We aren't coming back just temporarily sharing posts the have been repeatedly requested by chagrined former readers. See the previous post for details and the address of a fresh blog.
Hope you had a great Summer. Lots of photos being posted over on Instagram: kirktuck@instagram
This discussion brings back memories of the time when I was so poor I had to use the community blender to make daiquiris for my fellow students at M.I.T.'s wedding photography program. In which I was a star pupil until I challenged our professor, Mayer Von Troppinhagen about his theory that all photographs have some sort of meaning to someone. Even the images accidentally snapped while placing a camera back into a leather case for transport to a more fertile photographic location.
But Troppinhagen had to admit that I was a stellar student. In fact, many of my classmates clamor to stay in touch with me hoping to glean insight into the basic nature of black and white photographs. Was it Winston Churchill or Disraeli who said that all color photography was Satan's work? One momentarily forgets.
Your French philosopher was on to something though. Something gallery owners around the world were longing to discover. I don't speak much French, although my uncle on the Amos Tuck side of the family translates it roughly as: "The faux philosophy of anchoring art to the market depends on rambling pronouncements in order to fleece the weak of mind." Now, mind you that this is just a "soft" translation. But essentially, after years of studying nonfiction sources of philosophical story telling I believe it to be: "We put labels on lame crap in order to have an easier time selling it to the rubes."
Photographers, he thought, were easy marks because each of them has, knowingly or unknowingly, embarked on a mission to attach some sort of whimsical and fallacious value to every damn image they drag out of their God forsaken cameras. Otherwise they'd understand the futility of their narcissistic self-expression, sit in a warm bath tub and slit their own wrists. But not before at least meeting the FedEx driver today (one last time?) to see what might have come in order to save their "careers" at the last moment…
So, what is the current practice amongst "art" photographers? First, one must spend time on the analyst's couch in order to ferret out whatever personality defect they would like to bring to the fore and have a hope to monetize. This self-directed epiphany is followed by months, and sometimes years of preparation. Many treatises are read concerning the transmutation of candle sticks into penises, Jello moulds into representations of indecision, skyscrapers into stolid defenses of traditional beauty. A woman's back into a viola. Or was it a cello?
Then comes a period of finding just the right tools to satisfy the indescribable demands of the physical undertaking of making the well-considered photo. The camera must be simple to use and yet provide an enhanced friction when in use; which the artist must overcome to do his/her work. Too many buttons and features imperil the thought process while an insufficiency of controls and parameters hobble even the most sincere pursuits. Equally, the lens selected must have certain qualities. It must have a "magical" glow which can never be explained by physics. It must, at the same time, be highly corrected against any optical imperfections. It must be handmade by a German or an aesthete from the mountains of Japan.
(There is some confusion about the impact of modernism in the form of aspherical elements and rare earth elements being used in the optical construction of the chosen lens. Too much reliance on science robs the out of focus areas of their authenticity while too little correction results in missing the rigid targets exemplified by the idea often postulated as: sharp, even wide open! And please, don't blame the exclamation point on your author as it is generally added to every description of lens performance in western culture).
The search for the tools which most convincingly match the pathos derived from the initial psychological inquiry and the satori of self-discovery can take months or years to divine and generally require much trial and error. Rending of clothing. Draining of financial resources and a profound loss of friendships and close relationships. But one reminds oneself about the nobility of the pursuit and the ingrained idea that making the successful image; one that just guts you like a deer in Texas hunting season, is worth hurdling any obstacle. Be it mental, social, physical or divine.
Once the perfect – holy? -- gear is acquired and vetted the artist begins the elastic process of making those tools bend to his/her preconceived, previsualized inspiration. Again, a process encumbered by all manner of doubts, sweat, tears and even potentially credit card fraud and an addiction to Diet Coke.
Finally, the artist fully pre-visualizes his perfect creation and sallies forth to joust with the demons of doubt, and the vagueness of the weather, to make his opus magnum. He has pre-visualized an image of a lawn sprinkler of a certain kind, spinning and bobbing in a vast desert with puffy and oh so dramatic clouds skating through jet black skies while the scene itself is rendered in actinic daylight. Cue harsh shadows and strong backlighting. Now the artist must search for the exact location and angle from which to approach creation. He is driven by his knowledge that the sharing of the resulting photograph will puncture the chaos in most peoples' minds and bring balance to the force which is fine art.
