Colorized Photography: Modern Views on Historic Photos

by Shannon Polugar

The advent of and exponential popularity of digital photography has meant the loss of numerous film types and color processes. While some can be recreated through the digital process, they cannot be truly replaced.  Paul Simon’s lyric, “Momma don’t take my Kodachrome…” may have come about three decades early, but perhaps the song is more relevant now than it was in 1973.

The color photography process as we know it is less than half as old as photography itself. There is more than a hundred years of history documented in photographs that are in black and white, and other monochromatic tones. Hand-painted photographs were popular, but to the modern eye they are far from realistic.

“Two hand-painted stereoview photos of the same group of children in Japan, 1904. Despite being two images taken in series of the same scene, they are painted differently.”]

Our minds have become accustomed to seeing the world of the early photograph in black and white. It may be nostalgic, and we may hold the tonal qualities of the monotone images as something to emulate, but the argument can be made that it disconnects us from the realities that existed in those photographs.

Artist Jordan Lloyd takes these old photographs and brings them into the familiar reality that is how we see our everyday world: color. As Lloyd says, “We don’t live in a black and white world, neither did they!”

“A split view of a photo of the daughters of the secretary of the Japanese Embassy, in Potamac Park in Washington D.C. from 1925 colorized by Jordan Lloyd.”

Lloyd goes beyond simply coloring the photographs. There is extensive research put into each photograph, ensuring at the very least, as in the case with the girls in Potamac Park, that the colors are accurate for the time period, and to the extreme end with the colorization of Harry Burton’s photos from 1922-1925 of the King Tut excavation, careful examination of field notes and locating modern photos of the objects to color match.

“Four colorized photos from the King Tut excavation, commissioned to be colorized by the original photograph’s owner, The Griffith Institute, for ‘The Discovery of King Tut’ exhibition in NYC."

What is different about colorizing photographs now versus when they were taken, such as the stereoview example? Lloyd states that today’s technology allows a level of realism that could not previous be replicated, and that with the internet, global access to historical documents assist in the detailed research required to “provide authenticity to the original historical document.”

There is criticism though of this type of work. Critics call the works ‘revisionist’ and disrespectful to the original artists, who are long gone and have no say. Lloyd counters though that his works are not meant to be viewed out of context, they are supplements to the original – not a replacement. He also avoids colorizing photos that were taken in black and white for artistic intent, and focuses on images that were taken for “editorial purposes of historical prosperity,” as had color been an option, these photos would have likely been in color. Even Burton tried, though was unsuccessful, to make color autochrome photos of the excavation. Color was wanted, but not available.

It is my own personal feeling that when we see these old photographs in color, reasonably represented as they would have been seen by the people who lived them, that it brings us closer to the feelings and reality that would have been when the photograph was taken. There are lessons there too for how we work between choosing color and black and white photography now: while many view black and white photography as more pure or artistic, there is much to be said about how color attaches us to the ‘present’ of the photograph.

https://www.pixartprinting.co.uk/content/controversial-art-colourising-past/

http://resourcemagonline.com/2015/11/colorizing-history-how-jordan-lloyd-and-dynamichrome-brought-color-to-king-tuts-excavation/60624/

http://dynamichrome.com/

http://www.tutnyc.com/

The Quest of Bowen Island

by Dianne Morton

My inspiration has always been photography's ability to stop time and reveal what the naked eye cannot see. —Lois Greenfield

A few weeks ago, I conducted an online search for a written assignment. Magically, I stumbled upon a workshop that involved one of my TOP influences of all time! My first thought, “Does Todd Hido really do workshops?” was followed by, “Is this for real?” As internet starstruck as I was, my thoughts didn’t matter: I signed up. Hastily, I booked my flight, ferry itinerary, and hotel room for Bowen Island, BC.

In case my reader is wondering exactly who Mr. Hido is, and why I find his work so intriguing, it’s because of his peculiar nighttime imagery. Todd Hido (American, b. 1968) photographs with natural and ambient light and, while in the darkroom, manipulates the developing process to create a mood he’s looking for, all the while summoning reality. Within his series, Excerpts from Silver Meadows, Hido sets a scene, which includes soft color tones within images of landscapes. Driving through Silver Meadows on a rainy day, Hido captured beautiful photographs through his car window. The result is simply breathtaking, as his images appear as if they are paintings. The soft edges of the landscape seem like gentle brush strokes as they blend beautifully from land, to water, to sky. The hint of color adds detail to the imagery and creates an illusion or dream state.

Todd Hido, Untitled #5368

Notwithstanding a travel date set for Friday the thirteenth, I never considered bad luck. Why would I? I was lucky enough to attend a workshop with one of my biggest influences. As I ventured to San Francisco International Airport, I was greeted with many delays, all of which occurred exactly 30 minutes apart—all five hours of them. I thought the delays were due to the devastating fires in the North Bay, but with the plane sitting right in front of our gate having a tire changed, it was clear this was a mechanical issue—and that it takes several mechanics (and hours) to change a plane’s tire.

My careful planning soon evaporated as I began to do the math, realizing that not only would I would miss the last ferry from Vancouver to Bowen Island but I would also not be able to check into my hotel room. Despite my fate, I quickly booked a hotel room in Vancouver and figured I could easily catch an early-morning ferry in time for the workshop.

Saturday morning came quickly, as I had set an early alarm after a late-night arrival. I gathered my bags, climbed in a cab, and headed to Horse Shoe Bay catch a ferry to Bowen Island bright and early. Now, when I mention my bags, I’m not speaking lightly. I (over) packed a duffle filled with warm clothes, a camera backpack (including tripod), and a portfolio case (stuffed with my prints, a laptop, iPad, and cords). This gal is pretty rugged, but I never thought there would be a narrow staircase on the ferry. I’m sure it wasn’t hard to notice that I was the only portfolio-carrying “camper” on the ferry.

Somehow, I thought to call the nice gentleman from FotoFilmic (our workshop host and contact), who kindly offered to meet me at the ferry dock. Based on our descriptions of each other over the phone, I delightedly recognized Bastian as I disembarked the ferry. Being a sympathetic, young gentleman with a deep French-Canadian heritage and accent, my new acquaintance offered to carry my duffle, and off we went, walking through the quaint harbor and into town to the workshop.

I was fifteen minutes late and worried I would interrupt Todd’s presentation. After I quietly entered the room and found a place to lay down all of my baggage and gear, I found a chair in the back of the tiny room. I pulled out my notebook and began writing immediately.

Though I’ve never heard Todd’s voice, it seemed familiar. With a subtle lisp, confident, and steady pace, Todd spoke with experience and knowledge, all the while passing on lessons to the workshop attendees. He spoke of his time in graduate school, specifically, a “narrative course.” It was during this class that Todd began working on his series involving photographing houses at night. I recall him advising us, “Go and shoot … Paths will emerge.”

Todd told us that he spent hours driving around the San Francisco Bay Area, looking and looking, and found a neighborhood that reminded him of his hometown in Ohio. Oddly, this neighborhood is almost in my backyard. Todd spent many, many nights in Daly City, California, photographing old, worn homes that were “lit from within.”

Many things resonated with me during Todd’s lecture. Honestly, I could have sat for days, weeks, months … listening. Perhaps I connect with this particular artist because much of his work is based on memories, as is my current work. Nevertheless, when he said, “Turn your camera inside,” I knew my efforts to arrive at this workshop were worth every moment of tested patience.

