"Reflection in television, July 28th 2009" by Katie West

Greg Turner: Where are you from and what lead you to photography? How did you get your start, so to speak?
Katie West: I’m not sure if you mean where am I from geographically, or artistically, so I suppose I’ll answer both. I’m from a small farming village called Holland Landing. That description makes it sound much more interesting than it is; it’s about 45 minutes outside of Toronto. In Canada. I never took any art classes in high school because for some strange reason I thought I was supposed to take business courses and computer courses. I managed to sneak into the second part of a photography course in grade 11, even though I didn’t have any of the prerequisites. I did that because my friends were in it, and they were always using me as a model, so I thought maybe I’d like to take the pictures too. Also my school had a darkroom and I used to hang out with them in there, always wondering what exactly they were doing. Unfortunately, what they were doing was taught in the first part of the photography course, so I just sort of had to learn by experimenting and making mistakes.

GT: And why writing? It seems photography would be a thankless enough slog, but to add words on top of that?
KW: I always wanted to be a writer, for as long as I can remember. Unfortunately I’m not very good at it, but I really like it, so I keep at it. And I don’t find either photography or writing thankless – quite the opposite. The amount of email I get thanking me for my pictures or my words is often incredible to me. Now, saying that it pays off monetarily? No, not exactly. And I don’t think I’d want to depend on my photography as my sole source of income. I worry that would stress me out and force me to do things I’m not interested in which would make me like it less. I’m not interested in taking pictures of weddings, or babies, and so I don’t want to have to so that I can eat that month. Now, if I could make a living doing what I already do? Amazing. Perfect. And who knows? Maybe one day? Maybe…

GT: You and others have described your work as being “honest” (I happen to agree). What do you suppose this means? What about your process or aesthetic contributes to your work’s honesty?
KW: I think the honesty is my work comes across through my willingness to share many vulnerable moments in my life. I rarely plan a shoot (talking self-portraits here) in advance. The vast majority of my pictures are born of moments when I feel I just have to take a picture. It’s like I get this feeling from inside me that is like a small voice pestering me and then it gets louder and louder and the only way to make it go away is to take a picture. Whoa, that makes me sound crazy, but it’s also true. So the process – of never planning, mostly going on a whim – results in very real and honest portraits I believe. I mean, on the internet, we’re always in control of how much of ourselves we share with an audience; I just tend to share a lot. The honesty also comes through in that though: I share a lot. I have no problems with being who I am online. And I mean, I’m really nerdy and awkward, but that doesn’t bother me and I don’t mind if people know that sort of thing. Aesthetically, the honesty comes across in the use of natural light, the locations of most of my photos (which are usually in my house, or in the places I work, or places I frequent), the lack of elaborate set-up, or costumes or make-up. I’m not saying I never use those things, but those aren’t my more honest photos, you know?

GT: What draws you to self portraits?
KW: I sort of addressed this already, but I can say more. I think mostly two things draw me to self-portraits. The first is what I already mentioned, this compulsion I have to take photos. And this compulsion is usually born out of intense emotions I’m feeling. Often taking pictures, the entire process appeases me in some way, and that can be useful when you’re prone to The Crazy. Even the clean-up after I shoot – moving furniture back, putting lights ad camera away – feels very satisfying in my gut for some reason. And the second thing that draws me to self-portraits is having this immense photographic and written diary of my life. I really like history – visiting cities with me is horrible if you don’t like history because all I want to do is museums! and historical places! and oh! That’s the chair George Washington sat in! – and also really like the idea of the personal history. I love going to my grandparents and looking through all their old photos and newspaper clippings and just…old stuff. In addition to the historical aspect that I’d like to have someday to look back on, I also like getting glimpses into other people’s minds. I like reading other people’s diaries, I like going through their rooms, I like figuring people out. I like seeing the things that people usually hide. So I guess I like to offer that closeness to people, that look inside my mind, that open diary for people to find. I think that sort of thing is interesting, and I’d like to do something interesting, right? So yeah, basically craziness and creepiness draws me to self-portraits. Ha!

