Thank You, Morris Museum

As I started to write this it occurred to me that this is my fourth blog entry in less than a months time. I would like to think that's a good thing, but then again I also don't want anything to seem to watered down either. That aside, let me get to the reason I'm writing a second entry in one week.

I want to say thank you to the Morris Museum of Art in Augusta, GA.

In July of last year I was contacted by one of my friends who works at the museum about helping out with their Teen Arts Council. The idea was that the artists who would be participating would meet with the group once a week for a three week period to talk about their work, process, and what it's like being a working artist. The teens, ages 13 to 17, were given the opportunity to learn what it's like once you are in the real world making work part of your life, and for me to impart some of the knowledge I've gained along the way. In the end it was rewarding beyond measure.

I have to admit, going into this I was a little nervous. It had been years since I had taught a class and the last time I had to talk about my work to a group of people might have been while I was still in school myself. It's a little challenging thinking that I not only had to talk about my work, but also present it in a way that showed confidence that I don't always have. This particular thought is the reason that I requested to participate at this time of year. I thought that giving myself this much time would allow me to be prepared and convinced that what I was presenting was of value to the audience. What I didn't expect was the value it would have for me.

It was a pleasant surprise to see how eager these students were to soak up information. After the first week, presenting my work and process, the questions that were asked were insightful and fun to answer. The second week, since I don't have a physical studio, and taking people to my house would just be odd, we watched a video about William Eggleston (go figure) and discussed his work and influence on my own, followed again by great questions. The last day, however, was the one that was the most fun.

Outside of some overcast weather and the prospect of rain, I took the group on a photo walk for an hour. I'm not much of a talker when it comes to shooting, so I had to kind of break out of my shell a little, but in the end it seemed a success. It was fun to watch all these teens taking pictures in their own way, free from any structure but their own. I get set in my own working mode that I never stop to think about the way that other people see the world. You can look at other people's images and try to imagine how they came up with them, but to actually watch it happen is a whole new experience. 

I can't express how much fun this experience was. If you ever get a chance to do something like this, take advantage of it. Don't let your preconceived notions get in the way or make you pass up the opportunity. Whatever your passion is, be it art, technology, history, share it with the younger generation. To see them have fun and engage with a subject in their own way is not only rewarding, but gives you a new perspective on whatever topic or activity is that you enjoy.

Again, thank you to the Morris Museum for the opportunity. Thank you to Jason Walter for reaching out, it wouldn't have been this easy without your help.

A Little More Personal

When writing these blogs, I try to keep things from being personal. I don't feel that this is necessarily the forum to let out my personal issues and strive to keep this about photography . However, sometimes you have to break your own rules, and this is one of those times.

Some of you may not know this, but I have been sober for almost four years. This has been an amazing journey that has been full of self discovery and challenges. I have been fortunate enough to have a good support group over this time and have yet to be put in a position where I would consider picking up a drink again. I can't express how much happier I have been and can say without a doubt that this blog, and the website it is on, would not exist had I not made this choice.

Over the past few years I have been humbled to have a number of people come to me with questions about how things have been for me and how I might be able to help them in their own decision to make a similar choice. It was one of these conversations that happened recently that made me want to talk about this and how it has helped me in my work over the past few years. There was no specific question that got my mental gears spinning on this subject, but just that the conversation happened again.

The most important thing that came to mind, and this isn't the first time, is that my mind is clear. That's not to say that I don't have things that bother me, we all do, but my mind is clear enough to focus on them and try to fix them instead of putting them aside and hoping they'll go away. Don't get me wrong, I'm not perfect, some of these things don't get handled the right way, but I try, and that's the most important part.

One of the problems I have had, though, is something I have found is normal, but can be annoying at first. As someone who is creative, my mind doesn't stop moving. As soon as one thought is out of my head, the path is clear for the next one to come barreling through. It can be annoying, and if you clouded your mind with alcohol, drugs, or anything else, once that's out of your system you can't ignore these thoughts. It's as if someone has opened the dam and started letting all the water out at once.

I'm not saying that these thoughts are bad, though. Most of them are new ideas about how to further my work. The problem is that when you were used to them coming at a trickle, the deluge of thought can seem overwhelming at times! As I told a friend of mine, while I was drinking I was under the false idea that if I quit I would lose my creative edge. What I didn't realize was that I just barely hanging onto my creative edge. Once I quit and the floodgates opened, I couldn't write down ideas fast enough. 

There are some drawbacks to this, though. Yes, I have ideas, good and bad, that come in quick succession. I have motivation that has pushed me to do better, and after I do, I have to better what I just did. The motivation is wonderful, but it is also what causes me to question myself, sometimes way more than I should. Like anyone who makes art, I am my own worst critic. I beat myself up way more than I ever give myself credit. In a way, this is part of what keeps me going, but I also have to check myself at times. I have to be aware that not everyone is going to care about what I'm doing. Not everyone is going to find things as interesting as I do, and some might even be vocal about it. However, this has also been where my choice has made me stronger, because I can eventually convince myself that it doesn't always matter what others think. Not all art is enjoyed by everyone. There are many people who love romantic landscapes, others who are all about portraits, and some who love abstract art; but no one is going to love all things the same. 

I'm not saying that the problems I have stem from my quitting drinking, neither are the positives. I am, however, able to tell the difference now. I am able to handle the good and the bad. There are many people out there who have never had the problems I had with my substance of choice, or any other for that matter. These issues with my work are ones that they have to deal with too. The difference, though, is that I had to remove something from my life to open up a door I shut on myself for a while.

I hope that all of this has made sense to most of you. I wrote this quickly and feel that, for once, I'm not going to go over this and pick it apart. This is something from the more personal side of me that needs to be just written a little more in a free-form fashion. I hope that anyone who is reading this who might be struggling can get help. Don't ever be afraid to ask for it, it can be the best decision you ever make.

Pride and Humility: Rambling about Both

I've been spending this morning thinking about my work, what I have been doing, and where I have gone in the past year. Not so much physically, but in a progression of work and where this journey has taken me. Two words have come to mind: Humility and Pride.

Humility is a struggle at times, and possibly a hindrance. When and where is it okay to tout oneself? Is there a point that my humble nature comes as a disadvantage? Should I just throw caution out the window and tell the world how awesome I am? Do you see the struggle here? As an artist this can be the hardest thing to get over.

Most artists that I know seem to deal with this struggle. We get praise from people we know, and sometimes from those we don't, yet we don't know how to handle it. Is what we're being told honest and informed praise, or is it just someone trying to be nice? Can someone actually like our work this much? Our humility causes us to overlook the truly positive things that can allow us to have pride in what we do. 

For most artists, and I'd hazard to say all, work is personal. How can it not be? To show your work to anyone is a way of putting yourself out for the world to see. Every emotion you have, even ones that you don't realize, get put on display for the public to pick apart. If this isn't scary to people, I don't know what is. However, due to the personal nature of one's work, how can one not be humble about it? 

