Jul 27, 2013 | Blog
Imogen Cunningham once sanswered the question, Which of my photographs is my favorite? with the answer: The one I’m going to take tomorrow. I would add that my favorite photographs are the ones I have not taken, the moments I have missed for any number of reasons. Last weekend I was in a beautiful spot, a place that means a lot to me, with my DSLR and it was the golden hour. That light is my favorite, coupled with a cool breeze off the salt water and long, glowing shadows. My DSLR was dead. I had left the battery charger at home. What did I do? There was nothing to be done. All the photographs I could have taken would have been great. But instead of worrying about it, I sat with my friends, ate dinner, let the breeze and the light settle in around us, appreciated the beauty of the moment. None of it captured. Someone said to me, how could this happen, you are a professional! My answer is this: maybe it happened so I could enjoy the moment, be in it. The need to photograph never leaves me and rarely am I in situations where I can’t make a photograph if I see one. Last weekend made me think about all the photographs I have missed–the ones I remember more clearly than many of the ones I have actually taken: my Grandmother in her 90’s, hair awry looking like Albert Einstein. I was visiting her in the nursing home, the last time I saw her and I was out of film. Dead out. But I will always remember the few hours I spent with her, how she drank from her water-glass carefully and how the light bounced and glowed all around her. Another time, a drive up a valley in Montana, again the golden hour. Camera malfunctioning, trying to get it to work, missing the view, finally giving up on the idea of a photograph. And I will never forget that drive, the river and the mountains, the light a symphony. Another time, a friend playing a concert, beautiful light on stage, and I could not load the film without making too much noise. And there are so many others.
Why is that need so urgent to go after the moment? Technically every photograph is a moment but certainly one can’t capture every one. In the past few years, I have been taking fewer and fewer photographs and want each one to count. This is contrary to my belief as an educator when I tell students, shoot away, the beauty of digital is that we can. You can edit later! Now, this summer in particular, I am rethinking this philosophy. Maybe editing while shooting is better. Maybe being in the moment more and capturing the moment less is better. I know that I can’t do both. Some people can. I can’t. If I am experiencing the moment, I can’t be photographing it. My daughter knows this best: there are very few photographs of her blowing out birthday candles, hitting a home run, opening her presents on Christmas morning. I wanted to experience those times with her, not be behind a camera.
And in the spirit of this rant, I have a confession: I have just never been very good at any kind of “moment” photography. It is why I like long exposure pinhole photography and photographing at night so much. So, I am setting the featured image for this blog post of a photograph that my Grandmother took of her three sons playing baseball. I am sure it was a sweet moment for her. Late in the day (oh the golden hour), work done, an all American moment. She was good at capturing those, so was my father. I know I have inherited the photography gene from them. It has just mutated a bit in me.
Jul 11, 2013 | Blog
I have been asked to post a blog entry about how to use the pinhole camera from the Pinhole Project. The Pinhole Project is completely donation based. No one will be denied a camera due to lack of funds. If you know anyone who would like a camera and can’t afford a donation, please have them contact me.
I have been doing pinhole photography for a long time and the process is so simple that I forget that other people might be confused. There are several things that can make your pinhole exposure successful. First, place your camera securely, so that it won’t move during the long exposure. If you are placing it on wood, fasten the camera with pushpins or staples. The featured photograph shows a camera in the entry way of my building, fastened with pushpins on a bulletin board. It is placed facing due west and will remain there for six months. It is looking through the windows and doors of the entryway which might add some interesting shapes to the image, If you are attaching to a metal, concrete or brick surface, use strapping tape across the tabs. You can’t use too much tape in this situation! If you intend to do a very long exposure, through the rainy season, try to place the camera somewhere out of the weather–under the eaves of a house or on a porch. The cameras are pretty much waterproof and a little water inside of them does not hurt, but it is better to keep them dry. Finally, (and this is a step several people have missed), be sure to remove the pinhole cover completely. The featured photograph shows a camera being exposed with the pinhole cover completely removed. I recommend keeping the cover because before you take the camera down, the cover needs to be replaced. I like to take a photograph with my phone or digital camera of what I think the pinhole is seeing. It is always fun to compare the two shots when the pinhole exposure is complete.
The most important thing to remember: there are no bad pinhole images. You can take an image of anything. But do keep in mind that the cameras are very, very wide angle. They see almost 180 degrees. Thus, something prominent in the foreground always adds visual interest. If you decide to expose the camera indoors, be prepared to leave the camera up for at least a year. The paper used in these cameras love bright lights and are not very sensitive to tungsten type lights. Don’t forget to check on your camera once in a while. They have been mistaken for all kinds of things and in public places they tend to disappear. Sometimes a camera will fall down. No worries, just put it back up. The happy accident can produce a wonderful image. Finally, once you have completed your exposure, return the camera to the the Project and you will become a part of the Archive. For a reloaded camera, just donate again and I will send you another one. Thanks for being a part of the Pinhole Project and participating in the slow photography movement.
Jul 4, 2013 | Blog
I am happy to post this solstice to solstice pinhole image done with two cameras outside my front door. One faced due west, the other due south; they were placed at right angles to each other. I put them up on the winter solstice, which was December 21st and took them down on the evening of the summer solstice, June 21st. They were placed under an overhang, on our little patio, covered from the wind and rain of the Pacific Northwest winter. About mid-April my neighbor put up the umbrella that covers our summer table. It is odd that this large umbrella, which sways in the wind, did not register on either of the images. If you look closely at the left hand image (which faced south) you can see the pinhole camera that is exposing toward the west. You can also see the domed base of the umbrella stand which was moved only once over the six month period. The trails of the sun across the sky are, as always, miraculous. The colors are vibrant and mysterious. The west facing camera, whether it had more heat exposure or not, recorded the some of sun trails as yellow and much more pinks and magentas were recorded as well. I do not understand why these colors are recording on the black and white enlarging paper. The negatives expose directly onto the BW enlarging paper, and are not enhanced in Photoshop after the scan. The colors and the light are perhaps my two most favorite things about this process. That and the fact that these images are made in simple breath mint cans with pinholes hand drilled in brass shim stock. We live in a wonderful age of photography where such a simple image can live in digital media!
Jun 22, 2013 | Blog
The two most important days of the year to me are the winter and summer solstices. Both of them a beginning and an end. Last December, on the Winter Solstice, I placed two pinhole cameras outside my front door, one looking west, one to the south. I had seen the results of many long exposure pinhole images but had never made one myself, never experienced the process of exposing/tending a camera over a six month period. When a friend called last night and told me the moment of the solstice had just happened, that the earth had turned, I took the cameras down and scanned the negatives into the computer. They looked dark and fogged, the tracks of the sun black arcs across the sky. Post processing, and the magic invert button brought the images to life. Exposures that had captured six months of light, the daily life that can’t be seen, were now a surreal display of light and color, a record of a tumultuous time, existing only on the screen, the paper negative ruined by the scanner’s light. Will the next six months look the same? I am putting up two more cameras tomorrow in the same place. I will wait six months and then see. And once again I am grateful for the pinhole camera, the glorious God of the Image, simple and profound, marking the Solstices, capturing time.
Here are my two six month exposures side by side in the same place on my portch.
I don’t post work in progress but am working on the two solstices images, to find a way to print them, to give them the respect they deserve. In the meantime, the featured image for this post is a six month exposure by Amelia Easterbrook, a student of photography. It is the perfect long exposure, a fantasy world, full of light and beauty. In the meantime, be inspired, place your cameras, be patient, let the light form an image over time.
Jun 18, 2013 | Blog
My dear friend of 39 years, Connie Parriott passed away last week after a courageous battle with cancer. She was an inspiration to me, a wonderful artist and a true friend. She was also an amazing cook, creative and spontaneous and could literally feed a crowd with little effort and much imagination. A true foodie, she was willing to try anything, and she loved create new dishes. I will always remember her cooking. One night not too many years ago, she called me and said, “I am making oxtail soup, come on over and try some.” I never found out where she found an oxtail in Seattle and I wasn’t able to get over to her kitchen and try this soup, something I will always regret.
Connie also loved Georgetown, my adopted Seattle neighborhood. She was generous and kind about introducing me to her friends in the Hood. We both agreed that more than any other neighborhood in Seattle, Georgetown felt like home. Her presence in the neighborhood will be sorely missed.
Every year at the artist cooperative where I live and work in Seattle, Connie participated in our Open Studios. Below is an example of a series of paintings she did a few years ago for the Open Studios. She was a humble artist, never seeking recognition, she just painted. In our youth, when we first met, I knew I had met a real artist. I will continue to add posts about her painting and her cooking and her gardening. She was truly gifted in all three of these areas. May you rest in peace, dear Connie, free of pain at last. A hole is left in our lives that can never be filled.