In the end he/she finds a rotary sprinkler with a weak spray wobbling in the yard of a neighbor. There is no vast swath of brightly described sand; only dead brown grass interspersed with cracked dry soil and a few scattered cigarette butts... and some dog poop. But didn't one of the artist's heroes, Irving Penn, conceive of a universe in the minutia of just a few cigarette butts writ large and immortalized in platinum?
The artist, driven by the desire to create something with extreme cultural stickiness circles the scene as would a wary predator. Lunging and retreating. Lunging and retreating. Frame after frame. Until, finally spent, and with the last whispers of light abandoning him like a virus leaving a battered host, the artist decides that he has succeeded --- for now --- and he begins his perilous journey of self-discovery through what is now called post production but which we will call final realization. Actuendum.
Potentially, this process can go on for a long, long time. Current photographic philosophy holds that only the physical print has agency. Only the print has the gravitas to encompass the TRUTH that the final image demands. All other permutations are way stations like the descending circles of purgatory.
In this process there is much handwringing. New papers are auditioned. New printers mulled over. Perhaps a return to the traditional "wet" darkroom --- which requires its own period of inquiry and doubts faced.
Finally, the absolute perfect print is made and prepared to be unleashed upon the world and, on any given Tuesday, Saturday or random Monday the artist hangs the print and waits for the accolades and recognition to pummel him like a tropical down pouring of rain. And the print hangs on the wall in his study. And his last two remaining friends come by and one of them stops in front of the print for several seconds and says, "That sprinkler shot would look a hell of a lot better in color. You know that, right?"
Confidence unshaken, the artist decides that his work needs and deserves a much wider audience and since his uncle, a professor at a prestigious university, helped to invent the internet before going bankrupt, the artist decides that a universal audience awaits his ultimate presentation. On the internet.
Removing the double weight, selenium toned, archivally washed fiber print from its imposing titanium frame and its luxurious twelve layer over matte he/she carefully places it on a copy stand. After months of research he returns with the perfect copy camera and makes a series of images using the latest multiple shot techniques and proudly creates a 10 Terabyte image of the wobbling lawn sprinkler surrounded by dead grass and dried earth. Which he then struggles to "map" to the web. Only to find that .... it must be....resized. Eventually he/she is able to put the image on Instagram and that program reduces it even more. But the power of the image, the artist is convinced, truly remains as potent as ever. A slam into the guts of the audience from the top rope of the ring. Just like wrestling on TV.
At the end of the year a handful of people have glanced, in passing, at the image online but in the mind of the artist hope springs eternal because, in the ensuing year he has created a manifesto carefully outlining the actual meaning behind the mundanity of the image. Its a whimsical and searing "jackpot" of allegory.
He is invited to lecture about his photograph on a Zoom call with a group of like-minded artists who spend most of their time measuring how many Ansels can dance on the aperture ring of an enlarging lens. They fawn over the artist's ability to encapsulate all the pain and terror of modern romance in one dramatic image. But one member dissents (!) and insists that the image needs more contrast to fulfill its role as a stand in for individual, human isolation.
Another argues that less contrast would make the image more accessible and accent the underlying hope that gravity in all of its earthly forms will continue. A third member of the group, still in flannel pajamas insists that it's Edward Steichen all over again, and then hesitates and looks at the collage of faces on his computer screen to make sure they all get his historical reference. A fight about the nature of contrast versus meaning ensues and the Zoom conference fades away.
Five hundred years later the print made by the artist is resurrected by a group of enlightened psychiatrists who decide that this image and all of its baggage are the perfect representation of sociopathic narcissism which ran rampant in wealthy countries in the 21st century. They place the image next to several by William Eggleston and close out the Wiki page on aberrant thoughts about art from five centuries earlier. This leads one of the psychiatrists to muse: "People of that period sure loved a bogus rationale for self-indulgently wasting their time... didn't they?"
