This Week in Photography: Visiting NOLA, Part 1

 

 

Short column today.

I’ve teased easy-breezy-reads before, only to drop 1800 words on you.

But not today.

(I swear.)

 

 

 

 

It’s Thursday morning, (as usual,) but the last week-and-a-half has been anything but typical.

 

 

 

 

It began a week ago Tuesday, when I left at 8:30am for ABQ, to catch 2 planes to New Orleans for an evening arrival.

That’s not unusual, a trip taking nearly 12 hours door-to-door, but sure enough, my plane was delayed in Houston, and then cancelled, as they shut the NOLA airport due to fog.

It took two days to get there, and I spent the rest of the week schmoozing, eating, drinking, reviewing portfolios, walking around the city, seeing exhibitions, drinking some more, and having a lot of fun.

I got home Sunday evening, after waking at 3:30am for an early flight, and while I was regenerating brain cells, yesterday morning, we had a wind and ice storm knock out the power and internet for 26 hours.

Right now, I’m barely functional.

I’m asking for a tiny bit of empathy, (as it’s not like we had tornados,) so let’s get the show on the road.

 

 

 

 

 

This was my first IRL festival since the world shut in March, 2020, and man was it fun.

I spent much of 2021 on PhotoNOLA’s advisory council, and made my feelings clear, from the jump, that getting people together in-person, (safely,) creates a positive energy impossible to replicate online.

Having cool, creative, hard-working artists in the same room builds camaraderie, and the possibility of new opportunities, which form the backbone of the fine art photo world in the US.

Certainly, I laughed harder than I have in years, drank more booze in a weekend than I do in 6 months of lock-down-life, and was palpably reminded what an amazing group of people we are, as a community.

Kudos to the New Orleans Photo Alliance, and PhotoNOLA, for making this happen!

As usual, I saw a ton of great work, and will write about the best portfolios I saw in a future article.

 

 

 

 

 

I caught a killer photo installation of wet plate collodion work, in the Houston airport, by Keliy Anderson-Staley, which I’ll share with you here.

 

“In Passing,” by Keliy Anderson-Staley

 

Normally, airport art is forgettable, but I also saw some wonderful paintings in the NOLA airport by Richard C. Thomas on the way home, so let’s drop them into the narrative as well.

 

Paintings by Richard C Thomas

 

When I first arrived in New Orleans, hungry as a mistreated dog, I walked the two short blocks from the International House Hotel, (which is gorgeous,) to the French Quarter, looking for some cheap, tasty street food.

 

Hotel lobby

 

I found the aptly named Istanbul Cafe, where I got an excellent chicken shawarma wrap, which fit the bill, and I went back on Saturday night, to get some dinner that would also serve as breakfast for my early morning.

 

Istanbul Cafe in the French Quarter

Chicken Shawarma platter. So good!

 

Next, I headed to Walgreens, for a bottle of room-booze, (Bulleit Bourbon,) and a four-pack of blue Gatorade, because once you hit 47, you don’t want to be drinking heavily without a plan.

When bars charge $15 per shot, getting a full bottle of good whiskey for $24 means you can hit the streets with a nice buzz, hook up your friends for happy hour, and generally manage the hair-of-the-dog situation.

The Gatorade is great for preventing/managing hangovers, as is my nightly ritual of 2 Advil and 1 Benadryl before sleep.

The greasy follow-up breakfast is also key, and I hit the really great Majoria’s Commerce Restaurant each morning, which was literally across the street from the hotel.

Day one, bacon egg and cheese on a homemade biscuit.

So good!

Day two, (the breakfasts got bigger each day, as the hangovers stacked up,) I had their loaded hash-browns, which had cheese, jalapeños and sautéed peppers atop the potatoes, with 2 eggs, a side biscuit, and an extra side of smoked sausage. (A local speciality.)

 

Commerce. Legit.
Loaded hash-browns with smoked sausage
I don’t normally eat like this…

 

Day three, all that, plus a side of grits. (Each day, I grazed on the food, a bit at a time, to combat the encroaching hangovers.)

If you’re going to abuse your body for a few days at a time, in a party city like New Orleans, I’m telling you, a solid plan is required.

 

 

 

 

Yesterday, during the blackout, the kids and I played hangman, and laughed for a solid hour. (When your 14-year-old uses “puta” in-game, you can assume fun was had.)

I shared the phrase “necessity is the mother of invention,” as we lived all day without electricity or internet, and found new ways to amuse ourselves.

I’m glad the power is back, but honestly, that kind of out-of-routine experience is what makes memories.

It’s a lot like traveling, and I’ll remember this NOLA adventure for a long time.