GT: You currently live in Toronto, correct?  How do you think where you’re from and where you live now affects your work? Is there a particular aesthetic found in Toronto not found other places?
KW: I do not like Toronto. Of all the cities I’ve ever lived, or visited, it’s my least favourite. And I lived in Windsor! It’s not a friendly city. It’s a city obsessed with trying to be New York, and liking to think it is the Canadian New York, but there can’t be another New York, there can’t even be anything that comes close. Toronto is a city that just seems confused about who it is, where it’s going, where it came from even. One of my favourite cities is Philadelphia, and compared to Philly, Toronto is just, I don’t know, it lacks character. I’m not saying there’s no redeeming qualities about the city; the diversity of Toronto is unlike anything I’ve experience before. Forty-nine percent of the people who live in Toronto were not born in Canada, this results in a very rich multiculturalism that doesn’t exist anywhere else because in Toronto, you don’t need to learn to speak English. Toronto is still a Canadian city despite its wanting so badly to escape it. So if you don’t speak English, the Torontonian you’re attempting to communicate with will feel bad and apologetic that they don’t speak your language, albeit in their best impression of an unfriendly American. (It’s bizarre I know, because Americans are not unfriendly, but Canadians think they are. But! The rest of Canada outside Toronto is too polite and too apologetic; no wonder we never actually separated ourselves from Britain and the Queen’s head is on our coins.) But this amazing tapestry of people in Toronto means really great, diverse food options, easily accessible exploration of other cultures and some sort of cultural festival almost every weekend, especially in the summer. Often I wonder if I would move to the States if I could (which I can’t). But I love Canada. As much as Toronto is not the city for me, and as much as I believe there isn’t a city in Canada for me, I love being Canadian. I love being polite and apologetic and kind. I like my accent and how I say eh. I love the expansiveness of Canada, the extremities of our climate and terrain. I love our healthcare and our gun laws.

Wait.

What was the question? Oh yeah. So, where I am certainly affects my work, which is why I don’t mind moving, and why I like to visit new places. I’m very moved by locations, as I quite dislike studio shoots. I like to go places and take photos. The first thing I notice when I walk into an interesting space is where the security cameras are. Know what I mean?

GT: Finally, if you were going to show a single episode of STNG to someone to win them to the show, which episode would it be?
KW: Once, a bunch of people I know got together and formed the Council of Trek, in which we had very intense discussions about what would be the 10 episodes we would say were the best; that highlighted the shows strengths as well as demonstrated its range. (Though the list also kept in mind things such as “Riker’s beard”, “android banging” and “Wesley”.) The best episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation is, arguably of course, “Chain of Command.” But a good starting point, though still maintaining the quality of “Chain of Command,” would be “Encounter at Farpoint.” And then “The Inner Light.” And I could go on, but you said a single episode and I’ve already mentioned three.

"Untitled (53 and counting)" by Katie West

I can’t remember when I first stumbled on Katie West’s work. I’m sure it was via Flickr, but now I’m not sure how I would have found it. Glad I did? You bet.  I didn’t know what to expect when I asked Katie to be interviewed. Maybe I expected the artist to be as tough as her work. She is, in a way, but she’s also generous and kind and clearly passionate about what she does.

“The Inner Light” happens to be my favorite.