It's been a fun ride. Most people are nice. I've poured a ton of time into the Visual Science Lab blog (6,000 posts and 92,000,000 "reads") and "met" a lot of really bright and interesting people. I am effectively retiring from blogging. And from moderating comments.
You can always see more of my pix at Instagram: @Instagram.com/kirktuck
I just read that Kinky Friedman passed away. He was a legendary Texan. A performer, musician, political candidate and a writer of detective novels. I photographed him years ago for a magazine and we had a wild evening that started with a dinner at a Tex-Mex restaurant (he ordered extra serrano peppers for his enchiladas along with a fried egg on top). Then we headed to my studio for the portrait session. I told him smoking wasn't allowed in our building and he replied that I didn't need to smoke if I didn't want to as he calmly lit up a big cigar. But funny? Hilarious! With a keen edge. I'm sadder knowing he's not around. So happy I got to work with him. He'll be missed.
After a very wet Spring things are warming up. That means it's past time to get acclimated to the Texas heat ahead of what's projected to be a miserably hot Summer. My "to-do" list for Summer prep is growing. Since I bought a new car I now have to have the windows tinted with high grade, ceramic film. I don't care whether or not people can see into the car but I do want to block as much UV and IR as I possibly can. Little known factoid, most skin cancers on people's arms are on the left arm and there is a correlation between left arm skin cancer and non-tinted car windows. In my experience a good tint application can also reduce the interior temperature of a parked car by 10-15 degrees. And blocking UV is a good way to prevent fading and cracked interior surfaces.
After the car gets its window spa treatment the next thing on the list is to check in with our home air conditioning. Cleaning the coils, making sure the drip trays are functioning properly and that the condensate line is clean and clear. I change the AC filters once a month in the Summer and I've already purchased a case of new filters.
Next up it's time to check in on the current research re: sunscreen. And, a quick search of our hat inventory shows us to be....well covered. A Texas reminder: don't forget to sunscreen your toes if you are going out walking in your Birkenstock sandals....
I just finished packing for Monday's shoot. All the lights and camera gear packed down into one rolling Think Tank case. It includes: One Leica SL2 with 24-90mm lens. One Leica Q2 as a back-up camera. Two Godox V1 flashes with accessories. Two Godox V860iii flashes filled with Eneloop batteries. Extra batteries. A flash meter and extra camera batteries. So many batteries. Anyway, it all fits into one case and the case has wheels. I am thrilled.
In the stand bag I've got four of the Manfrotto Nano Pro light stands, two 45 inch umbrellas and one 60 inch umbrella. Also, a Sirui N-2004KX tripod with a ball head. That's the total package. I won't even need a cart.
It's Saturday and we had a great swim workout this morning with one of my favorite coaches. I'm starting to sound like a broken record but we logged a bit over 3,000 yards and swam well. Post swim coffee with my two favorite lane mates and then, a bit later, out to lunch with B. Just now finishing up packing and getting ready to walk through the city with a camera. Most likely the M240 in black, matched up with a 40mm f 1.4 Voigtlander lens.
On Tuesday morning last week I left the house with a Q2 and a desire to get a good, long walk in. I decided not to head downtown but instead to go to the hike-and-bike trail and cruise through the five mile loop. It's always refreshing to walk around a body of water. Combined with my regular walking during the day I logged just short of 20K steps. Enough to keep me young and more than enough, when combined with swim practice, to ensure a solid eight hours of sleep over night.
Last night I finished reading an interesting book about making art. It's entitled: "The Creative Act: A Way of Being" by Rick Rubin. It was interesting, bordering on good, but a bit obvious. Still, any time you can reinforce your own ideas, or you are pushed to consider things in a different way, a book is worthwhile.
I know this will sound silly but since I've been using LEDs as my main light sources for the last few years I felt a bit rusty about going back, full bore, to using small, battery operated flashes controlled from behind the camera. I pulled my first book, Minimalist Lighting: Professional Techniques for Location Photography, off the shelf and re-read it. Mostly the parts that covered the nuts and bolts of lighting; not so much the rationale or history of. All of the gear is dated (the book was written in 2008) but the basic information is still useful. I actually enjoyed taking a stroll down memory lane...
