Monday, September 29, 2008
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Photo idea
Here is a video FILLED with really great ideas!!! Here's a link to what Jarvis has to say on the shoot.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Art
I have been giving a lot of thought to art, what it means, and how I view it.
In this society the easy measure of success is financial. If you are selling photographs, then you are 1) good and 2) successful.
I have come to view success a little differently. In short, success to me will be if someone a few hundred years from now picks up a print I made and appreciates it. The only drawback with this definition is that I won't be there to witness the event.
There may be, however, a few key indicators to potential future appreciation.
My wife and I went to the Charles Russell Museum in Great Falls, Montana recently. While waiting for my wife I spied an interesting painting. I stood before it and considered what it was that made it so interesting to me.
The first thing I noticed with the sense of "depth" the image had. The second thing I noticed was how it made me feel. There were trees in the foreground and a high snow-capped mountain behind. Everything in the image was carefully arranged and composed. Light spilled from the high right throughout the scene. Everything was as it "should" be. Classic traditional art.
I continued to look at it with deeper more careful observation. As I did this, I noticed that the bark on the trees that were in deep shadow contained beautiful "correctly" contrasted details. It was almost as if I could reach out and touch the bark and feel the coolness of the tree's shade. The dried grass field in the foreground was clearly and cleanly articulated. The straw colors reminded me of the dry late summer heat. Looking up onto the mountain, snow fields were beautifully painted, with just a hint of blue, just like glaciers I saw throughout the Rockies. It seemed there was a small bit of haze between the foreground features and the mountain, just like smoke or humidity found in late summer. Finally, I considered the cloud formations. They were delicately rendered, exactly as I remembered similar cloud groups I saw in the Grand Tetons.
Taken in total, the painting was a near perfect articulation of scenes I had grown up with. From a photographers perspective, this scene was precisely as a human eye and brain would see and experience a view like this in real life.
From a photographer's perspective I knew instantly how photographs fail to recreate similar scenes. Had a camera been used to make the image the shadows would have been dark and muddied. The snow-capped peaks would be been too bright and over-exposed to properly capture the hint of blue. The haze might have been removed or reduced with the use of a UV filter. The colors would have been "punched up" through the use of Fuji Velvia or a similar function on a digital camera. A photographer would have had to work incredibly hard to come close the revealing what the painting did. A photograph would have been "something else".
As a culture and society that has looked at photographs for over 150 years, we have become "educated" as to the hard stern limits of photographic technologies. We learned from the great English photographers who captured the light of India and from the wonderful French photographers who worked the tourist post card trade in Egypt. We learned from Life magazine and National Geographic. We learned from the Great Saint Ansel Adams. We have learned what is and what is not a photograph.
So, what happens when image making technologies evolve and change? What happens when an image capture device is able to retain the hint of blue in the high mountain ice field? What happens when the "micro-contrast" of deeply shadowed tree bark is not only retained, but nicely enhanced? What happens when a photograph looks more like what the eye perceives than not? Is it still a photograph? Or, just as importantly, is it art?
William Mortensen had a lot to say on the topic of what comprises long lasting art image making. One of the things he noted is that careful composition is essential. He also placed strong emphasis on the quality of light deployed in the making of an image. Mortensen talked about the differences between "notan" style and "chiaroscuro" style lighting. The most descriptive guidance he left us are his Camera Craft published books. From 1937 and into the 1950's, William Mortensen wrote about art, image structure, image control, and, where appropriate, how to position, cloth, and light a human subject.
It seems that certain images have stood the test of time. Whether viewing the ancesteral cave paintings in France, or the incredible tile work from Byzantium, or the awesome paintings of the pre-Rennaisance Italy, much of the work is "visibly" and "knowingly" considered by many to be true "art". That is to say, images created several thousand years ago still hold appeal to viewers all these years later.
In current times I see that some photographic artists are stuggling with what has become of their craft. In one dimension there is the emergance of digital creation tools. In another dimension there is the now wide open possibilities that new tools and processes allow image makers. In yet another dimension is the question of how blurred the lines between "truth" and "manipulation" has become. Simply put, some people are asking questions about photography as a stand alone art form in an age where anything and everything can be created, manipulated, and managed from concept through to execution.
These are tough times for photo-traditionalists. From my own observations, it has appeared that photo-"insiders" long understood how to "look" at a work and find it "acceptable" and "pleasing" to them. I also observed how viewers unfamiliar with photographic techniques and processes can often times become befuddled by what they are looking at. It seems as if they failed to "see" what photo-"insiders" "see".
Things change.
Its interesting to watch as other struggle and strive to find a place in this rapidly evolving growing field of expression. In my own work, I have come to recognize the power of a well executed, properly lit, neatly processed image. It took the adoption of new tools and techniques to realize this vision. I couldn't be more excited by the possibilities.
In this society the easy measure of success is financial. If you are selling photographs, then you are 1) good and 2) successful.
I have come to view success a little differently. In short, success to me will be if someone a few hundred years from now picks up a print I made and appreciates it. The only drawback with this definition is that I won't be there to witness the event.
There may be, however, a few key indicators to potential future appreciation.
My wife and I went to the Charles Russell Museum in Great Falls, Montana recently. While waiting for my wife I spied an interesting painting. I stood before it and considered what it was that made it so interesting to me.
The first thing I noticed with the sense of "depth" the image had. The second thing I noticed was how it made me feel. There were trees in the foreground and a high snow-capped mountain behind. Everything in the image was carefully arranged and composed. Light spilled from the high right throughout the scene. Everything was as it "should" be. Classic traditional art.
I continued to look at it with deeper more careful observation. As I did this, I noticed that the bark on the trees that were in deep shadow contained beautiful "correctly" contrasted details. It was almost as if I could reach out and touch the bark and feel the coolness of the tree's shade. The dried grass field in the foreground was clearly and cleanly articulated. The straw colors reminded me of the dry late summer heat. Looking up onto the mountain, snow fields were beautifully painted, with just a hint of blue, just like glaciers I saw throughout the Rockies. It seemed there was a small bit of haze between the foreground features and the mountain, just like smoke or humidity found in late summer. Finally, I considered the cloud formations. They were delicately rendered, exactly as I remembered similar cloud groups I saw in the Grand Tetons.
Taken in total, the painting was a near perfect articulation of scenes I had grown up with. From a photographers perspective, this scene was precisely as a human eye and brain would see and experience a view like this in real life.
From a photographer's perspective I knew instantly how photographs fail to recreate similar scenes. Had a camera been used to make the image the shadows would have been dark and muddied. The snow-capped peaks would be been too bright and over-exposed to properly capture the hint of blue. The haze might have been removed or reduced with the use of a UV filter. The colors would have been "punched up" through the use of Fuji Velvia or a similar function on a digital camera. A photographer would have had to work incredibly hard to come close the revealing what the painting did. A photograph would have been "something else".
As a culture and society that has looked at photographs for over 150 years, we have become "educated" as to the hard stern limits of photographic technologies. We learned from the great English photographers who captured the light of India and from the wonderful French photographers who worked the tourist post card trade in Egypt. We learned from Life magazine and National Geographic. We learned from the Great Saint Ansel Adams. We have learned what is and what is not a photograph.
So, what happens when image making technologies evolve and change? What happens when an image capture device is able to retain the hint of blue in the high mountain ice field? What happens when the "micro-contrast" of deeply shadowed tree bark is not only retained, but nicely enhanced? What happens when a photograph looks more like what the eye perceives than not? Is it still a photograph? Or, just as importantly, is it art?
William Mortensen had a lot to say on the topic of what comprises long lasting art image making. One of the things he noted is that careful composition is essential. He also placed strong emphasis on the quality of light deployed in the making of an image. Mortensen talked about the differences between "notan" style and "chiaroscuro" style lighting. The most descriptive guidance he left us are his Camera Craft published books. From 1937 and into the 1950's, William Mortensen wrote about art, image structure, image control, and, where appropriate, how to position, cloth, and light a human subject.
It seems that certain images have stood the test of time. Whether viewing the ancesteral cave paintings in France, or the incredible tile work from Byzantium, or the awesome paintings of the pre-Rennaisance Italy, much of the work is "visibly" and "knowingly" considered by many to be true "art". That is to say, images created several thousand years ago still hold appeal to viewers all these years later.
In current times I see that some photographic artists are stuggling with what has become of their craft. In one dimension there is the emergance of digital creation tools. In another dimension there is the now wide open possibilities that new tools and processes allow image makers. In yet another dimension is the question of how blurred the lines between "truth" and "manipulation" has become. Simply put, some people are asking questions about photography as a stand alone art form in an age where anything and everything can be created, manipulated, and managed from concept through to execution.
These are tough times for photo-traditionalists. From my own observations, it has appeared that photo-"insiders" long understood how to "look" at a work and find it "acceptable" and "pleasing" to them. I also observed how viewers unfamiliar with photographic techniques and processes can often times become befuddled by what they are looking at. It seems as if they failed to "see" what photo-"insiders" "see".
Things change.
Its interesting to watch as other struggle and strive to find a place in this rapidly evolving growing field of expression. In my own work, I have come to recognize the power of a well executed, properly lit, neatly processed image. It took the adoption of new tools and techniques to realize this vision. I couldn't be more excited by the possibilities.
