Topic: Commentary (133 posts) Page 1 of 27

A Personal History #6

This will finish (for the time being) the Personal History series I've been posting for the past month or so. If you're just starting on these you might go back and read #1,#2,#3,#4 and #5 first.

By 2015 my methodology was a well-oiled machine and these years, post my teaching position, have been some of the most productive as well as lucrative of my career. Although technically retired I have been anything but.

In the fall of that year, I made a quick trip to Salt Lake City, Utah to make aerial photographs of the potash evaporation pools in Great Salt Lake.

These were some of the best aerial files I had ever made as there was so much light reflecting back from the ground I could use a lower ISO and had more depth of field too. By this time I was using the Nikon D810,  which was a favorite as it corrected all of the problems inherent to the D800. I make prints from these files 40 x 28 inches. As I write this I am headed in late October 2018 back to Salt Lake this weekend. Can't wait. 

Later that fall of 2015 and over the winter of 2016 I got a little sidetracked as I had both my hips replaced. My experience was completely positive and I would recommend this to anyone with worn-out hips. By the spring I was back at it, although not traveling so much, and made a new series of pictures called "Zinc Apartments" of a new apartment complex in Cambridge, where I lived.

These are an anomaly in my oeuvre and perhaps might have something to do with residual drugs in my system as they are certainly unusual pictures for me. I made some of them while still on crutches.

Over the winter 2016/2017 I had a new obsession: I photographed boats in boatyards that were shrink wrapped. 

These bizarre and very abstract photographs have not been shown. They should be. They are here.

By the summer of 2017, I was back in Iceland teaching for the Baer Art Centre. This new work was shown in January at the New England School of Photography.

I spent much of the winter of 2018 on the West Coast and photographed, both aerially and on the ground, damage from the firestorms in both Southern and Northern California.

I also made a new series of photographs from downtown San Jose that pay homage to a way of working I started in 1981.

and aerially photographed the Salt Evaporation Ponds at the southern edge of San Fransisco Bay

and photographed mannequins at a rental warehouse in Oakland...and, last, made pictures called "On the Road to Pinnacles"a state park.

So, now relatively up to date and in conclusion we have looked at a long career in overview. Please do not presume I am done but allow me a few thoughts on what has been many decades and an overwhelming preoccupation. First, on working this hard for this long in one discipline: many cannot, of course.  Friends and colleagues have spun out of still photography on to other fields and I get that. But I still have great love for the medium and believe we have not seen all that it can do. I certainly still find it hugely challenging and, with less frequency, rewarding too. My goal way back in my early days was to make a contribution to photography, in whatever form; for my pictures to be regarded as somehow important enough or significant enough to be thought of as adding to a very large whole of truly important work.  Of course, the medium is so very different now. It was impossible to conceive of where it would go in the late 1960's when I first met Harry Callahan, and took my first class, almost 50 years ago! 

What's in my future? To continue to travel and photograph and write as I have done for so long, as long as I am able to; to exhibit and publish and to promote my work and to teach. My daughter Maru and I  have formed an LLC which will market my photography and she will represent other artists as well. We are called Insight Arts Management (IAM). More on this soon. 

Some housekeeping issues: All of the works I've cited in all of the Personal History Series are represented on the gallery page of my website and most are searchable through the search function of the blog.

As always, I am most appreciative of your readership and hope that by sharing my experiences I can assist you in yours, at least shedding some light on one person's narrative.

Stay tuned.

Topics: Commentary

Permalink | Posted October 30, 2018

Step Up

This is the teacher in me coming out but if you call yourself a photographer and/or artist you need to step up. Photograph occasionally? Pick up a camera and take pictures when the scene is right, the light is right, when you "feel like it"?

I don't think so.

We are better if we shoot frequently, daily. We can reach a level of familiarity, fluidity, excellence and a pace that has rhythm when we photograph daily. Feeling rusty and out of it? It's because you're not thinking about it and making pictures constantly. Think about what a concert pianist does. Practice.