The rest of the day was spent listening to more of Todd’s process, inspiration, influences, and syntax. (He’s currently shooting digitally and LOVES using the software program, Lightroom!)

Then, he turned his interest to us, his students. We were allowed a thirty-minute review, and for those of us who brought prints, Todd also gave guidance on knowledge, perception, and sequencing. Every single one of the attendees were remarkable artists … all exhibiting different, yet notable talent. I brought the prints from my thesis proposal and one new image. I was incredibly nervous and considered sitting quietly in the back and not presenting. Something came over me, because I knew why I was there: to learn. Eventually, I volunteered to show my prints.

I began by explaining my thesis project, Blue Pencils. I pulled out my newest print, then another, and another, until all the 13x19” prints were sprawled out on the table before our group. Todd methodically picked up a few prints, holding them up, moved them around, and eliminated several. I was pleased to see that some of the remaining prints are the images that I most recently found as “keepers,” with the help of my professor and peers. Silently, I smiled. Todd offered me incredible input and ideas in continuing my “strong” narrative, and I’m really excited to investigate these areas.

After our day of lecture, we were eager to visit FotoFilmic’s current solo exhibit by a young photographer and attendee of Todd’s workshop, Jill Beth Hannes. As we strolled down the woodsy path into town, I recognized how fortunate I was that everything clicked into place and that I was actually THERE.

We were greeted at the lovely reception with appetizers, wine, and a warm fire. After visiting with several of the attendees, I strolled a short distance to the gallery to view FotoFilmic’s exhibition. As I reviewed the work, I was drawn to several of the self-portraits, noticing that, perhaps, Cindy Sherman could be a likely influence. This body of work was fluid, deep, and developed. As I usually do, I reviewed the images and, then, read the artist’s bio.

I was at home. As I read, I learned the artist is a fellow graduate of the Academy of Art University.

Jill Beth Hannes, Rear Window

self portrait

by Jiheng Yan

In the summer, I passed my MPR with a series photos of street corners that represent my emotional transformation during the past two years since I came San Francisco. After working on this project for almost one year. I started to have a different negative feeling about this project. I don't know if it is just me or maybe many other photographers are experiencing the similar situation. For photographers who want to show their state of mind, I feel it is always hard to get photos which relate to my own experience. In this case, I started to consider creating a new body of work for my final review.

Recently, I have been to San Jose Museum of Art (SJMA) to see the latest exhibitioncalled 'This is not a selfie.'  Mostly, the self-portraits are permanent collections of Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA). LACMA organized the exhibition years ago. And nowSJMA is exhibiting the newer version of this collection by adding more recent self-portraits in it. The exhibition was impressing. 'This is not a selfie' contains works by Diane Arbus, Cindy Sherman, Nan Goldin, etc. After this show, I am thinking about creating a new series of work of self-portraits. One of the photographs that interest me most is Peter Keetman's work named '1001 Gesichter'. The image is a self-portrait of reflection of him on an enormous amount of waterdrops. In the background of the photo, it's a vague face of him.

Picture 1: Peter Keetman, ‘1001 Gesichter’,1957

Inspired by his work, I was trying to take a self-portrait of myself on waterdrops. So I decided to use a waterproof film camera with flash on it. The result of this roll of film turned out not as what I expected. But I got a photograph that I am satisfied with. 

Picture 2: Jiheng Yan, Untitled, 2017

Why Blow Up Remains My Favorite Photography Film

(even if it’s not really about photography)

by Brian Edwards

Some people are bullfighters. Some people are politicians. I’m a photographer
- Thomas, Blow-Up

I remember seeing the Michelangelo Antonioni film Blow Up [1] in the movie theatre, way back in 1966 just after its released. I went with two friends, Rich Levinson and Kevin Wood (both deceased); we did this a lot in those days - Friday or Saturday night at the local theater in Chatsworth, California, right next to the same Mason Avenue Thriftymart we visited every Thursday afternoon to scour the latest shipment of comic books. It never really mattered what was playing, we just went and saw what was showing. I am not even sure if I really understood then what this film was really about. I saw it more as a mystery about a photographer (Thomas - played by David Hemmings) who thought he had witnessed and recorded a murder but was left without any proof of the crime when one of the subjects of these images (Jane - portrayed by Vanessa Redgrave), or her agents, brakes into Thomas’ studio and steals the film, negatives, and all but one print that remains the last vestige of evidence of the crime Thomas was convinced he had witnessed. Unable to convince anyone without evidence, the remainder of film sees Thomas go through his own version of Five Steps of Grief (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance) as he struggles to come to terms with this loss and the realization it brings. [2]

Thomas and Jane[3]

Based in London during the mid-1960s, Blow-Up is filled with shots of swinging sixties London including one that takes place in a nightclub where a pre-Led Zepplin version of the Yardbirds (with Jeff Beck and Jimmy Page) perform and we even witness Jeff Beck go early Pete Townsend and smash an electric guitar on stage and toss the pieces into the crowd. Of course, our photographer-protagonist is there to snatch the guitar neck which he later discards after leaving the nightclub. Why did he want it in the first place? There are other wonderful shots of factories and other working-class areas of London that anyone interested in space and place will appreciate. An earlier scene where Thomas photographs the model Verushka (portrayed by herself) is one of the most allegorical scenes I have ever witnessed in film and probably generated its own controversy in its day. Antonioni is also careful not to romanticize the Thomas character too much. He refers to models as bloody bitches and laments over all of the queers and poodles he sees in a re-developing London neighborhood. He is as much hustler as he is artist and maybe that dampens some of the empathy we might have for Thomas as he goes through this ordeal.

Thomas and Verushka [4]

But there is an interesting corollary at play with this film. A generation of photographers were inspired by this film to become photographers, and to this day, the scenes of Thomas shooting and developing film and printing are candy for many of us who still cling to the notion that film represents a more real and more tangible version of the art and craft of photography. I often wonder, though, when Minor White claims that “one should not only photograph things for what they are but for what else they are” he might refer to this film. [5] I really doubt that this film inspired that quote probably just as much as I doubt that the same quote inspired Antonioni to make Blow Up, but what remains is that this film is not really about photography, and it is precisely this that makes it so extraordinary.  

But what is this film really about? I have heard scores of hypotheses, but I think the theme of this film is quite simple; it is about the illusion of control. Early in the film, Thomas sees himself, and behaves accordingly, as one in control of his destiny and even that of others. When he tells his models to close their eyes, they close their eyes, and they stay closed even after he walks away. It reminds me of the story of the Centurion from the book of Matthew, “But just say the word, and my servant will be healed”. [6]

As much as I appreciate Antonioni using photography as a backdrop and frame of reference for this film, I often find myself imagining the film without a single reference to photography. The main character could have been, after all, a cheesemaker who thought he made the best mozzarella in town only to be told of a recent entrant into the fray who made it even better. Perhaps less exciting, but equally devastating to our protagonist Thomas as he struggles to come to terms with his utter and complete lack of control over his own destiny.

The only remaining question I have about the film is how Thomas could have afforded that wonderful Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud III he drove in the film.

Sources:

[1] Michelangelo Antonioni (director), Blow-Up, 1966, http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0060176/

[2] Elisabeth Kübler-Ross (author) and Ira Brock M.D. (forward), On Death and Dying: What the Dying Have to Teach Nurses, Clergy and Their Own Families, Scribner; Reprint Edition, 2014.

