It's time to fish or cut bait • click to embiggenI mentioned in today's FYI entry (immediately below this one) that I am at the point where I have made some decisions about what to do with the 700+ pictures that I have created over the last 4 years. Just in case you wondering ...

I am going to pursue a project / exhibit titled The Adirondacks in the Age of Discursive Promiscuity.

The print objective is to create a series of 12-16 prints, each comprised of 25 individual ku pictures. The series will be available in 4 sizes - 10'×10', edition of 1; 6'×6' (see photo), edition of 6; 40"×40", edition of 10; 18"×18", edition of 100.

Each print will have a picture of an individual human figure in the center image.

Each print will have a companion Adirondack Life calendar.

The 25 ku images in each print, taken as a whole, will be discursive - i.e. covering a wide field of subjects; rambling. The arrangement of the images will appear to be promiscuous - i.e. consisting of parts, elements, or individuals of different kinds brought together without order; lacking standards of selection.

The conceptual point of the project / exhibit is multifaceted. Some, but by no means all, of the topics I wish to address are (in no particular order at this time):

1. The discursive and promiscuous nature of the medium of photography
2. The discursive and promiscuous nature of my body of work
3. The apparent casualness / randomness of my individual images v. the apparent casual / random arrangement in their presentation
4. Does the ease of digital capture and the resultant volume of images tell us more or less about the world we inhabit?
5. Complexity and chaos
6. The medium's narrative possibilities
7. Information saturation in a information media saturated culture
8. My discursive and promiscuous view of the Adirondacks v. the eco-porn calendar view.
9. Fact v. fiction
10. The nature of beauty
11. Why I just flat out like saying the phrase "Discursive Promiscuity"

The conceptual intentions of the project /exhibit need the most focus and refinement. Over the next few weeks most of my daily entries will be dealing with this aspect of the project.

Grass, stumps, snow • click to embiggenOver the past 18 months or so since The Landscapist has been around, I/we have blithered, babbled, blathered, and bloviated about many topics, photography-wise. For me, the exercise has served to expand, refine and define my thoughts, not only on the medium of photography in general, but also on what I'm doing with the medium in particular. It also seems that some of you have benefited from or at least enjoyed the experience as well.

While I am not at the point where I want to say "Thanks very much. It's been fun. Hope to see you around someday", I am at the point where I have made some decisions about what to do with the 700+ pictures that I have created over the last 4 years and that endeavor is going to take quite a bit of energy and time, at least a portion of which I am going to have to borrow from that which has been devoted to The Landscapist.

This does not mean that there won't be daily entries or that The Landscapist will be slowly fading into the sunset. What it does mean is that, for the purpose of ensuring that neither the former nor the latter happen, I am extending an invitation for Contributing Writers.

There are plenty of you out there who are smart cookies and pretty damn good photographers to boot. How about coming out of the shadows and sharing some of your thoughts, ideas, questions and pictures with The Landscapist audience. And a damn good audience it is - I have been delighted with the intelligence, curiosity and civility of those who hang around the place. My appreciation and thanks to all.

Send me an email if you are interested.

Wind storm • click to embiggenIt should come as no surprise to anyone within a couple hundred miles of the sound of my voice that yesterday was a windy day. There were sustained gusts of 80-90 mph. The winds started yesterday morning and continued well into the night.

While I was lounging around the house last evening, sipping tea, and worrying that we'd lose power and I wouldn't be able to watch the PBS program Pioneers of Television: Late Night, one of my neighbors had other issues on his mind. We lost a couple sections of fence which I discovered around 11pm when I let the dogs out the back door and then had to let them in the front door a short time later.

Broccoli and ketchup • click to embiggenOn yesterday's entry Tom Frost, playing the devil's advocate, asked; "Just to play the devil's advocate, how can I tell that it is different from sticking your camera randomly into a ditch?" He also stated; "FYI, most of what's in it is knapweed, one of the scourges introduced from Eurasia." A good question and a good observation.

Let me address the 'sticking your camera randomly into a ditch' issue first. That comment is one that is leveled at much contemporary (and decidedly Postmodern) Fine Art photography, not just mine. The derisively intended slur most often comes from photographers who come the Modernist tradition - photography made by following / applying the 'classic' rules of photography, most notably (and obliviously) those of composition.

As an example, it has been opined that Modernist American landscape photography was taken to it formal conclusion by Ansel Adams and Edward Weston. Their photography, which dazzles and seduces with technical and sensual qualities that aesthetically idealize the landscape, has been described as 'self-consciously photographic' and that it 'self-assuredly declares itself as art.'