People can think they are in the big leagues, are contributing significant work by photographing occasionally or rarely, but they mostly they aren't. I don't know of anyone that's really good who isn't photographing constantly. I know, this makes for too many pictures. Photography for a long time has been a medium of too much, quantity run amok. This is where skilled editing should prevail. Editing is teachable, a discipline driven by lack of acceptance for anything but the best. A person's aesthetic, on the other hand,  not so much. This seems to be somehow ingrained into our genetic code. Good to look at it, though, try to decipher where it comes from and how it came about. At my age I do this quite a bit, look over my past to see where I came from artistically. 

This a hobby, a casual interest in making a few good pictures over a career or lifetime? Not me. This is what I do, make pictures. Not messing around or approaching this with less than a total commitment. That makes sense. To be really good you'd have to do it all the time with complete conviction.  Confidence isn't bravado, a conceit or placing yourself on a pedestal. It is just the knowledge that you are good because you've applied every lesson learned, worked your butt off, used every experience you've had, everything you've got to be this good. 

So, step up. Commit and invest. Give it all you've got. Don't compromise or accept less than perfection. Why should you? The plan is to make the absolute best pictures you can at the level you're at. Aspire towards greatness, why wouldn't you? Fail a lot, because you're pushing it then accept your failure only to redo, re-approach, figure another way and try again. Don't give up, ever. Be tenacious. Whoever said making art would be easy? It is one of the very hardest things to do, to be really good. So, go for it.

Talent is for amateurs. I hear this all the time: "She/he is so talented". So? It's what you do with the gift that matters. So you have a natural inclination towards visual expression? Great. Now go to work and make some art.

Don't worry about what others think, don't try for acceptance or fitting in. Don't pay attention to what others do, who wins what contest or best of show. Don't bother with all that crap. Go your own way, but with determination and yes, even some humor thrown in. Learn to laugh at yourself, because you will be ridiculous. A grown man or woman standing in front of some wall, some house, some landscape, some street with people streaming by, with a camera up to his/her face and taking a picture? Of course this is foolish. 

Also, you need to make your life centered around this thing called photography. It needs to be your priority. Not fitting it into your existing study or office, not shoved on a few flash drives or a few developed rolls of film in the back of your desk drawer. Get organized, file your pictures so that you can find them in the future. Back shit up. Hard drives will fail. Store your finished works like the gold that they are, precious and valued and something to behold. This work will be your lasting legacy, how you are remembered in future generations. How can someone else take your work seriously if you don't? And last, never apologize, never accommodate. That's for losers. You're an artist, not someone struggling to get another "job" another honorable mention. Remember, you are making your best work ever. Share it, show it, get it seen. A gallery director's position, a museum curator's job, an editor's role is to show great work. Magnificent work never seeing the light of day is nothing, doesn't exist.

And in conclusion, enjoy the ride. You are among the elite, the top of the heap in choosing to devote your life to this thing called art. You're not like regular people, just trying to get along. Not an easy path, but the rewards are deep, everlasting and powerful. 


This is a version of a lecture I used to give to graduating seniors at Northeastern University where I taught for thirty years. 

Topics: Commentary

Permalink | Posted October 26, 2018


White Sands, NM 1979

Welcome to my blog! 

Since so many of you signed up at the Allston Open Studios earlier this month I thought I would say hello and acquaint you a little with the blog. You are now subscribed and will get an email each time I post a new one. You can unsubscribe from this any time you want and I never share or sell email addresses, period.

Topics are primarily my own work, but the blog also serves as a vehicle for announcements of talks I give, shows my work is in and, occasionally, interviews of other artists.

Since I've been writing frequently for over 4 years there are a lot of posts. The blog is searchable and this can be helpful for finding things that interest you. Type in "Southwest," for example, and all sorts of  posts that relate to the South west will come up. 

Finally, there are many posts that serve as an analysis or guide through specific works of mine, usually as series or as a narrative group of pictures.  These usually go "Oakesdale Cemetery, Oakesedale Cemetery 2, Oakesdale Cemetery 3" and so on. These too are searchable.