Monday, September 08, 2008
What I could have said - LensWork Extended #78
I just received my print copy of LensWork Sept-Oct 2008. Quickly thumbing through the magazine to see what Brooks might have written as an intro to my work I was struck by the words "innocent" and "child like".
Well! Here I always viewed myself as a serious "artist". Child-like? That stopped my train of thought. Innocent? Not from a "man of the world", surely.
Yet, the more I thought about it the more I realized that was exactly the "feel" when I'm in the company of heavy railroad equipment. Let me see if I can articulate what this means to me.
Back in the day I lived in Southern California. I have no idea what its like now, but when I grew up there the cultural message was strong. The culture demanded "sophistication". Everything from the cars one drove to the house a person lived in to the places one went to eat.
Looking back I'm very much surprised I didn't see it before. There was a distinctly condescending look on anyone who prepared their own meals from scratch. There was the strong judgment of anyone living in slightly beach worn apartments. There were laws in some parts of Southern California that prohibited the hanging of clothing on lines to dry. It was as if the entire Los Angeles and Orange County area was continually "sanitizing" itself for their own protection.
Protection from what? With the distance of time and place I still don't know.
Moving to Portland, Oregon 22 years ago began a sometimes subtle and sometimes not so subtle transformation. I started by being very aware of my place in culture and society and trying to find a way to "scramble" up the ultra-conservative cultural dung heap of expectation and judgment. I have ended up realizing that who I am will not change, regardless of what the predominant culture "demands" of me.
In hindsight its funny to think of Southern California as being ultra-conservative. Yet, that's exactly what my childhood and young adulthood was; very conservative. Surfers were supposed to be the very cool laid back people one see's in Endless Summer. Restaurants by the beach were supposed to be the height of cuisine production. Rodeo Drive was supposed to be somehow better with fashion than what's found in Paris, France. The media told us time and again just how wonderful it was to live in paradise.
Its nearly impossible to just be when media, cinema, traffic, voices, technology, strip malls, palaces to ultra-conservative churchianity all shout "you're never ever going to be good enough" unless you are stinking filthy rich.
Paradise? Its taken far too long, but paradise to me is living fully within one's means and within one's self. Paradise is the silence that comes with turning off the TV and the stereo. Paradise is parking the car and riding the bike to catch public transportation the rest of the way into work. Paradise is drinking a chilled pint of locally grown and prepared organic brew.
Paradise is stopping the mind from thinking and just being.
In Ram Das' book The Miracle of Love a story is told about the great mystic Neem Karoli Baba. He is said to have had a child like curiosity of the world. When he'd go for a ride in a car he would sit and smile, giggle, and laugh all the while swiveling this way and that to take in all the great sights and scenes as they passed by.
I am no mystic. Trust me on this point. Yet I find the story of Neem Karoli Baba such a beautiful juxtaposition to my earlier experiences on this planet. Its very freeing to know that its OK to be child like.
When I walk into the Brooklyn Roundhouse to tempt fate by trying to make a few fine images I feel very much like a child. My eyes invariably grow wide in their sockets. My stream of thoughts slows down. My breath catches in the throat. My mind and heart open to allow the enormity of the power steam locomotives to sink in and work their magic. This is big! fun!! stuff!!!
It is from this perspective that I am very happy that my joy and happiness come across in print as described by Brooks Jensen in his beautiful LensWork Magazine.
Well! Here I always viewed myself as a serious "artist". Child-like? That stopped my train of thought. Innocent? Not from a "man of the world", surely.
Yet, the more I thought about it the more I realized that was exactly the "feel" when I'm in the company of heavy railroad equipment. Let me see if I can articulate what this means to me.
Back in the day I lived in Southern California. I have no idea what its like now, but when I grew up there the cultural message was strong. The culture demanded "sophistication". Everything from the cars one drove to the house a person lived in to the places one went to eat.
Looking back I'm very much surprised I didn't see it before. There was a distinctly condescending look on anyone who prepared their own meals from scratch. There was the strong judgment of anyone living in slightly beach worn apartments. There were laws in some parts of Southern California that prohibited the hanging of clothing on lines to dry. It was as if the entire Los Angeles and Orange County area was continually "sanitizing" itself for their own protection.
Protection from what? With the distance of time and place I still don't know.
Moving to Portland, Oregon 22 years ago began a sometimes subtle and sometimes not so subtle transformation. I started by being very aware of my place in culture and society and trying to find a way to "scramble" up the ultra-conservative cultural dung heap of expectation and judgment. I have ended up realizing that who I am will not change, regardless of what the predominant culture "demands" of me.
In hindsight its funny to think of Southern California as being ultra-conservative. Yet, that's exactly what my childhood and young adulthood was; very conservative. Surfers were supposed to be the very cool laid back people one see's in Endless Summer. Restaurants by the beach were supposed to be the height of cuisine production. Rodeo Drive was supposed to be somehow better with fashion than what's found in Paris, France. The media told us time and again just how wonderful it was to live in paradise.
Its nearly impossible to just be when media, cinema, traffic, voices, technology, strip malls, palaces to ultra-conservative churchianity all shout "you're never ever going to be good enough" unless you are stinking filthy rich.
Paradise? Its taken far too long, but paradise to me is living fully within one's means and within one's self. Paradise is the silence that comes with turning off the TV and the stereo. Paradise is parking the car and riding the bike to catch public transportation the rest of the way into work. Paradise is drinking a chilled pint of locally grown and prepared organic brew.
Paradise is stopping the mind from thinking and just being.
In Ram Das' book The Miracle of Love a story is told about the great mystic Neem Karoli Baba. He is said to have had a child like curiosity of the world. When he'd go for a ride in a car he would sit and smile, giggle, and laugh all the while swiveling this way and that to take in all the great sights and scenes as they passed by.
I am no mystic. Trust me on this point. Yet I find the story of Neem Karoli Baba such a beautiful juxtaposition to my earlier experiences on this planet. Its very freeing to know that its OK to be child like.
When I walk into the Brooklyn Roundhouse to tempt fate by trying to make a few fine images I feel very much like a child. My eyes invariably grow wide in their sockets. My stream of thoughts slows down. My breath catches in the throat. My mind and heart open to allow the enormity of the power steam locomotives to sink in and work their magic. This is big! fun!! stuff!!!
It is from this perspective that I am very happy that my joy and happiness come across in print as described by Brooks Jensen in his beautiful LensWork Magazine.
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
Lenswork Magazine
In the September-October issue of LensWork Magazine, Brooks Jensen presents his views on how "Power People" in photography are different than photography "Enthusiasts". The punch-line is that "Enthusiast" images no longer mean they are in any way less than images made by "Power People".
I loved it. Finally, someone explaining me to my self in a way that was completely believable.
I really like the idea that photographs produced by enthusiasts can be the equal to those produced by the anointed power elite. Beyond the obvious reason, and beyond what Brooks wrote, I have the strong sense that what drives the photographic power elite is commerce and narcissistic attention. Money. Me.
Money is not a bad thing. Don't get me wrong. Everyone needs to eat. Me? Well, didn't the Beatles sing about that once upon a time?
Money can change a person's point of view so radically as to lead them into managing "perceptions" of themselves (Me!Me!Me!) and their work. For the power elite, "perception" is more important than image content. "Perception" of the artist, however, can lead to stagnation. Again, as Brooks points out, few photographers ever produce better work after they have been "discovered".
![Young Shaman [4]](http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2190/2803018281_4e791a2847_m.jpg)
About a year ago I was at a significant fork in the road of my own artistic endeavors. I needed to decide if I was going to don the cocktail party coat of "perception". I needed to decide if I was going to drag my wife around to cocktail parties and talk "high art". I needed to decide if I was going to put the time and effort into trying to become one of the photographic power elite.
After all, my wife and I can converse on a wide range of topics. We know our wines and food very well. We know our politics inside and out. We can speak to art and its place in culture and society. We can even dress up and look pretty darned good in the process. Alas, I knew that isn't truly me.
Through contrasts, Brooks Jensen makes a strong case for the photographic "enthusiast". Boy, am I ever glad he wrote on the topic so very strongly. I identify with what he says. I love taking and making images much more than I enjoy partying it up with groups of self proscribed photographic art "power elite". I enjoy finding ways of expressing my art more than I do worrying about how to pay the $50,000USD needed for the latest newfangled camera toy. I much prefer selling for a modest price my prints to folks who really enjoy the work than I would trying to convince anyone that a 30x40inch print of mine will help make them an acknowledged and well respected photographic art collector.
During my interview with Brooks for LensWork Extended #78 Sept-Oct In the RailYard he made two obvious points. These points are so quickly glossed over by the fast paced moneyed authoritative art power brokers that I feel too many folks don't even realize these p0ints exist. The Smoke and Mirror game has been very well played. Here's what I took from my conversation with Brooks.
First obvious point - In 200 years no one will care if you used film or digital to make an image.
Second obvious point - All that an artist can hope for is that their work stands the test of time.
In a society where money "speaks", in a culture where all that matter is how things are "perceived", in a country where all that people care about is how to get "there's", art is a nearly impossible thing to understand.
Its very useful to me to take a big step back and attempt to look at what I do and why I do it from the perspective of time.
I will never know, but I sincerely hope that some time, some where in the distant future some one will take a print I have made and find joy in looking at it.
