Friday, January 1, 2010

Daily Practice 1/365


Make one "serious" photo a day for a year - I've decided to commit to doing that for 2010. I see this project as a way to sharpen my eye, improve my compositional skills and become consistent in my art practice as it pertains to photography. I expect that most days I will have a number of images to choose from, so I expect to get practice at seriously evaluating my own images, figuring out what works or doesn't work and why, and improving my skills at "curating" my own work.

Today I started out the project by taking a new 4X5 pinhole camera and some expired Fuji instant film to a favourite spot near my house. I chose this image for the first of the series, even though it is not technically perfect (oh dear, that sloping horizon line). The wide angle of view, and the low perspective give a great sweep to the clouds in the sky. The imperfections in the emulsion spread that give a red line in the top left, and scanning to show the white border of the instant print give a sense of the history of making this image. And the "dark sun" gave me a point of reference for the titling of the piece:

"The new year was ushered in under a black sun, a chilling omen he refused to think about"

Saturday, November 21, 2009

Bubble, Bubble, Boil and Trouble


A solitary walk along the sea on a stormy day brings an ever-changing tableau of drama that is oddly comforting and enticing. A stiff breeze sharpens the senses and makes the adventure all the more worthwhile. It seems very cliché to write this, but art is in the everyday moments, it's not only about big ideas and concepts, it's being open to opportunities whenever they present themselves.

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Kaffeepause

I've been living just around the corner from this bay for 26 years. Never get tired of views like this but it does take a conscious effort to pause and look, not just pass by. On this morning, it was the look of the clouds from my bedroom window that made me pause, take a camera and stop at the bay. A lesson I can stand to learn over and over again.

Sunday, August 30, 2009

Geschichte in Augenblicken

My art making is process-driven, a by product of being an experimental scientist. I start out making a print, or a painting, or a photograph by thinking of the process rather than thinking about a specific image or goal. And when I look at the art of others, I often wonder what their process was, how they arrived at the final destination of the piece. So it's somewhat paradoxical that I abhor the need of most photographers to know "what lens, what camera, what f-stop, what shutter speed, what filter, what film/memory card/pixel count" about virtually all images. Somehow their need to know this information seems mechanical, leads to arguments over minutiae, and in many respects has nothing to do with process.

So I hesitate to say that today I went out into the back garden with no obvious goal in mind except to take some images with a new digital camera and a zoneplate lens attachment. The hesitation is that I don't identify with a particular camp when it comes to photography tools - I use the tools at hand that I think will get me started on a process that will engage and interest me. Sometimes it's film, sometimes digital; sometimes it's ultrasharp lenses, sometimes it's a $1 magnifying glass lens; sometimes I'll end up in the darkroom, sometimes I'll be working with Lightroom. If so many people interested in photography weren't so mental about digital vs film, "straight out of the camera" vs post-processed, I would be less circumspect about how some of my images were realized.

This image and the crazy ramp-up to a new term of teaching made me think of a simpler time in our lives quite some time ago. We spent a couple of years in Germany, working at a research institute, renting an apartment and spending our free time traveling and getting together with a motley group of ex-pats. That time holds a lot of wonderful memories, and I dream of returning to those simpler times. Looking at this image made me think of the German word augenblick which we would refer to as "the blink of an eye", a moment in time. "Geschichte in Augenblicken" means story in moments. Which seems like a very succinct definition of life, each of our stories being unique. A photograph by its very definition is the story of a moment, so there is a strong connection between life and photography. Something as simple as trying out new equipment has opened up the idea for a new series of images, of moments that define my life, my story.

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Edges

The local shores are constantly calling to me, inspiring an endless obsession. Everywhere I look, I see still life images with qualities that would be difficult to replicate in the studio. The first, and most important being the arrangement of objects, which lacks any deliberate intention. The range of colours and tones. The intersection of edges, defining and dividing. Textures which help define three dimensions within a two dimensional image, lines which are un-selfconscious and draw the eye deeper into the composition. Yesterday at low tide, I shot 5 rolls of film and then made digital images until my battery ran low. Yes, all those pictures of rocks, kelp, the drawn landscape. For many, a superficial glance will suffice but for those who linger, a rich world lies within.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Mirage

There's something special about the way the crispness of a hot summer day yields to the blurry tones of dusk, the last light catching just on the horizon.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Drawing Off The Page

I don't have mad drawing skills, but I have done a few drawing projects and have a keen appreciation for all types of drawings, particularly abstracts. As a result, I feel the development of my eye is influenced as much by drawing and sculpture as it is by photography. I see the world around me in terms of tones, textures and lines, and try to use a "drawing sense" in composing with my lens. Line placement and composition in a drawing is usually the result of deliberate choices the artist makes. One might view the lines and shapes in the landscape as random or accidental, but lines like the ones in this rock are just as deliberate. The result of a culmination of circumstances and forces, these lines are placed deliberately and composing the image brings them into the realm of drawing.