1.10.2025
Pre-Shoot Rituals. Going through the steps to make sure everything is up and running.
1.09.2025
Transcending the weather? More like just rolling with it. Wet, cold and delightful.
I guess I have myself to blame. I should have bought a nice condo in Majorca years ago. I'd be there now with my yacht anchored just up the beach. Sun warming my old, tired bones. My cute house manager rubbing sunscreen on the parts of my back I just can't reach. Getting ready to eat some fresh caught fish expertly prepared by our cook, Gabriella. But no. I wasn't smart enough to escape. So here I am in Austin, Texas taking black and white photographs with a decade+ old camera, in the rain and the cold. I guess I'm Okay with that.
When I looked into the reflective glass on the side of a too many stories tall residence tower on 3rd St. it finally dawned on me that I am such a photo nerd. Out playing with cameras in the dire elements while all my brilliant friends are sitting in front of environmentally friendly fireplaces stoking the electric elements that are throwing off heat and light thanks to the huge batteries in their Power Walls. Electing to use the solar power held in reserve for no other reason than luxuriating in the hubris of having planned their game out so well. We still use grubby little logs that smoke like burning tires.
I realized how far down the rabbit hole I've gone, as a photographer, when I looked at the reflection of my gloves. They are made by photo supplier, ProMaster and I bought them in our local camera store. These are my second pair. I gave my first pair to a homeless guy who seemed to need them more than I did in the moment.
The gloves have the requisite little, sticky rubber nubs on the palms and the inside curl of the fingers. All the better to grip even the slimiest, slipperiest cameras. They also have a little zipper pocket on the top of the wrist that's perfect for storing that extra SD card or smaller battery. And the final thing that makes them "photographer" gloves is a construction which allows one to uncover one's index fingers and thumbs in order to better operate tiny controls on cameras and lenses.
I consider my hat to be, if not a certified photo hat, at least an efficient choice for imaging because it has no front bill to intrude into my upper peripheral vision nor will it block the rangefinder windows. The big question now is....does anyone make really cool photo shoes? If so, what are they and where do I find them? Birkenstocks just don't make the cut in sloshy wet, cold weather...no matter how many pairs of thick, German socks I put on.
Half way through my walk today I stopped at Torchy's Tacos on 2nd Street, just across from the older Google building. A brief respite from the howling (8 mph...) wind and cutting (38°f) temperatures. The bacon, egg and cheese taco, paired with hot coffee was just the inspiration I needed to continue.
In the winter I grow more partial to making images in black and white. It's not a bother, really. My mind doesn't require dramatic reconfiguring to make the aesthetic change over. In fact, it's mostly just one menu item on my camera.
After I shot enough I headed home to wait by the door like a restless golden retriever ready to wag my tail when the rushed and beleaguered UPS guy comes up the driveway with my new ancient used happy lens from one of the Leica Stores. Something to look forward to in a gray and forbidding afternoon. Not quite held captive by the elements. At least the car still starts...
Lucy Lumen more or less nails it in her YouTube video about: "Are photographers too serious?" And I agree 100%
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6NwN3CfpjL8
1.08.2025
It was a cold and gloomy evening.
But it sure was fun to be out photographing. And to wear the winter clothes we seldom get to pull out of the closet.
1.07.2025
Just another day spent mostly outside. No special cameras. Nothing to review. But I did buy something yesterday and it's supposed to be here in time for Saturday's video project.
1.05.2025
Perfectionism corralled. Knowing when to stop beating your head against the wall is the difference between a virtuous headache and a concussion...
The fear of even the possibility that our pool will be closed because of weather on Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday drove attendance to today's two morning swim workouts beyond the usual scope and the parking lot was worse for it. Being at least as entitled as everyone else on the team I made my own parking space by taking over the spots generally reserved for the silly golf carts some people in the neighborhood use to drop by and play pickle ball. They are obviously not a priority use. Not when timely attendance at swimming is factored in...
So, here's what we know: It might get cold. It might freeze during the early morning hours. The weather people are generally wrong so we might as well prepare for the worst and then revel at the end about the overly pessimistic predictions of our TV meteorologists (what? do they study meteors???).
This has been a week of high mileage aquatic pursuits. We did 3,600 yards on New Years Eve, another 4,800 yards on New Years Day, solid yards on Thursday, Friday and Saturday and another 3400 yards today. The weather was gray and gloomy this morning --- at least at the start --- and just as we exited the locker rooms and headed out to face the day, post swim, the sun burst through and we've been under sunny skies ever since. Now the north winds are headed in and you can feel the temperature drop minute by minute.
I predict that we'll swim every day of the week but Monday. That's when the pool is closed to settle itself and rest.
If anyone is keeping score I did re-write that last sentence twice but to no great improvement...
