just pretend we're french kissing", and then I ate it.

The girls, to include the wife, responded with a chorus of "eewwww"s, "that's gross"s, and, I must add, lots of laughter. My breakfast-table gross-isms are of long standing and legendary proportions amongst Maggie and her posse. But, over the years, it's how we managed to broach and then talk about all manner of 'sensitive' topics. And, on hindsight, there were times when the gross-isms were instigated or accompanied by pictures - just not mine (that I can remember).

All of that said, my decay series is now my Decay and Disgust series.

Cantaloupe with sunlight • click to embiggenYesterday, after waiting for almost an hour at the scene of what is now known as the lunch break incident for the State Police to show up and make an accident report, I walked home to eat my lunch.

In the kitchen, I found the subject of that morning's decay picturing right where I left it but it was now bathed in some streaks of direct sunlight. I liked what I saw so I pictured it again. What I like about the afternoon redux is that the light itself, independent of the quality of the light, becomes a compositional element. I also like, by the manner in which I divided the picture along a diagonal line, that a jittery unease is created by the competing areas of soft mellow tones and colors and that of the contrast-y tones and more vibrant colors.

I mention this stuff because this manner of seeing and picturing stands in stark contrast to that of my early commercial still life heyday during which the operative paradigm was a very soft single light source (no "fill" lights allowed) applied with a strong directional angle.
The Hawken, one of my "Marcos" • click to embiggenA technique that yielded a kind of "soft" high contrast with deep but detailed shadows and delicate detailed highlights - a very "romantic" style of light that mimiced that of early Flemish still life painters.

In the era before the digital darkroom, the challenge of this technique was to achieve this look using inherently contrast-y Ektachrome transparency film which had, and still does, in difficult contrast situations, a tendency to blow out highlights and block up shadows. This was difficult in the extreme to achieve in a manner that enabled a printer (printing press printer) to put that range of tone and detail on the printed page.

The acknowledged master of the technique at that time and the photog in whose photo-technique image I fashioned myself was Phil Marco. A measure of his success in the 70s (he still at it today) was his 49 ft. yacht which was aptly named "Ektachrome". Eventually, I was both pleased and delighted to have my still life work used interchangeably with his by select group of clients.

However, I never got a yacht. I've had to settle for 4 canoes.

<Cantaloupe & scallions • click to embiggenHere's a question for you all - has anyone recently gone out on a limb, photography-wise? By that I mean, has anyone tried something new lately? You know, tried to get outside of your personal "box"?

I am fairly certain that most of you were/are drawn to The Landscapist because its focus has been (primarily) on landscape photography of one sort or another. So, my assumption is that most of you practice one form or another of landscape photography. That's not too much of a stretch, right? So, that said, has anyone tried their shutter finger with, say, still life or portrait photography, for instance? Or, maybe more to the point, have you ever felt the need or even the slightest inclination to try something "new".

I'm curious because I am considering something "new", which is actually something old mixed with something new - a return to film - most likely 120 color negative film, square format, of course. Film is the "old", digital darkroom is the "new". This possibility is on my radar as a result of my recent 8×10 color negative scanning. The unsurpassed dynamic range and smooth tonality of color negative is singing its siren song loud and clear. Or, should I say, soft and sensuous.

The trouble I am having with this is with the fact that I am, by no means, done with my Adirondack ku which is 100% digital capture. I don't dare start doing ku with color negative - the difference in picture characteristics would be far too great to mix together in a single body of work. Nope, I can't go there.

I am also fairly certain that I have neither the time nor the energy to strike out on something completely new and different. At least, not until ku appears to have an end in sight. There is the possibility of swithching from digital to film with my decay series. I still still have all of the decayed stuff hanging around and I could recreate my work to date without too much effort.

But, I just don't know how to scratch this new itch without over extending myself, photograph-wise. Maybe I should just figure out how I am going to do it, camera-wise and then just see what develops.