My humility definitely comes from a part of me that always comes back to the question of why would anyone want to see the deeper part of my psyche? I often try not to make it personal, and many times the content isn't, but because of the way I work, my "fingerprints" are all over it. The fact that I thrive on shooting alone and without distraction comes through in my images more clearly to me now than ever before. It is as much a part of me as the hair on my head, and therefore becomes evident in my work. That being the case, having pride in my work becomes challenging. Everything is out there, the good and the bad.

What is wrong with showing who we are, though? Yes, there are good things about all of us, but we all have flaws too. The struggle is to get past these flaws, to accept them for what they are and use them to our full advantage. Without these imperfections, what would we be? Perfect? Who wants that?!

I've started to have some pride in my work, though, and have tried to take compliments without also downplaying my work. It may not be obvious to everyone, and I definitely don't verbally express it often, but I'm proud of what I've accomplished. My motivation to make more work not only comes from the desire to better myself and my craft, but also because it is something that I DO find pride in. Whenever I capture and image that amazes me, I take some pride in the fact that I've done something that is good, even if I'm the only one who "sees it". There is nothing wrong with having pride in your work.

There is a balance we all have to make with pride and humility. Whether it is in our work as artists or in our daily life and how we live it, this balance can be a struggle. Finding this balance, though, can help us to become better as people and what we do in our craft, our lives, and how we progress in both.

Thoughts on Photographs and Memories

On a daily basis I'm checking emails like anyone else does. Normally I'm finding that it's a bunch of junk from websites I've ordered things from, sites I've used to submit work through, or just plain spam. On occasion, though, I'll get an email that has importance, and even more rarely, substance. Today was one of those days that brought a message that had more to it than normal.

I've been working the past week on a talk I'm going to be doing for the youth program at the local art museum. In my typical fashion of being a little disjointed, I checked my email. The first one in the list was the only one that didn't continue the unending stream of emails to go straight to the trash. It was from my Dad, the subject was "Memories". I won't get too deep into the context of the message, but it was in regards to a bike trip we took in 2016 from D.C. to Pittsburgh. The trip ended in Point State Park, the place where the triangle that is the downtown area of Pittsburgh is formed by the Allegheny and Monongahela Rivers meeting to form the Ohio River. My Dad mentioned in the email how he can't look at an image of the park anymore without remembering that trip. His statement made me start to think about the images in my own head and how I've remembered this trip. The more I sat and thought about these memories, the more I began to think about how memories and photographs are linked. It also helped that I had spent the past few hours going over my own process of working in an attempt to make it accessible to a crowd that I'm continually becoming more distant from: Teenagers. 

I can't speak for certain about how others remember things, but for me it has almost always been visually. We are very much a species that reacts to the visual. Even when words are involved through books, music, a conversation, the memories that we have tend to be visual. My memories are always still images, pieces of a whole that was generally filled with motion in the original instance. The memories that I have of the bike trip are much the same, still images of a ride that was very much in full motion. Ironically, I have very few actual images of the ride. The memory that I value the most, personally, is just an image in my head, but its there, seared in where it will stay until my mind starts to go.

What this made me start to think about, though, as I went back to working on my talk, was how this related to my own work and the process that has driven it.

We are, as I mentioned before, a very visual animal. Photographs evoke emotion, no matter what they are. A photograph is the recording of a very short moment in time, but as humans who are driven by the visual, we put context to these visual recordings. Henry Rollins, in a talk I saw a week ago, mentioned this multiple time about how we as humans will impart our own feelings on images. It's the amazing magic of a photograph. I can take a picture of something and show it to ten people and ask them to describe what they see and what feeling it gives them, and I will get back ten very distinct reactions.

As a photographer and "artist", I hope that every photograph I produce can evoke some sort of response. I have been working over the past year or so on a project that stems very much from a bit of personal nostalgia. These images are as much a memory of what isn't in the frame as they are a representation of a memory the viewer never knew they had. Be it a generic setting, a common everyday scene, or something very specific, my goal has been to produce a feeling that is just as nostalgic for my audience as it was for me when I found whatever scene is captured in camera.

Memories drive me to produce images. These images, in turn, hopefully, produce more memories and dig up forgotten ones. In the end, these memories are shared. What Eggleston referred to as the "Democratic Forrest" is the world around us; A shared world that we remember with our own visions, spurred on by the images we see from others and their relations to the ones that are in our own heads.

New Year and a Look Back at the Last

Happy New Year to all of you! I hope that the last year was an overall success for everyone. I know that some of us had some major challenges, and others not so much, but in the end, we have all made another trip around the sun. Today begins yet another trip, and to kick it off I thought I'd go over some highlights from the past year and share some things that I may not have during the past 365 days. I know most people do these things leading up to January 1, but I was away from my computer for two weeks, so I had to wait until now.

I went to bed last night wondering, as some others might have also, what this year might bring. What are my goals? Have any of them changed, or are they mainly the same? I'm not one for resolutions, so I can't say that I would try to lock myself into something, but having a base goal has become important. I started out last year with a broad, theoretically simple goal to get my work shown. At the time I had no real game plan, just figure out how to make it happen. It sounds simple as I type the words, but looking back, I had no idea what I was in for.

"Handicapped, Ridge Spring, SC" part of "When Things are Strange" at the Colonel Eugene Meyers Gallery of Art, University of North Dakota, Grand Forks, ND

As I'm sure I have mentioned in the past, I've been working on a large body of work now for about a year and a half. At this time last year, it was just in it's phase of really coming together. What I knew, though, or at least felt, was that I had something good going. I hadn't been as excited about something I was working on for about 15 years. I don't know if it was feeling like I was making something that mattered to me, or if it was just feeling more self-assured, but whatever it was drove me to keep at it.

"Frankly, Washington, GA" part of "Slow Exposures 2017", at the Cochran Gallery, LaGrange, GA

This drive is something that I've spoken to many people about this past year. It's a passion that I think any working artist can relate to. There is some inner desire to try and make your idea, vision,  or emotion a visual reality. It's something that can breed a confidence that is often lacking in the mind of an artist, smashing the feelings of inadequacy for just enough time to make big things happen. You slave over ideas and concepts, anxious moments and self loathing, just to get to that relatively quick moment where you find the light of confidence, the drive and motivation to take a risk.

In February of 2016 I took that first chance. After having poured through calls for entry, I sent out some work to three different places. I had relatively realistic expectations of my chances to have my work selected. My confidence was really just enough for me to send out work, but that jump was made. As expected, I heard back from the first place and got my first rejection of the year. I'd lie if I said it wasn't a little disheartening, but in reality I expected nothing more, so it wasn't like it was soul crushing. It did, however, set me up for some surprises.

"V.E. Edwards & Bro., Johnston, SC" part of "Photo Shoot: 2017" at Black Box Gallery, Portland, OR

After the first rejection, I waited a bit before I started sending out more work. I wanted to see what the other results would be before I took another stab at what looked like an uphill battle. In hindsight, I might have done better to just keep sending out work, but what did I know? A few weeks passed after the first rejection before I got another response. Within a two week period I was named as a nominee in two categories of the Fine Art Photography Awards and had a piece selected for a show in Portland, OR.

