In Conclusion

With this being the final blog entry for the semester, I can note several things I've learned.

I need to be more selfish with my time. I want to capitalize on this opportunity that has been offered. I want to produce better, more finished work. I want to experiment. I want to explore.

I wrestled with what to offer in the classroom; more specifically on what to say and how to say it. Also, I was sick for three weeks, and that didn't help my participation in class either.

When I got around to making something, I pushed hard over three weekends. I need to be more consistent, and efficient, with my creative time. What I produced was ok, but certainly not great. Here are some shots that started out with good intentions, but fell short and were never presented.

And a lighting set up with a component element that wound up being "an atomic explosion" for one of the Edgerton variations. The blue gel is a wadded up and taped CTB filter. I later inverted the shot in Photoshop to get the black background and yellow color. Sometimes, you just gotta be resourceful.

It will be interesting to see what everyone turns in. As an instructor, this is when the rubber meets the road. If great work is presented, I feel I'm doing my job correctly. If the work is weak, I question myself and ask if I've done everything I should have on the student's behalf.

Playing Doctor

As I near the end of my first MFA class, I've learned several things. Most recently, the importance of an effective Artist Statement. There is a proper way of designing one, full of caveats and subtleties. It's meant as an invitation for others to experience the presentation. The work shown should demonstrate a value, a confidence of purpose, from both the artist and to the viewer. A back story to the work gives added information to help enrich the experience. As Martha Stewart said, "It's a good thing."

I have also been made aware of the importance of a central theme that unifies the presentation. Apparently, a little of this and a little of that is inappropriate, and possibly confusing to the audience. The K.I.S.S. philosophy works here. I'm yet convinced of the willingness to present multiple "similars" of the main idea as the best solution. Why show essentially the same image over and over? Why not edit it down to the very best, or show multiple solutions of the same idea? At least the artist can exhaust all creative options. Frankly, I find that more interesting and appealing. 

The results of my semester project were a distillation from the original idea of Now. I had to change it. I needed to simplify my execution, so it could help me meet a realistic production schedule. Moving away from using people in the original idea and to a still life solution seemed doable. I started looking at interesting object-driven photographs that had captured a moment in time. Sometimes the moment included motion, and was rendered either as sharp or blurred. Another option of stopping the action was done with electronic flash. Doing further research, I made my way toward ultra high-speed images and found the father of high-speed photography, Dr. Harold Edgerton. I remembered his iconic imagery from science class in high school, and felt I could do a creative (re)interpretation of Edgerton's high-speed photographs. Although most of Edgerton's notable work was presented in black and white, I opted to render my collection in both black and white and color. Here's what I came up with.

For those who are unaware of Harold Edgerton, he received his Masters and PhD in Electrical Engineering from M.I.T.. He and two colleagues designed and built new flash tubes resulting in extremely short flash durations that could stop a moving bullet tearing through the side of a playing card. Amazing. He was responsible for opening up an entire new world of photography with the use of electronic flash as a light source. His photograph, entitled Coronet, was included in MOMA's first photography exhibition in 1937. In 1939 he published "FLASH! Seeing the Unseen by Ultra-High-Speed Photography", a collection of his photography. It was an instant bestseller. In 1940, MGM invited him to make a stroboscopic high-speed motion picture with comedian Pete Smith. The ten-minute short, "Quicker 'n a Wink", won an Oscar. He also co-developed the Rapatronic camera, capable of recording the first milliseconds of an atomic blast. He was a Genius. And he loved photography. Thanks Doc, for your contributions to science, military service, and high-speed photography. I had fun playing you in my creations.

How Has Photography Changed Me?

Professor McMullin asked the question in class, "How has photography changed you?"

How has photography changed me? With some time to digest and process the question, I have come up with the following response.

It has changed the arc of my life. In a way, it saved me and gave me a (new) purpose. Through the practice of it, it has enabled me to see new places and meet new people that have changed my life even further. It has allowed me the opportunity to share my photography experiences with young photographers in the classroom.

Here's a story. In my final semester at Art Center, my friend and classmate Jeff Noble asked me if I wanted to come along with him to do a series of interior test photos of Muhammed Ali's house in Los Angeles. The shots were meant as a scout for a possible real shoot later on down the line. 

My reply: "Muhammed Ali? Really? I'm so there."

So the appointment is set, we pack up our gear and head on over. We arrive, check in and start bringing in gear to a central room, IN MUHAMMED ALI'S MANSION. Once finished, we make our way into an interior room that looks like a library, and there he quietly sits. In his lap is a very large boom box. The volume on the tape player is down a little so Muhammed is leaning in a little closer to hear more easily. He's carefully listening to a cassette tape of a man asking for money. The man is behind on some bills and could really use some help. He could get caught up with a thousand dollars, and Muhammed... is really.... studying..... the solicitation. I thought for a moment, does this happen often to him? Do people think that celebrities that have so much, should give so easily? Is this one price of fame?

