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Bring that Inner Child Back

Wednesday, May 4th, 2011
When I was a child I caught a fleeting glimpse
Out of the corder of my eye
I turned to look, but it was gone
I cannot put my finger on it now
The child has grown, the dream is gone
And I have become
Comfortably numb

I’m reading William Allard’s five-decade retrospective, but slowly. Most photobooks I go through quickly, then forget. Not this one, although it may be too early to tell.

Mr. Allard is certainly not an author I identify with, with his love for Peru, cowboys, and people on the margins (the Amish, the Basques), but he does ring true as a human being.  Although it seems to me that his work is primarily flavored with many stark and iconic images (involving light and shadow), there’s a humanity in it that grabs me. I think that it’s his view of life that I identify with – at least in his earlier sections.

So as I type this, I’m thinking about his introduction; I’m thinking about how he identifies with “Comfortably Numb.” As we grow older, it becomes easier to lose our wonder with the world.  I see it in myself: I deliberately numb myself during the long winters up here, so that I don’t notice time passing quite so quickly. I do the same when I’m busy, and need to focus, or when I diet.

And it seems a shame.

I lose much of the joy in life by doing that.  I suppose it’s time to stop.

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Carrying Camera, Will Shoot

Saturday, April 23rd, 2011

I’m making my way through Why Photographs Work and enjoying it a great deal.  I guess. Reviewing an image by Dan Burkholder in particular (Tree and Pond in Fall), I was taken by how well this came out, despite being created and processed almost completely in his cell phone.

Not only is the processing of the image remarkable in its own right, but it’s a fine image on its own – I wouldn’t consider it any poorer than work done on higher-grade equipment.  What *really* jumped out at me was a comment by the photographer:

Decades ago I heard Jerry Uelsmann describe how the very act of having a camera with you makes you more aware of your surroundings.  That advice made so much sense that I’m practically neurotic about having one camera or another with me at all times.

This rings true with me – when I carry a camera, I am more likely to look around for excuses to use it.  I see this in my daily life, for example: currently it’s what we call “break-up” in Alaska, or just past it: the snow has mostly melted & ice is thawing – breaking up – and spring is effectively here, but everything is brown and grey and… well, not pretty at all.

After twenty-odd springs like this, I’m just not impressed, so I don’t carry my camera.  And as a result, I don’t notice the drabness quite so much. During other times of the year, I carry my camera compulsively.

It appears that Mr. Burkholder gets this same benefit from his iPhone.  Interestingly, I do not.

Time to get back into the habit.

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Photobook Review: The Forgotten Ones

Tuesday, April 12th, 2011


Consider this not so much a review as a thumb’s up: get ye a copy of The Forgotten Ones.

The overall concept of this book is, for lack of time to give a better explanation, a photographic project of a small, low-income section of Buffalo, New York. I have no particular affinity for the people or the place, but I found it quite compelling.

First among this is the photographer: while no longer spry at 90, he’s still active. And he lets people be themselves – this comes out in the work. It’s a relaxed approach, and one that leaves plenty of mystery and conjecture in the portraits, which is doubtlessly why I like it.

However, the latter half of the book, “Quartets” stands out among my many other photobooks that I’m slowly collecting. Individuals, shown over four decades, with their interviews and a bit of a history to them. Some are sad, some are uplifting. All make me think.

Definitely thumbs up on this one on a personal level.

Disclaimer: I get paid if you buy this book, albeit a small percentage.

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Diane Arbus: Revelations

Wednesday, January 26th, 2011
Diane Arbus, Self Portrait, from Revelations

Diane Arbus, Self Portrait, from Revelations

I just picked up Diane Arbus’ photobook Revelations. Only thirty pages in, and I’m already seeing something I really like: a self-portrait of Diane, in vulnerable and intimate pose.

It seems that any book that is retrospective, or even a body of work, could benefit from this approach.  My initial reaction was one of wonder: there’s a melancholy, but calm strength to her look.  Unlike many self portraits, this one immediately invoked a connection with her.

It made her human.

So thinking about my own work, or my own projects: I’m starting to see a real value in self portraits, and I’m somewhat saddened that I don’t have any from my past.  There’s a value, I think, to seeing the wear and tear on the person behind the work: what happened as they went through their creative process.

It’s like documenting your life, in a way that I can immediately identify with.

So far, highly recommending this book:

Revelations

Revelations

It’s not for everyone, though. If you aren’t into street photography, or images that let out the inner beast in us (and the beauty therein), then you might want to stay away.

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