"Waccamaw, Savannah, GA", part of "Travel and Discovery" from Light Leaked

I'd love to say that this started a string of consecutive acceptances, but that just isn't reality. I have, however, been fortunate this year. I didn't keep a count of all the places I sent my work to, I'm not masochistic. I definitely had my share of rejections, it's part of the game. However, over the course of 2017, I managed to get two awards and have work in eight different shows. To be honest, I still can't believe it. I can't think of any time that I've set out a goal and made it happen the way I did this past year.

Through this past year I have met some amazing people, gone to some cool places, and continued to work at bettering my craft. I have had some amazing support from my actual family and my extended family of friends, new and old. I couldn't have done any of it to the level I did without your love, support, and friendship. I would list you all, but that would seriously be longer than this blog has already become. 

"Untitled, Ridge Spring, SC" part of "The Shape of Things" at PH21 Gallery, Budapest, Hungary

I hope that all of you, whether I know you or not, achieve your goals for 2018. Whatever they are, stick with them and try to make them happen. There will be pitfalls along the way in the form of rejections, setbacks, and sometimes just utter disappointment, but keep striving. Even if you don't meet the goals you set out for, the point is you tried. As I was told, and I'm sure you have been too, "You'll never know until you try!"

Best wishes to you all, and keep trying in 2018!

"Untitled, Lincolnton, GA" part of "Seeds" at Westobou Gallery, Augusta, GA

Rambling on About 2017, Wishing Luck for 2018

As I continue to get older, the years seem to go by faster. I'd love to think that this is some concept that is new to you the reader, but I'm sure every one of you notices that too. What I don't know is if 2017 flew by as quickly for you as it did for me. For once I have gotten to the end of the year wanting the next to be better, but not because the one that is ending was bad. Don't get me wrong, there were challenges as always, but as photography goes, this has been the best year to date.

At the beginning of the year I was just getting the groundwork started on what has become an ongoing, long-term project. Compared to now, the concept was very basic, now it is so complex I have to stop myself from running off on tangents sometimes. I'd love to say that there is a working title, but I'd hazard to say that anyone who's had a working title has had ten-plus working titles. Either way, it has been a progress that has been challenging, enjoyable, and educational for multiple reasons and has evolved into something that has only become stronger as a whole work. However, if you talk to me at certain times, I'd probably not sound too confident about it, but I may have to save the reasoning for that for another post.

Having started to see the project I've been working on gel, I started to look into showing work. In years past I had shown a few times here in Augusta, but never made much, if any effort to show anywhere else. That being the case, I set out this year to get my work seen outside of town. I'd love to say that this website, along with social media, was enough to get eyes on my work, but in my opinion it wasn't enough. Therefore, I started sending out work on a regular basis for juried shows. Convinced it would take time to finally get into any shows, I was shocked when I was accepted into a show on just my second attempt. If you haven't looked at my exhibition record, in the about section of this page, it will be news that I've since had work shown in Portland, OR, Grand Forks, ND, and most recently, Budapest, Hungary. I set out to keep a strong exhibition record and didn't expect to get the positive response at the level I've had. Needless to say, the exhibition record is healthy, and I hope to continue at the same rate of showing in the coming year.

Most importantly to all that I've had going on this year has been staying driven and focused. I'd love to sit here and tell you the secret to what I've been doing, but in all honesty, anything I'd tell you is either common knowledge or, more than likely, a guess. What I can say is that a good bit of what I've considered successes have come from two things (these aren't guesses): Self-motivation, and Confidence.

To those who have known me for a while, I know, you're laughing your butts off right now. Anyone who knows me well, at least in a social aspect, might say, hopefully nicely, that self-motivation and confidence aren't exactly my strong points. Hell, even I'd probably tell you that when referring to anything BUT photography. However, these two things have become key. I have no real idea where the motivation has come from, but I can assure you it never comes from one place, person, or thing. There is always the drive to create more and better work, however the drive I have found in this past year is the drive to do the grunt work. There is a tedium to anything that is, or is considered, a job. A lot of the work that I have done this year has been sitting at the same computer I'm typing on right now. Anyone who spends hours doing that, even when it's for something they love, knows how monotonous it can become. I have had to stay motivated to get up and work on sending out more and more work, knowing most of it won't be accepted. I don't know where that drive and motivation came from, but what it has helped me have is the other key: confidence.

I have had to have confidence in all of my work to be able to send it out and get rejected the amount of time I have this year. Don't get me wrong, the number have times I've been accepted has been a pleasant surprise, but I definitely have not let it go to my head. Each acceptance, though, has fed my confidence and allowed me to strive for bigger goals. Also, it has allowed me to look at every rejection, not as a negative, but just another marker along a journey I've set out on. Confidence is key, and it's hard to come by sometimes, but when you find it, grab hold and use it.

In conclusion to all of my rambling, I also want to say thank you to everyone who has been there for me this year. I know that some of you I have thanked, and some I have not. There are some of you who deserve thanks that probably have no idea you even helped me. I want to say thank you to Black Box Gallery, University of North Dakota, Slow Exposures, PH21 Gallery, and Westobou for selecting to show my work this year. Most importantly, though, thank you to all my family and friends for being there. Most of you are not as involved in the creative process on a daily basis, but you sat and listened to me go on when I needed it and I can't thank you enough for that.

I hope all of you have a wonderful end of this year and that 2018 brings you all that you want from it.

The Sketchbook/Notebook as a Tool of Necessity

Thanksgiving has passed and December is nearing by the minute. The days are shorter, the weather cooler, and things have slowed as they do for some of us during the holiday season. For me it's that time of year that I retreat into my own head, something I've been told I shouldn't do, but seems unavoidable this time of year. This regression into my own thoughts, though, isn't always a bad thing, and is sometimes needed.

I found myself in conversation the other day with a friend and fellow artist. As we were conversing about upcoming shows, future plans, and just random things, my friend apologized as she pulled a sketch book out. A thought had come to her mind and it had to be written down. While searching for an elusive pen, she was continuing to apologize for the break in conversation. I found this somewhat awkward, but not because she had interrupted our conversation. 

Maybe it's because my primary medium is photography, but it seemed as if it was not understood that I too keep a book for the exact reasons that she does. Ideas will come to you in a flash sometimes, and if you don't record it immediately, it fades like the dream you had the previous evening. It will often stay with you to the point that hours later you can get the core idea written down, but the details of that initial moment are lost in the haze that has built up over those lingering hours between the flash of the idea and pen hitting paper.

As our conversation continued, post idea recording, we discussed for a moment how this is something that seems to unite the creative minds. Whether you are a writer, painter, composer, or photographer; the creative part of your mind hardly rests. The reason that idea is normally not fresh after a few minutes to an hour is often because that initial idea hit your mind like a train that continues on unphazed. I find that when my ideas start coming, they don't stop. If you don't grab onto that idea immediately, you very well could lose it forever as your mind continues adding more thoughts, complicating the journey back to the initial starting point.

