man & nature # 170 ~ (early) night life in Au Sable Forks

Stewarts • click to embiggenThe aforementioned "j" also commented:

...what really interests me is that you can line up yourself and all your readers and we will all view a scene differently. In a very real sense we will all see - “ be conscious of” - different elements of the scene while all mechanically “seeing” the same thing.

I'm interested in what you see and why.

What "j" is asking for is essentially an Artist Statement - that is, a statement from me regarding the driving force that instigates my picture making. As it happens, I am in the process of composing something of the sort although I'm not certain that it will answer his question when it comes to the specifics of any one picture.

That said, I offer this first (caveat: the first sentence is a bit obtuse. Ignore it if you wish):

What is particular and peculiar, about photographs is the conjuncture of resemblance and trace - the iconic and indexical components of the sign coincide to a remarkable degree. The resemblance of a photograph to its subject - the image - is a direct and physical result of that subject and could not exist without it. Photographs point to the objects that called them into being and show us those things. As such, photographs bear witness to the events and things they depict. ~ Steve Edwards, from, Photography: A Very Short Introduction

Contained within that paragraph is the essence of what I see and why I picture it.

As I have mentioned previously in a number of entries, I do not, with the exception of commercial assignments, venture forth to picture with any specific event or thing in mind. My preferred M.O. is to empty my mind (my state of ku), have cameras at the ready, and let referents come to me - in effect, listening and looking for the objects that call(ed) them (my pictures) into being.

As should be quite evident from my pictures, the objects that most often call themselves to my picturing attention are those that surround my everyday life - the so-called, "mundane", "commonplace", and "ordinary". In essence, I believe that I am drawn to these things because my picturing is, in fact, an exploration of "life" and living - especially the stuff of everyday life.

At its "deepest" level, I sense that that exploration is nothing less than an attempt to be "connected" to what might be called the godhood or the oneness of being (it should be noted that this is not a religious quest by any stretch of the imagination). I am fairly certain that is an attempt to construct a bridge between thought and feeling. Hence the subtitle to this blog - Photography that pricks the Unthought Known.

That said, if "j" is wondering why, as an example, I pictured Stewarts (the above picture), An honest answer would be something along the lines of "I don't know". The scene just stopped me in my tracks. The light - both natural and manmade, the "arrangement" of elements, and a sense of a serene commonplace event / thing (amongst other feelings and thoughts) just "caught my eye".

Now, all the previous ramblings basically address the idea of the objects that called them (my pictures) into being. In addition to that concept, the other notion in the above quote with which I identify is the idea of photographs bear witness to the events and things they depict.

Without going all New Age, hippy-dippy, mystic on you, I must confess to a certain feeling of connectedness to the artist Rockwell Kent who lived (and died) in my little Adirondack village of Au Sable Forks.

Before I moved to Au Sable Forks I was aware of Kent and his art but did not know that he lived here. It was only after a year or so that I discovered that fact. It took a year because there is not a single solitary bit of evidence that he ever set foot here in Au Sable Forks - the reason being that he was an avowed socialist.

As a socialist, Kent was called before Senator Joseph McCarthy’s Permanent Subcommittee on Investigation. As a result, his paintings were removed from the walls of many American museums (although he was given a solo exhibition at The Hermitage in St. Petersburg in 1957 where half a million Russians attended the exhibit). Kent’s appearance at the McCarthy hearings was both personally and financially detrimental. Nevertheless, his place of residence, Asgaard Farm still bears the name he gave it.

I mention this because Kent wrote (and illustrated) 2 books about his life in Au Sable Forks - This Is My Own (1940) (I have a signed first edition) and It's Me, O Lord (1955) - and it is the titles of the books that applies here ...

... As I picture my way through the Unthought Known, I have come to understand that my pictures are, if nothing else, autobiographical. Without a doubt, I am bearing witness to the events and things of my life.

It is my shout of, "it's me, o lord", and, "this is my own".

And, interestingly enough, it has been said of Kent's works:

Kent stands out in American art in his use of symbolism. Humanity was the hero in most of his prints, which are symbolic representations of certain intuitions about life's destiny and the meaning of existence. Many of the prints seem to depict humanity in a struggle to capture ultimate reality, to penetrate into the mystery of the dark night of the universe, and to discover the reasons for existence.