So, here's what I photographed on Tuesday. Then I had lunch. Then I bought a car. It was, altogether, a fun day. New cars can be very fun to drive and smell very nice.
I'm always looking for signs that I've changed my relationship with commercial photography. One of the things that's been a constant for years and years in my working life has been the "need" to have an SUV style automobile for the business. We spent many years/decades stuffing big lights, big stands and lots of support gear into the gaping maws of Suburbans, Honda CRVs, Honda Elements, and two Subaru Foresters in a row. The litmus test for a new car purchase was always to take the empty box that once held a long, nine foot roll of seamless background paper along with me for my test drives and general car shopping adventures. Would it fit into the car in such a way as to be able to go all the way to the passenger footwell and still be able to cleanly close the rear hatchback? If "yes" then proceed. If "no" then pass on that vehicle. Function dictated form.
It was even worse in the "analog" era when lights were bigger and heavier and more assistants were required on location jobs to make everything work. Those were the days when most Texas-based photographers had Chevy Suburbans or Ford Explorers of various ages... And gas was much cheaper. We'd pull up to a job site and unload and unload and unload...
Since Covid, and since my kid launched and no longer needs to occupy the backseat of one of my SUVs, I've mostly been driving around with a lot of unused space inside my vehicles. Most weeks I feel like the chauffeur just for my swim gear. I bought a new Subaru Forester back in 2021. I got it at a bargain price; all things considered. It was a great vehicle which never failed me and never needed repairs. But it followed all the other smaller SUVs in that the model I selected was built as a pragmatic, economy choice of transportation, and portage. Safe? Sure. Economical? Absolutely!!! A blast to drive? Not likely by nearly anyone's standards. But at least they all had air conditioning...
I've been looking around the last week or so like a car adulterer scoping out new talent. The neighbor across the street has a kiddo going off to college. They originally bought him a used Subaru BRZ sports car which the kid and his knowledgeable dad completed overhauled and machined into a "like new" performance car. But the drive back and forth to college is about eight hours on crowds highways. They decided their precious child would be better protected in a bigger vehicle. I looked over their BRZ and lusted after it but, in direct contrast to another blogger's oft proclaimed lust for cars with manual transmissions, that was the deal killer for me. I know myself very well. Sometimes I drive with coffee. The coffee is in a cup. The cup is generally in my left hand ready for immediate applications. If I had to shift gears constantly (the BRZs are nearly all six speed manuals) I'd have to have my hands off the steering wheel for....well....too much time to safely operate the vehicle. I passed on what was otherwise a good deal on a fun car.
But the short term experience sunk the hook of car lust and I started thinking less like a photographer constrained to hauling half the inventory of a camera store around town and started thinking more like someone who would really like to enjoy driving a bit more than I have for the past twenty odd years.
Over the last two years the jobs I've accepted are more in line with the Minimal Lighting/Minimal Gear philosophy I wrote about in my first book = Minimalist Lighting: Professional Techniques for Location Photography. To wit; lighten the load and enjoy the work more. I started to carefully examine the kinds of work I've ended up doing in the interim. Nearly all of it requires one camera bag with several cameras and lenses in it and one rolling case with lights of one kind or another. Topped off by a stand bag with stands, umbrellas and a compact (but extensible) tripod. I have big stands but I just replaced a slew of them with Manfrotto Nano light stands. I've gotten rid of all my AC powered flashes and replaced them with various battery powered flashes. I choose the right flashes based on the specific job needs and the duration of the jobs. Less always being better. Now I can go to a location, with or without an assistant, and carry in everything I need for most projects with two hands.
Do I really need to hold on to the idea that I need a vehicle with tons of space versus getting something that's more fun to drive? Maybe this is new math for we people on a gradual glide path toward retirement. Or just a changing perspective about the balance of fun-to-practicality.
I headed to lunch at Maudie's Mexican Food on Lake Austin Blvd. yesterday to meet up with my favorite creative director. We just wanted to check in with each other, compare notes, trade "war" stories and hear about each other's families. It's a relationship that goes back well over 30 years. And our history is amply sprinkled with hundreds of similar lunches, occasionally punctuated by actual "working" lunches to really discuss contemporary projects.