I can't speak for the artists who didn't have any formal training in an academic setting, but I have learned over time why it was that my teachers and professors in my early classes insisted that we keep a sketch book. At times this book, in whatever form it was at the time, was very much my most important piece of equipment. This log of random ideas, questions, and thoughts is a roadmap to my own thoughts and, sometimes, the only record of why my thoughts are going where they are. It brings me right back to this time of year and where I am right now.

When it comes to my personal life, being a self-analyzing person who sits and thinks constantly can be a chore for those around me. I know there are some people reading this that are saying, "No SHIT!", right now. My apologies to that group. However, when it comes to catching that train of creative thought, nothing is more satisfying than spending hours pouring over ideas. When it comes to the ideas that fuel our work, being able to sit and record thoughts is not only therapeutic at times, but a necessity.

My point, if I have one right now, is that although we, as creatives, may seem distant and off on another planet, there's a reason. There is also a reason you'll see most of us at some point sitting alone with an unmarked book and some sort of writing/drawing utensil. Some of us draw our thoughts, some of us write them down, and others have a mix. If we're lucky, we know the train is coming and can sit down and record ideas for a lengthy amount of time. If not, the book is still there to record the idea as our minds get dragged off by the speeding train that is our thought process.

Process Over Idea

I found myself recently having to work on an artist's statement for the first time in a while. Not something I'm unfamiliar with, but due to some varying reasons, it became far more of a chore than it has been in a while. Part of this had to do with the fact it was in applying for a fellowship that I'd really like to get. The other issue was that the length of this particular statement was asked to be one page, not the usual few sentences, no more than a paragraph.

Anyone who has had to write one of these statements in the past knows that, at least once, an artist's statement can be a tedious task. Even though you as the creator of the work know exactly what your work is about and why you have felt compelled to create it, putting it into words can be nerve wracking. This is the beauty of the normal, short statement. With a restricted amount of words to work with, it is normally easy to not overcomplicate the work about which is being written. In four to five sentences, a short paragraph, it is nearly impossible to tell the viewer too much. In a short and concise statement you will give just enough information to the viewer so that they have a starting point of viewing, not the entire history of the work and where you as the maker wanted to end up. This, however, becomes a much harder task as the length of the statement is increased.

One page, although limited, allows for a lot more to be said, and often, too much. My goal, as in most statements I've written in the past, is to just provide a simple introduction to the work I'm representing. Any hint to thoughts I might have about what I might be trying to say with the work are just that, hints. The problem with the longer form of a statement is that many, myself included, can unwittingly start to lead the viewer more than they want to.

This is where I started to have an issue. In my first few attempts at putting my thoughts into the form of a statement I was struggling to get close to the required length by using the normal information that I would usually include. Typing, deleting, typing, deleting; I found myself struggling more than I had since the first time I was ever asked to write a statement.

After a few hours a day, over multiple days, with several breaks to keep my sanity, I was starting to question how much I really wanted this fellowship in the first place. Luckily for me, though, I come from a long line of stubborn people. For once this was a positive attribute that allowed me to break through the mental block on my path to completion.

I recalled a conversation I had had with a friend not too long back. For some reason we had been discussing the "joys" of artist's statements. This particular friend made a good point that I had never specifically thought about before, but made a lot of sense as I began to recall our talk. "Process" was the key word that came up over and over. This was the focus that needed to be made to make the statement more effective.

Instead of focusing on ideas and concepts represented in ones work, sometimes emphasizing the process that one goes through in the production of the work is far more effective. One major plus, personally, was that this made it far more difficult to accidentally direct the viewer into an idea that is not their own. I was now able to expound on things that would give me the length of statement I needed without handing everything to the viewer on a plate.

This is not to say that what I ended up writing was a masterpiece. This particular statement was far from the normal description one would find on the wall at a gallery. I ended up describing a typical day of shooting for the work that was being viewed. There were details that gave hints into what might be going through my head, actions that may inform the viewer to some specifics, but in the end nothing to give away the work. The statement allowed the viewer to draw their own conclusions, yet also put them in my shoes. 

The statement I ended up with was definitely off-beat as statements normally go. Not everyone who has read it, and knows my work, was a fan, but that's okay. What was important was that the required goals were met, and more importantly, my intent to not lead the viewer was achieved in the best way I could come up with. 

It remains to be seen if this was good enough to separate me from other people shooting for the fellowship. I'll definitely make it known if I score this one! However, when it comes to writing about one's work, I found a new way to look at things that I had never considered exploring in the past and I definitely advise others to look at: PROCESS.

On a side note: Many thanks to Emily, Tom, Ron, and Matt for all giving me your opinions in the process of writing this statement. I'm glad I have some friends who will not hold back constructive criticism. You guys are the best.

Slow Exposures 2017

Over the past weekend I had the pleasure of being a part Slow Exposures 2017. In it's fifteenth year, Slow Exposures continues to display and promote photography of the Southern United States. If you've been following my work over the past few years, you know this was right up my alley and a perfect fit.

Outside of the many events, pop-up shows, and gatherings, there were many things that came to my attention through talks and discussions while in attendance. Combined with the work of the other talented photographers included in the show, the discussions I was a part of brought me many new ways of seeing the work of others, my own work, and where the various thoughts and perceptions of the modern south seem to be.

The last event I attended was a juror's talk on Sunday, and this was a perfect way to wrap up an interesting weekend. Beyond what I learned from other photographers about their work and process, it was a true pleasure to find out how the selection process was executed. This not only gave me an idea of why we all were accepted, but also gave me insight into things that I need to be considering in the long-term project I've been working on. One of the jurors mentioned that in the least of current events before and after the selection, he was very intent on not having any Confederate Flags or anything that seemed to focus on a nostalgia for a checkered past. Although there were images that had references to an idea of the past and nostalgia (mine was one of those!), the main idea was to represent what the south is today. It was this idea that has resonated the most with me and captured my mind for the past few days.

As I have jumped back into "work mode" since getting back home, I have been constantly thinking about how this idea of the present day south fits into my own ideas that consciously are driven by a sense of personal nostalgia. On the surface, all these images ARE the present day. The ideas that drive them are mine and are situated in how I feel today, even if instigated by thoughts of things past. As I've noted in the past, even the Confederate Flag is harder to find these days than it was fifteen to twenty years ago. What I've come to realize in these few days thinking about this concept of the present-day south is that even in the places where the concept of heritage is the strongest, change is present, powerful, and unstoppable.

If nothing else, the ideas and realizations I've had over the past few days have been enlightening. I truly think that I have a better idea of what it is my subconscious has been driving me towards in the photographic journey I've been on recently. With a new way of thinking, I can't with to return to shooting and seeing things with a continued vigor.

I want to say thanks to all the people who made Slow Exposures possible. Again, it was a true pleasure and an honor to be selected as a part of this year's group of artists. If anyone is interested in seeing the show and has the time or ability to get there, it will we up in LaGrange, GA, at the Cochran Gallery through October 18.

Something I Can't Ignore

I never thought that a photograph that I had taken would ever cause me the personal challenge that this one has. I think the reason that it is giving me so much trouble is due to the fact that, in my opinion, it has been effective in what I wanted from it. It is bold, yet structurally unassuming. Outside of the one obvious element, it's not wonderful, nor is it trash. However, in working on a project involving the southeastern region of the United States, I knew it would be inevitable to avoid the Confederate Flag.

