A perspective on camerawork process
A while ago I got “fan mail” from someone regarding my portfolio of “stick pictures,” a body of work that I make in dense, brushy environments. She wanted some insight into my process, and I thought it would be illustrative to share the exchange here.
“Often I find that pictures of this nature look cluttered and pinched, but yours I find to be exceptionally emotive and contemplative. I was wondering about your mental and emotional approach to shooting these images. Do you focus more on the mental, with respect to composition, or is it something that you feel more so than see?”
My response:
“Thanks for the note. The “stick pictures” is where I do my deep work as a photographer. It is internal, it is visceral, and the question of why that sort of landscape is so compelling to me is not the interesting one. I’m grateful that there is such a rich vein for me to mine and that it has stayed so compelling for so many years.
“Though I’m sure it would be hugely valuable, I don’t meditate, I don’t do yoga, and I don’t have a regular practice to center myself or otherwise quiet the inner voice in my head so that I can pay attention to the moment. I’m actually an anxious fidgeter much of the time, and I’m forgetful and absent minded. Working with the camera, in the landscape, is the closest I get to a meditation practice of any kind, and it probably occupies that role in my life. I do know that, in those complex brushy environments, I am able to let go of the conscious attention to composition and framing and the sense that “now I’m taking a picture.” The pictures find themselves, and I follow. That part of the brain that is a lot smarter than the part that consciously knows what is going on is taking the lead.
“I have, though, been working this way for a couple of decades. The technical part is fluid and unconscious. I also take a lot of bad pictures when I’m out there. A lot of the work is attending to the results of a given shoot, and ferreting out the one shot that exemplifies the coherence of the moment. My method is to post proof prints in a place where I will see them in my peripheral vision for awhile, like my kitchen. Over time I take down the ones that bore me, and I see what survives. It is the spawning salmon method of photography. Most of the roe get eaten. Only a select few grow to adulthood and see the world.”
The link to the portfolio is here. I’ve fixed the code that seemed to keep non-IE users from viewing the page.
Things to See
How to Store Oil Paints
How to Care for Brushes
Frames and Framing
Painting from Life vs. from Photos
How to Blog
Reflections
Reflections inspire much of my work, both in my photography and in my writing. I’m much more intrigued by the subject’s reflection than I am by the subject itself.
Mirrors
My maternal grandmother Luba Abramanova (made Lilly on 1922 Ellis Island) maintained an uncomfortable truce with mirrors and cameras, anything that would reflect her image. Mirrors served an occasionally necessary function and were to be barely tolerated. Shop windows and reflecting pools were easily avoided. Cameras were–in her estimation–nothing more than mirrors that rudely captured a permanent record of the reflection. We’ve all heard stories about primitive tribes and their superstitious notion that cameras can steal the soul. And then of course we have legends of vampires and their inability to even cast a reflection. Jews have no depictions of humans in their art for fear of violating the Ten Commandment’s prohibition against “idolatry”. Narcissus couldn’t free his own gaze from the reflection in the pool and now he lives in flower pots. Medusa, rendered powerless by her own reflection, was easily slain by Perseus. The mirror defeated the Gorgon. Lilly was clearly on to something important.
Other than the customary bathroom cabinet mirror, the only other mirror in Lilly’s home was a huge Venetian smoked glass decorative mirror hanging over her living room couch at an angle rather than flat against the wall. The mirror was unapproachable. Tilting off the wall as it did, it seemed an odd position for such a big and ominous slab of glass and as a child I often wondered when it would come crashing down on the sofa and some foolish shortsighted victim. For that reason, I never sat on the sofa. If all the chairs were taken at a family gathering, I would sit on the floor pretending to be an Indian. Adults would buy that and think it cute.
Occasionally someone would comment on the Venetian mirror’s limited decorative role. Why not hang a painting instead? Between the odd angle, the couch that kept you at a distance from the mirror and the muted lighting in the living room, you really couldn’t see your own reflection in any practical sense. It wasn’t until I was 16 that I realized that the mirror was deliberately angled in that manner so that Lilly could see the dress she was wearing, but not her own face. She had hung the mirror according to her own height so that her reflection was effectively cut off at the head. more… »
Drawings and Studies
Are quick drawings and paintings artworks or just studies? Are they value at all?
A lot of drawings of old masters have an immense value nowadays but looking at contemporary artists drawings, are they such important?
Why don’t contemporary artists exhibit mostly their drawings and experiments, just their final masterpieces?
Scrying – pencil and chalk, quick drawing on paper
Drawing from imagination, pencil on paper
Spiritual, Mixed media on paper
What should Hanneke paint?
Posted by Karl Zipser
Hanneke can’t post today, so I am going to post about her work instead. Here is a detail from a painting. Can you guess what this is?
Hanneke has diverse talents. She makes both still life paintings and paintings like this one. The question is, what should Hanneke focus on? It’s a question we discuss from time to time. Hanneke paints still life because she loves still life. Ironically, still life, which in some ways is marketable, may be standing in the way of her making art that could get her more recognition. Should Hanneke paint “challenging art“, artworks speaking to terrorism, racism and other -isms of our time? Or is humble still life the real challenging art of our time, something which no serious avant-guard collector or dealer would dare to exhibit?
I’d be curious to hear what you think. Terrorism and social ills are not really Hanneke’s thing, but perhaps she should be practical and make less acceptable paintings. What do you say?
And don’t forget to look at the rest of this image… more… »