"50 Year Tree Section Illustration" by Brian Everett

Greg Turner: Can you explain  the path you took to get where you are now?
Brian Everett: That is a good question. Looking back now, I would have to say there is a clear path; though I would not have thought so before you asked me that. As far back as I can remember I always drew things. My mother would spend time teaching me how to draw, and I’m not talking about stick figures or coloring with crayons. I can even vividly remember her teaching me how to draw three dimensional objects with proper shading. That definitely had a big impact on me. The outdoors certainly captured my attention as well, and I spent all day everyday outside. I would also spend a lot of time investigating how things around me worked. Taking apart electronics, and borrowing parts to build other things. I kept a large box of various parts and motors under my bed. I even fixed a boat trolling motor once that had been damaged, which my father gave to a friend who used it for another 8 years afterward. Probably the biggest role in where I am today, was high school art class. I loved every single different medium, and was decent in them all. But drawing was always my strong suit. It wasn’t until my senior year of art class that I found out about Industrial Design. My art teacher told me to look into it when I scouted for colleges. Off to college I went, but initially started in a major of Forestry (I told you I loved the outdoors). After one semester I switched to Industrial Design and stuck with it. I’ve now been in the Industrial Design field for almost 7 years, so it looks like my Art teacher was spot on.

I am really doubtful I might be farther along in my career or be better at what I do, if I lived in Chicago or NYC for example. Brooklyn, NY is pretty much the center of the country right now in terms of design and the things being cranked out. It seems to be a hot bed. But honestly, if I were there and being surrounded by people everyday that had a similar path as me, I would be annoyed. I am sure they see it as inspiration, and maybe it motivates them. For me, I look at things in completely the opposite. I want a good challenge, knowing it might be a little more difficult for me to make a name for myself being in the center of the country. But it really isn’t even that. It is more so the belief I have always had, which is you can be anything you want to be, from anywhere you want. Especially with the technologies today, there is no reason this should not be true.

However, with Industrial Design sometimes it is different. There I draw a lot of ideas from brainstorming sessions with other people. Which is basically a time you set aside, to think of ideas and expound on them. That is one of my favorite parts of ID without a doubt. Just tossing ideas back and forth, and even some crazy ones. Thinking completely freely. I try not to look at too much of other peoples work, but that is pretty difficult to do when you are surrounded by it. And that is ironic considering I run a blog that shows other people’s work all the time. There is a quote I posted on the blog quite a while ago that has stuck with me. It was from the artist Robert Rauchenberg: “Anything you do will be an abuse of somebody else’s aesthetics. I think you’re born an artist or not. I couldn’t have learned it, and I hope I never do because knowing more only encourages your limitations.”

GT: What keeps you going?
BE: Honestly, the biggest thing keeping me going lately is to one day work for myself and own a design business. But it is a slow process getting to that. I’m a non traditional, risky and adventurous person, but I’m not risky enough to just drop a good paying job and get a $300,000 small business loan either. Probably because I’m at a different stage in my life, where I cannot take on that sort of personal risk. I won’t bore people with the details of why. So I am slowly building and working towards my own business.

Beyond that, most of the time I find it extremely challenging to want to continue in my current career. I’ve never been a follower, and don’t take directions from others very well. And I do not work well with close minded people, which is often what you find when you work in-house for a company. My mind is always racing at 100 miles an hour with ideas. And right now, I’m trying to channel as much of those thoughts through EVRT Studio when I can, but without taking over my entire personal life. It is very challenging.

Patterned City by Brian Everett

It’s weird having a mid-west doppleganger. Still, I can’t imagine better luck than finding mine is Brian Everett. He’s a good designer, a good photographer, and good people to boot. I long ago vowed not to visit Kansas again, but now I find I just might have to go back on my word.

sleeping stranger with tie by Tanya Dakin

Greg Turner: The basics: How did you get into modeling? Photography?
Tanya Dakin: I have been doing self portraits since about 12 years old,
and my mother has always made me pose for fashion shots at home. I did not start to actively model for others until I was about 32, 2002.  I started shooting my own images around 1984 and have become ultimately committed to it since 2001.