![Young Shaman [2]](http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3248/2765939373_8e9c9139dc_m.jpg)
I loved it. Finally, someone explaining me to my self in a way that was completely believable.
I really like the idea that photographs produced by enthusiasts can be the equal to those produced by the anointed power elite. Beyond the obvious reason, and beyond what Brooks wrote, I have the strong sense that what drives the photographic power elite is commerce and narcissistic attention. Money. Me.
Money is not a bad thing. Don't get me wrong. Everyone needs to eat. Me? Well, didn't the Beatles sing about that once upon a time?
Money can change a person's point of view so radically as to lead them into managing "perceptions" of themselves (Me!Me!Me!) and their work. For the power elite, "perception" is more important than image content. "Perception" of the artist, however, can lead to stagnation. Again, as Brooks points out, few photographers ever produce better work after they have been "discovered".
About a year ago I was at a significant fork in the road of my own artistic endeavors. I needed to decide if I was going to don the cocktail party coat of "perception". I needed to decide if I was going to drag my wife around to cocktail parties and talk "high art". I needed to decide if I was going to put the time and effort into trying to become one of the photographic power elite.
After all, my wife and I can converse on a wide range of topics. We know our wines and food very well. We know our politics inside and out. We can speak to art and its place in culture and society. We can even dress up and look pretty darned good in the process. Alas, I knew that isn't truly me.
Through contrasts, Brooks Jensen makes a strong case for the photographic "enthusiast". Boy, am I ever glad he wrote on the topic so very strongly. I identify with what he says. I love taking and making images much more than I enjoy partying it up with groups of self proscribed photographic art "power elite". I enjoy finding ways of expressing my art more than I do worrying about how to pay the $50,000USD needed for the latest newfangled camera toy. I much prefer selling for a modest price my prints to folks who really enjoy the work than I would trying to convince anyone that a 30x40inch print of mine will help make them an acknowledged and well respected photographic art collector.
During my interview with Brooks for LensWork Extended #78 Sept-Oct In the RailYard he made two obvious points. These points are so quickly glossed over by the fast paced moneyed authoritative art power brokers that I feel too many folks don't even realize these p0ints exist. The Smoke and Mirror game has been very well played. Here's what I took from my conversation with Brooks.
First obvious point - In 200 years no one will care if you used film or digital to make an image.
Second obvious point - All that an artist can hope for is that their work stands the test of time.
In a society where money "speaks", in a culture where all that matter is how things are "perceived", in a country where all that people care about is how to get "there's", art is a nearly impossible thing to understand.
Its very useful to me to take a big step back and attempt to look at what I do and why I do it from the perspective of time.
I will never know, but I sincerely hope that some time, some where in the distant future some one will take a print I have made and find joy in looking at it.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Monday, August 25, 2008
Friday, August 15, 2008
Now that I think about it... [3]
I was recently interviewed by Brooks Jensen for the LensWork Extended #78 Sept-Oct issue. Some of my "In the RailYard" will be published.
After we hung up, I got to thinking a bit more about the questions Brooks asked and my reply. Hindsight being what it is, I would like to amend or add to my comments.
The third topic I would like to cover is a furthering discussion of the use of Open Source tools for image processing.
I believe that commercial tools are valuable to commercial artists. These kinds of tools clearly define the limits of creativity. Yet, they provide a level of stability and assurance that a commercial artist can rely on. Once the investment in money, time, and energy is made, the artist can free themselves to work within the boundaries set by the commercial tools.
Open Source tools sometimes aren't as well "packaged" as their commercial equivalents. One thing that is attractive about deploying Open Source image processing is that limits are less clearly defined. To me, this means the boundaries of capability and creativity can be pushed well beyond the typical limits set by commercial offerings.
An analogy that might help describe my thoughts and feelings about commercial verses Open Source tools is this. There are woodworkers who go down to the local tools supply and buy the tools they need. The barrier to entry is money. Once the tool is in hand, they can return to their craft and continue creating whatever it is they wish to create.
On the other hand, I know a number of woodworkers who in some cases make their own tools. For instance, tools that help make a new version of an old molding for which there is no longer a pattern. For these artists, the barrier to entry is time. That is, the time it takes to make the tool that will do the job.
Similarly, in my use of Open Source tools and technologies, I feel there are few limits to creative expression. Sure, it can take time to seek out a set of applications, learn their use, and then apply them to a project of images. Once I'm done, I have pushed myself and my images well beyond the boundaries and capabilities of similar commercial tools offerings.
Perhaps a few links are in order. These might help give you a sense of where I am working today. Some of these tools are very "raw" and unpolished. Others are generations old and match or exceed the stability and capabilities of their commercial equivalents. The image above was created using a combination of nearly all of these tools. I hope you find them useful.
Applications that extend the capabilities of a normal digital point and shoot beyond any DSLR (regardless of price) - CHDK
Noise reduction software - Greycstoration
An image processing application - Gimp
High Dynamic Range control software - Qtpfsgui
Image stitching software - Hugin
After we hung up, I got to thinking a bit more about the questions Brooks asked and my reply. Hindsight being what it is, I would like to amend or add to my comments.
The third topic I would like to cover is a furthering discussion of the use of Open Source tools for image processing.
I believe that commercial tools are valuable to commercial artists. These kinds of tools clearly define the limits of creativity. Yet, they provide a level of stability and assurance that a commercial artist can rely on. Once the investment in money, time, and energy is made, the artist can free themselves to work within the boundaries set by the commercial tools.
Open Source tools sometimes aren't as well "packaged" as their commercial equivalents. One thing that is attractive about deploying Open Source image processing is that limits are less clearly defined. To me, this means the boundaries of capability and creativity can be pushed well beyond the typical limits set by commercial offerings.
An analogy that might help describe my thoughts and feelings about commercial verses Open Source tools is this. There are woodworkers who go down to the local tools supply and buy the tools they need. The barrier to entry is money. Once the tool is in hand, they can return to their craft and continue creating whatever it is they wish to create.
On the other hand, I know a number of woodworkers who in some cases make their own tools. For instance, tools that help make a new version of an old molding for which there is no longer a pattern. For these artists, the barrier to entry is time. That is, the time it takes to make the tool that will do the job.
Similarly, in my use of Open Source tools and technologies, I feel there are few limits to creative expression. Sure, it can take time to seek out a set of applications, learn their use, and then apply them to a project of images. Once I'm done, I have pushed myself and my images well beyond the boundaries and capabilities of similar commercial tools offerings.
Perhaps a few links are in order. These might help give you a sense of where I am working today. Some of these tools are very "raw" and unpolished. Others are generations old and match or exceed the stability and capabilities of their commercial equivalents. The image above was created using a combination of nearly all of these tools. I hope you find them useful.
Applications that extend the capabilities of a normal digital point and shoot beyond any DSLR (regardless of price) - CHDK
Noise reduction software - Greycstoration
An image processing application - Gimp
High Dynamic Range control software - Qtpfsgui
Image stitching software - Hugin
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Now that I think about it... [2]
I was recently interviewed by Brooks Jensen for the LensWork Extended #78 Sept-Oct issue. Some of my "In the RailYard" will be published.
After we hung up, I got to thinking a bit more about the questions Brooks asked and my reply. Hindsight being what it is, I would like to amend or add to my comments.
The second topic I would like to cover is the use of Open Source tools for image processing.
During the interview, I think I may have rambled a bit, trying to get everything that came to mind into a couple paragraphs. It might be a meaningless mess to try and listen to.
The topic of image processing tools is, for me, an important topic. I will start by comparing and contrasting commercial for sale tools with Open Source tools.
Commercial for sale tools are widely known in the West. Its how we live our lives. That is, we buy what we want and hope that it does the things we intend them to do. I think of commercial entities as large mostly inaccessible beings with few points of access to their inner sanctums. Someone or something "gives" us a tool in a one to many kind of relationship. One company, and perhaps many customers. Intellectual property and copyright protections are granted to the commercial entity, not to the human creators of a work. Furthermore, aside from what might be available from "value added partners", there are few opportunities to extend a tool beyond its original capabilities. The barrier to entry is money. Pure and simple.
This kind of approach is easy for Westerners to understand since this is what we have been raised to expect. Closed protectionist capitalism is like this. For photographic tools I think of the foundation being Microsoft Windows, with perhaps a few Apple OS-X users thrown in, just to mix things up. For the tools themselves, I think of Adobe and their Photoshop suite of applications.
For more than a decade I have been making use of Open Source infrastructure and tools. In my work-a-day life I have attempted to introduce people to the joys and freedom provided by the Linux operating system. Several companies have allowed me to influence their operating system choices in this direction. One company even makes over $400 Million a year based on products that use Linux inside.
When I transitioned from traditional mechanical-chemical tools and processes to digital, I naturally looked into what Open Source tools might be available to me.
Open Source has a few properties that stand in stark contrast to commercial entities. For instance, Open Source provides a many to many relationship. There are many developers and many consumers. Developers are protected by a license scheme that grants the originators copyright protections. This also helps protect creator's intellectual property. Open Source works are openly shared and many times cost nothing to acquire. As a user, if you make an enhancement or fix a few bugs, you give your updates back to the community at large. Over time the Open Source community strengthens as more developers participate and more good solid work is released. The most common barrier to entry in the use of Open Source tools is time, not usually money.