Translation - those guys worked their butts off (with malice of forethought aplenty) applying all of the traditional techniques of the medium - dramatic light, dramatic subjects, maximum dynamic range, smooth, sensuous, almost 'liquid' tonality, 'tight and clean' composition, maximum depth of field, etc. - to create prints of incomparable technical and aesthetic beauty that were obviously intended to be 'art'. Additionally, the hand of the maker is all over their photography - their is no mistaking an Ansel Adams' print. One could justifiably state that, with his prints, Adams drew as much attention (or more) to himself as he did to his subjects.

The postmodern photographer eschews virtually all of the above. In fact, postmodern photography openly questions and blatantly defies all of the above. Much postmodern photography exhibits the so-called 'deadpan' look - a cold, clinical, art-less gaze that could also be described as, in the case of The Best ku Ever, 'sticking your camera randomly into a ditch' because the hand of the maker is not everywhere evident in the guise of self-consciously applied 'technical and sensual qualities'.

However, it must be said, that most postmodern photography, despite its appearance, is anything but 'random' or thoughtlessly composed. Most of it very deliberately created with the intentionality of creating the impression of 'random'.

Why? Speaking for myself (working in the postmodern world), part of the conceptuality and intentionality of my photography is to question the very act of observing - what does it mean to actually 'see' or 'observe'? When going about one's daily life, no one 'sees' or 'observes' according the classic rules of the 2-dimensional art world, so why must Art be so directed? If a photograph is not so directed, can it still be Art?

And ultimately, my photographs are intended, by the very intrinsic nature of their 'random' look, to question the idea of what is Art? Is there such a thing as a 'proper' subject for Art? Is there a 'proper' way to make Art?

So, with all of that in mind, and in answer to your question, I would say that the more you know, the more you can know - if one sets out to know more about the history, movements, theories, and practices of the art world in general (and photography in particular), the more one can know about any particular piece of Art and the less apt one might be to ask if someone is 'sticking their camera randomly into a ditch'.

On the subject of knapweed - Many of my Adirondack photographs exhibit evidence of invasive species. While this is not always deliberate, it is, unfortunately, not always avoidable. But, in fact, I use that as part of my postmodern approach. As I mentioned in yesterday's entry, I make photographs that 'present plain facts (none of that 'aesthetically idealizing the landscape' modernism for me) using metaphor, allegory, and hints of something bigger'. I should have also included the use of irony, because, while many of my photographs could be said to picture nature's beauty (which they do), they can also be read to understand the ugly side of the hand of man.

Life in a ditch • click to embiggenSeveral of you - Michelle C. Parent, Tom Gallione, and Jim Jirka - have correctly identified The Best ku Ever. In the interest of full disclosure, it should be noted that these 3 contestants have been following my work (and I theirs) for far longer than this blog has been around. So, the rest of you shouldn't feel too bad (a litle bad is ok) for getting it wrong. The winners had insider knowledge.

Thanks to everyone who took a guess and commented. I would especially like to acknowledge Mary Dennis, who expressed her appreciation for the The Best ku Ever and then proceeded to put the pressure on by writing; "... I don't think I could dare venture a guess as to what you think your "best image ever" is Mark. I know I'm gonna enjoying reading your explanation though."

Explanation? What explanation?

This here's a photograph and photographs that need words are failures, right? It's visual medium, dummy. If you want words, go read a book for christ sake. I mean, if a photographer hasn't eliminated all extraneous detail and used the proper composition to direct the viewer's eye to a perfectly obvious subject, then he/she is a failure too, right? Explanation? Come on, gimme a break here ...

Wait a minute ... wait a minute ... OK. There, I feel better now. For a moment there, I had a flashback to another time and forum, but I'm OK now.

So, here goes ... Mary, this Bud's for you.

The Explanation: I have designated this picture The Best ku Ever somewhat facetiously. As many here already know, I am not a believer in so-called "greatest hits" photography. While it is inevitable that some individual pictures will tend to emerge from a body of work as "favorites", it's still the body of work that matters most.

But even the idea of "favorites" is somewhat flawed. As this little guessing exercise has demonstrated, even from a relatively small collection of pictures, quite a number of "favorites" have emerged. I am certain that if even more people had participated, even more "favorites" would be named. As Julian's grandmother used to say, "For every pot there's a lid."

That said, why did I label this particular picture The Best ku Ever? Well, in some sense I consider it to be my most complete picture ever. Again, as many here already know, my preference is for pictures that Illustrate and Illuminate, by which I mean pictures that are not only visually engaging and interesting, but also emotionally and intellectually engaging and interesting as well. Pictures that, in addition to their visual 'beauty', also communicate intelligent ideas that are worthy of attention, appreciation and investigation.