G: Of your photography work, your “sleeping strangers” series is probably my favorite. How did you start this project and what about it appeals to you?
T: I started the Sleeping Strangers project by accident. 2007 to be exact. I saw a man half asleep at Madison Square Gardens at the News stand. The excitement of shooting the image before the subject opens their eyes was a rush that i have never felt. Almost like shoplifting with less consequences

Since I had been traveling often for modeling, it gave me the opportunity to see a lot of people in transit that are tired enough to slip into a public nap. I will eventually have a book after I collect enough to edit from.

G: What makes for a good relationship between model and photographer? What are some of the things you try to do as a model to make for a good photography session?
T: Be courteous, friendly and professional; don’t let your ego extend past your talents. Give back images in a timely fashion. Be willing to collaborate, and exchange ideas.

I usually do my own styling and my own concepts, and give ideas of lighting and angles that I envision. This usually makes it super easy on the photographer, and very rarely does it not produce great images.

G: How do you think modeling has influenced your photography?
T: Actually I think Photography is a bigger influence on my modeling. I know what makes for a great image, and this helps me at the concept and styling process, the rest is just role playing. Becoming the character, or bringing a
mood to the frame, always find the light, know your angles and be aware of your body parts, and having grace and confidence, is my main components for modeling.

G: I did want to ask one more question of you, and it has to do with equipment. I know from your Flickr stream that shoot most of your own material with a Fuji FinePix F30. How do you think equipment affects your ability to take compelling photos and what might you say to those people who feel they can’t be photographers until they have their first Hasselblad or Canon Mark III?
T: I have seen people with exact same camera as me shoot not so great pictures. It’s defiantly not the equipment that gives one the capabilities of a great image. It’s the user. Having knowledge of how to get a great photo helps with any camera. but i have had photographers shoot 35 MM plastic camera point and shoot with no controls and have gotten glorious images.

Lately I am shooting with photographers that are shooting with very low end equipment and getting very satisfying results.

The Fuji Finepix’s opticals are fantastic, and aside from it not shooting in RAW, It does a lovely job. I recently spoke at a photo class and gave a presentation on self ports, and I made a point of letting the students know that my equipment is very minimal. It’s important in this economy to know you can get a satisfying image with out breaking the bank. And that all you really need is a good eye and understanding or love for photography.

"LA Lolita - self portrait" by Tanya Dakin

Tanya continues to be one of my favorite Flickr contacts.  The few times we’ve emailed (mostly about food), I’ve been surprised by her honesty and comforted by how well she seems to know herself.  Because of this candor, this confidence, I imagine she would be a nothing but a joy to work with, on either side of the camera.

White Sands National Monument, New Mexico. (Or the moon?) by ck/ck

Greg: So first, what’s your name, and what are some places you’ve lived?
Claes: My name is Claes, and I’m from Sweden. I grew up in a town called Sundsvall (pop. 90,000), and lived there most of my life so far before moving to Karlskrona, which is at the very south of Sweden. There I attended school, which sent me on an internship to New York City last summer through this spring, where I lived for nine months until this road trip started at the end of April. Currently I’m living out of a suitcase and a car.

G: How did you get involved in photography?
C: I only got into photography in December  2006 when I had to replace a broken digital camera (a tiny, fully automatic Sony), and for reasons I really don’t know or remember, I made a conscious decision to buy a compact camera that offered more than auto modes. I got a Canon Powershot A710 IS that had manual modes, quite a zoom, macro, etc. Flash forward four months, I was completely in love with photography. Like truly and madly. I had used this compact camera to do every type of photography imaginable, and I felt I was ready for a DSLR. So I went from not interested at all to obsessed within just a few months. The rest is history.

G: What made you wish to travel across America and photograph it?
C: I’ve always wanted to go on a road trip across America for as long as I can remember. I think the seed of going on a road trip comes from traveling across Europe with my family and our caravan as a kid; that travel-by-car bug got me early. It really is the only way to really see the world. Fast forward to the present, I’m living in New York and I have my final project for my school coming up post-internship, and it just seemed like the perfect timing (and maybe the last chance), not only to go on the road trip that I always wanted to go on, but do it with my camera in hand and be able to do it as a school project. So it’s been a trip that has fulfilled many things.