Beyond the hilarious trip on a school bus, (where I was named bus captain, reporting to the driver, Ms. Jackie,) the wonderful parties, and a great visit to the Bayou Beer Garden, I also had dinner with a few friends at the über-trendy, insanely delicious Italian restaurant Sofia.

(Brilliant fresh pasta, fantastic pizzas, great meatballs, and a house-made ricotta, radish and flat bread appetizer that was so much better than it sounds.)

 

Sofia, the next morning
Enjoying a great meal with my buddy Frances

 

Art installation on the wall of Sofia

 

As we walked the streets, a group of 5 revelers, including 4 photographers, we stepped directly over a highly mutilated pigeon, and I was the only one to even notice.

I grabbed a photo for you, (trigger warning, it’s gross,) because that’s a part of the fun of seeing new things.

 

Extremely dead pigeon

 

Across the street, a white cathedral glowed in the artificial light.

 

St Patrick’s Church, 1833

 

Quite the NOLA juxtaposition.

 

 

 

In a world in which many of us stayed home for a year, not-too-long-ago, I’m here to remind you that travel really does make us smarter, happier, and richer-in-experience.

So get out there, as soon as you can…

I’ll be back next week, and will share more about NOLA when I feature photographic portfolios in early 2022.

Hasta luego!

 

 

The Art of the Personal Project: Grace Chon

 

The Art of the Personal Project is a crucial element to let potential buyers see how you think creatively on your own.  I am drawn to personal projects that have an interesting vision or that show something I have never seen before.  In this thread, I’ll include a link to each personal project with the artist statement so you can see more of the project. Please note: This thread is not affiliated with any company; I’m just featuring projects that I find.  Please DO NOT send me your work.  I do not take submissions.

 

Today’s featured artist:  Grace Chon

 

PANDEMIC FOOD

I planted it, watered it, harvested it, cooked it, styled it, photographed it, and ate it.

I started gardening in 2009 not too long after I started my photography business because I was stressed out and needed a hobby.

Over the years as my career got busier and busier, I found myself harvesting tons of beautiful produce but lacking the time to cook and eat everything.

In 2020 when the world came to a screeching halt and I became an unemployed photographer and full time Zoom school teacher to my son, I finally found some time to cook all the beautiful food I grew in my garden. What I thought was a pause on my photography career turned out to be a time of creating something deeply fulfilling while being slow and intentional. These are some of the things I grew and created during my 2 years of lockdown and unemployment, all shot with an iPhone.

To see more of this project, click here.

Instagram

APE contributor Suzanne Sease currently works as a consultant for photographers and illustrators around the world. She has been involved in the photography and illustration industry since the mid 80s.  After establishing the art-buying department at The Martin Agency, then working for Kaplan-Thaler, Capital One, Best Buy and numerous smaller agencies and companies, she decided to be a consultant in 1999. She has a new Twitter feed with helpful marketing information because she believes that marketing should be driven by brand and not by specialty.  Follow her at @SuzanneSeaseInstagram

Success is more than a matter of your talent. It’s also a matter of doing a better job presenting it.  And that is what I do with decades of agency and in-house experience.

 

 

The Daily Edit: Ethan VanDusen


Ethan VanDusen

Heidi: For the In n Out image by the airport how much planning went into that?
Ethan: I had seen this image a few times cycle through my Instagram feed from fellow photographers based in the LA area. Growing up in Maine, the possibility of getting a shot like this just didn’t exist. I knew the location of the shot but that was about it. To be honest, not much planning went into this particular shot. It was more just, get there, set up my camera, adjust my settings and shutter speed and wait for a jet to fly over. It took a few tries dialing everything in due to the fact it was well past sunset, getting the jet as motionless as possible was not an option, so figuring out my settings to keep the jet from looking like a blur in the sky took a little time, but I was happy with the result I produced.

What draws you to low light/night photography and who or what are your inspirations?
I never really thought of myself as a “night shooter”. I mostly shot landscapes and brand photos before moving to California in 2018. One evening, during the beginning of the pandemic, the cabin fever hit. I needed to get out of the house. I had been to LA a few times before to explore during the day but really wanted to see the city at night. I knew due to the pandemic, the streets would be a bit more calm than normal. So I packed my camera bag, grabbed my tripod and drove down to see what I could find. I got to the heart of Downtown LA right around sunset. There were a few of the classic LA spots that I wanted hit. The Korean Bell of Friendship, the 4th Street overpass and a few others. Upon taking my first photos at a low shutterspeed and seeing the results, I was hooked. The light trails, the somewhat moody, ominous look these photos produced sunk their claws into me and drew me in. I had tried experimenting with light trails in Portland, Maine a few times, but never had much luck. Come to LA and BAM, these were the shots I had always really wanted to take. A few photographers really inspire me in the night photography world, Andrew Wille (@andrewoptics), Kyle Meshna (@meshna), and Mike Will (@m.visuals) are three I think produce amazing content and constantly push me to become a better photographer.