So, quite obviously, I believe that this picture functions very well for both criteria.

To Illustrate - The obvious visual referent (aka, the studium, the denoted) of this picture is the wild flowers, grasses and weeds that are intertwined in an erratic and chaotic manner. I find this object of the camera's gaze to be quite appealing. Simply stated, I like wild flowers. Visually, I find them worthy of attention, appreciation and investigation.

This pictures contains so much detail that, at first glance to some, it can appear to be quite overwhelming. It is, if nothing else, visually complex and visual complexity suits both my eye and my mind because I like pictures that seem to radiate a visual energy of sorts - ones that 'agitate' and cause the eye to dance and skitter across the surface, stopping here and there and finding many points of interest along the way and even occasionally colliding head-on into the edges of the frame in a need-to-know frenzy of what lies beyond the denoted. Pictures, that despite this 'agitation' still manage to have a cohesive, all-of-a-piece look when viewed from a 'normal' print viewing distance.

This visual characteristic of this picture could be labeled 'a matter of taste'. I wouldn't argue against that idea too vigorously but I would opine that the preponderance of current Fine Art Photography tends be more visually complex than not.

However, suffice it to state that, without question, I am naturally and honestly drawn to subject matter such as this. Simply stated, I made the picture and appreciate the result because, first and foremost, I was drawn to the scene and I like the way the print looks - it's my kind of illustration.

To Illuminate - Here's where it gets a bit, well ... 'dicey'. This is the part - meaning (aka, the punctum, the connoted) - that, without words from the photographer, can be very illusive and is always very personal. The life experience, the knowledge (of both photography specifically and Art in general), the cultural prejudices, and the curiosity of the viewer (amongst other considerations as well) all play a part in what, if anything, meaning(s) he/she derives from a photograph. This picture is no exception to that rule.

This part is also 'dicey' for many because it involves a subject that many find somewhat abhorrent - the much dreaded The Artist Statement. The part where a photographer must claim his authorship and, at the very least, give us a clue about his/her concept and intentionality. Why many photographers run from this task like they would from the plague is beyond my ability to discern. Nevertheless, let me lumber on.

Warning: I'll get to myArtist Statement shortly, but, if you don't read this next part, just hang up and call again some other less involving time.

It has been said that photography is in large part about the act of observing or, as some might say, seeing. Some choose to exercise this act in order to observe the obvious - that which, for the most part, is obvious and already known. Like say, mountains at sunset are visually dramatic. Duh.

Most of this type of photography is created in a classic Modernist method. Modernism being a system of cultural principles that expresses belief in the power of human beings to create, improve, and reshape their environment with the aid of scientific knowledge, technology, and practical experimentation. Modernism emerged around the beginning of the last century roughly coincidental to emergence of the Industrial Revolution - you know, like the idea of better living through chemistry.

In the arts, Modernism was the deliberate departure from tradition and the use of innovative forms of expression that distinguish many styles in the arts and literature of the 20th century. However, later in the 20th century, Modernism was considered by many to no longer be a 'departure'. It was believed to have become a 'tradition' and most importantly one that no longer provided a means to look at and question the world that had evolved from the adherence to the principles of Modernism.

To wit, science and industry had not lived up to its billing. Sure, the world was in many ways a 'better place', but at what cost? At what cost to human dignity and worth? At what cost to the environment? At what cost to traditions worth conserving?

For many photographers (and artists of all stripes), it was time to seek a new why of seeing. One that questioned the way of things. One in which, under the umbrella of 'things', anything was fair game. Hence the emergence of Post-modernism - a cultural, intellectual, or artist state lacking a clear central hierarchy or organizing principle that embodies extreme complexity, contradiction, ambiguity, diversity, and interconnectedness and interreferentiality.

So, that said, here's my it's-a-work-in-progress Artist Statement

My photography is my way of seeing. I am drawn to seeing those things that are most often overlooked, or, if seen, are seldom considered. Things that have been declared by cultural decree or inference to be at best, unworthy of attention, or at worst, disposable. These are tenets with which I do not agree.

There is no better medium than photography, by its inherent characteristic as an indomitable cohort with reality, to draw attention to the overlooked and seldom seen. A photographer by observing and selecting and with the skillful use apparatus and its image has the power to elevate the object of his/her (and the camera's) gaze to a position of pre-eminence that it might not ordinarily attain.

Once so elevated, not only the denoted, but also the connoted can be considered. Again, using one of photography's intrinsic characteristics - the ability to isolate a moment in time and lay it bare, free of artistic pretense, for consideration (theoretically) for all time and again and again - the viewer can be taken into a space of hyper-reality. The pictured thing can seem more real than the thing itself - a simpler, more permanent, more clearly visible version of the plain fact. And it is the elevation and consideration of plain facts on which humankind must explore and find its place in the world.