[3] Michelangelo Antonio, Thomas and Jane, Blow-Up, IMDB, http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0060176/mediaviewer/rm829337600

[4] Michelangelo Antonio, Thomas and Verushka, Blow-Up, IMDB, http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0060176/mediaviewer/rm4291763968

[5] Minor White, 22 Quotes by Photographer Minor White, John Paul Caponigro, http://www.johnpaulcaponigro.com/blog/12041/22-quotes-by-photographer-minor-white/

[6] BibleGateway, The Faith of the Centurion, Matthew 8:5-13, New International Version, https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew+8:5-13

The diaristic approach in art photography

by Cecilie Oedegaard

Ever since viewing Nan Goldin’s The Ballad of Sexual Dependency the diaristic approach to photography has intrigued me. With this post I decided to take a closer look at work created within this subgenre, both by contemporary photographers as well as by the genre’s pioneers.

Many self-scrutinising portraits utilize a diary-like style that adopts the aesthetics of the casual family snapshot or the quick-fire photography of reportage. The work of the two American photographers Larry Clark (b. 1943) and Nan Goldin (b. 1953) has been hugely influential in establishing an informal diaristic style as a legitimate fine-art form. Both of these photographers have produced large bodies of work consisting of frank and intimate portraits and self-portraits that explore the gritty and bohemian life of those around them using their friends as stand-ins for their families in these autobiographical ‘albums’.

Larry Clark created the controversial body of work titled Tulsa in 1971, a collection of black and white images portraying the life of young people in Tulsa, Oklahoma. The work is said to have caused a sensation within the photography community leading to a new interest in autobiographical work. Clark’s images portray scenes of young people having sex, shooting up drugs, and playing with guns. Clark has said that he "didn't take these photographs as a voyeur, but as a participant in the phenomenon", and commentary on his book Tulsa emphasize that Clark did not just live with the teenagers portrayed but "did drugs with them, slept with them, and included himself in the photographs’’ which conferred an authenticity on the work, further bringing it great praise.

Nan Goldin's body of work titled The Ballad of Sexual Dependency is a slideshow consisting of nearly 700 snapshot-like portraits sequenced against an evocative music soundtrack. Similarly to Clark’s work, Goldin’s series presents intense, intimate moments from her life, living in New York during the 1970s and 80s. With her social portraiture approach she documents love, pain, fluid sexuality, glamour, beauty, domestic violence, intoxication, AIDS and death through her imagery. The Ballad of Sexual Dependency is the diary I let people read,” Goldin wrote. “The diary is my form of control over my life. It allows me to obsessively record every detail. It enables me to remember.” Goldin further said about herself in an interview that her skills within photography is in the slideshows and in the narratives rather than making perfect images. It is in the groupings of work and in the relationships she has with people. I think her work captures a world that is universally human although highly personal.

Speaking about work within the diaristic subgenre that has been created in more recent time, I wanted to mention the project titled My Little Dead Dick. This was a year-long collaboration between photographers (also a couple) Patrick Tsai and Madi Ju. The project begun in 2006 as an online diary through which the couple shared intimate moments and everyday happenings from their life. The two photographers first met through a photosharing website. They started dating, fell in love, moved in together and started documenting their lives together. They started uploading photographs to the photo sharing site flickr.com as well as to their own blog and very quickly got a captive audience following their bitter sweet love affair and the ups and downs that characterize any relationship. What differentiated this work from the thousands of digital snapshots on sites like Flickr is the fact that the couple were both skilled photographers developing the project knowing it was an artistic endeavour rather than a collection of randomly posted photos. The images, both portraits and self-portraits were carefully composed and edited. Furthermore the images were shot on film and not digital although the online presentation failed to show that. The project ended with the love affair, but during that year when it blossomed, the project developed a cult status and received critical recognition attracting followers who devoted space for the photographs on their own websites and blogs.

It’s comforting to see that in our time with amateur snapshots being ubiquitous on social media, imagery created within the diaristic tradition by skilled photographers is still being differentiated, valued and appreciated as real works of art.

Sources cited;

Autofocus, The Self-portrait in Contemporary photography by Susan Bright

www.artsy.net

MOMA.

http://www.hellopatpat.com/galleries/mldd/start.html

https://www.moma.org/calendar/exhibitions/1651

Quoted in "Larry Clark - Tulsa 1971", artfacts.net.

Parr and Badger, The Photobook vol. 1, p.260

Product Review of the Microsoft Surface Pro 4 from a Die-Hard Apple User

by Kailey LaValliere

As a long-time Apple user, I never imagined myself even batting an eye at anything other than Apple for the purpose of using Adobe products. As with most Apple users, I thought it was the only option; but when my iPad couldn’t do the things I needed it to when I was traveling, I began looking elsewhere.

Back in March, I sold my 2011 MacBook Pro laptop. It was just too bulky and heavy for my needs. I wasn’t traveling as much and was settled in with a 27-inch iMac, using a basic Wacom Intuos along with Photoshop to do my editing. Although I was getting rid of my laptop, I still wanted something mobile to take with me on trips. I didn’t really think it through and ended up purchasing an iPad, because of course, Apple. I went on a few trips and it turns out, the iPad wasn’t cutting it. Although I could access my school work, the iPad wasn’t much for editing photos. For one, it has no USB port for me to import my images. Second, you don’t get the full controls of the mobile Photoshop and Lightroom apps.

So I began exploring other options. My first option was to go for the Wacom Cintiq Companion 2, but I couldn’t afford the $2000 price tag right now. I then came across the Windows Surface Pro 4. It could essentially do everything the Cintiq could do at half the price. The Apple user inside of me was screaming and saying, “You will be shunned!” Just kidding, but I was very hesitant, mainly because of my concern for compatibility. I didn’t know if my Creative Cloud subscription was specific to Apple products. After some quick research, I discovered that I could download the Creative Cloud on multiple devices, Mac or Windows, no problem. I was sold. Here are some of the specs since this is a product review:

Display: 12.3”, 5 million pixels
Pen: Bluetooth connectivity, 1024 levels of pressure
Processor: Intel Core i5
8 GB RAM
256 GB Storage
1 USB port
1 Micro SD slot
Mini display output (connect with other monitors)

If you purchase the Windows Surface Pro keyboard, it snaps into the device, allowing for more of a laptop feel. The device does have a kickstand that is really nice for being able to prop the screen up. It also has palm detection so that you can rest the side of your hand on the screen as if you were writing or drawing. I have had some sensitivity issues with that but read that if you touch the tip of the pen to the screen before resting your palm on the screen, it should work better. It might just take some practice.

I purchased the Surface Pro the day before a trip. I knew I would need it to do some major editing and be able to submit assignments for school. I am so pleased with my decision, so far! I was able to download FULL versions of Photoshop and Lightroom, no problem. I did the bulk of one of my composites on the plane ride. The battery life is pretty good and I would say it is comparable to most laptops on the market. It obviously depends on your usage and what you are doing, but it lasted a couple hours in the airport and died just before landing on a 3-hour flight. I was using Photoshop which I am sure drains the battery faster than other apps on the machine.

All in all, I am very happy with my purchase. As a long time Apple user, I can say that there are other products out there that are even better than Apple. Like I said earlier, the Wacom Cintiq Companion was my first choice, not an Apple product. I just found the iPad to be more juvenile in usage and felt very limited in my abilities to edit photos on the go.

The Burned Out Photographer

by Quiana Jackson

I receive Peta Pixel’s weekly email and saw an article on a Canadian photographer, Troy Moth. Moth was photographing for another assignment when he saw a bear in a landfill. Now many people would think that this is a perfect shot, a bear in a landfill filled with smoke but to Moth it was much deeper. The very next day Moth went back to the landfill because he could not get the bears out of his mind. He felt an instant compassion. “This is the most heartbreaking image I’ve ever made,” stated Moth.

