I should say that I am NOT a fan of the Artist Statement. Most are pretentious, unintelligible and do not lead to a better understanding of the artist. The simpler the better. I have had to put together one as a requisite to entering photo contests. I didn’t even write it myself! I had Vicki do it.
I did just read the above captioned book about artist statements which is a parody of the subject. The first one in the book is a fill in the blank template!
Here now is my AS
I was 13 when my father taught me my first photographic techniques. Re-invigorated by the love of this hobby we shared, I’ve kept a camera close by since his passing in 1996. Now, there’s nothing more relaxing than spending an hour, day or weekend with a camera in hand. The majority of my photographic body of work can be divided into three categories: landscapes, still life and ironic images.
Landscapes. Being born in a small prairie town—Simla, CO—instilled in me a deep appreciation for open space, the pace of rural life and a life-long love of clouds.
Still Life Human hands have arranged most of the objects I like to shoot.
Ironic Images. Unintended humor is all around us. Capturing the unplanned juxtaposition of images, thoughts and people easily amuses me.
I hope you enjoy the images I’ve photographed as much as I’ve enjoyed the experience of shooting them.
Wheat Ridge in the bygone days used to be known as the carnation capital of what? the state? We don’t grow carnations anymore but the festival continues including a pretty awesome fireworks display. Sorry. but these were hand held so we have some blurring
This was a funny interlude this week at work. I work at a Centura owned medical facility in SW Kansas ( Garden City) and the folks have decided that they would do a road trip to all their facilities in Colorado and Kansas to record stories from employees ( were actually all called associates ) about how great Centura is and the mission that we are doing. I have no problems with this and actually recorded a 1 min. spiel about MY mission. Anyway they come out with a full sized bus, they had treats, three comfort dogs which are always awesome. I met with the production person who is from LA. Very nice lady with a British accent. Well as we were getting close to the display area one of the floor nurses sees this lady and says spontaneously - “Oh look they even brought a clown!!” This is the difference between dressing in LA and rural Kansas
Besides liking to skulk around cemeteries, the Garden City Cemetery has special interest for me. Just down the road is Holcomb , Kansas. This was the scene of a most gruesome murder November 15, 1959 when four members of the Clutter family were killed by two drifters. This was the story as set out by Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood,
I finally was able to find the Clutter grave stone (AI 470-2) as well as the grave site for Alvin Dewey (AG 346/8) who was the KBI ( Kansas Bureau of Investigations) agent who chased down and brought to justice the two perpetrators of this murder.
I felt and urge to do a blog about The Plains or Prairie .Now that I travel frequently thru eastern Colorado and western Kansas I have plenty of time to look and think about the plains. The fly over states suffers from the same disparagement. Even folks in Colorado freak out when they think that I may have moved to SW Kansas. Take a look at the blog and let me know what you think
Gerda Taro was born in Stuttgart and educated in Leipzig. She left Germany for Paris in 1933 when Hitler became chancellor, and the next year, met Robert Capa. They became lovers, and as she promoted and captioned Capa’s photographs, he taught her photographic technique. When the Spanish Civil War broke out in 1936, they covered it as a team on assignment for Vu magazine. Siding with the Popular Front, they concentrated on the activities of Loyalist troops attempting to defeat the Nationalist army. By 1937, Capa had become famous for his documentation of the war, and Taro had emerged as an independent photojournalist in her own right. She and Capa covered several aspects of the war that year together, including the plight of Spanish refugees in Almeria and Murcia. By the summer, Taro was confident enough to make photographic excursions alone. While covering the Republican offensive in Brunete in July 1937, she was crushed by a Loyalist tank in the confusion of retreat, and died several days later. Although Taro’s photographs of the Spanish Civil War have been overshadowed by those of Capa and other photographers, her pictures are effective portrayals of individuals at war. Their graphic simplicity and emotional power make her small body of work a memorable chronicle of a complex war. Lisa Hostetler Handy et al. Reflections in a Glass Eye: Works from the International Center of Photography Collection, New York: Bulfinch Press in association with the International Center of Photography, 1999, p. 229.
Trying this film for the first time - it’s a very slow ( ISO of 25) film. I probably didn’t use it the way it was supposed to used - portraiture, landscape - all on a tripod. No I shot hand held. From the car, walking in the garden
This is a series I shot in 2000 on the Rolleiflex Automat that I just had refurbished. Ilford FP4 film. I was amazed how much detail I was able to capture to say nothing of the mood. The cemetery is in Fayetteville, NY where I was living at the time.
Leon Russell’s version of the Bob Dylan song. A Hard Rains A-Gonna Fall
Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son? Oh, where have you been, my darling young one? I’ve stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains I’ve walked and I’ve crawled on six crooked highways I’ve stepped in the middle of seven sad forests I’ve been out in front of a dozen dead oceans I’ve been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, and it’s a hard And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fallOh, what did you see, my blue-eyed son? Oh, what did you see, my darling young one? I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin’ I saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin’ I saw a white ladder all covered with water I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall