what no tofurky?

Since it is a never ending question, Yanksgiving dinner comprised of aubergine parmasan - made by Carol, real cranberry sauce - nothing that slides out of a tin 50's B movie style - sweet potato pie and pumpkin cake made by her mum, and curried butternut, apple soup and a somewhat misshapen B movie mutation ciabatta made by me.

There was no green been casserole.

compare and contrast

I had somewhat planned an extreme ding dong ditch when in The Cities. Since I had finally seen the end of the tunnel with the work while done on the residency in Gros Morne, and was well on my way to making books to hand out to people on the rock mainly as thanks, thought that I would experiment with one that after everything was over with at Kmack’s, I would leave the book hidden only to be found when Coach and I were back on I-94 dodging deer.

It was a last minute idea as I was still editing it and it had yet to be sown the night before, in a fit of hyperactivity I finished it and was ready.

Driving up I was pretty pleased with myself – I still don’t know why this method of delivering work interests me so much – except for the fact that it may the antithesis of the artist mentality. As a so-called artist I am supposed to put my work up and stand back and allow the admiring public to shower me with accolades. It seems to me that the imaging what will happen is more interesting than what actually does so. Ding dong ditch.

After the wine fest, and back in the North-East, seeing the things being offered for the auction, there is was NEW FOUND LAND. While I was planning my book drop there was hers made at the same time of the same period bombing up and down The Great Northern. It was the pic-nic table in the Parks Canada house all over.

Raced out to the machine so that I could show her the coincidence and giving up the extreme ding dong ditch, handed her the book.

Mine was overly precious, large format, black and white, looking like an artist book, hers was more like note taking, colour, made with a camera she took up at the last minute, but more professional it looked professionally published although hand-made and bound by her.

It was funny to recognise the same places at treated differently in the two tomes. Some quite similar Linda’s Place where she was a bit further back than I was. Some while recognisable completely different images.

The talks of officially sanctioning the other’s method of making images – me approaching objects straight on, she preferring the diagonal – we made apparent. Except for Linda’s Place my images were usually further away from the subject than hers were. She was much more willing to experiment – images stitched together. Mine seemed like a series of facts in which the total would make the experience while hers were more going for broke within the particular image. I saw images of hers that I had edited out of mine and she saw the same.

What was elucidating was that both spoke of the underlying humanity of the place and both books seemed optimistic but they came from opposite approaches. I used to think that my snaps had the ambiguity of the sense of people – had they just left or is there an anticipation of their arrival. In comparison with hers though mine were decidedly more about things left. Hers were more first person – her hand in the images – more playful, the seemingly nekkid Hemingway of the Rock on the beach – and there were actual people - George at the Seabreeze. Hers were definitely more surreal in the quotidian. Mine were more ceremonial when dealing with the same. While my thesis was - and is - that while Gros Morne in particular and Newfoundland in general is incredibly beautiful, people live here, comparing the works hers is more "lives" while mine seems to be more past tense. Ironically the titles were just the opposite. Mine was simply JUST BECAUSE.
So here were the results of the month long supper chats and motoring rants. The theoretical made tangible and finally the proof that while having of more or less the same philosophy of life – experiencing it and seeing what happens - and being confronted with the same experiences, still something as mechanical and soulless as photographs still reflect the subtleties of those holding the camera.

colour images are kmack's and copyrighted ©2005-2007

irony

i thought art school would be great as it would be not only an extension but a celebration of these ideals.

hey it's the north-east

I had visions of staying somewhere along University Avenue between Minneapolis and St. Paul as I seemed to have remembered some motels there and it would mean a good wander before heading over to meet the lads (and lass).

Seeing the way that Minneapolis had changed and fearing I would waste time searching and finding nothing, headed to the Interstate off ramps for a place. Even though it was the end of daylight savings time I kept waking up too early but when the sun did finally arrive and I could look out over the endless car-parks that this motel shared with three others and a bowling alley, I wished that I had more time and also wanted to race to the North-east – well after stocking up at the free breakfast.

I didn’t know that I was such a trend setter as I found out that my modus operandi for dropping off snaps and leaving is called ding dong ditch actually did exactly that to a former Beloiter who lives in Northern Minneapolis – it was quite easy am now quite cold blooded and calm about it as no-one seems to ever look out windows.

A great day clear sky most of the warming coming from the sun. but being mid autumn the sun was low enough to have soft shadows. Spied in Kmack’s place and seeing no movement I went for a marl, being drawn to the confusion of shadows and creeping plants on buildings.

Then there were the alleys, alleys with things in them. it seems that the good people of Minneapolis throw out a lot of furniture, I can think of one transplanted Texan now in Colorado who would have had her entire flat decked out. it was a day with the Diana due to the light and a day of things due to – well – things.

I had planned to make ever larger circles centred on Kmack but found that when I got to a place where I should be heading back I saw something just ahead that looked interesting. I was heading north and I didn’t want to cross Broadway.

I ran across a tavern that wasn’t open quite yet – it was 9:50 – but had some ikonic feel to it. Was photographing the façade trying to incorporate the Grain Belt sign when a person turned the corner.

A chat in which I mentioned my fascination for local no taverns – I have also decided to drink locally now – no Smithwicks when I can get a beer brewed within 100 km. He told me that the place opens early for drinks and they have Sliders to eat before the football games in the afternoon. I am told of the taverns that have bit the dust how the North-East is becoming condo-ed and that he doesn’t go to Viking Games.

More photographs, the bar keep comes out but am too slow to photograph her.

-what’s he doing?
Buddy explains
-oh.
Passing I see a sign ____ doesn’t allow firearms in the bar.

More alleys but what I now seem focused on are the corner taverns. Two more while heading back. One more conversation with someone who is waiting for his to open. He also gives me tips on others in the neighbourhood.

He also laments the change in the North-East saying that there is more crime now.

-there was a group of people breaking car windows, Saw them and I hate to say it but three of them were African Americans and onoe wanted to be one.

Again while walking back to her place, wondered why I could make photographs here without straining or even making a effort to head out to photograph when in Peasants Pissoir it is an effort just to head out.

While awaiting the others to get ready, Walker and Coach had walked to the Mississippi, I did a couple of short wanders. Every excuse they gave me led to another short stroll.

Leaving for Lake of the Isles, I saw a living room suite up free in the alley and wanted to head back immediately.

Lunch – brunch was a pheasant salad shot by Kmack’s father – beware of buckshot – be still my vegetarian heart. But the truth is I wanted to get out, the day perfect for making snaps and I wanted to head back to the North-East to get the living room suite.

Kept saying that I was heading back, but waited as the rest of the boys had to tart up for the fundraiser – I was beyond hope travelling lightly – meaning needing space for the cameras and film I tend to bring the minimum in clothing.

While they were changing I was exploring. I zig-zagged north and east passing a bar with the bartender out back staring nervously at the cable guy. Asked if he’d mind if I took some snaps, I was in paranoic Chicago mode where people live frightened, forgetting that away from the land of the f.i.b.s there is humanity and a basic trust.

-be my guest.

Buddy was watching the cable guy because the signal went down during the Vikings Game and there was a near riot.

I was more interested in having some tavern formalism but did photograph him. Did wander far but was thorough without meaning to be. Was now in a area of homeless camps and thinking that they would add to the discarded furniture, wandered around them.

About the time I was thinking about heading back. Buddy sees me photograph and talks about the weather, his house what he does, make a photograph of him then ask if I can photograph his clothes line.

-of course.
-well I don’t like traipsing on people’s property without asking.
-hey this is the North-East.

Mentioned that I was the third photographer this week who had been here and wondered what was going on. Mention my like of real neighbourhoods and visiting friends here as my reason.

He bids me well for the rest of the week-end and I do the same.

The fundraiser was excruciating. It was still light out, I don’t do small talk, and didn’t want to be in the room when people were bidding on the work. of course due to this I had to talk about the work during the live auction.
-what type of boat is it?
-I forgot
-how big is it
-about three metres high
-what do they fish….
I fled back outside.

Of course people bidding got a steal, everyone looks for bargains. Should have just donated cash it would have been cheaper for me and more profitable for her.

The fundraiser over, Coach and I race back as I have to be in a faculty meeting the next day where one of the professional part-time full time faculty couldn’t be bothered to make it.

Mentioned to Walker that with my strange memory, I was sure that when I got back, I would know that I was in Minneapolis but wouldn’t remember any of it and it was true. I was back in the eternal present of the WGAS.

Actually I went to see the Mary Tyler Moore house

The wait for Coach was a problem. It gave me time to think and rethink my decisions for making snaps this week-end. We were heading up to the cities for Kmack’s fundraiser – a quicky outing as both iof us had to be back Monday. The longer I waited the more I saw problems with the camera choices. The evening it was to be only a leiquinha – travel light as the trip was to be a replication of Kerouac and Cassidy but with people of colour.

Then I thought of the rare potential of a landscape or building on the way and thought ditch the leiquinha and take Zequinho – opting for reliability. I went through every camera options – even thinking of the digital point and shoot for this entry – but ended up completely irrationally taking the two of the dodgiest cameras that I have - Joãozão and the diana along with a leiquinha to one up Coach and Walker with their digital leicas and lumixes

It was a good choice.

One day there will be a trip north along U.S. 12 but we had to make time. Stopped in Janesville, stopped again at a Scenic lookout that had a plaque to the passenger pigeon and a policemen’s memorial. One last stop at the frontier town feel of Hudson before crossing over into Minnesota. One last gasp at what makes Wisconsinites the heaviest people in the nation as we spot a table laden with boxes of doughnuts.

Out of the emptiness of north-western Wisconsin and the twenty odd deer carcasses spaced along I-94 and into outlet mall land of eastern Minnesota.

Had wandered through Kmack’s North-east Kingdom the last time I was here and trapped out in Wayzata not knowing it was where she was now living.

Pull up in front of the house only to find no-one home and me wanting to use what is left of the light – hardly anything – to make a few snaps.

Minneapolis had changed, the mill district the last time I was here was still pretty derelict now, it was thriving – people either heading to the Golden Gophers game in the Humphrey Dome or to the Guthrie.

We were eating in one of those places that smack of New York City.
Walker – who had been ringing Coach every half hour to chart our progress – was already there, with the family who were darting off to the Guthrie afterwards. Kmack’s father hops up to great Coach –mistaking him for me – and saying how great it was that we finally meet. The scene looks like a 21st century version of the rat pack, as it seems that I didn’t get the memo about the black sports coat.

It also seems that we got some disdainful looks when the rest of the family left and it was only the four of us and the brat pack turned into an episode of Seinfeld.

Wine wine, wine, doesn’t anyone drink beer? Back at Kmack’s me planning a strategy for the next morning photographing, wine – and red wine - was being poured before there was a chance of the glass being empty. I could feel the headache forming.

Left the lads to their devices and headed to a hotel out in Brooklyn Centre looking forward to being alone and getting a decent night’s sleep. Of course was over optimistic brought two New Yorkers and three week’s worth of the Sunday New York Times Book Review, but spent most of the time at the Baymont Inn trying to get a signal to upload the Blog.

Simply went to sleep.

The equipment malfunction this summer while disheartening, should have been expected. I feel that every time I press the shutter I then hope that nothing has gone wrong with one of he “boys”.

Ubaldo sometimes wants to freeze up on a long shutter speed – had it fixed supposedly when I turned in the lens that froze up at “Aimée and Steven’s” wedding.

IT wasn’t.

Ziquinho seems fine after the repair after the drop at Noelle’s and Tim’s nuptials. It was strange having to give an extra yank on the lens each time I made a snap.

Joãozão with the taped up bellows and having to refocus every time I wind on and now refusing to work in winter has me squimish when I even think about an exposure. It is still my favourite camera, it fits my mentality of annotating perfectly and thus I think is tantamount to me seeing so well on Wednesday.

It goes on but in this period of lethargy on my part, while I haven’t been able to produce, I have at least, fixed the most glaring problems. Bought light baffles for the magazine for Ubirajara, relegated Ubaldo to a back up role and making sure that I develop my film every six rolls so that if there is a mishap it won’t be major.

Contradicting a bit my last entry I do like the fact that I use cameras that predate the digital, that I am not forced to upgrade every two years and that when they do have equipment malfunctions, they are worth fixing – well maybe not Joãozão – and some I can fix myself.

Slow photography movement…sort of

It is finished, well almost there is still a bit of sewing to do. I have finally come to terms with the official snaps that I made toting the Deardorff and the Hobo around Bonne Bay in 2005. The first of the books is made 51 images – 3 haikus. I have two more already going but what six months ago was work that seemed endless – I was having problems editing the mass of negs, printing them to the point I never had the chance to sequence them - now is not only manageable but quite straight forward.

