Starting a Project- The Inner Critic

Here's an excerpt from an article by author Mark Slouka in the Sunday New York Times from August 25 that I found totally relevant to any artist. Although Slouka is talking about writers, just substitute your media/field, and I think it will speak to you, too: “If writers agree on anything—which is unlikely—it’s that nothing can damage a novel in embryo as quickly and effectively as trying to describe it before it’s ready.  Unfortunately, because we’re writers, aka bipedal nests of contradictions, avoiding the temptation to share is never as easy as simply keeping our mouths shut.

            Why? Because we’re unsure—about very nearly everything. Because in our hearts we’re only as good as our last paragraph, and if the new book isn’t going anywhere, maybe we’re no good at all. Because we’re running on faith and fumes. In the early stages, before that magic moment when the voice of the story begins to speak, we want—no, crave—validation, someone on the outside who will say, preferably with godlike authority and timbre: “It’s brilliant. You’re on the right track. Just keep going.”

            The problem, of course, is that our inner critic, the I.C., is whispering in our ear that we’re not even remotely on the right track—that we’re blundering around in the wilderness, in fact."

This article speaks to me because every time I am in the beginning phases of a new project, my experience is exactly like that. My normal confidence seems to desert me and I am filled with insecurities about the value/success/relevance of my new endeavor. Can you tell that I am embarking on not one, but a few new projects right now??!!!

Quotes #1

Here are two quotes that I like a lot: "Art is the presence of something mysterious that transports you to a place where life takes on a clearness that it ordinarily lacks, a transparency, a vividness, a completeness."  ~Emmet Gowin, photographer

"You can forget what a person did, but not how they made you feel."  ~Maya Angelou, author

Thoughts on Our Photographic Archives- #2

I'm certainly not the first person to wonder how the unimaginably vast archive of digital photographs currently being generated will be preserved into the future. The issue of preserving photographs has been with us since photography first appeared on the scene in 1839. But the issue of archiving became more pressing once George Eastman invented roll film in the late 19th century and people could take many pictures in a relatively short space of time. The advent of the snapshot meant that people started generating many prints of family outings and events. These prints were sometimes put into albums, but often just relegated to some shoebox, unlabeled and forgotten until the family either moved or the house was cleaned out.

Back in 1978, author John D. MacDonald wrote a novel titled "The Empty Copper Sea", in which the following passage appeared:

"Long ago a picture must have been an event. Capturing a living image has become too ordinary a miracle, perhaps. They go about with their automatic-drive Nikons and OM-2's and their Leicaflexes, and put their finger on the button, and the hand-held machinery makes a noise like a big toy cricket. Reep, reep, reep, reep. A billion billion slides, projected once, labeled, and filed forever. Windrows of empty yellow boxes blow across the Gobi, the Peruvian highlands, the temple steps at Chichicastenango. The clicking and whirring and clacking is the background sound at the Acropolis, at the beach at Cannes, on the slopes at Ville-franche. All the bright people, stopped in the midst of life, looking with forced fading as the years pass, caught there in slide trays, stack loads, view cubes, until one day the camera person dies and the grandchild says: "Mom, I don't know any of these people. Or where these were taken even. There are jillions of them here in this big box and more in the closet. What will I do with them anyway?"

"Throw them out, dear."

Prior to the digital age, pictures were physical things, objects one could hold on one's hand. Now, most people don't make prints and our visual histories are more ephemeral and at risk than ever. Just as historians worry about the future of the written record, so also should we be concerned about the future of our visual records. If the entire visual history of an individual exists purely digitally, what are the chances that those images will exist 100 years from now, or even 20? And what will be lost if they are lost?

Thoughts on Our Photographic Archives- #1

When I moved into the house in which I'm currently living in 1990, the elderly woman who lived in the house across the street had recently died. Her son was in the process of selling her house, and had hired a person who specialized in estate sales to clean out all her possessions that the family didn't want. One day, a big moving truck arrived, and proceeded to empty out the house and put everything on the curb before loading it into the truck. I noticed what I thought were tall 35mm slide file cabinets, which I knew to be extremely expensive and therefore out of my price range, and went across the street to check them out.

They were indeed what I thought they were. Each drawer was meticulously labeled with titles such as "Spain, 1975", and "Hawaii, 1958". Inside each drawer, the slides themselves were labeled and sorted. Clearly, these were the treasured photographic archives of all the trips this family had taken over the course of time. Since there were no gaps among the slides, I concluded that the woman's children and grandchildren hadn't wanted any of these pictures.