The story of Moth reminds me of the compassion that photographers have. Yes we are recorders of time and our subjects and even our purpose is all the same in the end. As objective as we want and sometimes need to be, we are humans first. It amazes me every time I see such powerful work from photographers and I think to myself how could this not bring tears to their eyes. Images of famine children, death and war are a hard thing to photograph but yet it is the courage of the photographers that will get it done.

Source:

Moth, Troy. Photo of the week: A heartbreaking photo of a bear in a landfill. Digital Photography Review. 7 October 2017. Web. 10 October 2017

Zhang, Michael. This photo of a bear in a dump brought the photographer to tears. Peta Pixel. 9 October 2017. Web. 10 October 2017.

Create What You Love

by Ronni Knepp

Irma Thomas Fans, Jazz Fest, New Orleans, 1985 by Henry Horenstein

My mom told me a long time ago that we are all made to do something specific and when we don’t do it, then we become unhappy.  For me, I’m prone depression and anxiety anyway; hazards to PTSD and all.  After we lost my sister 4 years ago, I stopped doing anything creative.  I took a couple semesters off from school and just focused on life.  Mainly I was busy moving from Texas to Virginia at the time along with dealing with the kids and family life in general.   But, to be totally honest, I was depressed as well and had no motivation to do anything creative.

At one point I became so depressed and felt this very weird pull/need to do something creative, so about 3 years ago I taught myself how to crochet, again (mom had taught me when I was little but I couldn’t remember how).  In the matter of a few months I had crocheted 6 blankets and after that another 5 or so.  Since then I have picked up multiple other hobbies and crafting capabilities.  I have also started incorporating mixed media applications into my photography.  It’s made my work unique to me as an artist as well as a bit cathartic because, as my mom said, I am an artist first and foremost.

These past few weeks it’s been pretty well known that I’ve struggled with coming up with my thesis concept.  I was too process focused to be able to nail down a concept solid enough and my “old soul” resonates more with photographers like Weston, Stieglitz, etc. then it does with more contemporary artists.  I was in such a funk that I failed miserably at an experiment with one thesis image idea and my photographic abilities, even technically, have been faltering in my Self as Subject class.  I have been working outside of my niche and while there’s certainly something to be said about pushing our comfort zones, there’s also something important to note about working within our own styles. 

Last week I went back to my own style of work.  While I am still trying to figure out my process for my thesis, I’m getting slightly closer to how I want it to look and for Self as Subject I was able to work within my own abstracted, minimalistic style.  Let’s just say I was in a MUCH better mood by the end of the week.  I felt more comfortable knowing that although I was experimenting, I was showing work that spoke to who I am as an artist and a creator.  I’m sure my therapist will be happy to hear I am not as bad off as I was two weeks ago! Ha!

So, all this being said… I think it’s absolutely important to follow Henry Horenstein’s to “shoot what you love.”  Be creative and push the envelope, sure!  But do not forget who you are in your art either. 

Source

http://horenstein.com/shoot-what-you-love-gallery/

Currently In – England

by Bree Mason

Cornwall, England

“So many places to be, people to meet.” – Sticky Fingers

Over the past year, many people have always mentioned in passing that it must be so freeing and amazing to travel without any real limitations. I always seemed to shrug it off, as it can actually be quite stressful. Don’t get me wrong, I know how incredibly blessed that I am but, when you have no specific place that you need to be, or no plan as to when or where you will go, it can become a bit daunting. Having too much choice can be overwhelming at times. However, as I sat on a plane yesterday leaving a dear friend, m perspective completely changed. I was heading back to a city that I’ve been to countless times, and at first, I was anything but excited. The thought of spending time there again seemed mundane and boring. But as I sat on the plane, I found my excitement and anticipation mounting. Because no two days are exactly alike. There’s always amazing new people to meet wherever you do go. So having to return to this city for a few days – a direct result of my lack of planning – I began to appreciate my lifestyle much more.

When you’re feeling overwhelmed by the sheer size of the earth and all of the people in it, it’s easy to feel insignificant. When you’re watching life on the ground from up in the clouds, everything looks so small and inconsequential. When you’re walking through a city, everything seems louder, brighter, and larger than life. So you’re constantly floating between these two perspectives. This often leads me to question my own significance and importance. How do you deal with this?

Well, the way I see it, there are two approaches. We can either be discouraged by the magnitude of life on this earth. We can let the existential negativity envelop us, almost paralyzing us with fear. Or, we can embrace it all and recognize the special part that we play. We can seek out all of the magnificent things waiting for us. Experience as much as we can of what the world has to offer. It doesn’t matter if you’re at home, in a remote village, or in a city for your first of twentieth time. There’s always something to surprise and excite you.

I choose the latter.

I want to spend the rest of my life traveling. Exploring every nook and cranny. Meeting as many people as possible every day. Because you never know what effect we will have on one another, big or small. Pass on live, happiness, excitement, and gratefulness. Even a smile for a stranger can go a long way. We may be small, one of billions, but we’re all unique and radiant in our own ways. We’re all a part of a larger, working organism. Our contributions are just as important as the next person. Who says we can’t make a difference? I believe that leaving happiness behind, everywhere we go, is strong. It’s large. It’s significant.

Let’s get to know strangers, appreciate one another, and support everyone in our lives. Because we’re all here for a reason, and we’re all of equal importance and potential. Let’s radiate together.

Photo of the Week

Bali, Indonesia

The Unexpected

1. Quiana Jackson
2. Shannon Polugar
3. Ronni Knepp
4. Kailey LaValliere
5. Claudio Mortenson
6. Dianne Morton
7. Jiheng Yan
8. Brian Edwards
9. Cecilie Oedegaard

Making memories: Remembering to shoot for yourself, and not just the public.

by Shannon Polugar

The road before us breaks from the towering conifers and red Manzanita, and we are greeted with an open expanse made devoid of trees a decade prior before we meander towards the left and down through a stone tunnel to see the wonder upon wonders: the towering stone walls, ferocious waterfalls, and the granite monoliths in the distance. It is the entrance to Yosemite Valley.

One of my favorite activities is taking friends who have never been into the national park for the first time. There is an inevitably a collective gasp in awe. It never really stops while we are in the valley either. By the time your eye leaves one natural wonder it has spotted the next. I show my friends photographs of the park before we go by the photographs synonymous with the park: Carleton Watkins, George Fiske, and of course Ansel Adams. 

The Big-Oak Flat Road (now Hwy 120) entrance into Yosemite Valley, circa 1880. The view hasn’t changed much in 130+ years

I remind them that as wonderful as these photographs are, it is nothing compared to being there in person. And then they ask me where MY photographs of Yosemite are. So about that… 

As students of photography we are told that for our professional work that we should have our own style, not to copy others, and certainly while we should shoot for the stars (figuratively and literally) remind ourselves that we are not one of these photographers and to be ourselves. 

Much of the time that means that when we are walking through someplace as famous as Yosemite, we see every view and vista as something that has already been done before. Many, many, times before. 

Some of the many recreations of the same scene by different photographers. Can you spot which one is Ansel Adams? Don’t worry, only one here is his, but he did shoot this scene about a dozen times in different light and seasons.

So the camera stays in the camera bag. Or just hangs around the neck while the strap gets dusty, sweaty, and leaves the inevitable white streak while the rest of us gets sunburned. There isn’t anything new under the sun here, so why bother?

Because you’re going to burn out if you don’t still keep taking the snapshots that are your personal memories. It is those photos that also help to lead us to new ideas. It is important to remember we don’t always have to shoot for the gallery wall, or the magazine, or our website. We can’t forget to shoot for ourselves too.

Remember you are there to enjoy yourself. So when in doubt, just take the shot, even the ones shot thousands of times before by every other traveler. It is still your photo, and your memory, even if you don’t share it with the world

Compositing Images in Photoshop

by Kailey LaValliere

For this blog post, I have created a screen capture video of an image I created using Photoshop. I get asked quite a bit how I put photos together from my human dog series, so I thought I would give people a look at my process.

It begins with my preplanning process. After deciding on a concept for the photo, I begin planning out details from location, wardrobe, lighting etc. The idea is to create a persona that the dog takes on through the actions of the human. It is important to think of everything when it comes to planning. Missing something means reshooting to get it right.

For this particular photo, I wanted to portray Daisy, the dog, doing yoga. I chose to shoot just after sunrise in open shade. I used a moonlight on a light-stand with a medium soft-box attached that was lighting the subject positioned camera left 45 degrees.

 I first start with photographing the human; in this case it was myself. Once I get the image of the human, I photograph the dog in the same exact spot using the same lighting. When photographing the dog, it is important to pay attention to pose because I want to be sure to make the image look realistic as possible. Some things I consider are the angle, the position of the dog’s neck and the position of the dog’s head. I also pay attention to the dog’s expression and to capture one that best matching the activity of the human. 

Once I capture the images, I organize and perform basic darkroom techniques in Lightroom before importing to Photoshop.

The first step in Photoshop is removing the human’s head. I know, sounds gruesome but it is pretty painless. I usually use the patch tool to initially remove the head and fill the space with part of the background. I also use content-aware and the healing-brush tool to patch things up. My main concern is making the space that won’t be covered by the dog head look seamless. I don’t necessarily care about what will be covered by the dog head.

The second step in Photoshop is adding in the dog head. I drag the dog image on top of the human image and select a rough outline of the head and neck. I then use the “Refine edge” tool inside the “Select and mask” option to create an outline of the dog. The messier the hair, the more difficult it is to do this. Thankfully, this tool does a pretty good job most of the time.

Once I am satisfied with the selection, I load it with a layer mask so that I can continue editing it. I then start sizing the head to be proportionate to the body. This sometimes involves the “Puppet Warp” tool to adjust the head and neck. It is fairly easy to use; it just takes some playing around to get the idea of the tool.

Even though the “Refine Edge” tool did a good job selecting the hair on Daisy, I use a custom brush to further enhance her hair. I pay a lot of attention the neck area that meets the collar line of the shirt. I adjust settings within the brush such as “Scatter” and “Spacing,” to create a more realistic look.

Once I have the head and the human where I want it, I start to clean up the rest of the image. I don’t have the luxury of a full setup studio along with a crew and multiple lights; so I have to use my Photoshop skills to clean up the distracting elements. In this photo, there was a road in the background so I used the patch tool to remove it.

Once I remove distracting elements and the composited part of the image looks good, I perform color and lighting adjustments. I use layer masks whenever possible so that anything I do can be undone. I also try to name all layers because by the end, there are too many to keep track of.

Each image is different and you have to be willing to experiment and play around. As you see in the video, sometimes I try something and it doesn’t work out. The good thing about working with layers and masks is that I can delete what I have done if I don’t like it.

A Blind Photographer Helps Another Artist See

by Dianne Morton

My husband and I are involved with various organizations, all very near and dear to our hearts. Our connection to such work offers us the opportunity to meet people from all walks of life. Additionally, it gives us a chance to form real relationships, which have a lasting impact on both of our lives.

As a child, my parents were involved with Guide Dogs for the Blind (San Rafael, CA), and I grew up understanding the important work of these organizations for the visually impaired. As the owner of a “career change” dog, I often took my German Shepard, Addie, to work as a distraction on the obstacle course for guide dogs in training. Over time, I recognized that a trained guide dog offers tremendous independence and companionship. When Brian and I were dating, I was pleased to learn that his parents were involved with a similar organization called Guide Dogs of America (Sylmar, CA).

Through our involvement with Guide Dogs of America, we’ve befriended a woman who lost her vision at 35. Can you imagine that? Lori was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes when she was a teenager. Although her disease was managed with the best available treatment, while sitting at her work desk one day, her vision ceased in one eye. Soon after, she lost vision in the other.

My friendship with Lori has caused me to pause. As a photographer, I can’t imagine my life without my camera, my passion. Yet, Lori and her guide dog, Carter, are content and happy, and she has an irreverent, hysterical sense of humor. As an active voice for Guide Dogs of America, Lori relishes her role of marketing, bringing awareness and support from many resources.

Nevertheless, I wonder: How does a visually impaired person see creatively?

I recently visited a bookstore and stumbled upon the book The Blind Photographer; of course, I purchased it, adding to my growing collection of photography books.

As I read and reviewed the photographs, the imagery from blind photographers worldwide captivated me. I was struck by the work and writing of one particular photographer, Evgen Bavčar (Slovenian, b. 1946):

“Photography must belong to the blind, who in their daily existence have learned to become masters of camera obscura. 

Camera obscura has existed for a long time; it is, for example, the concept of the cave in Plato’s philosophy and later the invention of the darkroom, which photographers entered blind: in the nineteenth century, the pioneers of photography would veil themselves and join the darkness in order to better control the image appearing on the sensitive plate. 

Today, the modern work runs the great danger of lacking in darkness, and one will have to seek the invisible in the quest for new aesthetic solutions. For me, photography does not only represent a medium of artistic expression; it is also a manner of reclaiming one’s right to the image, and the refusal to be another’s passive model. 

All the images that I create exist beforehand in my mind and are perceived by my third eye, that of the soul.

 Being a philosopher, I am passionate about art history. I sometimes meditate upon the following phrase: ‘The more visible the world grows, the more invisible the world shrinks’, and so the words of Kazantzakis come back to me: ‘Such a shame for our eyes of clay, which cannot attain the invisible’. But this world is here; it is, so to speak, within arm’s reach.”

Like my friend Lori, Bavčar was born with vision; however, he lost it before age 12 due to two repeated accidents. A few years later, he held a camera for the first time and took a photo of his first love:

“The pleasure I felt then resulted from my having robbed and fixed on a film something that did not belong to me. I secretly discovered I could possess something I could not see.”

Soon after, Bavčar went on to study history at the University of Ljubljana followed by philosophy at the Sorbonne. While embarking on his post-graduate education in Paris, Bavčar deepened his passion for photography; his work has been exhibited throughout the world.

What I find most interesting about Bavčar’s artistry is his inspirational explanation of his work. He places pictorial beauty within the context of blindness, a paradoxical juxtaposition for the sighted. Bavčar’s series Itineraries delivers beautifully ethereal images, which depict precisely what Bavčar imagines. With the original concept he envisions, Bavčar endeavors to translate his mental image to a physical record, which best represents the “work of what is imagined.”

Self Portrait | Date Unknown | Bavčar

Artist Statement—

ITINERARIES | Evgen Bavčar

I was only seven years old when my father died.
The most vivid memory I have of him is of a toy gun he made for me, as if to say to me: never stop fighting destiny.
I was still unaware that I belonged to a small nation threatened by others. How could I have realized then that
it would be the same for me and that I would need so much energy to defend my own identity?