I mentioned cars to my friend since the idea of cars was bouncing around near the top of my mind and he laughed. He said, "You've always driven cheap, practical cars, why not step out of that habit and buy something just because it's fun?"
We had a long chat about A.I. and how it's affecting the advertising industry. Some good, some bad. Depends where one is on the hierarchy. It took my mind off the anticipation of acquisition; at least for a little while...
During the last week or so, after thinking about the BRZ, I started researching different Subaru models. I know there are good and bad cars in every maker's lineup but I'm currently pretty positive about Subaru's products based on recent experience. The last three cars B. and I have purchased have been from that company and all have been problem free. So, I wanted something more sedan-like and less "off-roady."
I've had a four wheel drive something or other with "amazing ground clearance" since 2019 and I have yet to leave a paved road in an SUV in search of adventure. I'm hardly a rugged outdoorsman and most of my car use is in going someplace urban or coming back from someplace urban. I thought I might be able to do better with a more traditional roadster. Also hoped to find a car that's quieter on the highway...
I read about Subaru's Legacy line of cars. I went online to my favorite dealer's website to see what's out there and I found one that caught my interest. A dealer demo Legacy model with 2500 miles on the odometer. A 2024 on the lot just as Subaru is announcing the introduction of 2025s. White. My favorite car color for Texas.
After a traditional lunch of cheese enchiladas covered with chopped onions, refried beans, rice and jalapeños --- and a big ice tea, I thought I'd head north and poke around at the dealer. I had the plan of seeking out the Legacy I'd seen on their website and, if it was already sold, heading back home with no alternative plan in mind. I did have the foresight to put the car title in the glove box of the Forester before I left for lunch...
Well, the car was still there and I took it for a short test drive. OMG. It's was so different from the ride of a utilitarian SUV. The car in question is a Legacy Sport model. That basically means it has the 260 hp, endless torque, a turbo-charged engine, the sport suspension, the really groovy (and huge; to me) alloy wheels, and every safety feature you could put in a car. Along with a bunch of stuff I don't really think I'll ever use. Like seat heaters and a heated steering wheel. It will be my first car ever with keyless entry as a "feature." Not sure how I feel yet about the 500+ watt Harmon Kardon sound system complete with subwoofer...
I had a price in mind that I wanted to pay for the new car and an amount I wanted to get for my 2021 Forester. The dealer, after a short and sweet amount of cross negotiation, took the deal. But I thought there would be a catch. I didn't bring a checkbook along with me. I asked if they'd take a credit card for the balance. No dice. ( Sad, would have loved the points). But, on the other hand the dealer didn't seem to care much about it. They took my old car, detailed my new car, we did the paper work (simpler by far if one is paying cash...eventually) and they handed me the keys. I let them know I needed to transfer some cash and I wouldn't be able to drop a check by until Friday and they didn't blink.
I motored away into rush hour traffic. I drove the new car to swim practice this morning. It was lovely. I came home and test-loaded a bunch of gear into the trunk. Everything fits except a 9 foot roll of seamless. About which I no longer care. Job needs long seamless? Can't have it delivered? Don't accept the job!
The last sedan I owned was back in the mid-1990s. It was an Olympic Edition BMW 540. Also a nice car but back then it quickly became apparent that I really did need to worry about hauling cargo and long rolls of seamless paper. Now? Not so much.
The final test will be how the CFO reacts. She was out of town and I hadn't really planned to buy a car this week. Didn't actually mention it as a possibility. But you know how CFOs are, right? I'm sure she'll just smile and be satisfied that I'm happy. At least that's what I'm hoping for. Always optimistic...
Is this the absolutely best work car? Probably not. Is it fun to drive? Absolutely yes! Does the purchase really affect me one way or another? Not much, other than adding to my fun quotient. But not much more of a buzz than buying a really nice Leica camera...
There may be a road trip coming up to San Angelo or some other medium distance destination in the coming weeks. Gotta see what it's like to drive longer distances in comfort... And, bonus, winding, uncrowded roads....