Puzzled, I asked the estate agent what he was going to do with the cabinets, knowing them to be something of a special interest item. He replied, "Oh, we'll throw out all the slides and sell the cabinets themselves." I stood there slightly stunned, as it had not really occurred to me before to wonder what happens to photographs when no one wants them. As someone for whom family history is of paramount importance, I saw these slides as someone's treasure and couldn't bear the thought of them just being tossed in the trash.

The agent asked, "Are you interested in the cabinets? Because if you are, make me an offer right now and you can have them."

I stood there gazing at these amazing cabinets, knowing that I could never afford to buy them under normal circumstances, and here they were, available for a song. But buying them would have meant that I would have become responsible for throwing out the slides, and I knew I could never look at or use those cabinets without thinking of the memories they had once held, and feeling somehow responsible for their loss.

I know, I know. It's just "stuff", right? The slides were going to be thrown out, one way or another. But I just couldn't be the one to do it. I said to the agent, "No, no.... thanks anyway.", and made my way back across the street, in mourning for the loss of another family's visual history. It's something that I knew happens every day of the year, but it was hard nonetheless.

I didn't watch the truck as it pulled away.

Seeing With Photography Collective

The recently-closed show at Prairie Gallery in Cincinnati showed work by the Seeing With Photography Collective. This is a group of photographers based in New York City who are either visually impaired, sighted, or totally blind. Their work is powerful in that it uses painting with light techniques to effectively create metaphorical meaning. I really like the fact that their work is so collaborative. Whether in color or black and white, this is work that is well worth seeing.

Inventory Database for Artists

I've been a pretty organized person over the years when it comes to my art career. But when it comes to keeping track of everything, I finally realized how great it would be if I could keep most records in one place. I've got folders on my computer that contain Word docs, Excel spreadsheets, FileMaker databases, etc., and I'm constantly having to dig through those files in order to cross reference the information in them. In addition, I've been using Excel for my inventory database, but have been frustrated by its limitations. The following images give a visual of what I'm talking about:

You can imagine how many files are contained within these folders. Kind of crazy.

I was aware of inventory software for artists such as Flick! and eArtist, but after looking into them further, decided that they weren't for me.

Then I discovered GYST software. GYST stands for "Get Your Sh*t Together".

Created by artist and educator Karen Atkinson, GYST does far more than even the most fanatically organized person could ever need, which is one reason why I love it. Here's a screenshot of an individual artwork record in GYST. Note that you can add detailed information into any of the blue tabs found in the middle of the window: And if you want to look at your entire database of artwork, it will show up as a list like this: You can pick and choose which features you want to use in GYST. Not only will it allow you to keep your inventory up to date, it will also help you keep track of any proposals you may have out, artist's statements, your resume, contacts, research notes, billing, etc., and it's all found in one place on your computer. Heaven!

Check out the GYST blog, as it's a great resource for professional practices information.

I should add that my only beef with any of the above-named inventory databases is that they are not particularly intuitive or user-friendly, so there is a definite learning curve involved at first. If someone could come up with one that is relatively easy to use from the get-go, I would not hesitate to use it.

Artists I Like- Myoung Ho Lee

Sometimes I ask myself why I seem to take the most complex, difficult route towards creating my work. Then I see the work of someone who has also taken a work-intensive route towards their work and I am gratified that I am not alone. Myoung Ho Lee, a Korean artist, created his "Tree" series by constructing a custom-built white panel that is set up behind a tree of his choice, and then photographs the tree and its surrounding environment. This approach requires a team of people and equipment that would stop most people in their tracks before ever getting started. His pictures confront the viewer with the reality of the tree and its environment, but because the panel separates the tree from it, we are challenged to regard the tree differently than we would if the panel weren't there. It's an outstanding example of how every single thing in the frame is important. Take away the panel, and the photograph is unremarkable. Include more or less of the surroundings, move the camera closer or further away from the tree, or choose to shoot at a different time of day- make any of those changes and the photograph would be less powerful. These pictures are a great reminder that what we include or exclude in the frame before clicking the shutter, in other words, how we edit the picture BEFORE it is taken, is critically important to the result.

Artists I Like- Francis Schanberger

Looking at the work of Francis Schanberger is like diving into the secrets of the universe. How is it that he can show us something from the natural world that we can see everyday, and yet make us see it with new eyes? The first time I saw this photograph of an apple, I actually thought that he had artificially created some kind of galaxy or star image. It wasn't until my second look that I realized that what I was really seeing was simply an apple. That perhaps doesn't come across online, but in real life, this Van Dyke almost pulses with depth and life. Francis is a master of hand-applied emulsions and shares his techniques and methods on his blog. Anyone interested in alternative photographic processes would gain a lot by checking out his work.