Can you tell us about the lake in Maine water skiing clip, I mean, those conditions…
I was home in Maine for my birthday and was lucky enough to receive a drone as a gift from my family. One night, we were at a rented lake house and there was an absolute banger of a sunset. I hadn’t flown my drone other than a few test flights so I figured I would fly out over the lake and capture the scene from above as the light faded. While I was flying I noticed a slalom water skier being towed behind a boat. I watched for a few moments and as much of the light was gone, the skiers spray was catching all the orange light from the sky, giving a look of flaming water spray. It was the first drone video I ever took, and still my favorite to date. Sometimes things just workout without any planning whatsoever and that was definitely the case that evening.

How did your love of photography come about and how long have you been using drones?
 I took a film photography class in High School. My teacher, Ms. Brown was the first one to really instill that love of photography in me. After that class, I didn’t purse photography much until years later. My dad’s friend gave him an old Nikon D40. It was a pretty old camera, but I loved the ease of digital photography. I shot on that camera for about a year and produced some very mediocre photos. I wasn’t too happy with the photos I was producing so I sold that camera in a yard sale. A few years went by and signed up for a few courses at the Maine Media College in Rockport Maine. One of my professors, Kate Izor (who is now the personal photographer for Roger Waters!) was the one I really credit with putting that deep love of photography in my brain. She taught me some Lightroom basics and showed me how to really use a camera to its fullest potential. I had the itch to start shooting again. I did a little research and decided I wanted to go with a mirrorless camera. The Sony A6000 was my first camera I had since the D40 and that really made a huge difference. I bought Lightroom and the rest it pretty much history. I have been shooting pretty consistently since then and developing my skills over the years.

I have been using drones for only about a year now. That has been a huge help when I’m going through a creative slump. I sometimes get uninspired using my camera but having the option to photograph from a bird’s eye view always re-inspires me. I now like to photograph the same place from both ground and sky, it helps me create different images and sometimes a boring scene on the ground can be stunning from the sky. The water skier is a perfect example of this. From the dock, it looked like every other water skier on the lake, from above, it added so much more beauty.

The drone still that I shared is of downtown LA, it’s a composite of three images taken from different heights. I stitched them together in Photoshop to create a vertical panorama of the skyline downtown. I love this photo just based off the perspective and depth.

What have you learned about the creative journey?
For anyone going through a creative slump, just know we all go through them. I find myself having creative block a lot more than I would like to admit. I always find inspiration from other photographers. It sounds goofy, but when I see creators producing amazing content, I almost get jealous. It drives me to get out and produce content of my own. Just know that everyone experiences these creative slumps, it just takes drive and desire to get back out there and start creating again.

One other thing, nobody picks up a camera and starts taking stellar images right off the bat. Take your time, hone your skills, find a subject matter you love to shoot and focus on that at the beginning. Once you have your skills dialed in that field, branch out and try other styles of photography. Finding a photography community is also a great way to grow your skills, and tips or tricks from fellow photographers are always nice to receive.

Featured Promo – Dave Creaney

Dave Creaney

Who printed it?
It was printed at a small web press operation in Marble Falls, Texas. (about an hour outside of Austin) Their website and contact seem to be gone, I fear they didn’t make it through the pandemic.

Who designed it?
I designed it in photoshop myself but had a friend give me a hand getting it properly laid out in InDesign and press-ready.

Tell me about the images.
The subjects are all types of folks from in and around Austin. The cover shot is actually a judge out in Bastrop county, the Honorable Charles Carver. He and I worked in kitchens together years ago; one time he chipped my tooth with a microphone during a duet version of ‘My Way’ at karaoke. There are musicians, chefs, tattoo artists: weirdos, and friends of mine. I hand-painted the backdrop in my friend’s driveway and tried to light them all more or less the same.

How many did you make?
Since they were done on a web press, most of the cost was in setup fees. When the owner of the print shop called to quote me for 500 copies, he said the cost for 1000 would be practically the same. So naturally, I went with 1000. I still have a lot to give out though!

How many times a year do you send out promos?
I’m still pretty new to the marketing game. I’ve sent out a handful of postcard-type mailers with different designs before these newsprint ones.

Do you think printed promos are effective for marketing your work?
People are usually very responsive to these if I put one into their hands. It’s hard to judge the mailed versions though. I love printed materials regardless. That’s what’s especially great about these in my opinion – I really don’t have to be precious with them. I leave them in bars and coffee shops and put them into anyone’s hand that will stop long enough to let me.

This Week in Photography: Visiting Chicago Part 2

 

 

I’m writing on a Monday.

(Monday morning, in fact.)