So, I make photographs that present plain facts using metaphor and allegory and the hint of something bigger. I picture ordinary and everyday scenes that are passed by and overlooked and not considered to be worthy of becoming the subject of art in the hope that the contemplation of such plain facts will make or at least tempt the viewer to think about the pictured thing differently, possibly as things of value rather than as objects of merely incidental functionality.

So there you have it. I like this picture a lot because I really like the way its looks. To my eye and sensibility, it is energetic and beautiful beyond compare. The more I look at it, the more it makes me think about what it means to be human, life, death, complexity, diversity, the interdependence of all living things, the nature of beauty, the purpose of Art, and if we don't soon find our righteous place in the world we'll all end up in ditch of our own making from which we can't emerge. Although ultimately, the picture, through its evident truth about simple beauty, fills me with a sense of possibility and grace.

Reflections • click to embiggenThis past weekend, I was introduced to the photography of Jeff Bark. Jeff Bark is a former NYC fashion photographer of considerable fame, repute, and fortune. Currently, he is an emerging 'darling' of the Fine Art World, Photography Division. His prints sell for $18,000 a pop and his first solo exhibition is now on display at the Michael Hoppen gallery in London.

The photo 'schtik' that Mr. Bark has employed to great art-critic acclaim is to spend a great deal of time and effort to make elaborate studio sets in which to stage nude models (see his Abandon series). The resultant pictures are said to "reinterpret old masters" (painting masters, not photography masters) with a care to lighting and exposure that "is more like the attentive solicitude of a still-life painter".

Even though "he works with a camera, film, and all of the accoutrements of mise-en-scene ... his medium for all visual purposes, is painting". He uses "a large-format camera, soft lighting and long exposures to create a painterly texture ... each (scene) constructed with all the care and skill of a Renaissance masterpiece."

Caveat - the following rant is not in any way, shape, or form about Jeff Bark's pictures. My first inclination from limited web and print publication viewing is to like them.

The Rant -

I don't know if Jeff Bark has any desire to be a 'painter' who uses a camera, film, etc., but it seems that notion, without a doubt, is the message that is being broadcast far and wide by the academic lunatic-fringe art critic / curatorial class. I swear, if I read one more review of photography wherein the only references to 'skill', 'care', 'lighting', 'exposure', etc. are those that are linked to painting / painters, my head is going to explode.

It seems rather obvious to me that the current class of art-history trained art critics and curators know little or nothing at all about the history of photography. If they did, they might actually recognize that Jeff Bark's photography references the past work of many of photography's masters, and, in the case of 'mise-en-scene', the past work of many film (motion picture) masters.

Come on guys, get your heads out of your dark and narrow painting-history asses. Take the time and make the effort to learn something about photography and its broad and detailed history. Then you might even be able to comment about how the 'skill', 'care', 'lighting', 'exposure', etc. in a photograph references the 'skill', 'care', 'lighting', 'exposure', etc. of current and past masters of photography.

Because, what the hell, in the case of "lighting' (as an example), the skill that Jeff Bark employs in the making of and that is exhibited in his prints are those of a modern 'master' working with electricity and multiple 'artificial' lights, with which he actually creates the quality of light that he wants to best meet his purpose. This is a very different skill from that of Renaissance masters who used available / found light to achieve their purposes.

And while you're at it, get some counseling to deal with your painting fetish. Photography is not painting. Photographers do not need to act or think like painters. The medium of photography is inherently different from painting - it, by its nature, is promiscuous and discursive. A photographer can make lots of pictures and produce them in limitless quantity. Neither of those facts, in and of themselves, diminishes in any way the value of a photograph as Art.

Both of these characteristics of the medium of photography - promiscuity and print proliferation - are (to the art critic / curatorial class) like the elephant in the living room. Nobody wants to admit that it exists, much less talk about it. But, in fact, these are the single most perplexing dilemmas, re: photography, that are facing the Fine Art World today -

Can the single act of making an individual work of Art that can then produce an endless number of originals - not 'copies', not 'reproductions' - and therefore be owned by countless individuals, be valued as Fine Art?

To date, the answer is an absolute and emphatic "No!"

No real reasons are given. It's just the historical momentum that since the ordained mediums of painting and sculpture only have one original - all the rest are just 'reproductions', therefore, it must also be so with photography. It seems very obvious to me that the only segments of the Art World that this idea serves is Art marketers and the art-history fetish critics and curators.

Pardon my French, but, f**k them. There has to be a better way.