Art & Science- Caleb Charland

Caleb Charland is a photographer whose images inspire awe and wonder, particularly when you realize that all of his images are multiple exposures shot on film and then printed straight. Photoshop is not used in the creation of these puppies, which makes them even more amazing. In an excerpt from an interview, he explains his process: "Silhouette With Matches (see left) was a simple process of multiple exposure. I shoot all my work with a view camera on 4x5 film. Basically, I took one exposure during the day for the background, then one at night while lighting and tossing the matches. This process left the outline of my body without the use of Photoshop."

Charland's pictures are magical, taking me back to a time when I would make science fair projects in elementary school. Most of the time, I didn't really care if the project worked out, I just wanted to play with the stuff I was using to make the project with. Most often, that "stuff" had to do with matches and flashlights and things that moved through space.

But they are also metaphorical, such as Footprints with Matches (see below). This image implies as much as it tells, and leaves this viewer thinking about how much damage mankind has left behind in its frenzy to build and develop the land. Technically brilliant, visually arresting, and wonderfully thought-provoking, Caleb Charland is a photographer to watch.

Art & Science- Niko Luoma

I've always been interested in the connection between art and science. I sometimes wonder if they aren't really one and the same, just different ways to understanding this universe we inhabit. The photographs of Niko Luoma refer to math, geometry, light (i.e. physics), and end up creating a magical universe that exists only on the photographic paper he prints on. He works with traditional analog photographic materials, making hundreds of exposures on one negative. The control he has over his materials is amazing.

He says about his work: "My material is light. The work focuses on energy rather than matter. My work is about the process as much as about the result. ...Working only with light and light sensitive materials, I am fascinated by the fact that this process leaves nothing behind- no debris, no ruin- just an exposed negative."

Here's my favorite image of his to date:

Challenging Yourself

"The challenge for me is to make the painting I don't know how to make." The above quote by painter Frank Herrmann is one that I find incredibly exciting. It's like throwing down the gauntlet in front of yourself, daring yourself to succeed or fail. It's a thought that demands that you be ok with so many of the things that cause artists anxiety:  with not having a clue as to what you are doing, that you might not know how to get to where you want to go, that you might end up with artwork that wasn't what you had initially envisioned, that you are leaping into the unknown without a parachute.

But, as Bart Simpson would say: "Cowabunga!!!!"

Why let our fears hold us back??? Trying to make what you don't know how to make - I'm going to tattoo that on my brain.

Artists I Like- Matej Peljhan

This week's horrific bombings at the Boston Marathon left many people with terrible leg injuries. It left me thinking, among other things, about how those victims will cope into the future with the loss of their limbs. So the issue of physical disabilities and challenges were already on my mind when I discovered today a series of pictures by Metej Peljhan made for a 12 year old boy named Luka who suffers from muscular dystrophy.

Luka longs to do things that are physically beyond him, so Peljhan created photographs that depict him doing those activities, things like playing basketball and breakdancing.

The beauty of these pictures lies in their simple, low-tech approach, and in their whimsicality.They are utterly honest, and therefore compelling.

They are a good example of how photographs can touch the heart, and of how a little imagination can go a long way.

To see more, to go Peljhan's website.

When Work Gets Returned

Last year I had an exhibit in the ArtXchange Gallery in Seattle. After the exhibition, they kept my work there in order to sell. What didn't sell was recently returned. The boxed-up  prints are now leaning against the wall in my front hall until I unpack them. It's funny how the return of work after an exhibition comes with a certain feeling of deflation. Getting work back means that the show is over, people aren't getting a chance to see in in person, time to look for the next show opportunity. Not to mention the fact that I have to find space to store it in until it goes out to the next venue. And I never seem to have enough space to store my artwork, no matter how many times I have purged my studio of work that I will no longer exhibit.

It's much more fun to make the work and put it out there in the world than it is to get it back!

A Book on Wood Carving

In the March 16th issue of the Economist, I read a review of a new book by woodcarver David Esterly. The title of the book, The Lost Carving: A Journey to the Heart of Making, immediately caught my eye and the review made me want to read it. Here's the part of the review that spoke to me most: (The book) "...is a meditation- on "beauty, skill nature, feeling, tradition, sincerity", all now art-world anachronisms, he fears. But above all, it is a song to his medium, the wood itself, its grain, the way it answers to the blade, the conversation to be had with it. "Making" is the word in Mr. Esterly's title, and it is the nub of his book. He is in love with the physicality of his art, the flowing together of hand and brain, of chisel and creativity. The idea that the artist should both master and be mastered by the medium clearly fascinates him.

