Duquesne Light contractor services ad • click to embiggenHas anyone besides Jim Jirka made any progress on a photo book? And, while I'm asking - Jim, would you like to share your progress with the audience via link to ShareInk?

I hope the initial enthusiasm for the idea hasn't petered out. I assume that the silence on the matter is because you're all working your butts to the bone making books.

Come on gang. Share your stuff. Let us see what only you know.

Rebuilding the rust belt • click to embiggenYou have probably noticed that I have been posting a number of 'blasts from the past' (aka, 'nfscd'). There are a number of reasons for this.

First and foremost, as I have mentioned, I have had to address the issue of 'sorting' all kinds of stuff as part of my office move. In the process, I have (once again) found how amazingly difficult it is to get rid of some stuff that's been hanging around for eons. Stuff that seems of little significance to others but, nevertheless, seems to have some kind of hold over me. Most probably that hold involves memories but don't discount the fact that I hang on to some things just because I like the way they look.

Another reason is simply because, of late, there seems to have been little interest in discussing Art. Maybe there has been interest in 'reading' (my page loads and visits are inching upward) what I have written on the subject, but there has been little response in the way of comments.

So, I have decided to keep it 'light' for a while. I refuse to indulge in pixel peeping, gear talk, and techno babble, as many other blogs do, in order to generate more comments. Who amongst you wants read comments about Canon vs Nikon vs Pentax vs Olympus, noise numbers, pixel counts, etc., especially when those comments are based on little more than personal likes and dislikes. Boring.

In any event, today's picture is an illustration for a magazine article about 'rebuilding the rust belt'. It's a Polaroid image transfer, hand-colored with Marshall oils and pencils, on Arches (ARCHES - Le choix des artistes depuis 1492) watercolor paper.

Polaroid image transfers (and emulsion transfers) are, of course, about to become a 'lost art'. I'm really having a hard time accepting the fact that an entire genre with so many creative possibilities is about to disappear, especially one that was so handmade intensive. I fully embrace digital and all of its creative possibilities but I am really jonesing to get involved in a photo process that requires touching something other than on/off buttons and a keyboard.

And, maybe that's related to memory as well. I would think that, if you've never done any handmade photography - wet darkroom, alternate processes, peeling apart polaroids, etc. - and therefore have no memory of it, you certainly can't miss it. You would also probably have no desire to do so.

What a pity.

A medley of decay • click to embiggenAs I continue my still life and decay investigation / exploration, 2 'discoverys' have emerged from the proceedings.

1) Even if I try, I can't get way from visually complex 'compositions'.

2) Since my IKEA clip frame discovery, I have been making a picture, on average, every other day. Nothing new there, but what is new is that I am printing, clip framing, and wall mounting each new picture (and a few older ones) as I go. The realization that I have come to from this exercise is quite an epiphany - I used to think that the print was the thing but I have now come to realize that the print framed and mounted on a wall is an even better thing.

I photographed still life # 6 at around 8:45 this AM. By 10 AM it was framed and wall mounted.

What I am learning from this exercise is that if photography is the art of selecting what to picture (and how to picture it) and thus raising the referent to a higher level of 'importance', putting a framed picture on a wall helps greatly with the next level of 'selection'. Putting a picture on the wall elevates it once again to yet another level of 'importance'.

At this level of attention engendering 'importance', it becomes easier, at least for me, to relate to and 'judge' its ability to 'communicate' in a way that no screen viewing or even print in a portfolio can match.

Get framing people.

Lime and slimey mushrooms • click to embiggenMy fascination with still life photography has many underpinnings, but 2 in particular stand out - 1) the relationship of shapes and forms, light and shadow, and 2) the ability to control those relationships.

In the contemporary era of photographs that present 'posed' people and 'staged' scenes as slices of 'reality', the idea of a 'made' photograph seems neither new nor daring. Although, 'made' photographs have existed since medium's earliest days, one could also venture that, currently, they are being 'made' with a vengeance. One could also venture that prior to this era of 'made'-picture frenzy, still life photography was the predominant genre of choice for 'made' pictures.