I was a terrible child, who the teachers could hardly teach.
I especially liked technology and reading. One day a branch damaged my left eye, and I was unable to predict the great calamity which had been forewarned. For months, I observed the world with just one eye, until one day a mine detonator damaged my right eye as well. I didn't become blind immediately but little by little. It went on for months,
as if it were a long farewell to light. So, all the time I had to quickly capture the most beautiful things, images of books, colors and celestial phenomena, and to take them with me
on a voyage of no return. 

While I still detected some traces of light and color,
I was happy because I could still see. I retain a vivid memory of the moments of my farewell to the visible world.
But monochromy invaded my life, and I have to strive to retain the palette and its hues. I color the objects and the people that I touch so that the world escapes from monotony and transparency: I know a woman whose voice is so blue that she manages to paint a gray autumnal day blue.
I came across a painter who had a dark red voice,
and chance willed that he should love this color;
that gave me a dark delight. 

I sense the sun by its thermal effects, but I can make mistakes. One day something happened at a friend's home,
whose apartment I didn't know well; as I know where the window is in advance by the noise in the street, I said:
"The sun is strong today!", but I was unaware that it was
a radiator that gave us heat. We laughed together.
At the beginning of my blindness, when I took it more seriously, I used to wear very dark glasses to exaggerate
my condition; nowadays I use clear glasses to look like
an intellectual. 

In museums or in exhibitions I enjoy the presence of all
the silent gazes, the sound of steps that I perceive even
when listening to the voice of my guide, who tries to convey his own gaze to me. Sculpture, on the other hand, gives me
an immediate aesthetic feeling, insofar as I have been given permission to touch the statues, something that is not very common. To touch them is my own way of penetrating the myth of Eros and Psyche, which in every other way
I am outside. The pale reflection of the oil lamp which for
me symbolizes the world of appearances has disappeared.
The nostalgia for those inaccessible realities and the desire
to embark on the road that leads to them remains.
The intellectual nature of my perception urged me to take
my first photos one day, but without any artistic pretension. The smooth surface of the images taken by the camera do not look at me, I only have the physical proof of landscapes and people that I have seen or met. That is to say, my gaze exists only through the simulacrum of the photo that has been seen by someone else. That gaze makes me happy and induces
the images to come to life inside me. 

There is also the mystery of the human gaze that greatly interests me; in my photos, in fact, the people appear very different before the lens and before themselves.
They are different when faced with an unknown or infinite darkness. The absence of the photographer's eye is accentuated by the precarious irreversible moment of taking
a photo; that photo which by coming from a hidden gaze is transformed into a kind of double death. The people who are photographed cannot see themselves in the usual way:
that complicity between the photographer that confirms them in their narcissism is implicitly missing. 

So what is a gaze? It is perhaps the sum of all our dreams
in which we forget the nightmare, when we can look in
a different way. Besides, darkness is no more than an appearance, given that everyone's life, however dark,
is also made up of light. And in the same way as the day often breaks with birdsong, I have learnt how to distinguish
the voice of the morning from the voice of the night.

Caligula’s Head, Naples | Itineraries | Date Unknown | Bavčar

Stairs with Shadows | Itineraries | Date Unknown | Bavčar

Hand on Stone, Pompeii | Itineraries | Date Unknown | Bavčar

The Door of Fuzine | Itineraries | Date Unknown | Bavčar

Personally, I find that understanding a blind person’s ability to photographically communicate what is imagined is impossible—and incredibly inspiring. The use of memory, past experiences, and emotions offers Bavčar a magnified way of seeing. He also graces his audiences with his capacity to create artwork against all odds and his ability to interface a fantastic view of the world.

Self Portrait | Date Unknown | Bavčar

Resources

Gooding, Mel. “CNN Style.” http://www.cnn.com/style/article/the-blind-photographer/index.html. Web. 9/27/2017.

Gooding, Mel, and Julian Rothenstein, ed. The Blind Photographer. London: Redstone Press. 2011.

O’Hagan, Sean. “The Guardian.” https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2016/aug/20/blind-photographers-talk-about-their-work. Web. 9/30/2017

Sumitra. “Oddity Central.” http://www.odditycentral.com/pics/evgen-bavcar-the-blind-photographer.html. Web. 9/30/2017.

Hiroshi Sugimoto - Seascapes

by Claudio Mortensen

In the catalogue of his retrospective exhibition, at Mori Art Museum in Tokyo (Sept 2005/Jan 2006), Sugimoto explains the origin of the project, that was done over almost two decades all over the world. Seascapes started with a question to himself: “Can somebody today view a scene just as primitive man might have?”. In this question we can find clues to his most recurrent subject matter, “Time”.

The whole Seascapes collection is composed by 220 pictures, all composed the same way: the horizon precisely dividing the squared frame in two half, one filled by sky, the other by the ocean. What varies, from one picture to the other, is the forms, texture and values, sky and ocean assumes, after a certain amount of time of exposition.

Getting back to Sugimoto’s question, and looking at the pictures with that question in mind, it is possible to see how the artist combined the idea of the passage of time and the view our ancestors should have, creating a picture where time is compressed inside of a single frame, static. The intense movement of the ocean, sometimes ferocious, and the complex dance of the clouds, all got smoothed and softened, leaving just textures in place, to inform us about the sum of all it’s passage.

Time is present into Sugimoto's work in layers. And so are the different meanings that comes to mind as we carefully look at this images. First that comes to my mind is the impermanence of all things. Introspection, the solitude of the soul, the very nature of existence.

Image Titles: 
1. Boden Sea, Uttwil, 1993
2. Tyrrhenian Sea, Priano, 1994
3. Baltic Sea, Rugen, 1996
4. Lake Superior, Eagle River, 2003
5. North Atlantic, Cape Breton, 1996
6. Lake Superior, Cascade River, 2003
7. Tyrrhenian Sea, Scilla, 1993

Symbolism and its unexpected use in photography and politics

by Cecilie Smith Oedegaard

In our first guest lecture Jonathan Blaustein brought up the importance of symbolism and its effective use in order to imbue meaning in a photograph. The discussion intrigued me and I decided to research the topic further.

First of all, what is a symbol? A symbol is a simplified image (an object, shape, or design) that usually because of certain associations in a viewer’s mind, represents a more complex idea or system. Symbolism provides the photographer with an opportunity to tap into a rich vein of visual clues and access points that link to larger and more complex processes. It can be a powerful aid in photography.

Symbols imply different things in different cultures and the response to symbolism therefore depends to a great extent on the cultural training of the viewer.  Factors such as personal experiences, economic status, gender, psychological state, political and religious beliefs also play into viewer’s interpretation. There are however symbols that are nearly universal. For example water suggests birth, purification and rejuvenation. The house represents the self. A circle indicates unity and eternity. German psychologist Carl Jung called these images ’’Archetypes’’. They represent universal patterns of human thought that reside in our collective unconscious.

Traditional symbols have been woven into the visual arts for thousands of years. While the symbol remains the same, the context and meaning can change according to the group using it. The swastika is a good example of how this can happen. It has been used as an ornament by the American Indians since prehistoric times, and has appeared as a symbol through the old world of China, Crete, Egypt, and Persia. In the twentieth century, it’s meaning was totally perverted, from one of well-being to that of death, when the German Nazi Party adopted it as the official emblem of the Third Reich.