For anyone with a pulse in the United States, especially in the south, the controversy over this flag is far from unknown. As a resident of South Carolina, and former resident of Georgia, I've been privy to controversies over the flag and its varied displays by each state. Having grown up in the south, I'm also aware of both sides of the argument of why it should or should not be displayed, right or wrong. It actually amazes me sometimes that in this day and age, so far removed from the events that brought us this symbol, that there is still such a divide caused by this flag.

I will say right now that I have come to see and understand how this flag has become a symbol of hate and oppression to many. I also have heard the countless arguments of heritage associated with the flag. This is the reason that I have really struggled over possibly including this image in whatever final incarnation my project becomes. It is my hope that people will understand that this was in no way my attempt to glorify what this flag has and still represents. In regards to my work, this flag is, right or wrong, is still a piece of what this region of the country is visually. To ignore that would be to act like the problem doesn't still exist.

I truly do not want this work to be political or controversial in any way. My initial thought was to try and avoid including the flag as a way to avoid having to deal with it. As I mentioned already, that would be the easy, and ignorant, way to get around it. My feeling is that by including it I'm not ignoring that the issue of the flag and the ideas that have revolved around it exist.

The one thing that I have noticed, though, and gives me some hope, is that once I reconciled myself with the thought of including it somewhere in the project I've had a hard time finding the flag. That is not to say that if you went looking you would never find one. However, outside of places I KNOW have a flag flying on display, just stumbling across one doesn't seem as easy as it was while growing up. 

In the end, I just wanted to get this off my chest. I've never had a photograph that I've felt so conflicted over. I think my reasons for feeling that way are valid, yet again, to not use this image as a representation of what is still a part of the visual realm of this region of the country would be acting as if it didn't exist. To me, that would be even worse.

Portland did Me Well

Not for lack of wanting, but I just realized I haven't posted a blog since February. Every time I felt the desire, though, I found that I really had nothing to report on that would matter when it came to my work or the website. I don't know how many people read the blog, but if there are those who check on a regular basis, my apologies.

That being said, I can't say there was absolutely nothing to tell last month, but there was not enough context to fill more than maybe a paragraph. What did happen was that I got into a show in Portland, Oregon, at Black Box Gallery (there's a link in my exhibition record). Not being the drinker I used to be, this was by far the highlight of my St. Patrick's Day this year. Upon finding out, I figured this was a great excuse to get myself out there, among the obvious point that having work outside of my region was pretty nice too. Unfortunately, though, it looked futile as it was short notice and it looked like I wasn't going to be able to afford the flight out. Luckily, I remembered a few days later that I had some money stashed away, literally, and was able to make the trip a reality.

Fast forward to the first full week of April and I was on my way to Oregon. This was not the first time out there, but it definitely was as rewarding as I was hoping, but not even remotely in the ways I expected.

My goal on the trip was of course to attend the opening reception of the show, but also to see how many brains I could pick while in a market vastly different from the one I was coming from. In ways I got what I was looking for. I spent most of my time at the gallery in conversation with Todd Johnson, the owner and director of Black Box. Although our conversation ran the gamut of photography, process-to-printing-to-digital and analog, we really just had a free-form discussion of what it's like running galleries, anecdotes, and experience good and bad. All-in-all, my time at the gallery I definitely count as a success.

Another goal while in the area was to, of course, shoot as much as I could. I have to admit that it was difficult working with the weather in Portland, they have had more rain this year than they normally have. If you think of the stereotypical Portland weather, multiply it by four or five and that is what they've had this year. I expected to have a good deal of wet and gray, but not as much true-to-form rain as there was. All that aside, though, it ended up paying off in a way I really didn't expect.

After posting an image on Instagram one day, I got a message from a guy that follows me, and I him. He asked if I was in town, and if so, would I like to go shoot with he and a few other people the next morning. Normally I probably would have declined, not out of lack of trust or any fear, but because I knew to make it I'd have to be up at 6:00 on a Sunday morning. However, I agree to meet up and am so glad that I did. It was extremely fun to get out with some other people interested in the same things, and especially in a place that is relatively new to me. I don't think I've gone out shooting with more than one other person since I was in college, so it was definitely refreshing and one of the best things I did while out there.

In the end, though, what this trip really gave me was a new found appreciation for the work I've been doing over the past few months. As I have really started to hone in on the direction my work has been taking me, and I it, I have had doubts that are not uncommon, but definitely there. What I got while away was a good opportunity to reflect through plucking myself out of my own environment. Normally I would get the bug to uproot myself and move to wherever I was visiting, but this feeling was very different. Being away from what has been driving me, consciously or unconsciously, really forced me to think about things and figure out, visually, what has been truly driving me, why, and where and how to take it from here. I won't get into the nitty-gritty of it right now, but if nothing else, it fueled my fire to get back and throw myself full force into what I have started. As I told Todd at the gallery, "I'll know when I'm done."

I don't know if any of them will see this or not, but thanks to the people I met while out there. I'm sure there are others I'm not remembering, but big thanks to Todd Johnson, Justin Renault, an Nate Tabor for their hospitality and welcoming personalities. It's nice to feel like I've got friends for the next time I may get out that way. 

An Afternoon at Highland Millworks

It's great to have friends that understand, at least on some level, what you are interested in. In my case that's just about everything, but at the same time it helps for whatever it is to be visually interesting, at least to me. This is where my friend Ed stepped in and provided me a unique opportunity.

Ed is one of my friends I play trivia with most Wednesday nights. Recently he started working at Highland Millworks, a local business that makes reclaimed wood flooring. Last week he mentioned to me that I should come by and check it out, and specifically to bring my camera. Having had a few discussions in the past about the place and my limited knowledge of the building from a previous job my interest was peaked. My first question, though, was if they had shop lights or if it was all natural light. "Natural light", was the answer I both wanted and received. After figuring out what might be a good time to stop by, I was starting to get really excited about this.

I really have no knowledge at all about milling floors. I actually know a little more now, but what was more important to me was what I was going to get to see. 

Upon arrival I was given a nice little tour of the facility, a small shop in a mostly industrial area of Augusta, GA. Needless to say, there was sawdust all over the place, but not even remotely as much as I would have thought. I was shown some of the equipment, most of which I wouldn't be able to tell you the names of, but I can tell you what some of them do now. I think the one that I found most interesting, yet not too visually amazing was an automated blade sharpener. It's something that is really cool if you like machines, sparks, and are easily amused; I fall into all three of those categories.

Fred Gay, Highland Millworks, Augusta, GA 2017

Outside the main shop was what I found even more interesting, though. I had this idea that I would spend most of my time inside shooting all kinds of machines and industrial equipment, but I was so wrong. Outside were stacks and stacks of reclaimed wood that would eventually become the finished product. It came from all kinds of places too. Large beams from old textile mills, hand hewed planks from old barns, and many pieces of wood containing old handmade nails. Just imaging the history behind these pieces was fun.