As always I am happy to respond to your questions. My email is:

Santa Fe, NM 1979

Topics: Commentary

Permalink | Posted October 23, 2018

27 Years

As I wrote last week, I have sold and moved out of a townhouse I've owned in Cambridge, MA  for 27 years. The day after the movers left I went back and photographed the empty rooms. I wondered if the place still held meaning for me now that my things were gone, would the empty space still resonate because I had so many memories and experiences while living there. 

The answer is: mostly no. 

This was the small living room. 

These widows, letting light into the living room but also to the dining room and kitchen up a 1/2 flight of stairs, were one of the things I liked about living there.

This is the stairs up to to the next level,  where the DR and kitchen are.

The dining room and kitchen, which I renovated several years ago, with steps leading up to the third floor.

This is the third floor bedroom that was my daughter's for the first 10 or 12 years until she moved out. It was purple then. It then became my office where the computer was and where several generations of 44 inch Epson printers were over the years. If any room got my heart pounding it would be this one. So much work and so many prints made right here.

This was my bedroom. 27 years of putting my head down to sleep.

I've been out now for a week a half and it seems the most normal thing in the world to be in my new place, an apartment in a new complex with a year's lease.

Isn't it odd how we do and don't remember? Asked to sum up the 27 years of living in this place I would describe it as being very good. Great location, convenient to my work and to the city, comfortable, safe and secure. Perhaps it is what we carry, what we retain that matters, not so much the physical manifestation of our years in a place. 

Number 10 Fort Washington Place wasn't anything very special, just a townhouse along a lane in Cambridge, MA. But the memories I have, of parties, dinners, meeting for coffee, laughing, recuperating after surgery, packing to leave and unpacking from a trip, times hard and times good, those are what I carry and value. For almost three decades this was home.

Thanks for reading.

Topics: Commentary

Permalink | Posted September 6, 2018

A Personal History #5

The last installment of the Personal History Series (#4) ended in 2012. We'll pick up the narrative in 2013.

My life had reached a level of stability that was a real pleasure and that was good for my work. No financial worries and the freedom to travel. My daughter was in a good place too. No longer newly retired, I was photographing, processing, printing and showing work often. I was also still teaching and doing residencies. In fact, in the spring I taught at Penland in North Carolina and in the summer traveled to Iceland for the first time for a five-week residency at the Baer Art Centre in Hofsos. That experience rocked my world, for it was so different and such a very vast place, open and minimal, that it changed my work too. I remember in the early days of being there feeling as though there was nothing I could do that would possibly hold up to the place itself. Eventually, I came around to an understanding that I could make good work there.

That's the Baer Art Centre where we stayed in the lower right

I was showing my work by this time at 555 Gallery in Boston, working with Susan Nalband, the director. She brought to the conversation a sense of adventure and experimentation that was really wonderful. Her inaugural show highlighted my work from Iceland and Alaska fishing pictures by David Mattox.  

Digital photography had been improved once again. By this time I was working with the Nikon D800E, a problematic camera in many respects, but capable of truly wonderful files. 

By this time, I was comfortable with making my work of a wide array of diverse subjects and content, with ideas that embraced relatively straightforward photographs (such as landscape) but also included conceptual work, photographs that deconstructed and challenged conventions, particularly by looking at time (photo time) and shifting perspectives to inform and question the norm. 

I sought to redefine landscape photography or perhaps to bring it into the present day by photographing the same place from the air and on the ground (in the case of Toms Neck , from a kayak).

This work and two other series challenged preconceptions about what is there with evidence that much of landscape photography presents a facade and is two dimensional.

By 2014 I shook things up again.

Monster Moo Cards 

by photographing at a Costume World store in Fitchburg over most of the winter.This work was shown at 555 Gallery the following fall and at the Fitchburg Art Museum the next year.

Along with Monsters there was a great deal of other work, in series and also in single images from this time. Check the Gallery page of the site to see more.

We will finish this one here. Let's see if I can finish up in #6.

Topics: Commentary

Permalink | Posted August 29, 2018