G: I think it’s interesting you traveled when you were young.  I don’t think people normally associate the road trip with Europe. I think of it as something very American.
C: Europeans travel a lot within the continent, but maybe not always as a road trip where you keep moving throughout the whole journey. The road trips I was on when I were young was basically a week of driving down to Italy, where we would stay put for a month, then a week’s drive back.

G: In your photographs on this trip, you have taken such perfect shots of America.  One of my favorites is the picnic table at White Sands. How does being from another culture affect your ability to capture a place?  How do you see things and capture things in America that you might not elsewhere? Do you think you would be able to make the same kinds of photographs of Sweden?  I ask because I’m becoming more interested in photography and place.
C: Actually, I feel that I hadn’t found my photographic “voice” until I moved to New York City, so I actually have no idea how I’ll fare back in Sweden. I think I’ll do just fine, I think the things that interest me as a photographer can be found in any country or culture, but I do also agree that coming from a different background helps you look at things a little differently than someone who grew up there would. It’s just looking at things with a fresh pair of eyes. If you’ve been looking at it all your life, you stopped really looking a long time ago.

For example, when I think of Sweden, while it’s beautiful and is a very good country to live in, to me it’s sort of bland and familiar, whereas someone from another country might see the same things and be amazed. It wasn’t until I got really interested in photography that I actually walked around my hometown and really looked at what’s there. It was quite a revelation.

Astoria, Oregon. by ck/ck

"Benjamin" by Megan McIsaac

You may know Megan McIsaac’s work from Flickr, or you might have the good fortune to live in the Pacific Northwest and know Megan personally. I’ve been a fan for a while and totally stole the “making photographs” idea from her. Then I asked her some questions:

Greg: Where are some of the places you’ve lived?
Megan: i suppose technically i have only lived in michigan, near detroit, and now portland, oregon. i have travelled to most states out east and in the midwest and have spent time in mexico and a lot of time in ontario, canada. i will most likely be living in oregon until october of this year and then depending on how much money i have saved, i would like to go further south and explore california and even texas, and then early next year i plan on taking off to europe, most likely france, to live for as long as i can!

G: how did you arrive at photography?
M: my grandfather was and still is a great photographer, he is the one held responsible for my passion in making photographs. our family, the mcisaacs, have been traveling to canada every summer for over 50 years to meet at this great lodge and when i was five or so, i remember my grandfather handing me his nikon while he was making the traditional family picture and i was fascinated with it. when i was seven years old, he and my father gifted me my first camera, a polaroid, for christmas and i really haven’t put it down since.

G: i love that you say, “make photographs” rather than “take photographs.” when and why did you start saying this?
M: haha! a lot of people have been pointing that out lately. to be honest, i have no clue when i began to say it, as far as i remember i have always referred to it as “making” photographs, it makes more sense in my mind. i don’t feel as though i am taking anything and that is not my objective. i suppose the most simple way i can describe it is that i am out to make and show moments, show my perspective through my photographs, not take someone else’s life or take other moments or anything of the sort. i am simply making memories, both personally and for others.

"february 13" by Megan McIsaac

I want to thank Megan for taking the time to answer, and point you all to her prints currently for sale. I hear, if you buy a print, you get extra stuff, like gum.  Who doesn’t like gum?

Go. Look.