Aside from shooting, I was really glad to get to see a small business in town doing something like this. The environmentalist and history geek inside of me was really happy to see all this old material being used to make something new again. I appreciate when things can be reused and repurposed instead of just being discarded. It was also a plus, as I mentioned before, to see something like this coming out Augusta. I have a feeling that there are many people in town that have no idea that a business like this even exists.

Finished Stihl Unfinished, Highland Millworks, Augusta, GA 2017

My thanks go out to my buddy Ed and the crew at Highland Millworks for letting me poke around and shoot last week. I only wish I could do things like this more often!

Thoughts on Coming Together

It is Saturday and here in Augusta, GA, like many other cities around the world we had a Women's March. The weather here was nasty. Rain, pouring at times, and some lightning to top it off. I'll be honest and say that I did not march, yet I did cheer on all those participating as they walked through downtown. 

What was brought to my attention by a friend was the number of people that participated in this march. At first I didn't understand their amazement, because in my opinion I found it a worthy cause, then they made a point. "It's Augusta and they still came out in the rain."

As anyone from this area most likely knows, and I'm sure it's this way in some other similar size cities, if the weather is slightly off, don't expect much of a crowd. It's sad to say that, but it is all too often the truth. I wish I could put my finger on why this is, and trust me I have some thoughts,  but all too often conditions dictate some people's participation in things, not their actual feelings or passions. Fortunately for this event people overcame the discomfort of nasty weather and showed support for, in my opinion, a good cause.

I've often wondered, though, what it is about my community and others that makes people tend to let the littlest inconvenience keep them from being a part of something that could do good for not just them, but a community at large? I've seen it in many ways over the past few years. In my own personal sphere it comes about in our local art community.

Over the few years that I have tried to be as active of a member as I possibly can, I've seen ideas come and go. Many of them never get beyond being just ideas. We tend to come up with ideas to bring together a group for the greater good, have a meeting or two, agree on what we think should be done, and leave feeling good about what can be done. Then the crickets start chirping. No one seems to want to take the next step of actually implementing the ideas.

Don't get me wrong, I have been as guilty as the next person on occasion, but it's not because I don't care. For me it ends up being a mixture of personal desires for my own work, not wanting to carry all or most of the load, not being a painter or illustrator, and encountering the dreaded apathy that seems to creep into many of the things that get started in this area. Does anyone else have these issues, or at least struggle with one of them? It is one of those things that I don't get and, though I try, can't seem to wrap my head around it.

We have many great artists in this city and the surrounding area, many of them who are not even known to the other artists working here. All of the ones that I know seem to crave some sort of unity, be it a group or a goal that we work towards. Try as we may, though, we seem to either lose focus, interest, or just never find a goal common enough for all of us to get on board an strive towards. As a woman I met in Montana over Christmas said to me, "It sounds like you have 'small town' problems." Maybe so, but we are not, at least physically, a small town.

Maybe it comes down to all of us needing to work on ourselves and our own work. If we strive to make our work seen and noticed outside of our little sphere, maybe then we can draw attention to the efforts and goals that we have for this amazingly talented community. 

I honestly don't know what the answer is to making these ideas all come together. However, as I watched the marchers in Augusta today braving the pouring rain, I couldn't help but notice that there are people in this community that will stand up and do in spite of what roadblocks, natural or not, are thrown in front of them. My hat is off to all of you. Thank you for giving me pride in my community and giving me faith that maybe our community of artists can take some hints from you about sticking to it an making it happen.

2017

Here we all are again starting off another new year. I can honestly say that last year had some interesting moments, much like many others can say. Some things were good, some were bad, but in all I can't help but think it wasn't the worst. However, I don't think I could say, in some instances, it was the best year either. I don't want to dwell on last year, though. I would much rather look forward to what could be a fantastic year.

Just shy of a year ago I launched this website in an effort to help get my work out to a wider audience and be a tool to help me further my endeavors and my art. I've been pleased so far, but I have much more to do. I hope that as the year goes by I will be putting together more work that will be represented here. I have been very happy with the feedback I have received from countless people, good and bad, and hope that you all will not hesitate to share your opinions with me as the year progresses.

As work goes, I have some projects that I've been working on that hopefully will come to fruition, or at least get rolling this year. Some of them involve the Greater Augusta area, others involve some possible travel. Of course all of these things take time, but I just continue to shoot and work towards making the best work I can.

I'm hoping that in 2017 I'll be able to better mix my two passions, photography and cycling. I don't yet know how, but I have ideas, and that's a start. 

I know this has been a short entry, but I just wanted to get something out and let everyone know that I'm working and plan to have far more in the future. 

Good luck to all in 2017, and I hope that everyone has the best year possible.

Answering a Question... Hopefully

I was posed a question recently by a friend of mine that I'd like to try and answer here. I say a question like it was something direct, or that would have a simple answer, but of course these things hardly ever seem to be either. Luckily for them, and myself, I enjoy trying to answer these things. Understand, though, before I continue, this is merely my opinion.

So, what was the question? Well, I think it was more of a challenge and question at the same time. I was asked if I could explain that the camera doesn't make one a photographer.

This is definitely a challenge! I would immediately have to assume I knew the answer to the question I was asked while in school: What is photography? I still have yet to answer that one and would love to hear any answer, which most likely isn't completely true. However, I'll have to hold onto that one for another day.

To answer this, or at least attack the idea, I think one has to look at photography in a very simple sense at first. The camera is merely a tool. Just as the painter uses a paintbrush to put an image on a surface, so too does the photographer use the camera to capture an image. Yes, it can be that simple. I wouldn't say, however, that because one can just pick up a paintbrush and spread paint over a surface that they are actually a painter. Maybe in a simplistic way, saying that I'm "painting" due to the fact that I AM spreading paint, one could call me a painter, but one would never claim to be a painter without thorough knowledge of the craft. This is the same with photography. The photographer has a skill set and knowledge about their craft. He/She knows that there is more to the craft than just being able to pick up a camera and make an exposure. Just as the painter would not use just one brush (tool) to make a painting, the photographer is not going to use just the camera to make an image. 

Photography, as I mentioned before, is a craft. From the most simple photograph in an advertisement, to the prints of Ansel Adams and Frederick Sommer, there is a vast knowledge of an art form that becomes manifest in an image from start to finish. Whether produced for an ad campaign or for exhibit in a gallery, each photograph comes from the photographer's vision and understanding of how to structure a good image. Just as the studio photographer knows the right angles to capture a model or product, so too does the photojournalist. The landscape photographer is just as aware of light, and the use of it, as the street photographer.

This is not to say that one has to have been professionally trained or gone to school to learn all there is to know about the art of photography. Just as someone can be self-taught in other art forms, so too can one learn photography. However, to say that one can just pick up a camera and be considered a photographer lessens the value of those who know exactly what they are doing.

As someone who shoots mainly on the street, many of my images are in a way familiar to people. I have been told countless times by people how one of my images looks like something they took a picture of. I've also been asked why anyone would pay for something that they could go do on their own? I can honestly say that I've never been offended by these statements, but I do wonder if any of these people intentionally tried to make any of their photographs look characteristically similar to mine? Most likely not. It is more likely that these people made a beautiful image of a banal subject through pure accident, it was serendipitous at best. That's not to say their photograph has no merit, but I would never pay them for a collection of work or an ad campaign.