So Jeff and I have a seat. Muhammed notices us, smiles, turns the player off, shakes our hand, and steps out of the room for a moment. Jeff and I look at each other, and smile. (WE'RE IN MUHAMMED ALI'S HOUSE!) Now it gets interesting.....

Muhammed returns with what appears to be a red fishing tackle box. He pulls up a chair, sits down next to us and opens the box. He grabs something and shows it to us. It's about a 8", pencil-thick green stick with black stripes on it. He waves it around and shows it to us again. Now the stick is red with black stripes. (Huh?) Then he grabs a small handkerchief sized piece of fabric, and places it over his clenched fist. Using the index finger of is other hand, pushes the fabric down into the closed fist. He rubs the fist and opens it up. The fabric is gone. He does it second time, but shows us the secret of how it's done. Hint: clear plastic thumb cover. (MUHAMMED ALI IS DOING MAGIC TRICKS FOR US, INSIDE HIS LOS ANGELES MANSION!) This goes on for about another ten minutes. He stops, we thank him for the show, and it's time to get to work.

Then Jeff and I do the stroll around the house, sans the escort, and see what we have to work with. It's pretty impressive. Here are some of the shots:

Day two starts with where we left off the day before. By mid-afternoon we are making our way into the formal dining room, complete with jade-green flocked wall paper (ick). I start to set up some lights on stands and I hear someone enter through the front door. Then two little girls, around ages five or six, appear. They're in school uniforms; hair fixed in pigtails, dark grey pleated skirts, white ironed blouses, white cotton socks with shiny black shoes..... and they're chasing each other. Down the hallway they run, laughing and screaming. They wind up cutting through the dining room, and the trailing chaser stops. She's winded and sucking air. She ends up right by my light stand and grabs it to steady herself. (And I'm thinking, if you pull that stand over and break my light, I am so going to kill you.) She looks me in the eye and smiles, and is off running again. It turns out that little girl was Laila Ali. She later became a professional boxer like her father, and could so kick my ass today. Back then, I could take her. It might have gone fifteen rounds, but I'd have won.

We wrap the shoot mid-afternoon on day three. Before we get all the gear out, Jeff asks Muhammed if he can shoot a quick portrait of him. He very generously agrees. We quickly set up a soft box, load a 120 roll of Plus-X in the Hasselblad, and Jeff starts shooting. With two shots left on the roll we ask Muhammed if we can do a shot together. Please....please...PUUULEASE? Again, he gladly approves. Jeff jumps in with Muhammed and I shoot a frame, and it's my turn. Hmmmmmm...... what do I want to do in a shot with Muhammed Ali? I'm thinking promo poster for a heavyweight boxing match. This is my double portrait with Muhammed Ali, shot by Jeff Noble:

And I must add, Muhammed Ali is an extraordinary human being. Very kind. Very warm. He treats everyone like they have been lifetime friends. What an amazing World treasure he is, and an Ambassador of Mankind.

My point here is that I never would have had the opportunity to go with my best friend to meet Muhammed Ali. And be welcomed in his house. And have magic tricks done for us. And to have my very silly photo taken with him. And to be able to tell you all of this........ without photography. 

I often tell my students, "you never know who you'll meet, because of you and your camera". 

True dat.

What is Fine Art Photography?

So, is Albert Watson a Fine Art photographer? He has shot major advertising campaigns for Prada, The Gap, Levi's, Revlon and Chanel. He has shot for magazines like Mademoiselle, GQ, Harper's Bazaar and Vogue.

He has produced several books that include Cyclops (1994), Morocco (1998), Strip Search (2010) and UFO: Unified Fashion Objectives (2010). He has had individual shows in Milan, Vienna, Edinburgh, Antwerp, Dusseldorf, Stockholm and London.  He has also shown his work with other artists in New York, Moscow and Hamburg. He has photographs included in the permanent collection in the National Portrait Gallery and the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Does shooting photography for another person invalidate your label as a Fine Art photographer? Does selling photography (you have produced) to another constitute commercial photography? Is Albert Watson both a commercial and Fine Art photographer?

Or neither? Does it even matter? Apparently, there is a need to be labeled, to be placed in a certain category of photography. How about just being a GREAT photographer. Doesn't being a GREAT photographer trump all classifications?

From my position, it does.