Lovely! Will have to read it ASAP.

The Journey- #1

"Life is a journey." How often have I thought about that sentence over the years? It came up again after reading an intriguing article about Kilian Jornet Burgada, "the most dominating endurance athlete of his generation" in last Sunday's NY Times magazine. This paragraph appeared towards the end of the article:

"What are you running after? I asked Jornet. Having beaten men, do you now want to challenge the mountains? He gently corrected me. You don't beat the mountains. You go when they permit, he said. The speed records and "firsts" aren't important except for motivation, he insisted. Then he mentioned the Uruguayan writer Eduardo Hughes Galeano, who once likened the ideal of Utopia to the horizon - goals that retreat even as we chased them. "The important thing is not to catch something," said Jornet... What matters in life is the pursuit, and everything we learn along the way. "The important thing," he said, "is moving."

What struck me about Jornet's quote was the phrase "...everything we learn along the way." With that, he emphasizes the need for reflection. For we are always learning as we move forward through our lives, but often don't take the time to look at and reflect upon what we are learning as we do so.

And reflection is such an important part of the creative process! I ask myself questions constantly as I am working on a new piece or project. Taking time to reflect allows me to see what I've done well or poorly, and allows me to learn from my failures and successes. In short, reflection and the learning that comes from it is essential to growing creatively.

Someone once said to me that a "good" teacher is one who is constantly trying to improve, who recognizes what they have already achieved, but realizes that there is so much more that they could do better and who works towards that end. That speaks perfectly to what Jornet said, "What matters in life is the pursuit, and everything we learn along the way."

Artist's Statements- Do's and Don'ts

Over the course of time, I've developed a set of "do's" and "don'ts" regarding artist's statements. I'm sure that everyone reading this post  will have their own opinions on the subject. Let me hear from you if you have a particular issue I haven't touched upon and I will add them in another post! "Do's"

1. Make it only as long as it needs to be to say what you want to say. No longer.
2. Write something that adds to the reader’s understanding of your work that can’t necessarily be learned from looking at the work itself.
3. If you tell a story, make clear how it relates to the work, or to your philosophy as an artist.
4. Make a point. Let there be a clear reason why you wrote this.
5. Make the first sentence or two so interesting that I want to read the rest.
6. Sound like you know what you are talking about. Use words that convey confidence.
7. Use language that clarifies rather than obscures what you are talking about.
8. Make sure the writing is free of technical errors (grammar, punctuation, spelling, syntax, etc.)

“Don’ts”

1. Don’t make it unnecessarily long. Why go on and on if what you want to say can be said in one or two paragraphs?
2. Don’t sound like everyone else out there. You are a unique individual with unique experiences and insights. Share them with your audience.
3. Don’t just write about how much you have loved art since you were a kid.
4. Don’t use language that is so opaque and convoluted and jargon-filled that only 1% of your audience can understand it.
5. Don’t use words or phrases that weaken your reader’s confidence in you. Avoid phrases like “I hope….”, “I try to….”,  “I intended to ….”, etc.
6. Don’t allow technical errors! Bad grammar, spelling or sentence structure can kill your credibility.

Artist's Statements- What Makes a Good One?

Having covered the reasons for why artists write artist's statements in the "Artist's Statements- Why Write One?" post, here are the three primary factors that I think makes for an effective one. (Please note that I don't think that there is a particular formula you can follow for this, as part of what makes for an interesting artist's statement is the personal writing style of it's author.) 1. Write a piece that complements the work, rather than explains it. This approach provides additional information to the reader that cannot be found in the work itself. The writing therefore can give your audience a greater understanding of your goals and motivations for creating the work, and help them gain further insight into it.

2. Use appropriate, direct language that clarifies rather than obscures what you are saying. In other words, don't use "artspeak" jargon!!! Here is an article that beautifully explains how annoying and pretentious you can sound if you do. Although the article cites galleries as the offenders, they are often use the text that artists provide to them.

3. Write in your own voice. Don't try to sound like someone else. If you love to write creatively, then use that skill. If you are more of a keep-it-simple-and-direct kind of writer, then write that way. Being yourself in your writing will ring true for the reader.