And that is how I view, quite literally and quite figuratively, my pictures - symbolic representations of certain intuitions about life's destiny and the meaning of existence.

man & nature # 169 ~ it's a grand old flag

Fort Ticonderoga, July 4, 2009 • click to embiggenSince it's the nation's birthday and all, the wife and I took Hugo to Fort Ticonderoga, which is just a short drive away on Lake Champlain.

The site was first forted by the French, then the Brits, then the Americans took it from the Brits, then the Brits took it back again, then the Americans kicked their asses, and then they went home.

Maybe one of these days we can get things turned around. Here's hoping.

Now it's off to Lake Placid - where it's a balmy(?) 50˚F - for the fireworks.

man & nature # 168 ~ chasing the light

Driving towards the light NYS Thurway - NJ Turnpike • click to embiggenBack from NYC and completely un-rested. Up at 5:30AM and the wife slept while I drove.

These pictures are from our Friday Evening drive to the NYC area. WE basically drove into the fringe of a big storm. The progression from left to right: NYS Thurway approaching NJ, just into NJ on the NJ Turnpike, approaching Secaucus, NJ (where I caught the train into NYC and the wife carried on).

It was quite a show. More NYC stuff tomorrow.

Update on Tuesday, June 30, 2009 at 11:53AM by gravitas et nugalis

Featured Comment: "Seinberg" posted a link to his picture which was made around the same time as the last of the above pictures were made.

click to embiggenmy response: the wife pointed my camera in the general direction of the same clouds (left side of the attached picture) but she / the auto focus focused on the rearview mirror which allows us to know that at that time - 8:30PM - the temperature was 69˚F and our vehicle was averaging 39.0 mpg.

man & nature # 167 ~ should be interesting

Birdbath, daisies, and irises • click to embiggenI'm heading down to NYC later today where I hope to bear witness to the blood bath on the streets of Chelsea.

West Chelsea, as many may know, has more art galleries than at which you can shake a stick. Although, in our current economic "malaise", many are dropping like flies. The word is that sales are down by 70-80% across the board. So, if you operate a gallery that had $1,000,000 in annual sales, you now have $200,000 per annum. Half of that typically goes to the artists, leaving only $100,000 for the care and feeding of NYC gallery overhead.

By NYC standards that ain't nearly enough on which to survive. Those at that level that are still trying to stay open have cut staff, shortened hours, lengthened exhibit duration, and passed some the costs of an exhibition back onto the backs of artists. The rest, to include some big names, have just closed their doors.

civilized ku # 176-180 ~ the time machine

Train depot ~ Westport, NY • click to embiggen
Waiting for the train • click to embiggen
Former freight platform • click to embiggen
Sprawling vegetation • click to embiggen
Amtrak arrival • click to embiggenYesterday I had to zip on over to the train depot in Westport to pick up coma-girl upon her return from the Bahamas. Ahhh, the life of leisure of a college girl.

I have always considered the train deport in Westport to be a kind of time machine. In part, that is obviously due to the fact that it is an active old-time country train depot that is so typical of thousands(?) of such rural depots from a bygone era. Many of those depots are long gone, some sit in a state of genteel decay, and some have been converted to other uses - restaurants, art/craft galleries, and even homes. So it really is nice to have one that still functions as a train depot.

That said, the primary reason that I consider the depot to be a time machine is because every time I take the train from NYC to Westport the transition from one of the biggest cities on the planet (with all of its attendant hustle and bustle) to the (apparent) environs of idyllic rural life is rather dramatic. It really does feel as though one has stepped back in time to a slower and more simple place and time. That feeling is enhanced to a great degree by the train ride itself as the train transitions from big city to small and eventually to places where cities do not even exist.

FYI & BTW, there is one train a day from NYC to Montreal (and vice-versa). The trip has been ranked by National Geographic as one of the top 10 train trips in the world. That ranking is due in large part to the incredible scenery along the trip's route - once the train is out of the NYC environs, it travels up the east river bank of the Hudson River, most of the time only a few yards from the river itself. After the Albany / Schenectady scrawl (about the halfway point), the train traverses the Lake George / Lake Champlain Basin and, once within the border of the Adirondack Park, it again travels mere yards from the shore of Lake Champlain (with incredible views of Vermont and the Green Mountains.