We’re all familiar with use of symbolism by the advertising industry in order to sell products. What did however surprise me as I was doing my research was the relationship of politics with visual art and its symbolic meaning. According to writer Kelly Grovier there seems to be quite a deliberate orchestration of world leaders’ photoshoots next to art work due to their symbolic meaning. She further notes in an article written for the BBC, that if we want to really understand what our world leaders are up to we should look at the paintings that hang behind them at press conferences and summit meetings.

In February 2016 President Obama held a press-conference reasserting his intention of closing the detention centre at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. His early efforts to shut down the centre had been met with resistance from those who argue that the move would signal to Islamists that America’s will to defeat jihadist terror was diminishing. Faced with allegations of weakness, Obama’s decision to hold a press-conference next to a portrait of Theodore Rooseveldt was hardly accidental. By placing himself visually alongside a heroic portrait of the galloping leader, who is credited with the credo “speak softly and carry a big stick”, Obama hoped to bask in the reflected testosterone of America’s most macho president.

George W Bush is another president who has been involved in manipulation of aesthetics in order to control public opinion. In February 2003 when the United States was pressing the case for war against Iraq in the United Nations, officials installed a blue curtain across a tapestry that hangs near the entrance-way of the Security Council, in the very spot where US State Department Officials are filmed by television crews. The work that was deemed too dangerous to be transmitted into the living room of viewers while Bush officials lobbied for war, was a large tapestry version of Pablo Picasso’s anti-fascist masterpiece Guernica – an 11ft (3.4 m) wide painting that shudders with the horrors of the aerial bombardment in 1937 of an ancient Basque town. The original oil-on-canvas work was on display in New York throughout the violent protests against the Vietnam War in the late 1960s and early ’70s, and was regarded by many as a painting whose spirit conflicted with the aggressiveness of US foreign policy. Thirty years later, Guernica’s chaos of howling horse heads and ravaged limbs was regarded as too risky a backdrop against which to be photographed lobbying for war.

I would argue that it takes a whole lot of cultural education and knowledge about these particular art pieces to fully read these messages from the resulting press photos and videos. However I guess that within presidential politics there isn’t room for taking risks and whatever can be done to sway public opinion will we done.

Sources cited:

http://masteringphoto.com/using-symbols-in-your-photos-%E2%80%93-a-powerful-communication-tool/

http://www.bbc.com/culture/story/20160412-the-secret-symbols-politicians-use

http://truecenterpublishing.com/photopsy/symbolism.htm

Travel and Photography

by Bree Mason

I often get asked what it’s like traveling full time. The highs, the lows, the mundane. I always attribute my desire to keep going as a strong curiosity to explore and document what the world has to offer. Photographing is a large part of my drive. For me, the two are intrinsically intertwined. I cannot have one without the other, they do not make sense separate. When I lack inspiration photographically, I pick up and move on to a new place. If I feel worn out or disconnected to where I am, I go out and photograph.

To me, there’s no better feeling that arriving in a new city, fresh off of the bus, or plane, or whatever. I drop my bags at whichever hostel I’m staying in and immediately grab my camera. The first couple of days are spent wandering around, getting lost, and photographing. To me, there is no better way to connect to a new place than documenting what is around me. When the camera is held up to your face, this sort of magic happens. You see the world differently. You are no longer shy, or intimidated because you get this sort of sense of anonymity. Almost like an outsider peering into another world.

The architecture, weather, people, etc. all come into sharp focus, leading to a certain understanding that I don’t believe can fully be described or replicated. With music blasting in my ear, shuffling among crowds, twisting and turning through the city, that’s when I come alive. Mixtures of awe, excitement, inspiration, and gratitude envelope you. Even in quieter towns, with dirt roads and farm animals lounging around, this excitement is just as palpable.

Photographing has a way of connecting you with the world in a very unique way. You stop to analyze, contemplate, and appreciate. Each place has it’s own energy and vibrancy. In my photographs, I try to capture that, using different methods to evoke the feelings that I get when wandering around. This medium slows you down, and makes all of your sense more aware and present. Looking above, and below, slowly turning in circles, fully taking in your surroundings. To me, that’s also what traveling is about. Soaking up as much culture as possible. Figuring out how you play into the grand scheme, and how everywhere you’ve been is connected in some way.

Walker Evans and Vernacular America

Personal Thoughts on the Current Exhibition at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art

by Brian Edwards

The San Francisco Museum of Modern Art is having an exhibition entitled Walker Evans that focuses on Evans’ interest in the vernacular. Running from September 30 to February 4, the show will include more than 300 prints of his work, a number of his paintings, postcards, and his personal scrapbook. [7] [9] Reading about this exhibition reminded me of how Walker Evans has influenced my own photographic work and perhaps even my view of the world.

I have often thought of the work of Walker Evans as a combination of social documentary and pre-topographic photography. He was one of the many Farm Service Administration (FSA) photographers that took scores of images documenting the Great Depression and influenced many of that same group of photographers. Stephen Shore has on numerous occasions cited Evans as an important influence on his own work; other photographers claiming similar influence include Robert Frank, Garry Winogrand, Diane Arbus, and Lee Friedlander. [10]

Walker Evans, Truck and Sign 1928-1930 [7] [9]

Another body of work that influenced some of my own has revolved around the notion of the vernacular landscape, which involves capturing the interaction between people and the landscape over time. One principal advocate of this point of view is the writing, photography, and painting of John Brinckeroff (J.B.) Jackson. [2] This movement departs from the modernist view of the landscape perhaps best represented by the work of Ansel Adams, but also departs from the romanticized view of landscapes represented by painters like John Constable, Thomas Gainsborough, and JMW Turner. [8] Adams’ vision of the landscape was diametric to the vernacular view, namely, his vision of the landscape involved representing the landscape in more romantic terms and for the most part reflected a pre-Anthropocene (before the climate and environment were influenced by humans) view of how a landscape image should look. Like the New Topographics movement of the 1970s, the vernacular landscape emphasizes that very interaction. [6]

John Constable, Mill at Gillingham, Dorset, 1825-1826 [4]

What distinguished Jackson’s work from many of the New Topographic photographers is the less formal approach to image-making. The formal, objective view of Bernd and Hilla Becher, for example, is clearly missing in Jackson’s images. [1] If anything, his images share more of what one would see in a collection of slides that just about any road traveler would take while on vacation, even though it’s very likely that subject matter would differ. The common thread is the lack of any attempt to romanticize the landscape.

J.B. Jackson, Collins, Hot Coffee [3]

A thread that runs through much of my own work is a sense of the vernacular, motivated in part by my interest in urban design, the economic viability of small towns, and rural landscapes. My use of tilt-shift lenses, on the other hand, reintroduces some of the formality and objectivity that we see in many of Ansel Adams’ romanticized landscapes as well as in Stephen Shore’s very unromantic cityscapes, but the subject matter is clearly more in line with a more vernacular view of the landscape. 

Brian K. Edwards, Café, Encino, New Mexico, 2017

The focus of the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art is the vernacular side of Walker Evans’ work reflecting his own interest in the “surface of everyday life” that “highlights Evans’s [sic] fascination with American popular culture.” [7] Evans’ images of buildings, storefronts, and urban spaces are well known, as is his work documenting the people of his time, but an interesting thread that runs parallel to so much of his work is an interest in the everyday, whether it be a shot of a couple on a New York subway, or another postcard-like shot of a couple on Coney Island. This exhibition sheds a different light on one of the more important photographers of the twentieth century.

Walker Evans, Couple at Coney Island, New York, 1928 [5]

Sources

[1] Bernd and Hilla Becher, Basic Forms of Industrial Buildings, Schirmer/Mosel, 2005.