When I think of Open Source, I think of Google who bases their massive search engine on Linux. I think of Apache web servers, which serve over 70% of all web pages to computer users world wide. I think of Open Source works as being accessible, easy to engage, and extendible in any direction a user or developer might need or desire.
For the LensWork portfolio I used a variety of Open Source image processing tools.
I used Qtpfsgui to capture the high dynamic range of the original scene. I then used Qtpfsgui's ability to map tones using several different operators and a wide variety of parameters to achieve the desired effect. In the commercial space, Photomatrix is Qtpfsgui's equivalent.
In a few cases I used Hugin to stitch multiple images together to form the foundation image that I worked from. In the commercial space, there are several panorama applications to choose from. But unlike its commercial counterparts, Hugin offers nearly a dozen ways of projecting an image onto the final image space.
I used the Gimp for Photoshop-like manipulations. The Gimp offers all the features and functions of Photoshop, and it does it for free.
Binaries of each of these packages are available for Windows, Mac OS-X, as well as native Linux.
A final word about operating systems and compute infrastructure: In my experience of running applications on top of the Linux operating system I have found stability. Real stability. No funny wierdness of things not working, or slowing down, or corrupting my work. Furthermore, Linux runs on just about any Intel or AMD processor based computer. This includes nearly any computer a person can buy today. Windows, on the other hand... ah... how can people stand that operating system? Maybe they just don't know any better? Apple... makes brilliant stuff! But the brilliance comes at a cost. I can't afford it so I use Linux.
After we hung up, I got to thinking a bit more about the questions Brooks asked and my reply. Hindsight being what it is, I would like to amend or add to my comments.
The second topic I would like to cover is the use of Open Source tools for image processing.
During the interview, I think I may have rambled a bit, trying to get everything that came to mind into a couple paragraphs. It might be a meaningless mess to try and listen to.
The topic of image processing tools is, for me, an important topic. I will start by comparing and contrasting commercial for sale tools with Open Source tools.
Commercial for sale tools are widely known in the West. Its how we live our lives. That is, we buy what we want and hope that it does the things we intend them to do. I think of commercial entities as large mostly inaccessible beings with few points of access to their inner sanctums. Someone or something "gives" us a tool in a one to many kind of relationship. One company, and perhaps many customers. Intellectual property and copyright protections are granted to the commercial entity, not to the human creators of a work. Furthermore, aside from what might be available from "value added partners", there are few opportunities to extend a tool beyond its original capabilities. The barrier to entry is money. Pure and simple.
This kind of approach is easy for Westerners to understand since this is what we have been raised to expect. Closed protectionist capitalism is like this. For photographic tools I think of the foundation being Microsoft Windows, with perhaps a few Apple OS-X users thrown in, just to mix things up. For the tools themselves, I think of Adobe and their Photoshop suite of applications.
For more than a decade I have been making use of Open Source infrastructure and tools. In my work-a-day life I have attempted to introduce people to the joys and freedom provided by the Linux operating system. Several companies have allowed me to influence their operating system choices in this direction. One company even makes over $400 Million a year based on products that use Linux inside.
When I transitioned from traditional mechanical-chemical tools and processes to digital, I naturally looked into what Open Source tools might be available to me.
Open Source has a few properties that stand in stark contrast to commercial entities. For instance, Open Source provides a many to many relationship. There are many developers and many consumers. Developers are protected by a license scheme that grants the originators copyright protections. This also helps protect creator's intellectual property. Open Source works are openly shared and many times cost nothing to acquire. As a user, if you make an enhancement or fix a few bugs, you give your updates back to the community at large. Over time the Open Source community strengthens as more developers participate and more good solid work is released. The most common barrier to entry in the use of Open Source tools is time, not usually money.
When I think of Open Source, I think of Google who bases their massive search engine on Linux. I think of Apache web servers, which serve over 70% of all web pages to computer users world wide. I think of Open Source works as being accessible, easy to engage, and extendible in any direction a user or developer might need or desire.
For the LensWork portfolio I used a variety of Open Source image processing tools.
I used Qtpfsgui to capture the high dynamic range of the original scene. I then used Qtpfsgui's ability to map tones using several different operators and a wide variety of parameters to achieve the desired effect. In the commercial space, Photomatrix is Qtpfsgui's equivalent.
In a few cases I used Hugin to stitch multiple images together to form the foundation image that I worked from. In the commercial space, there are several panorama applications to choose from. But unlike its commercial counterparts, Hugin offers nearly a dozen ways of projecting an image onto the final image space.
I used the Gimp for Photoshop-like manipulations. The Gimp offers all the features and functions of Photoshop, and it does it for free.
Binaries of each of these packages are available for Windows, Mac OS-X, as well as native Linux.
A final word about operating systems and compute infrastructure: In my experience of running applications on top of the Linux operating system I have found stability. Real stability. No funny wierdness of things not working, or slowing down, or corrupting my work. Furthermore, Linux runs on just about any Intel or AMD processor based computer. This includes nearly any computer a person can buy today. Windows, on the other hand... ah... how can people stand that operating system? Maybe they just don't know any better? Apple... makes brilliant stuff! But the brilliance comes at a cost. I can't afford it so I use Linux.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Now that I think about it... [1]
I was recently interviewed by Brooks Jensen for the LensWork Extended #78 Sept-Oct issue. Some of my "In the RailYard" will be published.
After we hung up, I got to thinking a bit more about the questions Brooks asked and my reply. Hindsight being what it is, I would like to amend or add to my comments.
The first topic I would like to cover is printing.
Brooks asked me a couple times about how I printed the images in the portfolio. I gave rather incomplete answers.
I come from traditional analog chemical processes. So my current work emulates many of the tints and papers that I have used over the past 40 years of making prints.
I made the jump to digital daylight processes after I was convinced of the longevity of the prints (200+ years) and confirmed that I could exceed the resolution of my old work. For this reason I use a common consumer grade pigment based printer. The papers I use are "photo rag" in nature. That is to say, they have high cotton fiber content.
For the LensWork portfolio, I printed to Hanemuhle Photo Rag Smooth 188gsm. The images were tinted using a hand built "sepia" tone. The image sizes were selected to allow a sufficiently wide boarder for viewing.
Recently, Ted Mishima shared with me the beauty of Epson's Velvet Fine Art Matte. I love the texture and the way blacks are really black. I also love the way that light appears to be "sucked in" by the surface. This is beautiful material and I can't seem to get enough of looking at images made to it.
After we hung up, I got to thinking a bit more about the questions Brooks asked and my reply. Hindsight being what it is, I would like to amend or add to my comments.
The first topic I would like to cover is printing.
Brooks asked me a couple times about how I printed the images in the portfolio. I gave rather incomplete answers.
I come from traditional analog chemical processes. So my current work emulates many of the tints and papers that I have used over the past 40 years of making prints.
I made the jump to digital daylight processes after I was convinced of the longevity of the prints (200+ years) and confirmed that I could exceed the resolution of my old work. For this reason I use a common consumer grade pigment based printer. The papers I use are "photo rag" in nature. That is to say, they have high cotton fiber content.
For the LensWork portfolio, I printed to Hanemuhle Photo Rag Smooth 188gsm. The images were tinted using a hand built "sepia" tone. The image sizes were selected to allow a sufficiently wide boarder for viewing.
Recently, Ted Mishima shared with me the beauty of Epson's Velvet Fine Art Matte. I love the texture and the way blacks are really black. I also love the way that light appears to be "sucked in" by the surface. This is beautiful material and I can't seem to get enough of looking at images made to it.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Friday, August 08, 2008
Monday, August 04, 2008
On Minor White
Doctor Scott Jones shared the following with the Interim Group. It is with his kind permission that I repost it here.
------------------------------------
From: Scott Jones
Sent: Saturday, August 02, 2008 9:50 AM
Subject: Interesting description of early Interim Group Meetings
Hi Friends,
Dennis Purdy kindly sent me this fascinating account from Larry Bullis, an early Interim Group member, on his recollections of the Interim Group meetings and some of the Minor White workshops. I thought many of you would be interested in this history. Enjoy!
Scott
---------------------------------------
Notes on Minor White's 1964-65 Portland Oregon workshops.
Larry Bullis, 2008
I was fortunate to attend two series of workshops with Minor White in Portland, Oregon, with his "home" group. Minor had gone to Portland in the 1930's, been employed there by the Works Progress Administration to photograph the historic steel fronted buildings on Portland's waterfront, and had been involved in the camera club there. Subsequently, after his stint in the army in WWII, he went to San Francisco to work with Ansel Adams at the California School of Fine Arts and then to Rochester to teach at RIT.
Many of the original members of his original group were still active. Every summer, Minor would come back to Portland and give workshops, which members of the old group attended. During the year between summers, the group or as much of it as could or wished to, would meet at Dr. Rustin's for the "Interim Workshop". This group is still going in a different location and with a different group of people, and unfortunately, without Minor. Participants would show their prints. Tapes were made of the proceedings. Minor would receive the tapes with the photographs that were discussed. The next month, the photographs were returned with his reply. During these interim meetings, the protocols were followed as they were with him present, but, of course, without his voice, except on tape in the comments concerning last month's presentations.
Here, in response to a thread on APUG about developing one's ability to see, I will describe the methods he used in his workshops as best I can. I believe the descriptions to be about as accurate as any could be. I thought it best to post it as an article, because of its length and its potential interest for other viewers.
