# 6431-32 / landscape ~ weathering the weather

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DID I MENTION THAT WE HAVE HAD a lot of rain-massive displays of thunder and lightning-over the last few days with flash flood warnings galore. Throw in uncommonly high temperatures for this time of year with uncomfortable levels of humidity and it’s accurate to write that it has been a unusual couple of days.

# 6424-27 / common places-things • copy cat ~ the dog days of summer have arrived

ON A RECENT WALK ABOUT IN OLD MONTREAL I made a few pictures that have been added to my art reflects gallery on the WORK page. During that walk about I was quite surprised when I came upon an art gallery window display of a painting that replicates my art reflects work.

Now I know that my art reflects photo book is floating around somewhere in Montreal. However, I don’t know where it is cuz I lost rack of it when it was stolen-I think of that as an act of appreciation-from a hotel lobby in Old Montreal. Consequently, I do not know if the maker of the window reflection art work painting has seen my book-probably not, unless of course, the artist is the one who stole it.

But, in any event, I feel flattered. Cuz, ya know, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

# 6418-23 / common places • common things ~ life as it happened

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IN THIS ENTRY I’M TAKING A CUE FROM MIKE JOHNSTON AND THE Texas gear nutjob, both of whom laden their sites with lots of personal, non photography data. That written, this entry could be labeled as 24 hrs in the life of me, complete with pictures.

On Monday morning I awoke to a glorious Adirondack summer morning. The cat drew me out to the back porch where sunlight dappled the scene and the air was cool and fresh. I made a picture.

Going back into the house for my morning coffee, I noticed that there was an arrangement in the kitchen sink demanding my attention. I made a picture.

After completing my morning routine, I got in one of our cars-we have 3-and headed off to a doctor’s appointment-a followup to my recent prostrate procedure. Did I mention that I live at least 30 mile from everywhere? Although in this case, I live a 1 1/2 hour car drive from my urologist’s office. It’s a nice ride that includes a midpoint ferry ride across the 6th largest lake in North America. I made a picture.

After being cleared for normal peeing duty, I met the wife for lunch along with a couple from Denver who were in town-Burlington, Vt.-to visit their son who is a clerk for a Vermont Supreme Court-aka: appellate court-judge. I did not make a picture.

Next up, after lunch-no, we did not eat a EL CORJITO, the wife, her from Denver bestie, and I took a walk down Church St.-a pedestrian shopping, dining, entertainment district on the way to where I had parked my car. Along the way, I noticed a bookstore-I really like bookstores-and we went inside where the wife purchased a birthday-it’s 10 days away-present for me; the BOB DYLAN ~ MIXING UP THE MEDICINE book. FYI, she won’t let me read it until my birthday, even though it sits tantalizingly close on the kitchen counter. I made a picture.

Upon leaving the bookstore I notice the EL CORJITO restaurant. I made a picture.

Then it was time for me to head home. The wife stayed behind-she had one of our other cars-to spent the afternoon followed by dinner catching up with her bestie. No pictures that I know of.

Upon arriving home, I made a picture of a tomato I had been wanting to picture. Made my supper. Re-watched Asteroid City. Went to bed. No more pictures.

# 6409-6417 / polaroid ~ barrel o' monkeys fun

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MUCH HAS BEEN WRITTEN, RE: THE JOY OF PHOTOGRAPHY but little has been written about flat-out, just screwing around fun with photography. And, iMo, when it comes to just pure fun with photography-different from the pleasure to be had in “standard” picture making-nothing, in my experience, comes close to the making pictures with Polaroid cameras or films. I can’t even guess, with any accuracy, the number of Polaroid camera/film pictures I have made. Multiple thousands for sure to include SX70 and Spectra camera-made prints, 4x5/8x10/ sheet film prints, 669 print film (3 1/4x4 1/4 pack film) prints.

A significant part of the fun of making Polaroid photographs comes from just screwing around making straight/ un-manipulated pictures with family and friends and sharing the instant gratification that derives from sharing the results - most often smiles all around, all the way up to fits of hilarity.