We are all photographers

I hear this sentiment frequently. “Now with digital, everyone thinks they’re a photographer”. And the more defensive, “owning an expensive canon or nikon doesnt make you a photographer”. But if I remember correctly, nearly everyone in the country has owned a camera since the 1970’s. That’s the reason you can pick up a Canon AE-1, that would have cost several hundred dollars in 1976, at the thrift store today for $40. Digital cameras have not popularized photography in the last ten years. duh. Not to mention, that mind-set is completely psuedo-elitist. Everyone who takes photos IS a photographer and taking photographs has been a staple of american society and culture for decades. Who cares who calls themselves a photographer, what settings they use, or how much they spent on a camera. Worry more about YOUR pictures if it’s something you like and/or want to take seriously.

f/8 -Keith

Not too long ago, there was a brief and interesting dust-up (maybe? It was kind of car-crashy and I’m still unsure about what went down) over at the Tumb-la-ma-logs between one Keith McArthur and one Brian Everett, and it made me think much about photography as an art form, what it means and about its purpose.

"PCS" by Marie Ince

First, some groundwork: Keith is right in saying that digital cameras have not popularized photography in the last ten years. The Internet has popularized photography over the past ten years. It made it possible for folks like me, whose photos would normally end up in a yellowed photo album in some bookcase or, more probably, in a stack of shoeboxes on the upper-most shelf in the closet, to show and share their photographs with a much broader audience. I also would argue that photo sharing over the internet contributes a great deal to many people becoming better photographers, technically (and perhaps artistically) speaking. It also removed any sense of rarity or preciousness from photographs, one of the main reasons, probably, we’re seeing a resurgence in film as well as digital manipulations that mimic film. There’s another reason, too, which I’ll come to in a moment.

In the 1970’s, while photography wasn’t rare, photographs were. Film was an expense, as were prints. Search through your grandparents’ and parents’ photo shoeboxes and you won’t find one hundred photos from the same birthday party. You won’t find a thousand pictures taken during a week’s vacation at the Grand Canyon. Those kinds of numbers were simply unaffordable. Practice was expensive.

That doesn’t mean there weren’t great photographs produced by amateur photographers, however. In one, made by my mom during a summer trip to Kansas, my sister’s about four or five and chubby cheeked. Her auburn hair is cut in a simple style, nearly pageboy. She sits on an upturned pickle bucket in high grass gone to seed and to the right and out of frame, the sun sets, casting a gold-orange glow on her hair, the grass tops, the fishing rod she holds in her hands. There is no lake visible, no place for fish, and the gold-glow photograph takes on a surreal aspect: a child fishing in grass afire at sunset. Only you can’t see it. It’s in a photo album on a shelf somewhere, I think.

My mom didn’t plan the photograph, and the result was totally unexpected. Beautiful, yes. Magical, yes. But completely unintended.

My point here is two-fold. First, we’re seeing more people consider themselves photographers, either professionally or as a primary hobby, because they produce more good photographs. Previously, when you had to consider whether or not a photograph was worth making, amateur photographers chose to mark those occasions they didn’t want to forget—birthdays, family reunions, weddings and anniversaries (why people don’t make pictures at funerals I’ll never understand, but that’s just me). They were much more concerned with recording the event than with making a compelling shot. Now, however, with development and reproduction costs nearly zero (from memory card to computer to web site), there’s no reason not to make as many photos as possible every time someone pulls out the camera.

Running the numbers
My memory card can hold about 150 photos in RAW format. If I shoot jpeg (heaven forbid) that number jumps to about 300. If I figure I’ll get one good photo out of every ten I shoot, that comes out to 15 good photos every time I fill up the memory card. Does that make me a photographer? Who knows? That number might equate with an accidental shooter—give me and a blind guy the same camera, let us each shoot 150 photos, and we just might come out with the same number of compelling photographs (though right now I’d wager he’d come out with more).

Anyway.

So yes, everyone now is a photographer, capable of producing compelling images, assuming they shoot enough images to begin with and are technically savvy enough to pull the images off their memory card and get those images onto the internet. But it’s not as if the conscious decisions they’re making photo to photo are producing compelling images. Rather, the entry barrier to a good photo has gotten so low, nearly anyone can do it.

Then why don’t we see more good photographs?

