Category Archives: Conversation

On personal work

I had a realization today that it is absolutely not possible for my to shoot enough photos. I was watching a video about Marc Hauser, seeing image after image float by, and I became somewhat overwhelmed by the volume of great images. One after another after another. Some of his work reminded me of Avedon, some of Penn, but mostly I was just fascinated at the breadth of the work. On and on. Between the video and his site, he's just got a ton of work. Granted, he's been shooting for a billion years. Much like a lot of the other photographers I enjoy, their work just comes out of their ears. They seem to always be shooting.

And all that got me thinking, too, about personal work. The above shot is a simple 4x5 shot of bridge here in town. Typical, mundane. I can't decide if it's boring or not. I was compelled to take the shot. The lines were pretty, or whatever. But does that make it interesting? Even if just for me? And if it is interesting to me but no one else, is it any less valid? I don't know. Nothing is really happening in the shot but the structure and lines and light all grab me up and shake me around. But is that enough?

I read a quote the other day by David Alan Harvey that goes like this:

“You must have something to say. You must be brutally honest with yourself about this. Think about history, politics, science, literature, music, film, and anthropology. What effect does one discipline have over another? What makes “man” tick? Today, with everyone being able to easily make technically perfect photographs with a cell phone, you need to be an “author”. It is all about authorship, authorship and authorship.”

This has always been a struggle for me. As long as I've taken photographs, my modus operandi has been to have a camera on me, live life, and react to what is happening around me. Intuition and reflex dictates my photos as much as my thoughts (but they also influence each other simultaneously). This feels like I am not in control, and I haven't figured out if I am. And if I am or not, what am I saying? Is this idea of authorship as specific as I interprut it? Does my "something to say" have to be concrete and explainable? Is the documenting of my life enough? If I have no idea what I'm saying, am I saying something? Am I just too lazy to figure out what it is I'm already saying?

The work I make for myself, whether I end up liking it in the end or not, is fundamentally a reaction to life. My current main portfolio, or whatever you want to call it, was curated by my friend Jared Ragland who has such a keen eye. The grouping of my work he made for this site is far better than I could ever hope to put together. Maybe it's my emotional attachment to the shots or knowing the backstory, but his objectivity let him draw a line between shots I'd never have even considered. This is exciting for me—to have someone else digest my work and spit out something that makes sense to them—but makes me wonder (imagine that) about what this body of work says about me. I get a glimpse into how my work appears to others, as well as getting to see all the interconnections between my life experience that I'd never have seen before. But does this mean someone else is saying something with my work about my work? Where does this leave me?

I guess it all comes down to the idea of not being in control. And perhaps that idea of feeling the need to be in control is rooted in the idea that I use photographs to make my living.

There are two roads in my head when I think about work for money and work for me.
The first is that the work I do professionally should be indistinguishable from the work I do for me. Then I'm a "true" artist or whatever (even thought I hate a lot of about that word/title) and I feel more validated about my personal vision or interpretation of the word. It feeds my ego, I guess, to think that the way I see things has value.
But then there's the second road which is more pragmatic and WAY less idealistic. That road recognizes that you don't sell stuff only with gritty, black and white, sort of weird images. Color sells. Happy emotions sells. Images that can be repurposed sell. Function over form, I guess this road is called. But the same things that make my personal work fulfilling for me aren't totally divorced from me on this second, perhaps. Surely I could employ the same intuition and connection to surroundings and people to create images that really say something, but also serve an important function for industry (which, let's face it, is my main target since I'm not really trying to make a go of being all-artist-all-the-time, right?).

Of course, selecting road two means needing to be in control of other things that are outside of my comfort zone. Business crap is the worst. And my brain does not gravitate toward it. But I digress. Without really answering my own questions.

One place where I see these roads overlap though, is non-profit work. At least to the degree that I can merge serving a purpose and engaging people/life the way I think I do best. But I'll leave that conversation for another post.

I'd love to hear any thoughts on personal work you may have. Or your ideas about the division of business and personal work. Or your weird blend of the two. Anything, really. If you have reaction...I want it.

(Keep shooting!)

Tornado damage and recovery in Alabama


Spider-man in Alberta, Tuscaloosa, Alabama.

Since the last blog post a ton has happened. Not just to/for me, but my state and region. Friends have had babies, shoots have been booked, rescheduled, shot, and delivered. I've seen family for Easter (a good time, if a bit sombre as it is the first holiday without granddad). We have purchased and installed our first bee hive (and immediately fallen in love with each little bee that buzzes in and out). But all this pales in comparison to the tornadoes that torn through the southeast last week.