As much fun as that is, the inevitable next step up the fun ladder is when you realize you can push around the emulsion of an SX70 print-does not work with any other Polaroid material-before it hardens. This is rather addictive and those so addicted can find themselves carrying around a little kit of pointy tipped things (of varying thicknesses for different width strokes). Embracing and perfecting (a matter of taste) this technique kinda makes one feel as though they are an artist (of some sort).

Then, once ya got the art bug, the serious amongst us move up to the Polaroid image transfer process. This requires the use of a 4x5 view camera and a Polaroid 4x5 film back in order to shoot and process 4x5 Polaroid print film. The process is as follows:

  • have a tray of water, a roller instrument and a squeegee, and sheet of heavy fine art paper ready

  • make an in-camera exposure onto Polaroid print film

  • put the paper in the water, soak thoroughly, squeegee dry but still damp

  • pull the film pack of of the back to start the film processing

  • before the processing is complete, peel the film pack apart, place and then roll the film onto the fine art paper

  • wait 10 minutes and then peel the film off of the paper

  • Voila, the dyes from the film will be transferred to the paper

The fun part of this process is that you now have an image on fine art paper and have the ability to add hand-coloring or any other embellishments to the print. Artist, indeed.

All of that written, my fun with Polaroid continued over into my professional work inasmuch as I made many manipulated SX70 prints and Polaroid transfer prints for quite a number of advertising clients and editorial assignments.

Unfortunately, as they say, all good things must come to an end. And, yes, there is a sad ending to this barrel o’ monkeys’ fun. To my knowledge, none of this is possible today. RIP Polaroid.

Photo captions (top-bottom, l-r): 1) my ex, 2) good friend and then par amour, 3) son 1, 4) son 2, 5) Pittsburgh magazine special issue ~ 24 hours / a day in the life, 6) national teen magazine article ~ teen life in a small West Virginia town, 7) regional magazine article - boxing gyms, 8) regional magazine cover ~ rebuilding the rust belt article, 9) University of Pittsburgh magazine ~ School of Dentistry article

PS I have created a new Fun with Polaroid gallery on my WORK page.

# 6404-08 / mementos ~ the fog of memory

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I’M AN OLD GUY, WELL INTO MY 7TH DECADE approaching my 8th. So, I have a lifetime of memories and fortunately my memory is very sound. That written, I have been thinking about memory + photography cuz…

… it has been postulated by serious thinkers-in academia-on the subject that, with the incredible magnitude of photographs being made, photographs are somehow replacing human memory and becoming the memory. Consider this from an essay in the book, A MATTER OF MEMORY ~ Photography As A Object in the Digital Age:

“…photography and memory have been intertwined for so long that their inextricable linkage has become a platitude. Most of us recognize that many of our childhood memories are more likely the result of seeing photographs of ourselves as children than they are actual recollections recovered from the memory centers in our brains….in recent years there has been a surge of interest in the omnipresence of photography and its effect on memory.”

iMo, this concept, re: photography effecting memory, is a bit of an academic dalliance; they gotta have something to do. But, be that as it may, that concept is not much on my mind. What is on my mind is popular idea that photographs preserve memories…

… right from the get-go, let me state for the record that I lean toward the idea that photographs are a fine visual reminder of a moment in the past but, despite their ability to present a picture of that moment complete with a lot of visual detail, they are, at best, an inciter of memories stored in the human brain. However, to be precise, only in the human brain of a viewer who was a participant in that moment. And, the memories that may rise to the fore upon viewing a photograph are, due to the nature of human memory, rather generalized, i.e, vague / “foggy” / imprecise, at best.

On the other hand, consider the photo of me in my pajamas… I know it’s a photo of me cuz the depicted face in the photo looks like the face I have seen in other photos from that time that I know to be photos of me. I can assuredly deduce that the picture was made in the attic-which my father renovated-bedroom cuz of the sloping ceiling line behind me. But, I have no idea who made the photo-probably my father but it could have been taken by my mother or my grandfather (he was an avid amateur photographer)-nor do I have even the vaguest idea the why photo was made. I do know that photo was not made in March 1960-as printed on the border-cuz we were not living in that house in 1960. March’60 was the date the photo was printed and considering the fact that my dad was frugal in his picture making-a roll of film could be in the camera for year or 2-the photo could have been made more than a year or more before that March ‘60 date.

