Absolute Blog

Should find yourself in the US state of Vermont sometime between now and June 9th, head for the small town of Middlebury and the Photoplace gallery. My image “Dividing Line” is on show in the gallery as part of the current exhibition “Abstract Expressions”.

Exhibition dates: May 15th – June 9th, 2012
Gallery hours: Tuesdays through Fridays 11-4; Saturdays: 10-2.
By appointment only on Sundays and Mondays.
Reception: June 8th, 5:30-7:00 (The reception will be part of the town of Middlebury June ArtsWalk)

PhotoPlace Gallery “Abstract Expressions” Exhibition

Dividing Line

“Dividing Line” is one of 40 photographs which were selected for the gallery from over 1400 submitted from around the world!

If you enjoy the whole show you can even buy a book! Here:

Abstract Expressions Book

I’m on page 39!

My featured image for May continues my current obsession with aircraft contrails. This picture was taken at the Lick Observatory near San Jose California a few days ago. The many observatory domes at Lick house a variety of telescopes perched on top of a mountain beloved of crazy cyclists who sweat to the top in droves. To me, these domes are like the eyes of the earth looking towards the heavens – while I always imagine the people in planes flying overhead looking down at us: -  so the combination of  the two was simply irresistible.

Eye-to-eye

Click here to see the image in the gallery.

Contrails are created at high altitude (they are actually made of ice) where planes are usually flying straight, so the curve of this particular contrail around the dome is a rarity that really makes the composition.

One of the things one has to endure as an “emerging” photographer is the ordeal known as the “portfolio review”. These are formal events where you open yourself and your work to criticism from the good and the great of the photographic art world: gallerists, museum curators, publishers, collectors …and even a few photographers. Some portfolio reviews select attendees by jury, some are open to anyone who will pay the entry fee. All of them result in a series of 20 minute time slots for you to pitch your work and get feedback.

There is none bigger than Fotofest, which takes place every two years in Houston, Texas. Fotofest is a truly international affair held over four four-day sessions in April. Most photographers attend just one of the sessions, but a few attend multiple sessions, as do some reviewers. This year I paid my fee and attended the first session of the Houston event — and quite the eye-opener it was, too!

Fotofest Houston, Review Room

Compared to the PhotoAlliance event I attended in San Francisco a couple of years ago, Fotofest was much more focused on “Art” than photography in “fine art photography” – reviewers were more interested in originality and concept than classic photographic or aesthetic qualities. The majority of attendees (so it seemed to me) were art school educated and had a language and world view that took a while to tune into. By the fourth day I was getting it and was able to approach my work – and others – with a new eye.

It was great to meet the other photographers, too. I look forward to meeting many them again soon.

In general, the reaction to my work was overwhelmingly positive. Everyone appreciated my use of composition, form and color, but the next question was always “what is this work about?” or “what are you trying to say?”. Several reviewers drew comparisons to work of other well known (although not known to me) photographers, but in the sense of “this type of work has already been done”, rather than as a complement! A couple of reviewers did express more interest though, so I’ll have to see where that leads (if anywhere).

The big take-away for me from the four day event was inspiration. Seeing the wide variety and high standard of work got me thinking about all kinds of new projects I would like to tackle over the next couple of years. Sure, I will have to acquire some new equipment and learn some new skills – but isn’t that the fun part?

Here are a few of the photos I took while I was there (click to embiggen):

Park on top

Texas Time

Catching the Rain

Taking a Break

Curb

Dreaming of Rothko

Light and Shade

We see evidence of time passing all around us. Usually we notice change in small things – dust accumulating, marks of use and wear, Sometimes, however, the indications of a past that was different to today is on a larger scale. Here is one such example.

Ghost House

Click here to see the image in the gallery.

Images like this always suggest questions which are start point for stories. Who might have lived here? Why has this space been left empty? …

I’d love to hear some of your stories?

As I read about deep snow and freezing temperatures in the East and Northwest of the USA I am reminded of one of the many reasons I have chosen to live in California. As I write this the rain is pouring, but just a few weeks ago, as the year turned, the sun shone brightly – if not warmly – and the sky was the deep azure blue typical of the West.

The Deep End

Click here to see the image in the Gallery.

This image was made on New Year’s Day 2012 and explores the curves, shadows and colors of the pool under the cool winter sun.

SPARK – the online project which pairs writers and visual artist (and a few musicians) for mutual inspiration – just completed round 14. I participated by providing a couple of inspiration pieces and created one response piece.

The inspiration piece I responded to was a short story written by Hildie S Block entitled “The Box”. Here’s my response:

Remains

Click here to see the image and read the story in the SPARK website.

Typically, when I’m trying to come up with an image for a piece of writing, I’ll skim it quickly, just to see what image “sticks” after I’ve finished. For this piece, the image I couldn’t get out of my head was one of a crematorium urn containing a mixture of human – and paper – ashes. Of course the challenge then was to figure out what’s possible to photograph (unfortunately, I can’t make a picture of whatever I imagine — I have to go out and find my image in the real world!)

My first approach was to focus on the process of destruction – in this case, the transition from valuable document to worthless ash  (- and by analogy, cremation of the human body, also). The idea was to capture a sequence of images to illustrate the progress of the dissolution of the material over time.