There are more people with cameras taking more photographs than there has ever been in history. Many of these images will disappear into the ether of time and obsolete digital media over the years. Ironically, for all the cameras there are, there are fewer prints being made today than in the past. Whether printed or not, though, many people like to consider themselves photographers these days. It is not my place to say who is or is not a photographer, but I do think this is what the initial question boils down to: Does having a camera in hand make one a photographer?

In short, no.

Vacations and a Small Town

I had no idea until I looked before writing this that I hadn't posted a word since June. That was definitely not my intent. The intent to write has been there, but I think the small bit of mental motivation just didn't seem to be there. Luckily the little nudge I needed has come around.

This summer has seen me do more traveling than I think I've ever done in a single season. First was Washington state to start off the summer, then a 336 mile bike ride up the C&O Canal Trail and Great Allegheny Passage (DC to Pittsburgh), and quickly followed by my first trip to the beach in about six years. Now, as I sit typing this, I am sitting in the kitchen at my parents' house just outside of Camden, SC. It may not sound like a vacation, and by definition it might not be, but if you could see the scenery you'd understand how it could be perceived as such. If nothing else, I'm getting a chance to have quality time with Aida and her canine cousins: Bubba, Grace, and Max. It has been far more enjoyable than I thought it would be.

If anyone is familiar with the area north of Camden, they know there isn't much out here. Basically it is the rural south, farmland and forest. I've been riding my bike in the mornings and, outside of a small morning influx caused by two schools just up the road, there is practically no traffic. It's a little odd since I'm more used to heavier traffic flow, but it has allowed me to look around more and scout some places to go shoot in the next day or two.

Before I go after the things I found on my rides I decided to go into Camden and check out town on my own for a change. Amazingly, until this trip, I had never really gone into town by myself. For a town as small as it is, it seems that Camden has been able to fend off the death of its "main street" area. Most of this, I'd assume, is due to some factors that help it out. It is the county seat of Kershaw County, has a huge equestrian community, and is historically significant in the Revolutionary War battles of South Carolina, battles that arguably won the war. Although it is far from a bustling metropolis, the "downtown" area is far more vibrant than I think most would expect to find in a city this size.

What I found interesting as I was shooting was how many buildings I saw that have been repurposed. I have been interested recently in how many closed and abandoned gas stations I had been noticing in the area where I live. Although some have been reused for other businesses, most of the ones I've seen have just been abandoned. My hat is off to the businesses here who have made use of what is already available instead of just dumping the building and building something new with little or no character. This actually made me think twice about where my mind was going with the abandoned stations I've been shooting.

Camden has shown me, whether it knows it or not, that there truly are places that know how to keep their city, no matter how small, thriving. This has given me some hope for these wonderful structures that are an expression of our recent past and popular culture. They may not be serving their original purpose, but the structure is still there and recognizable.

I apologize for this entry not being too much about photography, I promise the next one will be more on point. I also will make sure to get back to being more regular with my entries. Either way, thanks for reading.

Meditation

My intent is to keep this blog about photography, but today I'm going to mix it up a little. My photography is the sole purpose for having this site in the first place, so keeping on subject seems the best idea. However, like most people, I have more than one thing in my life that keeps my passions alive. That other thing for me is cycling.

I woke up this morning, like many others, and went through a routine that has become very familiar to me. I fed the dog, put on bib-shorts and jersey, filled the water bottle, and gathered my other gear in anticipation of hitting the road. After taking the dog out, I headed back outside, checked my tires, turned on lights and hopped on my bike. The mileage goal was forty.

Long story short, the mileage was not met. I hit a detour due to some construction and had to improvise on my plans. In the end, I ended up eight miles short of my goal, but I wasn't disappointed in the least. The real goal was met in full.

As I headed out it was overcast. I didn't see a call for rain, but I also know how random rain can be during summer in the south. Sure enough, the rain came, but luckily it wasn't a downpour and I continued on. I didn't realize it at the time, but pushing onward through sub-par weather and an unexpected detour would be the best thing to happen.

Here is where the comparison of photography and cycling meet for me. Both of these activities provide me with a way to meditate. Although the activities are very different, I get the same peace out in the world shooting by myself as I do alone on a country road in the rain.

Photography gives me a chance to look at the world around me and focus my thoughts visually. Sometimes it is evident in the images I come back with, other times it is not. Either way, though, I give myself time alone that allows me to focus on my thoughts, whether they are about the capturing of images or not.

The bike gives me the same focus. Like with photography, to accomplish what I want I have to be aware of what is going on around me. This, of course, is a little more important safety-wise on a bike than behind the camera, but being focused is important. It's this focus that allows me to really break down and simplify the thoughts in my head.

As I've mentioned before, I have the stereotypical artist's mind that tends not to want to slow down or shut off. By going out to shoot or to ride, I give myself an outlet to expel negative thoughts, focus on ideas, and, in my opinion, better myself. 

I didn't get out to shoot today and I'm fine with that. I did, however, get a nice cleansing of rain and road dirt as I rode the back roads of South Carolina. I was able to focus myself on what was important and try to carry that through the rest of my day. 

I hope that everyone else has something that gives them peace in their day.

Stupid Anxiety and Self-Doubt

I think I speak for all, if not most, artists when I say that producing work can be a major cause for anxiety. Don't get me wrong, some, if not most, of it is completely uncalled for, but it still happens. For some reason, creative people were endowed with the ability to cause themselves crippling self-doubt that will sometimes creep itself into the rest of one's life.

I say this as I am dealing with a little of it myself. 

I'm sitting on my sofa right now with my supervisor, that being my dog, trying to relax and re-energize myself after a wonderful trip to the Pacific Northwest over Memorial Day weekend. I've never had a problem with jet lag in the past, but maybe that has to do with age and not drinking away the problem like I used to. Either way, I'm tired.

On top of being tired, I'm heading straight into hosting an opening at my gallery tonight, contemplating some serious life changes, and looking at various calls for entries that will hopefully progress and increase the exposure of my work (no pun intended). The latter of those three things is what really got me thinking about the doubt and anxiety that I, and many others, deal with.

I can only speak for myself, but I find that, even though my confidence is at an all-time high, I still seek recognition to satisfy my need to be relevant and appreciated. It's like a horrible disease that is purely mental and easily ignored, as long as I'm not trying to do something important to me.

This may be a little more personal information that one would want to hear, but I think it's relevant. I had a bad problem with alcohol for a good 4-5 year stretch, maybe longer, but the worst part was about that long. I've worked through it and continue to do so. What I've found, though, is that some of the things I've learned about this problem directly parallel problems with self-doubt over my work. I no longer have a craving for alcohol, it doesn't control my day, my thinking, or my life in general anymore. However, I'm constantly aware that I had that problem and if I forget that I could very easily allow myself to fall back into bad habits. The anxiety over my work, and many other things, works in the same way.