But now, with swimming reports complete let's talk about perfectionism in photography. My take? The more perfect the technique and execution the more boring the photograph. The images most of the fans of Photography (capitol P, as in Art...) prize and revere are those by folks like Henri Cartier-Bresson, Robert Frank, Garry Winogrand, Elliott Erwitt, Martin Parr, Alex Webb, Bruce Weber, and Josef Koudelka. Images that catch life on the fly. No time for fussiness. No time for perfect hospital corners. No time for relentless previsualization. Catch as catch can. Grab it (the scene) while it's hot. Gestalt reaction over ponderous calculation. And anyone that tells you that all these folks think much faster than any of the rest of us and are making adjustments at the speed of light are bucking against any semblance of reality. They are just a bit more fearless about reacting to stimulus by pushing the shutter button instead of taking yet another moment and reflecting.
Those who fuss and fuss and fuss don't show up on any of my lists of top artists. I see them as plodding perfectionists who spend too much time sucking the life out of scenes in order to anesthetize the action and clean up the ragged corners of life enough to rob it of authenticity or even mildly joyous discovery.
Landscape photographers are the oil painters of our generation. Static. Plodding. Occasionally a lovely riot of color but rarely worth a second look --- except maybe as candidates for staid decor.
Writers are different. Words are different. I guess writers can ruminate and wrangle over exactly how to say something. How to write something perennially clever and illustrative. They don't have the burden of a binary response. An abrupt yes or no. And if they gloss over the appealing angle of authenticity they have the special privilege of going back into a manuscript and resurrecting it. How wonderful. If that's what they are doing. But waving a flag and screaming "look how smart I wrote this!!!" is counter to the affections of an audience who never wants to see behind the curtains.
Forcing tricky language to do too much makes the story flaccid. Sometimes the first thought is the best thought. Sure, you can mould it a bit like a flower vase in a ceramics class but eventually your interference in the process (sometimes called "tweaking") can destroy the original intention of design and turn your work from something that's perfect for displaying sprays of flowers into something you have to save by making it into another ashtray. Best not to touch a soufflé too often if you want it to rise as it should. Otherwise you just end up with a fancy but not very adequate omelette.
When I rail against re-writing a story or endlessly re-bracketing and re-composing a photograph I'm never against the idea of improving the art but in many instances I see writers and photographers try too hard for something that's never going to be absolutely perfect. And most stuff has no chance. Poets can try endlessly to create the perfect carpe diem poem but they will never exceed the sheer brilliance of Andrew Marvell's "Ode to His Coy Mistress" no matter how many keystrokes they expend. And all the film or digital card space you can bring to bear will never really improve a poorly chosen photo subject rendered in poor light. Or create a worthy rationale for the existence of yet another Stephen Shore "urbanscape/baseball dugout" photo. Regardless of the hoping that a different format will provide some magic.
Getting art right is like falling in love. No one I know plans out the act of falling in love. No spreadsheets are created. Nowhere is there a perfect mechanism for getting someone to love you back. You have to be yourself. Be brave in putting yourself out there into a relationship and not be afraid to make declarations that are neither rehearsed or rewritten. You fall in love the way you make art. Second by second, inspiration in the moment. Unalloyed and undecorated by second thoughts and re-dos. You never get an arrow back once it's shot. There are no do-overs on a rocket launch. You just have to go for it.
In my advertising work I sometimes have to throw away something I've spent time and energy on when, after sleeping on it, I get a flash of insight that there is a better way to show something. When that happens, if it's possible, I go back and reshoot. But when I'm shooting for myself there is no template I'm trying to match. I'm trying to recognize something as it is and capture it. And that always works better, looks better, feels better than anything I can set up and revise again and again. There is energy in the first attempt that goes missing on all subsequent desires to control the outcome. Tossing the muse out with the bathwater.
A click of the shutter is the inception. The first draft is the inception. I can improve a lot of my favorite photographs in PhotoShop and I guess, in a sense that's revision. And if a story is well conceived making corrections that move it along even better is the kind of revision I can countenance. But to re-write for the sake of re-writing or because the story repeatedly falls apart because it's a failed story is outside my boundaries. At least for my process. Maybe it works for others. Fiction is stranger than reality and maybe you have to beat it with a stick for a while to make it work. But a non-fiction essay is straightforward enough to spring from most rigorous minds as close to fully formed as it needs to be. Puffing it up? Security blanket for the ego...
These are just my opinions. There are no studies to prove or disprove what I'm suggesting. But I'm certain that photographs get brutally re-worked much more often in the days of endless digital potential than they ever did when changes were hard and expensive. By the same token I think endless re-writing has become a more common process/practice since the days when Flaubert and Tolstoy committed their stories to actual paper with ink pens and no escape to "white out." Just a thought. Maybe modern convenience such as word processing software and computers has led all of us to overthinking and over nitpickiosity. Too much time trying to gild the edges of already perfect lilies in a vain and human attempt to make them more beautiful.
I think I'll buy some black and white film, put it in the old Nikon F and go out shooting gestalt style. Might take the tatty taste of perfectionism out of my mouth for a spell.
If there are typos above rest assured I intended every one of them.