First Presentation of NOW

My project proposal was narrowed down from a varied collection of random ideas to the concept of Now. And in doing so, I began the process of asking what defines Now and how it can be actualized photographically. I began with ambitious ideas that required a moderate to extensive level of production to execute effectively. I understand the process of production, and it's complexities. I've been responsible for many in the past. What I wanted to do for this class would have required a great deal more help and commitment from others than just myself. So as a back up, I looked at my current body of work for nuggets of Now. Dig and sift. And edit. And edit some more. 

What remained became a collection of important family moments over the last several years. Important LIFE moments, that brought people together to share.  I purposely grouped the collection with a common visual element. The unifying connection is touching; both emotionally touching and physically touching, another loved one. That connection, in this interpretation, provided a Now moment, and I needed to record it. Their Now moment became my Now moment. 

We exist in the Now.  If the past and future share the same horizontal plane, the present, the Now, perpendicularly splits the two perfectly in half.  The past has been consumed and distilled, while the future holds (nearly) unlimited possibilities. We have, to a certain degree, control of the Now. And being a photographer allows me the opportunity to capture the Now for myself and what I find important or valuable, and to share it with others. When I'm gone, my memories go with me. These photographs can remain behind, and hopefully be found as important and as valuable as I did.

The two most telling images of the series are of my father being greeted by my mother on his final morning, and my wife's grandmother being handed her sixth great-great grand daughter. Eunice Green was celebrating her 100th birthday, while my 83 year old father, Linus Strelecki, was preparing for his exit. 

I very rarely show any of my work to others I don't know personally. The class's evaluation of this collection provided an interesting perspective. This 3x3 collection was received as a Cycle of Life: Young and Old, Living and Dying. An overall narrative was present that I was unaware of, and thus gave added value to the work and frankly, my purpose for doing it.

What I learned from this initial presentation was: 1) keep my intro as brief as possible and let the work speak for itself. 2) Refine my proposal(s) more effectively and align it with the final deliverables. 3) I suck at writing. It's like pushing an anvil uphill. Maybe in time and with plenty of practice, I can more comfortably orchestrate my thoughts in writing. 

John Wieland Gallery Visit

The Wednesday January 28th visit to The Wieland Gallery felt like Dorothy Gale meets Area 51.

There's no place like home, and very few know where it is and what goes on inside.

The central theme of the Wieland's private collection is based around the concept of "house", and is interpreted by dozens of artists through paintings, drawings, sculptures and photographs.

In some of the photographs the house was used as an object, in relationship to the location it resided on or near to. It occasionally presented me with various questions like who occupied the space, what kind of living took place within it, and ultimately what was left behind upon vacating it.

In Mitch Epstein's Amos Power Plant the modest post WW2 home looked almost sacrificial to the monstrously imposing cooling tower in the background. Another photo that comes to mind is the wooden structure constructed in the middle of the Nevada desert for the atomic bomb testing program that "emulated" the size and design of a typical suburban home. It's fate was pre-destined in the name of science and national security.

In other photographs the house seemed implied, or secondary in importance. Abelardo Morell's Lauren and Brady in the Shadow Of Our House and Julie Blackmon's Girl Across the Street had a playful sense of life seen through the eyes of children. The house seemed to be an extension of their personal security zone allowing them freedom to play and socially interact.

And then there is Gregory Crewdson's collection. Beyond the high production value and celebrity participation, I started looking a little more closely at what was going on. I observed emotionally-vacant, sleep walking people occupy a space of "amplified" life. Using the people/person as the center point in the composition, every expanded concentric circle outward provided objects of color and activity that contrasted the expressed emptiness. If I recall, our W.G. hostess said that Crewdson wanted to allow the viewer "to arrive at their own narrative" in what they saw. I saw situational contrast, emotional contrast, and tonal/color contrast. All very deliberately designed and well orchestrated.

Another selection I was enamored with was Martha Rosler's Here and There photo collages, using images from House Beautiful and Life Magazine's coverage of the Vietnam War. Her message was very clear and executed without overt complexity.

Some of the sculptural samples I enjoyed were Brian Tolle's The Forgotton vinyl house that looked like a mini-tent, and Roy Lichtenstein's House using optical illusion to play with perspective.

I was giddy when I came upon Ansel Adams' Moonrise Over Hernandez, but was disappointed by the print quality. I found Jerry Uelsmann's print (quality) to be far superior.

Overall, I found the Wieland Gallery experience rewarding and appreciative. And the idea of home. Not house, but home. Maybe the difference between a house and home is the living that takes place within it.

Hagedorn Gallery Visit

The visit provided a review of two artists, Peter Bahouth and Matthew Gamber.