I have been making still life pictures for just shy of 40 years. My commercial photo life was comprised of approximately 60% still life photography although almost entirely so for the first 5-6 years (until my skill and talent for photographing people, especially women, emerged, thus launching a sub-career in fashion / people photography - the other 40%).

In any event, I have recently been engaged in which came first, the chicken or the egg ruminations about my skill and ability to control (in 'made' pictures) or recognize (in 'found' pictures) relationships of shapes and forms, light and shadow. I have realized that the 2 seemingly different talents / skills - to control, to recognize - are definitely one and the same.

Although, the fact that they are, on the one hand, one and the same does not negate the fact that, on the other hand, they each required a somewhat separate nurture and development. What I am now trying to recognize is whether or not my initial nurture and development of my still life sensibilities aided in the nurture and development of my subsequent 'found' picture sensibilities.

At my current state of rumination, I am inclined to think that the discipline(s) required of still life photography helped me in developing an overarching 'vision' that has been 'applied' to all of my subsequent picturing endeavors.

So, what I'm thinking is this - anyone else out there who has played with 'made' still life pictures?

If not, anyone out there who would like to play and post in a Still Life Gallery?

Dead dry flowers, tomato and cherries • click to embiggenAs I mentioned once before, my commercial still life roots keep coming back to haunt me - that and my fascination with things as they loose their luster.

WARNING: wherein, in a horrific fit of self-contradiction, I write about painting and how it effects my photography.

Still life-wise, my attention has been drawn to 17th century Dutch painting - not so much the paintings themselves but more towards the cultural underpinnings of the Dutch painters and the appreciative Dutch 'general public'. It has been opined by those who should know (art historians) that two of the philosophical bases from which the Dutch artists worked were: that God's work is evident in the world itself; that, although things in this world are mortal and transitory, no facet of God's creation is too insubstantial to be noticed, valued, or represented.

Caveat: The Dutch Calvinist idea of God and my my idea of God differ considerably.

It has also been recognized that the Dutch projected much national pride in their Art as evidenced by works that glorified their bourgeois culture, their appreciation for material goods, and their enjoyment of the sensual pleasures of life. Despite this preoccupation with the material world, or, more likely because of it (and their Calvinist beliefs), they were aware of the consequences of wrong behavior. Paintings, even those representing everyday objects and events, often provide reminders about the brevity of life and the need for moderation and temperance in one's conduct.

All of that said, I am not setting out to imitate 17th century Dutch still life painting, but I am stuck by the many similarities in the underpinnings of my contemporary photography and those of the 17th century Dutch. I have presented all this in the spirit of the more you know, the more you can know.

OK. Now you can shoot me.

Dried flower and petal • click to embiggenOver the weekend I was in New Jersey for a family member's 60th birthday soiree. The trip was multi-tasker - the party, college girl's return to school, and a trip to IKEA for cabinets and cupboards for my new office.

Because of Sunday Blue Laws in the county in which we were visiting, the closest IKEA was closed so we had to venture south to Elizabeth, NJ to another IKEA. The store was located right across the Jersey Turnpike from the Newark airport in the heart of an industrial wasteland second to none. As we were approaching the area on the turnpike, the wife blurted out that "when I was kid, this was all burning dumps." IMO, even though there are no more 'burning dumps', the area isn't any more attractive than it was then.

Nevertheless, right there in gates of hell, I found true bliss and contentment. Much to my utter delight, IKEA has a bin full of the holy grail - square picture frames. You have no idea how hard it is to find ready-made square picture frames. And, they were just the right size to boot - 22"×22" in a simple black wood frame (with glass, matte and backing) or 20"×20" clip frames (with glass and backing).

The prices could not have been better - $19.95 for the wood frame and only $5.95 for the 'clip' frame. I loaded up on the 'clip' frames, which is my preference for presenting photographs. I find traditional framing and matting to be a bit too distracting for my taste.

The only problem that I encountered was the fact that the car was jammed to the roof with cabinetry so I was limited to the number of 'clip' frames I could buy. That being the case, I am actually looking forward to my next trip to the NJ wasteland.