It is all due to giving up my 19th century ways.

When I was on the residency, it was great coming back to the house every evening developing the film and then printing them having rushes sent over to the Discovery Centre and for a time back down here it worked also, it was slow going but I was making progress to the point that I made three trial books of excerpts and while the task looked daunting, I was pleased with the progress. Slow photography movement.

Then something went awry, I couldn’t make a decent platinotype, the skies on the paper were splotchy, but only on the paper I had chosen, switched papers and it wouldn’t lie flat enough to give me a straight edge. Even though I knew that it would lead to failure I tried over and over again wasting materials and money.

Scanning for the show at James Baird >Pouch Cove and seeing the quality of the images that were made, had me twig that if I can get 100x90cm images, I could scan and have excellent 35x17cm ones.

Also because I had to come up with a variation on black and white printing for class in a lab that wasn’t up, I discovered, a rip programme – that I found out later real photography departments already know about – in which I could subtly change the tones of my pigmented archival prints.

Two days scanning a week tweaking another printing and am done – well almost.

This is not to make it sound easy and to fall into that digital cure all trap, the reason the time is so truncated is due to the fact that I could work on them longer during the day and print non stop.

I can – and have heard the howls of derision when I mentioned that while they are not – and I repeat not – platinotypes they work well with my initial idea.

I can hear sharp intakes of breath as people reconcile this with my perceived luddite status.

My initial idea was not to make platinotypes not even to make images where a darkroom wouldn’t be needed but to make a book of the work done while with Parks Canada. I still have the choice of paper that I wanted, I can control the tones better and more subtly and if I did this initially I wouldn’t have had to “spot” the negs in Photoshop to clean up the stains from what was still damp coated paper.

I’d still be in the first phase.

Am I giving up on platinotypes and their ilk? No, I still like the craft and when exact tonal replication from print to print in a series isn’t necessary like the variations.

Do I regret giving up my slow photographer status? Not sure that I have as it takes as long for a print to be churned out the Epson as it does to be exposed, freeing me for other things, and I don’t check my e-mail when printing. The cost of an archival pigmented print is about the same as a platinotype – inkjet paper is expensive.

How would I equip the house on the rock? the way I always said I would. Film for making the negs but scanners and printers for making the snaps.

Cannot wait to tackle book two after Yanksgiving.

Tuesday...

One of those days that are becoming more common with global warming – sunny, mid 20C, clear sky - I know that I should be using this day as even with the trend of the tropics racing to the Arctic Circle a day like this may be rare until spring.

AS the day gets warmer I start to panic. I try to sift through the outings I want to pursue
– The motels along Sheridan Road in Somers – too far and will have to drive.
– Old Skokie Boulevard in Park City where the car dealerships used to be before they moved into Gurnee – same.
– Urban formalism along Roosevelt Road in Kenosha. I keep saying that I should explore the city in fact it isn’t rational why I don’t as it seems to have a lot of what I am looking for with the exception of interesting walks.
– A county park to walk unfocused - which one?
– Head out to the Rock River Valley – if Somers just five miles up the road is too far…

Then I cannot even decide which one of the “boys” to take,

In the end I go to the post office and off to Hobby Lobby to buy book board and console myself by leaving the back door open.

Wednesday
Have to be at Aron Packer Gallery as he has graciously agreed to talk to the class and answer whatever questions they have. I reckon that I’ll give myself an hour for the 20 minute walk. Curse that the back is still too heavy even though I leave the laptop and magazines in my locker – I think this is reason that my knees are in constant pain – dread what would happen if I couldn’t wander.

Joãozão is in the bag although I had been using one of the leiquinhas when in the city and have nothing planned. It has worked made a few snaps this way but am impatient to see what I have made.

A roll taken on the way over and another on the way back via a great diversion to Paper Source for book cloth- which they don’t have – they don’t have much now that they are more of a wedding shop than a paper shop - but Pearl did.

One near miss as I am about to photograph some clothing left ono a construction site. As I am extending Joãzão the person comes and gathers them.

Walk the alleys back to school making more snaps with ease along the way.

Once again I proved to myself that it really doesn’t matter what I have I simply have to get out.

I am equally sure that I will forget this completely on the commute back to Peasants Pissoir and will have to relearn it the next time I head out.