I'm more confident now about my work. I try to get it out and show it to people because I'm confident. Yet, the "crippling self-doubt" is always there, lurking like a predator about to pounce. The difference is that I'm now aware that the predator is there. I know that my anxiety is there and I have to work around it. In a weird way I give it some credit for keeping me moving forward. Don't get me wrong, it haunts the ever-living shit out of me sometimes, but I have to remind myself that 99-100% of it is nothing to be worried about. Certain people are just not into the type of photography I produce. Some people just could care less about photography in general, and that's their opinion that they are allowed to have.

In the end, I think as artists and creative types, the one thing we would do best to remember is that what other people think is their business. I've hear that a lot over the past two years and it has been one of the things I've always tried to remember.

ON A SIDE NOTE!

I plan on having images up from Seattle, Portland, Olympia, and other locales visited very soon, so please check back to see them!

Random Thoughts about Truth, Manipulation, and the Photograph

Most of what I'm about to write about is based on my own opinion, but much of it is influenced by reading, discussion, and ideas that I've accumulated over the past fifteen to twenty years. That said, I in no way claim that any of what I am going to say is set in stone, however, that statement alone lends itself to the whole debate of truth and fiction.

While driving home the other night I began to think about what I might write about the next time I sat down to type a blog. Having had some interesting interactions over the previous few days, none of which had to do with photography, I began to think about how I might be able to tie these feelings into a blog. The word that first came to mind was honesty. Like most people, I'd assume, I try to be as honest as possible with whoever I come in contact with. Don't get me wrong, I know we all lie or bend the truth here and there. Sometimes we lie to shorten a story, sometimes its to hide something from someone, but there is a time and place that we all lie. Not telling the truth can be socially acceptable, yet in certain situations it can get us in trouble. Truth and honesty are both simple and complex at the same time, and this too is true with the photographic image.

In the style of shooting that I normally work, "street photography" for lack of a better term, I like to think that my images are as honest and truthful to what ends up in the images as possible. I'm normally walking around and shooting what I see, I don't move anything from where it is when I find it. In the time that the shutter is open, all that is rendered onto the sensor/film was there when I leave, just like when I arrived. In a way, I take pride in this. There is, however, a small amount of dishonesty to this. I say that everything was as I found it, but was it really? This is where the lines start to get blurred.

I find something that catches my eye, that is true, but in a way that is where the truth ends. As soon as something presents itself the manipulating begins. That's right, the manipulating. Framing and image, moving myself to a better vantage point, using exposure to make the image more appealing to my own ideas; all of these things are me manipulating a scene. 

Don't get me wrong, though, I don't get myself hung up on this concept as I shoot. If I did I would be stuck in a vicious cycle of confusion from which no work would ever be produced. The end goal for me is an image that I find appealing, and hopefully so do others. The viewer, in my case, need not be concerned about the subtle changes I may have made. I will tell you what you see in the image is what was there and my image will allow you to believe it's true. See how blurred the lines are?

In today's world we have started to question the truth and validity of images that we see. It used to be that as a society we would look at an image in the newspaper and "know" that it told the truth, but as time has gone by and technologies have changed and advanced we find ourselves more apt to question an image. I find myself constantly questioning images of supposedly amazing phenomena online due to the ease with which we can now manipulate images. Unfortunately, due to this ease, the questioning of truth in images has extended into the realm of journalism.

There have been cases in the past few years of images being considered for the Pulitzer Prize being dismissed due to over manipulation. That is not to say that the photographer wasn't there, but that the image was so manipulated that the truth of the image was lost. The problem here is that we have a history of expecting journalism to tell the truth and be objective. It is the objectivity that is lost with the manipulation, and therefore also the truth.

On the side of photography as an art, though, it would be hard to ask for the absolute truth. I'll give someone the full truth if they can fully tell me what "art" is. The truth from an image as art is the same truth that one might expect from a painting, it is in the eye of the artist. Did the artist see what they wanted right in front of them, or did they have an idea in their head that the subject was merely a component of? Who is the viewer to say?

As you can probably tell, this is a very convoluted, and at times, simple concept. The photograph walks a line of truth and lies that no other medium is ever asked to even come close to. The truth is out there, it just might not be right in front of the viewer.

Day Trip Atlanta

This past weekend I took a day trip with my girlfriend (thebostonrose.com) to Atlanta to just get out of town. As usual, the camera came along. I wanted to take as many pictures as possible, but at the same time wanted to try and not let work get in the way of pleasure. Needless to say, at least in my opinion, all my shooting was strictly recreational.

We first ended up going to the High Museum of Art (www.high.org) to see the current exhibit of Jean-Michel Basquiat's work entitled "The Unknown Notebooks". On a trip there for Valentine's weekend we had seen promotional material for it and decided we had to go. It was totally worth the price of admission. The notebooks gave an interesting look into the thought process that went into his work. I found it to be quite similar to my own notebooks in the randomness of his entries, but they were very different to my own at the same time. It did, however, really help clarify, if possible, the sometimes erratic nature of his paintings. Many of the pages had just one phrase on them, phone numbers, and random thoughts all in his amazingly controlled handwriting. We did note, however, that some of it seemed as though he might have been hearing not just voices around him, but maybe in his own head. I feel like that's normal, though, in a creative mind.

In the same gallery was an exhibit of work by Vik Muniz. Muniz's work was something I was admittedly not very familiar with, but really enjoyed. His work is very large and most of it is recreations of images familiar to most audiences. Many of the pieces were recreations of photographs using different materials such as caviar, jelly, and junk. He also produces plays off of three demential works by other artists and random physical objects like Matchbox Cars. It was nice to learn about an artist I was unfamiliar with and I actually was more interested in it than the exhibit we initially went to see.

After the museum we headed over to the Atlanta Botanical Gardens (atlantabg.org). The trip there was to see a rose show going on that day along with Chihuly in the Garden. The gardens were nice, as always, but the addition of works by Dale Chihuly (chihuly.com) made for a very interesting trip. I had seen some of Chihuly's blown glass work for the first time on a trip to the art gallery at Gonzaga University ten years ago. The organic nature and movement of his pieces definitely lent themselves to the gardens around them, and with the sun shining brightly, the colors of the glass popped! Our favorite pieces, though, ended up being relegated to the back end of the gardens. They were large spires of black and white glass that, obviously, didn't have the stunning color of the other works, but worked very well as a contrast not only to the greenery around it, but to the rest of the glass work on the grounds. I have to admit, I really enjoyed the gardens this time a lot more than when we went in February. I have to thank Emily for introducing me to the joy of plants!

After we finished at the gardens and had a late lunch/early dinner, we ran off to Jeju Sauna (jejusauna.com). This was another place I was introduced to by Emily on our February weekend and I was, again, pleasantly surprised. A very relaxing place with about six large, varied saunas, Jeju is a place I highly advise to anyone looking to relax if they are in the greater Atlanta area.

After a few hours of sweating it out, we headed back to the Augusta area. I'll admit, I probably didn't shoot as much as I feel I should have, but hey, it was time to get away and enjoy. All three places we went are wonderful in their own right and I highly advise them all if you are ever in the Atlanta area.