Point number one:

 The insight into Hagedorn's history and general business practice shed light on to the commercial relevance of marketing and presenting new works of art for purchase. From the business side they are aware of their market demographic, both of economic affluence and geographic location. Even though they are set up as a not-for-profit gallery, they still have bills to pay. And herein lies the difference between a museum and a gallery. If an interior designer is shopping for a wall piece based on size and color, the art itself and it's intensions, becomes secondary. A sale is a sale, regardless who buys it, and for what reason.

Point number two:

 I found Peter Bahouth's "The Red Planet" to have a playful, children's book sense about it. Wes Anderson's Moonrise Kingdom came to mind, with the perpendicular camera perspective, emulating looking straight down into the opened book while reading. The art direction overall gave a believable sense of accuracy to the (re)creation. Was I impressed? No. Why? Because I lived in that era, and it's not new to me. Does Peter have an integrity of vision and purpose to his work? Absolutely, and I appreciate that more than what I saw.

 Matthew Gamber's "New Takes" was a lil' o' this and a lil' o' that. He'd have been better served by removing the color series and the smaller decorative samples (3D and etched plexi). In doing so, there would have been two sets of stronger, and diametrically opposed work. One side presented very exacting work; graphically composed, very sharp (for the most part) single objects, while the other side was visually, and deliberately, nebulous in execution. Conceptually, both sides seemed to lack a little depth.

 For the viewer, it might seem a bit confusing on how to exactly define what Matthew does (best), and who he is as an artist. Or......or, maybe he was demonstrating his willingness to both control and remove barriers of his creative curiosity. I can appreciate that. That's how we grow as visual artists.

Overall: Eye candy, with a touch of shallowness. Perfect for Buckhead.

Whitespace Gallery

Visiting the Whitespace Gallery was enjoyable. I liked the backstory and renovation of the space. Meeting Susan and Beth gave added value to the experience. Their openness was both helpful and refreshing. And Forest was excellent with his set up questions. Like a modern day Jack Paar.

Beth's work was well presented. I found the larger, single (b/w) images more effective than the similar sized color versions. The Rolodex boxes were clever and provided an alternative perspective of the overall idea. The smaller 7 over 2 rows of color prints seemed like a B-side of a 45 RPM. Was that why they were third in the presentation line?

To make the 7/2 collection better: maybe edit down the series, print them smaller to make them feel more precious, and present the new collection in a single row instead. The shots were graphic enough to be sized down, to like a 5" x 7" original.

I left wondering a number of things. Who made the decision to show what? In the editing process, was it a case of the "delicious apple" that couldn't be left out? And why so many shots of the same subject matter?

Overall, I left remembering about four pieces of the entire show. Two of the B/W's, one of the larger color and one of the Rolodex boxes. And....AND..... Beth's motivation of her creative process. Her perpetual need to move forward, in both space and time, and to put her un-ease, her anxiety, in her rear view mirror. Not the side view mirror which clearly states: "Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear". Not good. That would totally freak her out.

The last few years have been influential in changing my sense of purpose. As expected, my background is different than others. With this return to school, I have an opportunity to change, or at least modify my personal creative process.  

The MFA title is secondary to my motivation. I am entering my 25th year of teaching/mentoring photography students. In a way, I've been in school just as long, learning new things. Evolving. Now  I have a desire to create for me.  To actualize my vision. Degas was quoted as saying "Everyone has talent at 25. The difficulty is to have it at 50." As another birthday cycle approaches, I intend to challenge Degas' position.

A lot of me is old school: Composition. Light Manipulation.  Craftsmanship.  120 and 4x5 film formats. Black and White. Print Quality. Classic Iconic Visual Impact. Influences include: Penn, Avedon, Bresson, Michals, Steichen, Horst, Frank, Newman, Hurrell, Steiglitz, Adams, Capa, and Newton. And late models: Leibovitz, Watson, some of Ritts, more of Seliger. Some recent discoveries include:  Gertrude Kasebier, John Rawlings, Ruth Harriet Louise and Oleg Oprisco.

Being around creative people on a daily basis is refreshing and challenging. What I have found is that we are creatures of habit, and have a tendency to seek a comfort zone. Something familiar. Something easy.  In order to grow beyond one's immediate reach, there needs to be a genuine sense of curiosity. Of motivation. Of exploration. 

Old habits are hard to change. I intend to pursue a "think different" approach without ignoring the integrity of my old school training. One thing I've noticed is that memorable photography falls into five categories: Beautiful, Interesting, Important, Innovative and Fun. If I can have at least one of the five in every piece, I'll feel some sense of success, regardless of the subject matter.