----------
Photographs were viewed in a state of meditation. Every exercise was preceded by an induction to help the students attain the appropriate state. The student was prepared for the session through a guided progressive relaxation discipline. This induction would take approximately, I believe, about five minutes. The instructions were given slowly and deliberately, allowing time at each instruction for the student to accomplish the release of that body part or region before proceeding to the next. The intent of this was to bring the student's attention home to the body, rather than the usual flitting around between now and next weekend, love life, and tomorrow's dinner menu. Present in the body (this is quite an unusual state for most people, I think; we tend to live in our heads a lot) permits an unusual kind of simple awareness which does not include interpretation of any kind.
After the induction, the student would be asked to open his/her eyes, and would find a music stand positioned directly in front with a matted photograph on it. Note; music STAND. There is no music in the environment. Each student had a stand with a print on it. The photograph would be one that MW had brought with him; not one of his, but one he had for the purpose. It would be superb, but not a "masterpiece" and I think that was deliberate. I think it would be a mistake to use a photograph that is too powerful until the process is mastered.
Minor must have traveled with 20 or more of these prints. Imagine traveling through the most primitive, hot, and dusty parts of the US, like the Henry Mountains in Utah, with 20 or more immaculate prints, to say nothing of lots of 4x5 film, view cameras, music stands, etc. in his red 1960's VW bus. He travelled with an assistant, and the bus would be made dark at night for loading and unloading holders by being covered with a large tarp (it was carried too) by the person not enclosed in the bus. Somebody needed to be there to install and remove the tarp. Film was carried in a cooler, with ice. Well, I guess he had it easier than Carleton Watkins did.
It is impossible to write in Minor's voice, but here goes. Also, I've experienced similar inductions in other contexts, so while the spirit of the process is accurate, it is not verbatim Minor. I'm sure he would, however, approve.
The induction:
Sit in a chair, your feet flat on the floor. Lap is a good place for the hands. Close your eyes.
Become aware of the sole of your left foot, where it contacts the floor. Place all of your attention there. (pause)
Retaining the awareness of the sole of the left foot, also become aware of the sole of the right foot. (pause) Allow that awareness to include all of both feeet. (pause) And the ankles. (pause).
Allow the awareness to expand into your calves. (pause) Then your knees. (pause) And your thighs.
Allow the awareness to include your genitals, your hips and pelvic area. (pause).
Allow the awareness to expand into your stomach region and into your chest. (pause). Take three deep breaths and release, allowing the tensions in your body to expel in the exhalations.
Continue the expansion of awareness into your shoulders. Release the shoulders. Into the neck, and head. (pause)
Become aware of the muscles in your face. Allow them to relax. (pause)
When you are ready, open your eyes.
In theory, totally relaxed, perfectly present in the body, aware and open without anything in the mind (yeah, really!) the student would then look at the print for about 15 or 20 minutes. The room would be totally silent during this time. The long time may seem excessive, but it isn't. If one knows that there is that much time involved, very soon one "gives up" and allows one's self to really get into the photograph and drop any worries about being able to see it all. With experience, the student will simply look at the photograph, allowing the eyes to pass over every millimeter, every line, every bit of glorious silver, every texture and every beautiful gray. (Would it work with an ugly photograph? I think so. It can work with anything. I assign my students to look at burnt toast. The important thing is to avoid judgment. Hey, burnt toast can be beautiful. Try it.).
At the end of the viewing time, the signal to gradually allow one's concentration to return to the room would be given, and after a few minutes (when MW could see that everyone was back) discussion would begin. These discussions could take any number of directions, some of which were not just talk, but could include body movements, postures and gestures. Each person would recount the experience with the work which often included difficulties, such as...
1) judgment - good or bad
2) technical criticisms
3) distractions
4) discomforts
5) associational chains
6) design criticisms
7) likes and dislikes
8) anything else
I only number these to be sure that they separate one from the other in the reader's mind. I want the reader to note that these things are difficulties, despite what often is regarded as how you look at a photograph; i.e. to determine if it is good or bad. Value judgments like that, or any other valuation or analysis of any kind are considered intrusions on the experience; distractions. Flights of imagination, such as "it reminded me of..., it looks like a..., it made me think of... etc. were NOT encouraged, but would be grudgingly tolerated if they didn't take very long. Intellectual analysis was considered a difficulty. Everything Gets in the Way. Opinions are definitely not honored. "I like it" is entirely irrelevant.
Not only difficulties would be discussed. The discussion could turn to appreciation, emotion (there were incidents of tears, etc.) and intangibles. It is not easy to discuss feelings, because there are no words that come from that part of the human makeup. An attitude of respect for the work and for the individuals present was always maintained.
One must be open, relaxed, and loose to concentrate this way, but incredibly vigilant and very aware of oneself, at the same time as being aware of the image and the self in the process of observation. Got that? This means to be present to oneself as one observes the work. It is a conscious dialog with the work. If this is hard to grasp, that is not surprising. It's not at all easy to explain. It is a sort of dual consciousness; it is not just "I look at print" but, almost from a position that is superior to my ordinary self, I am aware of myself observing the print. I am, ideally, fully present and aware of my presence as my eyes scan and send the data to the brain; my awareness includes that process going on as well. I am observing myself observing the image; it is all there.
What do you do about the fact that these difficulties, these distractions, are inevitable? Remember, Minor White was a meditator. He knew how to let thoughts happen, let them go, and come back. Always come back.
The tenor of the atmosphere? Somewhat painfully self conscious. Here again, it might help to know that Minor was a Gurdjieff student. G's method requires constant self observation which is frequently uncomfortable and just might make one seem a bit weird to other people because of the intense self-focus - and knowing that it might make one seem weird could make one more self-conscious. He brought that into his teaching. His workshops could be fun, sometimes, but more often were rewarding in other ways, and not necessarily very comfortable to be in. He had a great sense of humor which he used very sparingly. A great premium was placed upon a rather serious self awareness.
The problem with using Minor White as a source of models for exercises is that you would almost need to be Minor White to use them. Minor was very charismatic, very commanding in workshop situations, and adept at creating what some would call an environment for learning, but others might call hypnotism. I think it would be very hard for an individual to apply his methods solo without training, but not impossible. I am able to do it, but it does take a peculiar effort, and I've had the training. Also, there are times that I simply can't do it. That effort isn't like "work", exactly; it is an effort to remember to do it. You know, remember to remember.
----------
A workshop might last several days, and after the first introductory one where the zone system and viewing protocols would be explained and demonstrated, would be held at some remote site such as Cape Kiwanda or Cape Arago on the Oregon Coast. The day would start early in the morning; can't remember how early, but it was early. The importation of Eastern spiritual materials had not yet quite begun in 1964-65, although it was starting, so there was no "yoga" as we have today. Minor had us doing calisthenics; you know, jumping jacks, pushups, sit-ups, etc. to start the day. Early! Then coffee. Then talk. Then breakfast, then more talk, then shoot at some location that had been determined, then if there was a darkroom arrangement, process, then meet with prints, view and discuss, more talk, dinner, more talk, maybe see one of Minor's INCREDIBLE dual projector slide shows (he was a master of fade and dissolve, which he did with hand dimmers, and used the superimposition of images to create spectacular dynamic interactions). Then socialize with liberal drink. The night would end late and the next day would start Early - really early. I think about 5 o'clock. With jumping jacks, pushups....
Out "shooting" (which term I can't recall in use, but there is a famous story about MW saying to students going out with their cameras: "Happy Snapping!") the model was similar. Ideally, I would not "look for pictures" but would stay in a meditative state, remain open, not be critical and allow the image to find me. I never felt it worked for me then, but it does now quite often. My wife tells me that Freeman Patterson called this "relaxed attentiveness" or something close to that. Another of my most honored and revered mentors, Lloyd J. Reynolds at Reed College, called it "serene open awareness". I submit it to you with my recommendation.
The pace was rather severe and within a few days, several students would be gone, never to be seen again. I asked him what the reason for the severity was. He told me that fatigue would break down the students' resistance and he could just "pour it in". Minor believed that getting more than four or five hours of sleep was to indulge in sheer luxury. He would nap in the afternoon, perhaps curled up in the back of somebody's station wagon, for ten minutes, no more. He would count to ten, and be asleep. That was all he seemed to need. He was very strong; us young folks could keep up with him as he flapped his way up the streambed at Oneonta Gorge in his rubber thongs, his tripod with the Sinar over his shoulder, but older students fell back, not even trying to keep up.
----------
Minor's methods were and remain controversial. His models were more traditional Eastern methods where the student surrenders control to the teacher and does as s/he's told, but these methods were adapted more or less successfully to the more permissive American environment. He was not a tyrant. There were, and maybe still are, some who think that he may have done more harm to students than good. Critics point out his mystification, the tendency of his students to become second rate clones, etc.
I myself elected to pursue a different road, but I honor my teachers, of whom Minor White is one. My intent here is to present as best I can an accurate picture of specific workshops, not to laud or criticize. I have used daily what I learned with him for the past 44 years. In that regard, he is not alone, but a member of a select and honored group. He was and remains very important to me, as a teacher and as a person, but - not as a "god". Like all of us, he had his strengths and weaknesses. Those who seem larger than life also have passions that are larger than life. The whole person is magnified.