PS my thoughts, camera-wise, are to use my 120 6×7 roll film holder with one of my 4×5 cameras and my 90mm Super Angulon lens in order to have the convenience of roll film and the deliberative picturing process of a view camera.

Spring is in the air • clcik to embiggenOf late, it seems that every time I turn on the tv, there's a documentary about photography and/or a photographer. Last night it was an Ansel Adams retrospective / love fest on PBS. The film has been around for a while but I had never managed to catch it.

Adams has often been referred to as Saint Ansel and this film adds another level of canonization to that Adams, the photographer, moniker. On the other hand, it puts a very human face on Adams, the person, by dealing pretty openly and honestly with his affair with a lovely young assistant, his near manic working style, and his party-boy drinking. I knew the man like to tip a few but I had never heard put the way it was in this film - he worked everyday of his life ... he never took a day off ... except when he was recovering from a hangover ... which was frequent enough.

I didn't learn very much new about Adams from this film but what I did learn was rather interesting. It didn't have anything to do with his pictures, per se, but rather his epiphany about life and Art as expressed by him in a letter to his closest friend, Cedric Wright:

Dear Cedric,

A strange thing happened to me today. I saw a big thundercloud move down over Half Dome, and it was so big and clear and brilliant that it made me see many things that were drifting around inside of me ....

For the first time I know what love is; what friends are; and what art should be.

Love is a seeking for a way of life; the way that cannot be followed alone; the resonance of all spiritual and physical things....

Friendship is another form of love -- more passive perhaps, but full of the transmitting and acceptances of things like thunderclouds and grass and the clean granite of reality.

Art is both love and friendship and understanding: the desire to give. It is not charity, which is the giving of things. It is more than kindness, which is the giving of self. It is both the taking and giving of beauty, the turning out to the light of the inner folds of the awareness of the spirit. It is a recreation on another plane of the realities of the world; the tragic and wonderful realities of earth and men, and of all the interrelations of these.

Ansel

Much of what Adams expressed, re: 'what art (photography division) should be' - a recreation on another plane of the realities of the world, ... realities of earth and men, and of all the interrelations of these in order to turn out to the light of the inner folds of the awareness of the spirit, in essence, gibes with my a lot of my feelings on the subject.

That said, why do I think that Adams' pictures - and the pictures of those who continue to toil in the garden of Adams anachronisms - are, in today's world, very out of place?

Adams' view of the world during that time in which he was most productive in achieving his desire to "put his experience of a place" into his pictures (instead of making geographic records of it) was typical of the prevailing paradigm of the "American Century". America had conquered its wilderness frontiers. The industrial revolution was spreading its wings and its 'wealth'. We had won a world war and, despite the lingering effects of the Great Depression, America was on the move to what appeared to be a future of limitless possibilities - the future's so bright, I gotta wear shades.

And Adams' pictures reflected that paradigm with their representation of America - or to be most accurate, his preferred piece of it - as a place of awe inspiring majesty and grandeur, truly and verily, America the Beautiful. A place of virgin and seemingly endless frontiers. And, ironically enough, he accomplished this visual slight of hand by ignoring his feelings about 'the recreation on another plane ... the tragic realities of earth and man' and concentrating on only the 'wonder-filled' realities of earth and man.

I think John Szarkowski, an avowed Adams fan, said it best when he opined that Adams' pictures were the ultimate statement in a genre that had reached the end of the line. The American paradigm that Adams and his photography subscribed to no longer exists. The pristine (so called at the time, even though we were, even then, dumping all over it) and limitless American frontier - geographic and cultural - no longer exists.

There are many new 'realities in the world', especially in the natural world that Adams frequented in his photographic quest. In light of those 'new realities', photography and photographers have moved on to newer 'recreations on another plane of the realities of the world'.

Would I, if I could, have an Adams original hanging on my wall? In a heart beat - his prints are not only historically significant - both culturally and to the medium itself, but they are also, in and of themselves, things of exquisite beauty. However, my appreciation of them would be a melancholy affair dominated by feelings and realizations about what America the Beautiful has lost.