I honestly feel that if you use those three points to guide you, your chances of writing a statement that can serve the purposes outlined in my "Artist's Statements- Why Write One?" post are going to be greatly increased.

There is way more information to be found on what makes for an effective artist's statement. I particularly like the advice found in this article by Joanne Hurley and Kate Ware.

More on artist's statements in a later post.

Artist's Statements - Why Write Them?

I don't know many artists who actually like writing artist's statements. But artists end up  reading a lot of them in the course of looking at websites, going to shows, etc. And most artists have to write one at one point or another, like it or not. But why do we need to write one? There are three clear benefits that I can identify. First, I've come to realize over time that an artist's statement is as much for my own benefit as it is for my audience's. Writing a statement often clarifies my thinking about my work in a way that creating the artwork itself does not, so I now see it as part of my creative process.

I have also experienced that an effective statement helps gallerists and dealers choose and sell my work. If they have a written document that supplements both what they see in my photographs and have learned from me in conversation and stimulates their interest, then it gives them more reason to choose my work and try to generate sales or buzz for it.

Finally, a statement can also help critics to write knowledgeably and thoughtfully about my work, and is a necessity when it comes to getting publicity for a show.

The result of these insights is that, while writing a statement is still like pulling teeth for me, I now embrace the exercise as an opportunity rather than as a burden.

Byron Wolfe has two statements on the Bio/CV/Statement page of his website. that speak to the above issues. The first statement addresses his general interests and shows the reader the foundations upon which all his work is grounded.

The second he calls a "Mission Statement", which is a visual rendering of "the territory (he finds) most satisfying." For him, it functions as "part manifesto, part guide".

What a great way to discover that which is already inside you, but might have been hidden!

In addition, Joanna Hurley and Kate Ware have written a very comprehensive article on the ins and outs of artist's statements that really digs into the topic and is, in my opinion, spot on.

I'll write more about artist's statements in future posts.

Humor in Photography- Nina Katchadourian

When I first saw the  series by "Lavatory Self-Portraits in the Flemish Style" series by Nina Katchadourian, I laughed out loud. And they still make me laugh every time I see them. Not many photographs can make me do that, but how can you not?!

Here's how the project started: "While in the lavatory on a domestic flight in March 2010, I spontaneously put a tissue paper toilet cover seat cover over my head and took a picture in the mirror using my cellphone. The image evoked 15th-century Flemish portraiture. I decided to add more images made in this mode and planned to take advantage of a long-haul flight from San Francisco to Auckland, guessing that there were likely to be long periods of time when no one was using the lavatory on the 14-hour flight. I made several forays to the bathroom from my aisle seat, and by the time we landed I had a large group of new photographs entitled Lavatory Self-Portraits in the Flemish Style. I was wearing a thin black scarf that I sometimes hung up on the wall behind me to create the deep black ground that is typical of these portraits. There is no special illumination in use other than the lavatory's own lights and all the images are shot hand-held with the camera phone."

Here is what I like about these images: Katchadourian looked at an everyday object, saw what it might resemble when photographed, took the nearest camera at hand and went to town. Who says you need high end cameras and fancy sets and tons of lights to make a photograph that has an immediate impact??!! I also like the references to Dutch portrait painting, similar to the work of Hendrik Kerstens. Kerstens and Katchadourian have similar impulses and influences, and it's really intriguing to see how differently they express themselves. The next time you see a painting like "Girl With a Pearl Earring"  (see below) think of them!

The Photographs of Hendrik Kerstens

Simple, eloquent, resonant, complex, fun- all these terms describe the photographs of Dutch photographer Hendrik Kerstens. Whenever I find myself looking at his work, which is often, I am constantly finding new things to enjoy and appreciate.  This photograph of his daughter Paula, whom he photographs a lot, is a good case in point. Technically, the image is brilliant. Well lit, well posed, everything about the way it was set up and shot supports the concept. Anyone familiar with Dutch portrait painting of the 17th century will appreciate the connection he makes to art of that era. At the same time, it is totally contemporary in its use of the plastic shopping bag instead of some kind of fabric, and a simple turtleneck instead of a satin dress.

Another image of Paula finds her in a quite different getup, although the pose, background, and lighting are similar. It would be easy for her to look ridiculous, but she doesn't. I find great humor in Kersten's approach to photography, and love the fresh, crisp look and feel that his images possess. They ask me to consider the relationship of photography to painting, and to think about how photographs can transform everyday objects into something metaphorical. Kerstens doesn't try to hide anything in these photographs and revels in making the ordinary extraordinary.