[2] John Brinckeroff Jackson, Discovering the Vernacular Landscape, Yale University Press, 1998.

[3] John Brinckeroff Jackson, Collins, Hot Coffee, Part of the Chris Wilson Collection of J.B. Jackson American Slides, University of New Mexico University Libraries, http://libguides.unm.edu/cswr/jbjackson/conference

[4] John Constable, Mill at Gillingham, Dorset, 1825-1826, John Constable – the Complete Works, https://www.john-constable.org/the-complete-works.html?pageno=2

[5] Walker Evans, Couple at Coney Island, New York, 1928, The Met, Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History, Walker Evans, http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/artist/walker-evans/

[6] Claire O’Neill, New Topographics (Redux), The Picture Show, National Public Radio, June 20, 2009, http://www.npr.org/sections/pictureshow/2009/06/topographics.html

[7] PDN, Walker Evans’s Vernacular America, September 29, 2017, https://potd.pdnonline.com/2017/09/48657/#gallery-1

[8] Michael Prodger, Constable, Turner, Gainsborough and the Making of Landscape, The Guardian November 23, 2012, https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2012/nov/23/constable-turner-gainsborough-making-landscape

[9] San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, Walker Evans: Exhibition, September 30, 2017 – February 4, 2018, https://www.sfmoma.org/exhibition/walker-evans/

[10] John Szarkowski, Walker Evans: American Photographer, Encyclopedia Britannica, https://www.britannica.com/biography/Walker-Evans

PTSD and Art Therapy

by Ronni Knepp

Military and PTSD, 2014 by Ronni Knepp

This week has been a rough one for me.  Without going into a ton of personal details, I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) in 2010 while I was in the military.  At the same time, I was also diagnosed with severe anxiety and depression (yes there are differences).  Most of the time, thanks to therapy, family, close friends, and even – dare I say – school, I come across and act like any other “normal” person.  Even on a bad day, most of the time it goes nearly unnoticed except to those that are close to me and are able to tell by my behavior that it’s not a good day.  But I trudge along and the next morning I try it all over again, hoping for a slightly better outcome.  Unfortunately this week has not been one of those times where I was able to wake up and be “ok,” for lack of a better term.  For someone who thrives on learning new things in Photography and continuously pushing myself to do better and encourage/inspire more people to do the same, I have wanted to quit.  And it’s a scary thing.  My therapist was even shocked yesterday because I didn’t quit after my husband died my second semester into my AA and I didn’t quit after my sister died the week of finals, halfway through my BFA.  But this week, something has just been different.  Of course, thanks to my support network, I’m not allowed to quit so here I am, writing this blog post for a class assignment like it’s any other day.  But instead of writing on something like the male-gaze as I did last week, I’m writing on something that I know and deal with every single day – PTSD.

The majority of my photography concepts center around PTSD, the symptoms of it, some of the things I’ve gone through that created the PTSD, etc.  And even if it is not directly correlated into the concept, the affects of my PTSD still shows in my photographic style.  I try to use the medium as a way to work through my issues, like art therapy.  But more often then not, I end up just stuck in an endless circle in my brain of how crappy it is to live with this every single day, 24/7, 365 days a year for 7+ years now… but who’s counting?  So for the sake of this post, I decided to do a search for other photographers that have worked with the concept of PTSD.  I know they are out there, I know I’m not the ONLY one (shoot I know of a few classmates as well) but the ever too present idea of being “alone” even branches into my work and I needed to see who else is out there trying to make a difference.  And that’s when I stumbled across this gentleman, Devin Mitchell, who’s creating work that shows the duality of military/veteran life along with the civilian (or personal) lives of various Soldiers, Airmen, Marines and Sailors. 

25, by Devin Mitchell

In the Veteran Vision Project, Mitchell shows the Veterans (and I say that as all-encompassing of active, retired, and veteran personnel) in their military uniforms as well as in their civilian clothes representing who they are and also who they are.  Some of the images are fairly tame, including things like hobbies and families.  Others show amputees, women being silenced, and alternative lifestyles that would likely be ridiculed in the military.  With nearly 350 images and going, Mitchell is now starting a second book showing the work and also puts the images with the stories of the Veterans on Facebook and Instagram.  The photographs give these men and women a voice that they are more than just a military member.  According to an interview with Buzzfeed, Mitchell states:

"There are two sides to this series," Mitchell said. "It spreads awareness about the veteran community, the challenges they face during reintegration into society. But it also works as a therapy for the subjects. ... It makes visible what they feel."

"From the beginning of the project, it was my mission to let veterans say whatever they want through my photographs," Mitchell told BuzzFeed News. "Many people who do projects on veterans only want to take a particular angle. I want to explore all of the issues, all of the darkness."

136, by Devin Mitchell

287, by Devin Mitchell

Now, for me, I can relate both to the Veterans in the photographs as well as to Mitchell whose aim is to show all the different sides of being military.  But I also know that there are people outside of the military who also suffer from PTSD.  This project is equally as applicable to them, because when it comes down to it, PTSD does not discriminate whom it targets and we are all equal.  We all suffer those bad days and feel like we’re wearing a mask to hide the pain from the general public.  We all live with this duality in our lives, regardless of our traumas that got us to this point.  The project is not only therapeutic for the Veterans modeling in the photos, but also for those of us viewing the images.  It shows us that we are not alone, regardless of how we may feel, and gives a bit of encouragement that we can still keep going.  As one of the Veteran’s stated in the Buzzfeed article, I also don’t want to be another statistic of military suicide.

139, by Devin Mitchell

So with that in mind, I’ll keep trudging along and creating my work to help speak out on PTSD and hopefully help inspire others to continue to be survivors. 

Sources

https://www.buzzfeed.com/emaoconnor/this-is-what-a-veteran-looks-like?utm_term=.pr5dL6dRoM

http://veteranvisionproject.com/

Protecting Images with the United States Copyright Office

by Quiana Jackson

Today many photographers have websites that house their most precious creations. For safety reasoning the right click option is unavailable just to ensure that their images aren’t floating around virtually and the photographer does not get credit for it. What many people do not know is the power of Copyrighting your images with the United States Copyright Office.

In the military we recognize the start of the new year in October and that is the beginning of our fiscal year such as FY/18. This is the time that I send all of the images that I created during previous year, in this case 2017 to the USCO to be registered as the creator and the sole owner of the work. In case that I see an image of mine floating in cyberspace I have proof that I am the owner.

There are other benefits for copyrighting work. It is for the life of the author plus seventy years after death. You can register one image or an unlimited amount of images all at one time.

So when you see the c symbol on an image that means copyright, if the photographer has not registered the work with the USCO then legally if they were to go to court, the timeframe wasted being buried in legal proceedings can be stressful. As a safety precaution, registering your creations with the USCO can cut down time drastically.

As with anything in life there is a fee. I believe it is less than $60. Once you register your work you will receive confirmation that it was registered along with a date given by the office. The processing time on the website says that it is 6-8 months but it is usually completed in 2 months.

If you are interested, please go to the website and look around and read all of the benefits yourself. I believe that it is a security net and beneficial to any creator of things worthy to be protected.

United States Copyright Office

Space / Place

1. Jiheng Yan
2. Bree Mason
3. Cecilie Oedegaard
4. Quiana Jackson
5. Brian Edwards
6. Ronni Knepp
7. Kailey Lavelliere
8. Dianne Morton
9. Shannon Polugar
10. Claudio Mortenson