Amazingly, I know very few people directly around me who lost loved ones or suffered catastrophic damage, which sort of blows my mind given the extent of the damage across Mississippi, Alabama, and Georgia. But quite literally all around me lay piles of former homes and sentimental mementos clumped together in ugly mountains reminding everyone how tenuous all of life is. And also how little things mean, as comforting as they may be. This has been evidenced to me by the huge groups of people, many of whom now standing with nothing to their name, banding together in their loss, reinforcing the community that binds them. Community. That one element of the human existence has absolutely overwhelmed me with hope. Deep in destroyed and debris filled cities I found neighbors with nothing helping those around them. I saw locals fortunate enough to be spared disaster throwing in their hands and foods and goods and money. I met people who drove hours from their homes to be where people needed them.

In the face of one of the worst storms in history, and certainly my life as I remember it, shines the spirit of altruism and support. What seems to be utter demolition immediately turns into hope and rebuilding.

This may seem hokey and a bit idealistic, but it's absolutely true. I saw it and felt it.

The day after the storm, still unsure how to even help anyone, I got a call from Marshall over at Garden & Gun telling me they really wanted to cover the aftermath of the storms. They are a very warm and very southern magazine and their desire to talk about such a major event in the regions history didn't surprise me. They gave me the freedom to go into these communities to try my best to figure out just what in the world one does after such an insane event.

There is a gallery of images at their website from my time photographing. I traveled to Fultondale and Pratt City on Thursday (28th) with the help of Duquette Johnston and to Brookwood, Cottondale, Coaling, Alberta, and Tuscaloosa on Friday (29th).

Below are some of the photos from Garden & Gun and some others that are personally impacting.


Days Inn in Fultondale, Alabama.


The view from the balcony at the Days Inn in Fultondale.


Debris scattered around Pratt City, Alabama.


Pratt City. Willy Johnson overlooks the neighborhood where he grew up, and where is mother's house used to stand. His mother, Dela, survived the storm by being pinned in a stairwell by an oven.


Further damage in Pratt City, Alabama.


Cottondale, Alabama. Bill Lawler, Pastor of a local church describes the damage to his area.


Debris in the Alberta community in Tuscaloosa, Alabama.


Trees in Alberta, Tuscaloosa.


A wider view of the Alberta community


Downtown Tuscaloosa.


Boutwell Auditorium served as a Red Cross donation site and shelter for some of those displaced.

Stephanie on the farm

Stephanie on the farm in February. Direct sun is not a friend to swing-lens panoramic cameras.

On an unrelated note, I photographed a beekeeper this weekend for an editorial story and I'm looking forward to being able to post the images. I have a shot that I feel really good about for the magazine it's running in, and I have a shot I feel really good about for me. I'm wondering why they are different and if they should be[?].

Sometimes I shoot for a goal and sometimes I shoot for me. I'm almost always happier with what I shoot for me, so why do I ever shoot for anything else? I wonder if this is a compromise I should avoid or if it is just acting according to client needs. What do you think?

Old camera love

My love of old cameras only grows as I shoot more. There's something about a hunk of metal made to take an absolute beating and still get up the next day for work. The precision and design and craftsmanship and passion get to me every time. I was at this local antique shop (which had a ton of awesome old photos of dudes with AWESOME mustaches) and saw this old Voigtlander Vitessa I wanted to go back in time to watch someone make this. Fascinating stuff!

And speaking of Voigtlander...I tracked down another old camera I've had my eye on. I've been looking for a pocket camera for a while. For years, I carried around an LC-A so I'd have a camera on me at all times. It fit neatly in my cargo pocket (which, like many photographers, I wear almost all the time—despite knowing they are not stylish) and I could grab a shot any time any place. All the LC-As (and LC-A+'s) I've owned have borked on me in some way and all now hang out together at the fallen soldiers bar and grille (aka my gear drawers).

So in looking for a pocket-cam replacement I considered several things:

  • Relative portability
  • Has an aesthetic appeal*
  • Can produce a quality negative
  • Easy to use

*I mean mostly that the image it creates has qualities I like. ie the Lomo LC-A has a 32mm lens and vignettes in a lovely way.

The portable part is a tricky one. The LC-A weighs almost nothing (at least the new ones anyway. My first one was still old stock and made from metal..how novel) and is a perfect size for a cargo short pocket. But I also carry a small bag some times for books and gadgetry which could also hold a camera that was slim line. That would, of course, require me to have the bag around all the time if I wanted to be able to shoot as readily as I like.

I love the idea of a tiny, medium format camera. I'd get a much larger neg, and it'd hopefully shoot 6x6 (which is to say, square..and I love shooting square). Not to mention my buddy Jon has been gloating about his new Fuji GF670, for which I have lusted since the camera was announced.

The idea of a slim medium format camera also implies, to some degree, a folding camera..which takes care of being visually interesting.

My quest to find this camera started the end of last year with tracking down a fore-father of the GF670, the Voigtlander Perkeo II.