------------------------------------
From: Scott Jones
Sent: Saturday, August 02, 2008 9:50 AM
Subject: Interesting description of early Interim Group Meetings
Hi Friends,
Dennis Purdy kindly sent me this fascinating account from Larry Bullis, an early Interim Group member, on his recollections of the Interim Group meetings and some of the Minor White workshops. I thought many of you would be interested in this history. Enjoy!
Scott
---------------------------------------
Notes on Minor White's 1964-65 Portland Oregon workshops.
Larry Bullis, 2008
I was fortunate to attend two series of workshops with Minor White in Portland, Oregon, with his "home" group. Minor had gone to Portland in the 1930's, been employed there by the Works Progress Administration to photograph the historic steel fronted buildings on Portland's waterfront, and had been involved in the camera club there. Subsequently, after his stint in the army in WWII, he went to San Francisco to work with Ansel Adams at the California School of Fine Arts and then to Rochester to teach at RIT.
Many of the original members of his original group were still active. Every summer, Minor would come back to Portland and give workshops, which members of the old group attended. During the year between summers, the group or as much of it as could or wished to, would meet at Dr. Rustin's for the "Interim Workshop". This group is still going in a different location and with a different group of people, and unfortunately, without Minor. Participants would show their prints. Tapes were made of the proceedings. Minor would receive the tapes with the photographs that were discussed. The next month, the photographs were returned with his reply. During these interim meetings, the protocols were followed as they were with him present, but, of course, without his voice, except on tape in the comments concerning last month's presentations.
Here, in response to a thread on APUG about developing one's ability to see, I will describe the methods he used in his workshops as best I can. I believe the descriptions to be about as accurate as any could be. I thought it best to post it as an article, because of its length and its potential interest for other viewers.
----------
Photographs were viewed in a state of meditation. Every exercise was preceded by an induction to help the students attain the appropriate state. The student was prepared for the session through a guided progressive relaxation discipline. This induction would take approximately, I believe, about five minutes. The instructions were given slowly and deliberately, allowing time at each instruction for the student to accomplish the release of that body part or region before proceeding to the next. The intent of this was to bring the student's attention home to the body, rather than the usual flitting around between now and next weekend, love life, and tomorrow's dinner menu. Present in the body (this is quite an unusual state for most people, I think; we tend to live in our heads a lot) permits an unusual kind of simple awareness which does not include interpretation of any kind.
After the induction, the student would be asked to open his/her eyes, and would find a music stand positioned directly in front with a matted photograph on it. Note; music STAND. There is no music in the environment. Each student had a stand with a print on it. The photograph would be one that MW had brought with him; not one of his, but one he had for the purpose. It would be superb, but not a "masterpiece" and I think that was deliberate. I think it would be a mistake to use a photograph that is too powerful until the process is mastered.
Minor must have traveled with 20 or more of these prints. Imagine traveling through the most primitive, hot, and dusty parts of the US, like the Henry Mountains in Utah, with 20 or more immaculate prints, to say nothing of lots of 4x5 film, view cameras, music stands, etc. in his red 1960's VW bus. He travelled with an assistant, and the bus would be made dark at night for loading and unloading holders by being covered with a large tarp (it was carried too) by the person not enclosed in the bus. Somebody needed to be there to install and remove the tarp. Film was carried in a cooler, with ice. Well, I guess he had it easier than Carleton Watkins did.
It is impossible to write in Minor's voice, but here goes. Also, I've experienced similar inductions in other contexts, so while the spirit of the process is accurate, it is not verbatim Minor. I'm sure he would, however, approve.
The induction:
Sit in a chair, your feet flat on the floor. Lap is a good place for the hands. Close your eyes.
Become aware of the sole of your left foot, where it contacts the floor. Place all of your attention there. (pause)
Retaining the awareness of the sole of the left foot, also become aware of the sole of the right foot. (pause) Allow that awareness to include all of both feeet. (pause) And the ankles. (pause).
Allow the awareness to expand into your calves. (pause) Then your knees. (pause) And your thighs.
Allow the awareness to include your genitals, your hips and pelvic area. (pause).
Allow the awareness to expand into your stomach region and into your chest. (pause). Take three deep breaths and release, allowing the tensions in your body to expel in the exhalations.
Continue the expansion of awareness into your shoulders. Release the shoulders. Into the neck, and head. (pause)
Become aware of the muscles in your face. Allow them to relax. (pause)
When you are ready, open your eyes.
In theory, totally relaxed, perfectly present in the body, aware and open without anything in the mind (yeah, really!) the student would then look at the print for about 15 or 20 minutes. The room would be totally silent during this time. The long time may seem excessive, but it isn't. If one knows that there is that much time involved, very soon one "gives up" and allows one's self to really get into the photograph and drop any worries about being able to see it all. With experience, the student will simply look at the photograph, allowing the eyes to pass over every millimeter, every line, every bit of glorious silver, every texture and every beautiful gray. (Would it work with an ugly photograph? I think so. It can work with anything. I assign my students to look at burnt toast. The important thing is to avoid judgment. Hey, burnt toast can be beautiful. Try it.).
At the end of the viewing time, the signal to gradually allow one's concentration to return to the room would be given, and after a few minutes (when MW could see that everyone was back) discussion would begin. These discussions could take any number of directions, some of which were not just talk, but could include body movements, postures and gestures. Each person would recount the experience with the work which often included difficulties, such as...
1) judgment - good or bad
2) technical criticisms
3) distractions
4) discomforts
5) associational chains
6) design criticisms
7) likes and dislikes
8) anything else
I only number these to be sure that they separate one from the other in the reader's mind. I want the reader to note that these things are difficulties, despite what often is regarded as how you look at a photograph; i.e. to determine if it is good or bad. Value judgments like that, or any other valuation or analysis of any kind are considered intrusions on the experience; distractions. Flights of imagination, such as "it reminded me of..., it looks like a..., it made me think of... etc. were NOT encouraged, but would be grudgingly tolerated if they didn't take very long. Intellectual analysis was considered a difficulty. Everything Gets in the Way. Opinions are definitely not honored. "I like it" is entirely irrelevant.
Not only difficulties would be discussed. The discussion could turn to appreciation, emotion (there were incidents of tears, etc.) and intangibles. It is not easy to discuss feelings, because there are no words that come from that part of the human makeup. An attitude of respect for the work and for the individuals present was always maintained.
One must be open, relaxed, and loose to concentrate this way, but incredibly vigilant and very aware of oneself, at the same time as being aware of the image and the self in the process of observation. Got that? This means to be present to oneself as one observes the work. It is a conscious dialog with the work. If this is hard to grasp, that is not surprising. It's not at all easy to explain. It is a sort of dual consciousness; it is not just "I look at print" but, almost from a position that is superior to my ordinary self, I am aware of myself observing the print. I am, ideally, fully present and aware of my presence as my eyes scan and send the data to the brain; my awareness includes that process going on as well. I am observing myself observing the image; it is all there.
What do you do about the fact that these difficulties, these distractions, are inevitable? Remember, Minor White was a meditator. He knew how to let thoughts happen, let them go, and come back. Always come back.
The tenor of the atmosphere? Somewhat painfully self conscious. Here again, it might help to know that Minor was a Gurdjieff student. G's method requires constant self observation which is frequently uncomfortable and just might make one seem a bit weird to other people because of the intense self-focus - and knowing that it might make one seem weird could make one more self-conscious. He brought that into his teaching. His workshops could be fun, sometimes, but more often were rewarding in other ways, and not necessarily very comfortable to be in. He had a great sense of humor which he used very sparingly. A great premium was placed upon a rather serious self awareness.
The problem with using Minor White as a source of models for exercises is that you would almost need to be Minor White to use them. Minor was very charismatic, very commanding in workshop situations, and adept at creating what some would call an environment for learning, but others might call hypnotism. I think it would be very hard for an individual to apply his methods solo without training, but not impossible. I am able to do it, but it does take a peculiar effort, and I've had the training. Also, there are times that I simply can't do it. That effort isn't like "work", exactly; it is an effort to remember to do it. You know, remember to remember.
----------
A workshop might last several days, and after the first introductory one where the zone system and viewing protocols would be explained and demonstrated, would be held at some remote site such as Cape Kiwanda or Cape Arago on the Oregon Coast. The day would start early in the morning; can't remember how early, but it was early. The importation of Eastern spiritual materials had not yet quite begun in 1964-65, although it was starting, so there was no "yoga" as we have today. Minor had us doing calisthenics; you know, jumping jacks, pushups, sit-ups, etc. to start the day. Early! Then coffee. Then talk. Then breakfast, then more talk, then shoot at some location that had been determined, then if there was a darkroom arrangement, process, then meet with prints, view and discuss, more talk, dinner, more talk, maybe see one of Minor's INCREDIBLE dual projector slide shows (he was a master of fade and dissolve, which he did with hand dimmers, and used the superimposition of images to create spectacular dynamic interactions). Then socialize with liberal drink. The night would end late and the next day would start Early - really early. I think about 5 o'clock. With jumping jacks, pushups....
Out "shooting" (which term I can't recall in use, but there is a famous story about MW saying to students going out with their cameras: "Happy Snapping!") the model was similar. Ideally, I would not "look for pictures" but would stay in a meditative state, remain open, not be critical and allow the image to find me. I never felt it worked for me then, but it does now quite often. My wife tells me that Freeman Patterson called this "relaxed attentiveness" or something close to that. Another of my most honored and revered mentors, Lloyd J. Reynolds at Reed College, called it "serene open awareness". I submit it to you with my recommendation.