All of written, here’s the thing about that photo…I have absolutely no memory associated with that moment in time. None. Nada. Zip. The image, and in this example also the actual print, is little more than a visual artifact about a past moment in time. It does not cause me to manufacture a memory. It is, primarily, just a picture.

That written, the photograph does, in fact, stir up a memory. Not of the moment but rather of someone not depicted - my father. The instigator of that memory-a memory that is very broad and generalized-is a detail in the photo that only I might notice, the aforementioned slanting ceiling line that testifies to the fact that the photo was make in the bedroom that my father made in our attic that he renovated. However, strangely enough, I have no memory of him renovating the attic.

In any event, all of the above written, I do have many photographs of a past moments in time that incite memories associated with that moment in time. And, to be honest, I have quite a number of photographs of past moments in time that remind me of moments that I might never have thought of if not for the photographic evidence. On the other hand I have far more memories for which there is no photographic evidence other than the pictures in my head: I am primarily a visual thinker after all.

In either case, and in my experience (your experience might vary), memory and the memories associated with them are rather enigmatic / ambiguous / insubstantial. And, iMo / experience, having a highly detailed photograph of a past moment in time does not make a memory any more detailed, memory wise. That is, beyond the detail of the literally depicted visual content. However, that written, what might appear to be an insignificant detail in a photography-think about the ceiling line in the above photo-could, in deed, incite a memory about something / someone / someplace that is not part of that moment.

Ok. I’m starting to ramble on. That’s in part, cuz I am still trying to sort a lot of this stuff out. But part of that sorting out is the 4 “ghosted” photos in this entry. I intend to make a photo book about photography + memory in which all of the photos will be ghosted in order to support my idea that memories-even those incited by highly detailed photos-are rather “foggy”.

# 6404 / single women ~ cut it out-no, wait-don't cut it out

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SO, 2 DAYS AGO I AND MY GOOD FRIEND had lunch at a trendy, quaint restaurant, a long-ago converted boathouse, aka: the Cottage, on Mirror Lake in Lake Placid. We go to lunch once a week and, being creatures of habit (somewhat), we have 3 restaurants which constitute our lunch restaurant rota.

That written, the two of us always sit at the bar. That’s cuz we-me in particular-enjoy chatting up / flirting with the bartendresses. To be honest, I do most of the schmooging (non-sexual) and my good friend tends to look on with a sense of amusement.

In any event, recently, we have been lunching at the Cottage much more frequently than the other 2 restaurants. Thats’s cuz I have struck up a interesting relationship with the bartendress; I have mentioned her before as the person who said that she was left with a I-can’t-describe-it “feeling” after viewing one of my photo books.

As a result of hearing that reaction, I now always bring one of my photo books to lunch at the Cottage. She really enjoys viewing them and often asks to take them home for an extended look. And, it is always interesting, sometimes surprising, to learn of her choice of “favorites” from each book. But that’s not what this entry is about….

….This week I had two of my photo books-past their prime and single women-in hand at lunch. They were sitting on the bar when a gentleman sat down, noticed the books and asked, “Who’s the photographer?” I admitted to being the guilty party which led to an extended conversation* about things-photography after he admitted to being a “serious” amateur photographer.

He viewed the book, single women first, and deduced that I was a street photographer. I disabused him of that notion by saying that I was a discursively promiscuous photographer and handed him the past their prime book which he really liked. I showed him more of my work from my WORK page on my phone. He showed me a few of his works-mostly pretty good stuff-on his phone. One of which-a Massimo Vitali-like picture of an Adirondack ski slope-I would be happy to hang on one of my walls.

He also mentioned that he had an exhibit or two of his Adirondack landscape work. That led us around to discussing the exorbitant costs of mounting an exhibition, framing being the prime offender. I mentioned that I often do not frame my work for exhibition, When I do frame, I do not include a matte or glass and the frames are always simple gallery metal frames (black or pewter) or pre-made “standard” size wood frames (black). That manner of hanging work really keeps the cost down. It also helps that most of my photos are of the same square aspect ratio and I do my own framing.

Which leads me to the topic of this entry…cropping

Apparently my new found photo acquaintance is given to cropping his images cuz he is constantly having to acquire custom frame sizes. And, in all probability he does not do his own framing. Throw in matting and glass and looking at a hefty invoice for an exhibition size event.