Compelling photography
Photography is an interesting art form. Of all art forms, it is the most accessible. As a people we are most familiar with it (see the shoeboxes, above). There is little mysterious about it, assuming we’re talking straight or minimally altered photographs here, and not Photoshopped surreality, which I would place firmly in the collage camp. So what then produces in us the idea that a photograph is compelling? I would say one of three things:

First, the photograph is simply beautiful. Much fashion photography falls into this category. Architectural photography, too, though it often bridges this first category and second. Simply put: the easiest way to claim a compelling photograph is to make a photograph of someone breathtaking.

Vietcong Execution, Saigon, 1968 Photo by Eddie Adam

Second, the photograph places us firmly in a specific place at a moment in history. The most compelling documentary photographers provide this in shot after published shot.We saw it in the famous kiss between nurse and sailor, a moment of execution in Vietnam.  We’re seeing it now in the White House’s Flickr stream. The photos are composed well, technically good, but more importantly, they transport us to a place and time we could never have experienced, and since it’s gone–changed–can never experience again. This, I think, is photography’s widest use and why so many people fail at creating images compelling to others: personal photographs often lack universal appeal because there is no significance to their creation. So your dog can stand on its hind legs. That’s great. Talented dog. Next? And because so many cameras now are so good, the technical superiority of one photo over another is becoming less and less an issue for appeal.

President Barack Obama speaks with a foreign leader in the Oval Office on his first day in office 1/21/09. Official White House Photo by Pete Souza

The third realm of photography is a bit harder to pin down and relies on photography’s ability to transport us, but also on our familiarity with it. And it’s why, I would argue, so many people these days are harkening back to film. There’s something familiar about film. The grain of it, the slight blur. The warm, yellow cast of indoor lighting. It’s familiar to us, almost inherently. Thus, a simple photograph of a middle-aged couple on a faded couch can be incredibly compelling because it stirs in us a wide range of memories and emotions based on our own encounters with the same kind of photograph. We say to ourselves, however unconsciously, this photograph reminds me of…something. Perhaps it’s Aunt Clair and Uncle Dan. Perhaps it’s your mom and dad just before they split. Whatever memory we conjure is bound to have emotion attached to it. It’s almost unavoidable, and the ability to slip from one past to the viewer’s past is what makes so many seemingly simple snapshots so compelling. We feel like we were there because we were. Just not right there, and not right then.

"golden years." by Pat Tobin

This is what I see often in popular photographs and among popular photographers on Flickr and Tumblr–and before you skewer me about the source of my photographs, remember that we’re talking about a wide net: all of us are photographers, so you can keep your rarefied art world arguments for another time, thanks. I see this bridge between moment and memory, a kind of universal fix on a singular idea: the romance of a young girl with balloons, the whimsy of Polaroids clipped to clothesline. The yellow cast and sun flare of staring too long into the sun when we were young and foolhardy and figured our souls invulnerable.

we rumbled rain-slicked streets in a '72 Camaro, looking for races and spoiling for trouble

This is the place I’m trying to go with several series I have in the works. This place of shared memories not exact, but not dissimilar. I work with a digital camera and a car, and I try to exploit the lure of the American highway. I don’t know yet if I’ll be successful, but I do think I have a good idea about intent.

And maybe that should be the criteria in the end. Intent. What do we intend for our photographs, and based on that intent, do they succeed and fly or fail and fall?

Have thoughts you’d like to share?  Please leave a comment, I’d love to hear from all of you.

When I try to think of a paradigm for pursuing elegance through imperfection, the Japanese concept of wabi-sabi comes to mind.

Leonard Koren, in his book Wabi-Sabi for Artists, Designers, Poets & Philosophers, describes the following material qualities of wabi-sabi: asymmetry, asperity, simplicity, modesty, intimacy, and the suggestion of a natural process.

These attributes may seem only to describe the aesthetics of a design. However, the most successful designs infuse these considerations at every stage, from idea to finished product.

The Elegance of Imperfection at A List Apart