The pace was rather severe and within a few days, several students would be gone, never to be seen again. I asked him what the reason for the severity was. He told me that fatigue would break down the students' resistance and he could just "pour it in". Minor believed that getting more than four or five hours of sleep was to indulge in sheer luxury. He would nap in the afternoon, perhaps curled up in the back of somebody's station wagon, for ten minutes, no more. He would count to ten, and be asleep. That was all he seemed to need. He was very strong; us young folks could keep up with him as he flapped his way up the streambed at Oneonta Gorge in his rubber thongs, his tripod with the Sinar over his shoulder, but older students fell back, not even trying to keep up.
----------
Minor's methods were and remain controversial. His models were more traditional Eastern methods where the student surrenders control to the teacher and does as s/he's told, but these methods were adapted more or less successfully to the more permissive American environment. He was not a tyrant. There were, and maybe still are, some who think that he may have done more harm to students than good. Critics point out his mystification, the tendency of his students to become second rate clones, etc.
I myself elected to pursue a different road, but I honor my teachers, of whom Minor White is one. My intent here is to present as best I can an accurate picture of specific workshops, not to laud or criticize. I have used daily what I learned with him for the past 44 years. In that regard, he is not alone, but a member of a select and honored group. He was and remains very important to me, as a teacher and as a person, but - not as a "god". Like all of us, he had his strengths and weaknesses. Those who seem larger than life also have passions that are larger than life. The whole person is magnified.
Friday, August 01, 2008
Explorations
I almost don't know where to begin...
Talented yogis have been said to watch as a large "whale of inspiration" crests the ocean of consciousness only to let the inspiration go merrily on its way. Watching. Constantly witnessing. Obviously I am not one of those kinds of people.
The journey through creative photographic expressions has taken so many paths over the course of the past eighteen months. Have I needled a creative vein? I can't seem to let any of it go. Every idea that pops to mind needs to be explored. Every nudge leads to new opportunities to learn and create. Every moment is filled with the promise of some great unfulfilled artistic demand.
Taking a moment to sort some of this out, I realize several things about myself.
My mind can think up a great many things. It can plot and plan and worry the details of the smallest thought. Its from this place that the past forty years of photography was experienced from. Tools. Process. Cameras. Lenses. Chemistry. The books of St. Ansel. Platinum. Palladium. Ultra Large Format. Testing. Proving. Defending. Attacking. Seeking. Wishing. Desiring. To be good. To be acknowledged.
What of the heart?
In my family system, the heart was something that barely existed. To be ignored. To be stilled. It was threatening. It was emotional. It was unreliable. Yes. That is the word. Unreliable.
Yet my time on this small insignificant planet has begun to reveal a deeper truth about the heart. The heart can be still and quite. From that stillness and quietness something else is revealed. The heart has its own way of being. The heart notices and knows about things that the mind doesn't even know exists. The heart has a different expression of reality.
Could it be that "good" artists know how to listen to and live in a broader awareness of their heart? As Homer Simpson would say - "DOH!!!"
Eighteen months ago I started down a path away from traditional cameras, film, and chemical processes. The transition to digital has been anxiety producing. I was stepping into uncharted waters. I knew everything about the old approach and nearly nothing about the new.
Since my money earning career is with computers and software development I should not have had as much anxiety as I did. With a little more confidence I would have understood that I was probably decades of knowledge ahead of people untrained in the field of computer science. The applications, tools, and processes readily adapted to my traditional image making approaches. A properly exposed image was still very much a properly exposed image. Dodging was still dodging. Burning was still burning. Composition and light are still composition and light. Printing was still printing. Viewing a finished work was still viewing a finished work.
What has radically changed is the time between idea, execution, and finished product. This one simple reason is how the heart got engaged, opened up, and appears to now be having a Field Day of it all.
Where am I now? Well, I'm thrilled that I enjoy exploring texture layers. This is something I used to do back in the day. The tools are different, and level of control I now have is astonishing. The mind loves that part. The heart enjoys looking at a work, responding, and giving back to the thinking mind new ways to explore. Mind. Thought. Heart. Response. Directed feeling. Mind. Thought. Reinterpretation. Heart. Re-response. All in a very short span of time.
In this way, texture layers have gone far beyond anything I ever considered and certainly out distances many of the photographic expressions a person typically sees. Its from this place that I can witness the challenges this imposes on some photographic "insiders" and practitioners. "Outsiders" and "lay" viewers seem to be less troubled with my new work. In fact, some of my biggest cheerleaders come from artists and professionals who know little or nothing about photography.
That's for today. Where will the heart lead tomorrow? Wherever it leads there is a quiet confidence that I can sort it all out and find a way to express what needs to be expressed.
![Oregon Country Fair 2008 - Angel Rising Above [3]](http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3197/2735231531_c4e39db68f_m.jpg)
Talented yogis have been said to watch as a large "whale of inspiration" crests the ocean of consciousness only to let the inspiration go merrily on its way. Watching. Constantly witnessing. Obviously I am not one of those kinds of people.
The journey through creative photographic expressions has taken so many paths over the course of the past eighteen months. Have I needled a creative vein? I can't seem to let any of it go. Every idea that pops to mind needs to be explored. Every nudge leads to new opportunities to learn and create. Every moment is filled with the promise of some great unfulfilled artistic demand.
Taking a moment to sort some of this out, I realize several things about myself.
My mind can think up a great many things. It can plot and plan and worry the details of the smallest thought. Its from this place that the past forty years of photography was experienced from. Tools. Process. Cameras. Lenses. Chemistry. The books of St. Ansel. Platinum. Palladium. Ultra Large Format. Testing. Proving. Defending. Attacking. Seeking. Wishing. Desiring. To be good. To be acknowledged.
What of the heart?
In my family system, the heart was something that barely existed. To be ignored. To be stilled. It was threatening. It was emotional. It was unreliable. Yes. That is the word. Unreliable.
Yet my time on this small insignificant planet has begun to reveal a deeper truth about the heart. The heart can be still and quite. From that stillness and quietness something else is revealed. The heart has its own way of being. The heart notices and knows about things that the mind doesn't even know exists. The heart has a different expression of reality.
Could it be that "good" artists know how to listen to and live in a broader awareness of their heart? As Homer Simpson would say - "DOH!!!"
Eighteen months ago I started down a path away from traditional cameras, film, and chemical processes. The transition to digital has been anxiety producing. I was stepping into uncharted waters. I knew everything about the old approach and nearly nothing about the new.
Since my money earning career is with computers and software development I should not have had as much anxiety as I did. With a little more confidence I would have understood that I was probably decades of knowledge ahead of people untrained in the field of computer science. The applications, tools, and processes readily adapted to my traditional image making approaches. A properly exposed image was still very much a properly exposed image. Dodging was still dodging. Burning was still burning. Composition and light are still composition and light. Printing was still printing. Viewing a finished work was still viewing a finished work.
What has radically changed is the time between idea, execution, and finished product. This one simple reason is how the heart got engaged, opened up, and appears to now be having a Field Day of it all.
Where am I now? Well, I'm thrilled that I enjoy exploring texture layers. This is something I used to do back in the day. The tools are different, and level of control I now have is astonishing. The mind loves that part. The heart enjoys looking at a work, responding, and giving back to the thinking mind new ways to explore. Mind. Thought. Heart. Response. Directed feeling. Mind. Thought. Reinterpretation. Heart. Re-response. All in a very short span of time.
In this way, texture layers have gone far beyond anything I ever considered and certainly out distances many of the photographic expressions a person typically sees. Its from this place that I can witness the challenges this imposes on some photographic "insiders" and practitioners. "Outsiders" and "lay" viewers seem to be less troubled with my new work. In fact, some of my biggest cheerleaders come from artists and professionals who know little or nothing about photography.
That's for today. Where will the heart lead tomorrow? Wherever it leads there is a quiet confidence that I can sort it all out and find a way to express what needs to be expressed.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Lenswork Magazine
I just received the following email:
Hello Christopher Perez... And thank you for submitting your "trains" portfolio for our consideration. I'm pleased to let you know that this work has been selected for publication as a Bonus Feature on LensWork Extended #78 computer DVD for September-October, 2008. Congratulations!
Of course, there are a few things we will want to organize as soon as possible...
I am very pleasantly surprised, very happy, and a little in shock. Stay tuned. Brooks will be interviewing me as part of the distribution of my work. I just hope I don't make a d*mned fool of myself!
Hello Christopher Perez... And thank you for submitting your "trains" portfolio for our consideration. I'm pleased to let you know that this work has been selected for publication as a Bonus Feature on LensWork Extended #78 computer DVD for September-October, 2008. Congratulations!
Of course, there are a few things we will want to organize as soon as possible...
I am very pleasantly surprised, very happy, and a little in shock. Stay tuned. Brooks will be interviewing me as part of the distribution of my work. I just hope I don't make a d*mned fool of myself!
Thursday, July 10, 2008
How I did this... [7]
For the last of this series of posts I wanted to spend a moment to talk about an image that garnered the kind of response an ego-addled-mind can only dream of. This image has won awards, prints have been purchased, and the photo has been viewed on Flickr 7,000 times.