The Pros:

  • Fairly small
  • Sturdy, metal body
  • Folding camera
  • MF & Square format
  • ƒ3.5 is pretty quick for this kind of camera

The Cons:

  • Sturdy, heavy, metal body
  • No rangefinder
  • Pain in the ass to load

The upside is that it's square and fairly small and could very likely survive a ride in a pocket.

The downside is it's just a bit too heavy to ride in my pocket without it being a little awkward which means it'd really live in the bag. The biggest con is that, in my haste, I didn't realize that this is sans rangefinder. I could get one to fit into the cold-shoe but it would STILL be uncoupled. Uncoupled ranger finding is a bit of a pain, at least given the "quick dude take a picture" nature I have in mind for this camera. You use the RF to see how far away something is, then take that number (say, 9 meters) and turn your focus ring to the 9m mark. Just an extra step that slows me down. Granted, the LC-A is also guess-the-distance, but I've focused it so many times I don't even think about it any more. I imagine I'd get used to this system too (I'd just guess, and not spend more money to get an uncoupled ranger finder) but I think it will ultimately lose the fight.

Still, it's super fun to experiment with new gear. Not only does it broaden my knowledge of cameras (using, loading, history, etc) but it teaches me even more about the way I shoot. Figuring stuff out about different cameras only helps to know what I do and don't like when shooting which can't help but inform me about the method I use when shooting (which I don't always really understand).

Here are a couple of shots from the Voigtlander Perkeo II. Pardon the dust/color.

World AIDS Day

Today is World AIDS Day and I thought I'd give a couple of shout-outs to people helping out.

A wonderful friend called Sarah Koch is a co-founder of an organization known as Development In Gardening which has a simple, Genius goal. They go into developing nations, find people groups affected by HIV/AIDS (or groups otherwise at risk), and teach them to garden. It's a modern day version of the whole teach-a-man-to-fish thing.

The deal is...these individuals with HIV/AIDS...the better they eat..the more nutrition they get, the better their body can fight the disease. Of course, there is the ironic relationship these particular people have: the good food and doctors they need, they have almost no access to. A ton of places DIG service are remote (REMOTE!) villages where the situation is even more dire. Myths and propaganda and religious pressures keep many of these people either ignorant to real solutions or cause them to be outcast from their community (often times just for HAVING the disease even if it wasn't their fault!).

DIG rolls in with tools, seeds, and a mission. They reach out to communities in need and teach them about the importance of nutrition and teach them how _they_ can help _themselves_ achieve it. They, DIG, empower the community to not only provide for themselves but teach even more people about how tangible a home or community garden can be!

It. Is. So. Simple.

Absolutely brilliant.

And they're just getting better at what they do. Sarah and Steve (the other co-founder) started this lovely project while working in Senegal for the Peace Corps and have now moved on to have projects in 7 countries—Senegal, Uganda, Kenya, Tanzania, Namibia, Dominican Republic, and Nicaragua.

I had the privilege to travel to Uganda a while back (thanks to Simon Cyrene, a local design firm who took on DIG is a client) and meet so many of these lovely, thankful people.

Below are some of the persons DIG is impacting. Don't forget...You can help!


Above: Two Sarahs. One, a co-founder of DIG (right), and the other, DIG volunteer and beneficiary.

Another AIDS-related project I'd like to mention is called CARE For AIDS. I don't know a ton about this organization, but my friend Bob Miller has done some beautiful work for them in their mission to help those in Africa who suffer from AIDS. I've seen a lovely print piece he did with David Blumberg that I'd love to show you (but have no means to off hand) so instead I'll embed a video he also produced for them.

In whatever form it comes, I am happy to see help arriving for these people so in need. I bet there is a way we can all help more, even if we feel removed from a problem so many miles away.

The rewarding nature of some of photography.

Cody, kitted out.

Over time I've found photography to be a cruel, vile beast on one day and an amazingly rewarding job on the next. I try to be involved in the latter as possible (which helps keeps me humble and thrifty).

One way in which photography rewards me personally is on the shoots where you meet someone with an amazing heart and some magnetic charisma that just make you feel good about being alive. That happened to me in December when I went to Smyrna, Tennessee for Regions Bank to photograph an amazing high school senior named Cody who has a unique place on the football team.

You will like Cody. It's a non-negotiable. He will win you over by sheer force of will and you'll be buddies before you have time to think about how nice he is. He's is a tour de force of team spirit for his Smyrna High School football team and was recently honored by them for his outstanding service as a motivational coach. He gives all of himself to his team and his team surprised him recently by making him honorary captain and bringing him out for the coin toss, and even kitting him out in a proper uniform for the occasion. This may not sound out of the ordinary but it stands out here because Cody was born with cerebral palsy. You'd never know it to talk to him.

He's one of those classic cases of someone "overcoming" an obstacle with an indefatigably positivity and passion. Football and friends seem to be his life and he makes life sound Amazing.

Please read more about him at the See The Good blog.