Simply written, I do not crop any of my images. That’s cuz, as I heard from my father-if I heard it once, I heard it a zillions times-the adage that, “god gave you 2 ears, use them. Listen to what I am saying.” / “god gave you 2 legs and feet, use them. You can walk to the store.” / “god gave you 2 hands, use them. Clean up the mess in your room.” / “ god gave you 2 eyes, use them. Watch were you are stepping.”etc. etc. etc. ASIDE my father was not a religious man nor am I END OF ASIDE

Consequently, I believe that god gave you a camera with an aspect ratio, use it (right out to the edges). And, don’t even think about cropping. Full stop.

FYI, the picture in this entry is of 2 waitresses at the Cottage. Not the bartendress.

*we mercifully avoided much gear related stuff. Although, in the true serious amateur tradition, he did feel it necessary to inquire about what camera I used to make my pictures. And, he did extol the virtues of his beloved FUJI camera, even suggesting that I should acquire one.

PS clarification: in my last entry I wrote that I had hand enlargement surgery. I did not not, cuz I did not need hand enlargement surgery. The little hand in the picture is a tiny rubber hand that I carry around in my pocket in case I need to give someone a hand.

# 6901-03 / common things-places • around the house ~ one of these things is kinda like the other thing

all photos ~ (embiggenable)

NOW THAT I AM A DAY AWAY FROM ALL of the aftermath-anesthetic hangover, carrying around a bag of urine on my calf for 5 days, et al-of my hand enlargement / prostrate reduction event, I feel capable of addressing the idea of…

an art of expressing much and suggesting more….evoking a definite, though unstated, emotional response….work in which special intensity is given to the expression of feelings and ideas by the use of distinctive style and rhythm

…as expressed in my pre-op entry wherein I wondered if any one might come up with the word linked to that definition.

Reader Thomas Rink nailed it - the word is poetry. That written, he seems to be curious as to why I might suggest that the medium and its apparatus has a relationship to poetry. Good question which I will try to answer…

CAVEAT I have never been a fan of comparing one form of art with another / different form of art. Especially so when I hear / read the idea that a photograph resembles a painting by xxxxxx. So, fyi, I approach this poetry / photography relationship with a great amount of hesitancy and confliction. END CAVEAT

As best as I can determine, my reason for pursuing this idea derives from my ongoing desire to unravel what I feel when I view a photograph that I consider to be a good photograph (mine or made by others). That’s cuz, when I view a photograph that I consider to be a good photograph I am almost immediately struck by 2 nearly simultaneous sensations; 1) an engaging visual stimulation, and 2) a feeling, aka: an emotional response; akin to Sontag’s “an erotics of art”.

Thoughts rarely enter my mind at that point and I most definitely do not start searching for meaning or the picture maker’s intent. That’s cuz, re: intent, I am looking at the picture maker’s intent-it’s called a picture-which I assume was made with the intention to show the viewer something from the the real world as he /see sees it. Ya know, the vision thing.

How, you might ask, does my very personal way of viewing and experiencing a good photograph relate to poetry?

To be honest I don’t have much interest in poetry with one notable exception, haiku. A form of poetry which, for me, that is an art of expressing much and suggesting more….evoking a definite, though unstated, emotional response…work in which special intensity is given to the expression of feelings and ideas by the use of distinctive style and rhythm.

Haiku also hits me with 2 nearly simultaneous sensations: 1) a cognitive recognition of the words which creates an emotional state of mind, and 2) visual stimulation; the pictures that emerge in my head.

I would suggest, emphatically so, that that definition / description of poetry is, to my sensibilities, a very fitting description of a good photograph. For photography purposes, one might wish to replace “distinctive style and rhythm” with “personal vision and form” but, either way, it still points in the same direction.

All of that written (and I could go on and on), I believe that good photographs and good haiku are both emotionally rich and, surprisingly, visually rich mediums. Does that mean that I believe that my photographs are a form of poetry / haiku. No, I do not. But, that written, I do believe that good photographs are capable, with the skillful use of the medium’s lyrical and descriptive power, of expressing a picture maker's emotions in an imaginative and beautiful way, making them, in a manner of writing, kinda /sorta poetic.