As I was developing my understanding and skills of modern image manipulation tools, I thought it would be good to start very simply. Later, I could work my way up in complexity as needs or desires demanded.
It was winter. It was cold out. Yet, I wanted to make a few images. I had stumbled upon David Hobby's Strobist Blog and was thrilled by the strobe images he described. David links his blog to Flickr, the same community site where I have my photo dump page.
An idea occurred to me make a series of images of a recently acquired mammalian skulls using the simplest of lighting methods. I stumbled downstairs one fine weekend and stood in my light/darkroom and thought awhile. What I came up with was a way to suspend my Alien Bees 3x4foot softbox/B800 between two tables. I then placed white rag board on all sides as a means of filling the subject completely from every angle with light. Then I scrounged through my rag-bag of backdrop materials and hauled out some things suitable. For the background I wondered if a subtle white on white might work well.
After about 30 minutes of fooling around with the light, materials, rag board, backdrop, and subject matter, I was ready to try my hand at making a few images. For the next two hours I had played with different ideas, different skulls, and different camera angles. The thing that stuck me as the most powerful representation was a bare white on white shot from nearly the top view of the biggest mammalian skull I had on hand, the coyote head.
The processing was very straight forward. I brought the image into the free Open Source application called the Gimp. I adjusted the levels slightly and bumped the contrast just a little. The changes were slight, but I hoped effective. Then I added a platinum tint to warm the photograph.
After downsizing the image and posting it on my Flickr pages I thought it might be fun to share this with the Strobist Flickr pool. I didn't think much about it until somewhat later when David Hobby mentioned he had taken a few of the pool images and shared them at Apples latest OS-X release party. People ooh'd and ah'd and seemed to like David's selection. So imagine my surprise when this image had been included in that showing!
Again, time passed and I didn't think much about the photo. This, even after a c0uple friends and colleagues purchased a few prints.
Around the end of 2007, David Hobby announced that he had lined up a few awards for a small contest he was running. David brought in outside help to judge Strobist images and to make a selection of five images from the vast pool of fine photographs. As David shared what the awards would be, I noticed that Alien Bees had offered an ABR800 ring light. I had been lusting after one and said so on Mr. Hobby's blog. It was like rolling dice and I was excited by the possibilities.
At the end of December, David started to announce the winners. My photo had won 4th place. I was stunned. I was shocked. I was amazed. I was very happy.
The ABR800 was eventually mine, and it's arrival led to yet another photoshoot with my favorite models, Sofia and Jane Archer. But that's a story partially told previously...
As I was developing my understanding and skills of modern image manipulation tools, I thought it would be good to start very simply. Later, I could work my way up in complexity as needs or desires demanded.
It was winter. It was cold out. Yet, I wanted to make a few images. I had stumbled upon David Hobby's Strobist Blog and was thrilled by the strobe images he described. David links his blog to Flickr, the same community site where I have my photo dump page.
An idea occurred to me make a series of images of a recently acquired mammalian skulls using the simplest of lighting methods. I stumbled downstairs one fine weekend and stood in my light/darkroom and thought awhile. What I came up with was a way to suspend my Alien Bees 3x4foot softbox/B800 between two tables. I then placed white rag board on all sides as a means of filling the subject completely from every angle with light. Then I scrounged through my rag-bag of backdrop materials and hauled out some things suitable. For the background I wondered if a subtle white on white might work well.
After about 30 minutes of fooling around with the light, materials, rag board, backdrop, and subject matter, I was ready to try my hand at making a few images. For the next two hours I had played with different ideas, different skulls, and different camera angles. The thing that stuck me as the most powerful representation was a bare white on white shot from nearly the top view of the biggest mammalian skull I had on hand, the coyote head.
The processing was very straight forward. I brought the image into the free Open Source application called the Gimp. I adjusted the levels slightly and bumped the contrast just a little. The changes were slight, but I hoped effective. Then I added a platinum tint to warm the photograph.
After downsizing the image and posting it on my Flickr pages I thought it might be fun to share this with the Strobist Flickr pool. I didn't think much about it until somewhat later when David Hobby mentioned he had taken a few of the pool images and shared them at Apples latest OS-X release party. People ooh'd and ah'd and seemed to like David's selection. So imagine my surprise when this image had been included in that showing!
Again, time passed and I didn't think much about the photo. This, even after a c0uple friends and colleagues purchased a few prints.
Around the end of 2007, David Hobby announced that he had lined up a few awards for a small contest he was running. David brought in outside help to judge Strobist images and to make a selection of five images from the vast pool of fine photographs. As David shared what the awards would be, I noticed that Alien Bees had offered an ABR800 ring light. I had been lusting after one and said so on Mr. Hobby's blog. It was like rolling dice and I was excited by the possibilities.
At the end of December, David started to announce the winners. My photo had won 4th place. I was stunned. I was shocked. I was amazed. I was very happy.
The ABR800 was eventually mine, and it's arrival led to yet another photoshoot with my favorite models, Sofia and Jane Archer. But that's a story partially told previously...
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
How I did this... [6]
My fevered mind keeps coming up with more and more ideas for photo projects.
A few months ago I realized that I had a desire to make a few images of icons in a modern vein. Reading The Historian brought to mind images of Byzantium. The flat lit Notan-like detailed icons were what I had in mind.
In similar time, I reread William Mortensen's book Pictorial Lighting from 1937. He described the use of Notan light as being particularly strong for creating icon-like images. Mortensen gave instructions in the book for a lighting setup that gave Notan effects.
The Basic Light configuration is a two light approach to rendering detail and subtle texture. One light is placed as close to the lens as possible to illuminate the subject. A second light is pointed at head level at a white backdrop. The exposure of the two lights is balanced. The backdrop light is set to match the skin tones of the subject. In this way, the white backdrop is not purely white, rather, it has just enough tone to ensure the limb effects of the subject is revealed.
Limb effects relates to the way the edges of a curved surface is effected by light placed next to the point of view. When lit in the Basic Light manner, limb effects lead to darker edges of the subject. This is what gives the desired separation between the subject and very nearly equally toned backdrop.
In the case of the images I wanted to make, I thought about Mortensen's comments on ring light use. In 1937, ring lights were uncommon. By 1943 when he wrote a book on electronic lighting, he had come to the idea of a ring light as perhaps a great way to achieve Notan light. Ring lights would give the ultimate in limb effects.
Working with Sofia, a bellydancer, I wanted as much limb effect as I could get. The images I wanted to create were not to be "familiar", as in a good photo of a relative or friend. Rather, I wanted something timeless, a little more remote feeling, and very tranquil. The Alien Bees ABR800 ring light was a great solution.
After spending a fair amount of time on making images of Sofia in motion we were coming down to the end of the photo-session. I put up a black backdrop and lit it from behind. We found a large pillow for the model to sit on and my wife and I worked to drape Sofia in various ways using her bellydance veils.
Processing the images later helped me complete my original vision. A subtle halo was added. The background was manipulated into something a little softer and darker. The model color was desaturated slightly by mixing an overlay of platinum tints.
As with other images of my series "How I did this...", this image is popular on Flickr. Sofia represents for me the iconic Maiden in a timeless, calm, and pleasing manner.
A few months ago I realized that I had a desire to make a few images of icons in a modern vein. Reading The Historian brought to mind images of Byzantium. The flat lit Notan-like detailed icons were what I had in mind.
In similar time, I reread William Mortensen's book Pictorial Lighting from 1937. He described the use of Notan light as being particularly strong for creating icon-like images. Mortensen gave instructions in the book for a lighting setup that gave Notan effects.
The Basic Light configuration is a two light approach to rendering detail and subtle texture. One light is placed as close to the lens as possible to illuminate the subject. A second light is pointed at head level at a white backdrop. The exposure of the two lights is balanced. The backdrop light is set to match the skin tones of the subject. In this way, the white backdrop is not purely white, rather, it has just enough tone to ensure the limb effects of the subject is revealed.
Limb effects relates to the way the edges of a curved surface is effected by light placed next to the point of view. When lit in the Basic Light manner, limb effects lead to darker edges of the subject. This is what gives the desired separation between the subject and very nearly equally toned backdrop.
In the case of the images I wanted to make, I thought about Mortensen's comments on ring light use. In 1937, ring lights were uncommon. By 1943 when he wrote a book on electronic lighting, he had come to the idea of a ring light as perhaps a great way to achieve Notan light. Ring lights would give the ultimate in limb effects.
Working with Sofia, a bellydancer, I wanted as much limb effect as I could get. The images I wanted to create were not to be "familiar", as in a good photo of a relative or friend. Rather, I wanted something timeless, a little more remote feeling, and very tranquil. The Alien Bees ABR800 ring light was a great solution.
After spending a fair amount of time on making images of Sofia in motion we were coming down to the end of the photo-session. I put up a black backdrop and lit it from behind. We found a large pillow for the model to sit on and my wife and I worked to drape Sofia in various ways using her bellydance veils.
Processing the images later helped me complete my original vision. A subtle halo was added. The background was manipulated into something a little softer and darker. The model color was desaturated slightly by mixing an overlay of platinum tints.
As with other images of my series "How I did this...", this image is popular on Flickr. Sofia represents for me the iconic Maiden in a timeless, calm, and pleasing manner.
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