Burning stuff has to be done outside, of course, and at night I don’t need to worry about distracting backgrounds, and the flames clearly stand out. At least it was dry and not windy – it was December however and darned cold!

That resulted in the grid picture you can see a little further down. (I added a larger image of the final square so you can see it better — so many colors!). I also have some nice close-ups of the burning paper.

Having done all that, however, it was the image of the papers after the burning which seemed to fit the mood of the story best, and in case you think this is a black-and-white picture, it’s not, this is in full color! True, the color is very subtle, but it’s critical to the final image (changing it to black-and-white ruins it!). This was taken outside at night, illuminated by just a single bulb, using a long exposure.

I like the contrast between the shapeless flakes and the sheets that curve up through the core of the picture – and also the faint evidence of writing that still persists, but which is so fragile it will just crumble and blow away in the wind…

Here’s the burning image that I rejected (click on the thumbnail to embiggen):

Transformation

And the detail of the final square (check out the amazing colors!):

Burning

-~-
As well as creating work from writing I provided images for writers to respond to. You can see the results in the SPARK site by clicking on the images here:

SPARK Inspiration #1

SPARK Inspiration #2

Don’t forget to explore the rest of the SPARK site – and leave comments if you like what you see!

Have a wonderful holiday season everyone!

For December’s “featured” image, here’s something from another body-of-work-in-progress. This series is all about transitions – the interfaces where one thing meets, or merges with another.

Shore Line

Click here to see the image in the gallery:

This image was made during the same trip as last month’s contrail image …a journey of obsessions, I guess!

Here, a sand bar provides a fragile barrier between the crashing breakers of the Pacific Ocean and the flat calm of a river delta, which (just to the right of this image), reaches it’s end and merges with the sea. I love the impression of layers: ocean/breakers/sand/river.  The perspective seems to compress the transition and emphasize the the clean linear composition.

Look for more in this series in 2012.

I know, I know… there’s been a bit of a hiatus since I last posted, but I do have a life you know. Some of that life involved (finally) getting out of the Bay Area and taking some pictures the other weekend. More than one of those images featured my current obsession – contrails – so I thought I should pick one as my featured image this month.

Affinity

Click here to see the image in the gallery.

So ..why am I obsessed by contrails?  First, even as someone who studied science, there is still something counter-intuitive, even absurd, about the fact that several hundred people can ride through the air inside a large metal can. This sense of visceral disbelief contradicted by my knowledge of the basic physics has always made planes an object of fascination for me. (Mind you, this is coming from someone who can’t understand why every cyclist in the world doesn’t just topple over!).

From inside the plane, looking down on the landscape, I know there are people on the ground, even though I can’t see them. Perhaps they don’t speak my language, or may be shocked by my culture or values – but I’m right there over their heads, invisible to them – just seconds away if the plane were to suddenly drop from the sky – but yet separated by an infinite chasm of distance and impossibilities.

From the ground we rarely notice those high flying crowds of people from many lands, or even spare a thought that someone may be up there, right now, looking down on us. It’s only when conditions are just right, and the stratospheric air is moist but still sub-zero, that jet exhaust provides the nuclei for ice crystals to form and the plane leaves a white trail in the sky … that long thin cloud of frost we call a contrail.

When I see those contrails I am always reminded of the divide between “them up there”, and “us down here”, which -  depending an where you’re looking from – may juxtapose anything from pristine nature to urban squallor with that symbol of technology and affluence – quite possibly both at the same time (from different vantage points).

This image was taken in the middle of nowhere – a small Northern California town many hours from the nearest airport. This unmistakeable evidence of technology, sophistication and wealth is even there – ironically mirrored in the boarded up house that sits abandoned in a field.

Comments welcome as always.

What do you look at when visiting a new city? Do you tour the landmarks? Visit museums? Or perhaps you wander the backsteets and quirky corners and notice the shadows and quality of light?  …If the latter, you might bump into me one day!

Here’s one of the many images I brought back from a visit to the East coast city of Boston last week.

Looking at You

Click here to see the image in the gallery.

September is a time of clear, sunny and cool weather, and shooting around the middle of the day (not usually the time of day that appeals to photographers) allowed the strong directional sunlight to cast shadows of these street lamps onto a rough concrete wall, with the prismatic effect of the textured glass splaying and twisting the light into the shadows.

It’s August. “Global Weirding” is taking hold across the globe – some people are baking, some freezing, others soaking.

Here on the West Coast of the US, it’s been cooler than usual, but still sunny. Taking a stroll near the Bay one lunchtime I came across this strangely abandoned and sun-bleached chair and noticed the lonely little cloud that seemed to be the focus of it’s eyeless gaze.

Cloud One

Click here to view the image in the gallery.

The humorously anticlimactic title sprang to my mind immediately, and seems to fit the image perfectly.

The image works on many levels however. The more I look at this image, the more nuances I see. There’s an implied yearning; a wistful – or perhaps lonely – quality. The cloud may represent something unfulfilling or disappointing.  The non-existent chair occupant was expecting more, waiting for something bigger – but this was it. THIS little thing!

Or maybe its just a sign there’s something bigger to come…

What do you think when you see it? Let me know.