The other "feature" of the transition is that upon your arrival in Westport, you de-train into the great outdoors. If it's raining and you don't have an umbrella, you get wet. If it's -10˚ and you're wearing shorts and a t-shirt, you freeze. If it's 90˚ and even if you're wearing nothing at all, you still sweat. Point in fact, there is an immediate and direct connection to natural world which, considering that you have de-trained into the largest wilderness in the eastern US of A, is quite an appropriate welcome, don't you think?

The only thing missing from this trip is a dining car. When I was a kid, my family would travel to and from NYC by train 3 or 4 times a year (my dad worked on the railroad and the trips were free). Some of my fondest memories of those trips were created on the return trip as the train went up the Hudson - we usually left NYC late in the day/early evening - and we dined rather sumptuously and elegantly in the dining car (with the sun setting slowly to the west). Followed, of course, by a visit to the club car.

For some strange reason, Americans decided that this was an inferior way to travel and we set about destroying a wonderful (and a very fuel efficient) way to travel - just another fine of example of the free market getting it totally and utterly wrong.

FYI & BTW #2, if you are ever in the Westport area, the train depot's former freight area is a very well respected and classic example of American summer stock theatre. It is aptly named the Depot Theatre.

man & nature # 166 ~ goods eats

Food from the farm • click to embiggenThanks to the wife we are now eating very tasty food. She got us hooked up to a farm fresh stuff of the week program whereby every week we get a box of just-harvested veggies, fruit, and a loaf of fresh baked bread (a fresh chicken is a $10 option) from a local farm.

Aside from the significant difference in taste between just harvested and store bought stuff, what I like most is a re-connection to the seasons. We eat what the season and the earth provide as the season dictates. I have long felt that the "magic" of the natural world is somehow compromised by, as just one example, eating strawberries from who-knows-where in mid-December.

As I mentioned previously, most of our beef and some pork comes from a farm just up the hill above town where they raise Scottish Highland Cattle. Once again, the taste of this beef is quite a bit different from the store-bought variety.

The other significant satisfaction that comes from all of this is that of buying local. It just feels good to spend your money with a neighbor rather than some faceless too-big-to-fail agri-biz.

man & nature # 165 ~ a must read

Just browsing • click to embiggenWith an assist to the wife, this past weekend I came into possession of a very interesting book - The History of Photography ~ from 1839 to the present day • revised and enlarged edition by Beaumont Newhall. The book (the 4th revised and expanded edition) was published by the Museum of Modern Art in collaboration with the George Eastman House. BTW, "the present day" as mentioned in the book's title is 1964.

Beaumont Newhall was a giant in the field of photography. His work as a curator, photo historian / writer, and photographer exerted great influence over the over the medium and its history as we know and practice it today. As the first director of MOMA's photography department as well as the curator / organizer of the first comprehensive retrospective of photography (presented at MOMA in 1937), he was very influential in establishing photography's place in the arts. The book / catalog that accompanied the exhibition, The History of Photography (1839-1937) still remains as one of the best accounts of the history of the medium.

In 1948, after his stint at MOMA, Newhall went on to become curator at the International Museum of Photography at the George Eastman House (1948-1958) after which he became the institution's director until 1971. At GEH he amassed one of the best photography collections in the world.

The book itself is a beauty - both the writing and the pictures (215 pages, 190 photos). I was able (with an assist to the wife) to obtained a copy of the book in very good - excellent condition for the paltry sum of $7 US. A used book search for the title says that a copy of this book - the 4th revised and enlarged edition (hardbound), published in 1964 - in the condition that I have is valued at about $40-100 US so it seems that I got quite a bargain. However, that same search turned up many other examples at much lower prices.

IMO, this book should be on the shelf of any picture maker who is serious about the medium.

man & nature # 164 ~ the door is always open

Cattle pasture and passing van • click to embiggenJust a quick observation regarding photo blogs.

Most, if not all, blogging software allows for Comment Moderation, which gives total control to the moderator / blogger over what gets posted. This feature is often used as a defense against spam but a fair number of bloggers have used it to restrict comments that oppose the prevailing POV of the blog publisher with his/her hand on the mute button. I know this from personal experience, some of it recent.

That said, there is no comment moderation here on The Landscapist. I encourage opposing POV - the more the better, the more passionate the better yet, even if they do include the occasional reference to me as "obnoxious, condescending" and so on.

IMO, it keeps things interesting on several levels. The last thing I am looking for is a legion of fawning slack-jawed sycophants to keep me feeling good.

So, keep those cards and letters coming no matter what you have to say. And I thank you for it.