I’m not going to lie.

It kind-of sucks.

 

 

Thankfully, there’s a good reason for the routine-shake-up.

Tomorrow, I’m off to New Orleans to attend the always-fun PhotoNOLA festival.

It will be my first IRL photo-event since the world shut in March 2020, and I can not wait to see friends, review portfolios, eat amazing food, and stroll around the beautiful French/Spanish/Creole/American city.

(Honestly, up until recently, I didn’t know Spain controlled New Orleans for forty years.)

On Wednesday, PhotoNOLA will be releasing six video interviews I did on their behalf, for the Virtual BookFair, and I was fortunate to speak to a really cool collection of artists and publishers.

I’ll include the link, even though it hasn’t happened yet, (for me,) and it’s already happened, when you’ll read this piece.

(Such a 2021 time-warp. Appropriate for a strange fucking year.)

 

 

 

 

Between writing on a Monday, still feeling discombobulated from the crazy book I reviewed on Friday, and needing to get my house in order for a big trip, I don’t have many available brain cells at the moment.

Certainly not enough to read/look at a new photobook, process it, think deeply, then spit out an appropriately-intelligent review, as you’ve come to expect these last 10 years.

Instead, we’re going to pivot.

Before I fill my head with a host of new stimuli down in Louisiana, I thought we’d time-jump back to mid-October, when I went to Chicago to eat, drink, be merry, and see some great art.

Thankfully, that last goal was met at the Art Institute of Chicago.

(If you can’t see amazing things there, you’re not trying hard enough.)

 

 

 

 

I was a bit sad the Hokusai/Hiroshige exhibition closed a few days before my visit, and will openly admit I didn’t do enough homework to know the well-received Barbara Kruger show was happening while I was there.

As a critic, I’ll offer a “my bad,” as I ought to have dialed in the radar, but my goal was to see the André Kertész show, (for you photo geeks,) in particular because my friend Greg was involved in the curation.

So with that as my action plan, I strolled South a couple of miles along Michigan Avenue, and stopped to take a photo for you, where the Chicago River emerges from the massive Lake.

 

 

I caught a cool video art installation in Millennium Park, and have since learned it was called Crown Fountain, by Spanish artist Jaume Plensa, featuring images of Chicago residents.

 

 

When I got to the museum, I let instinct be my guide, (as I arrived mid-afternoon, and didn’t have much time,) and headed up a floor in the Contemporary wing.

(The Museum is really two buildings connected together, and I’ve been through the historical wing a few times now.)

I found the opportunity to commune with some of the true greats of the 20th Century, including a few of my all-time favorites: Jackson Pollock, Mark Rothko and Charles Ray.

As to Pollock and Rothko, there’s not much I can say that hasn’t been written a thousand times.

I’ll admit the work, which is large-scale, and overwhelms the body with emotion, needs to be experienced in person to be understood.

 

Two Pollock paintings

 

Abstract Expressionism leans heavily on both words, and the feelings and energy expressed impose on your soul, (in a good way,) which is why museums are so bloody important.

(Sorry for the English slang. I’ve got an Arsenal game coming on in a few hours.)

Standing in the middle of a room full of Rothkos, none of which I’d seen before, is akin to sitting on the sand, staring at the Pacific Ocean.

 

 

His paintings are the only art that’s ever made me feel that way, and the experience alone was worth schlepping from Taos to Chicago.

However, I also got to be creeped out by an insane, large-scale boy sculpture by Charles Ray, which also needs no explanation.

 

 

Is it Hansel before he gets eaten? The inspiration behind Taika Waititi’s Jojo Rabbit? One of the kids from “The Sound of Music”?

Really, who’s to say?

 

 

 

Beyond that, I loved an installation by the brilliant Kerry James Marshall, the beautiful portrait of Chicago’s Barack Obama by Jordan Casteel, and these two super-textural paintings by Japanese artists Shimamoto Shozo and Shiraga Fujiko.

 

 

 

 

 

This Roy Lichtenstein painting was bonkers good, and held my attention for 5 minutes or so.

 

 

What a joy!

I was also mesmerized by this David Hockney painting, called “American Collectors (Fred and Marcia Weisman,) which I stood before for a good 6 minutes.

 

 

It was so seductive, in his SoCal sort of way, but like the Raymond Jonson painting I saw in Albuquerque earlier this Fall, it also felt Anti-Semitic.

When I reviewed that show, it was the first time I’d ever leveled that accusation in my career, but here, I recognized the feeling again.

A clearly unflattering depiction of a wealthy, Jewish art patron.

Is it OK to paint people as unattractive?

Sure, why not?

But when a person within a culture feels a negative emotional reaction to an old trope, (one used to denigrate a people for millennia,) I think it deserves mention.

 

 

 

 

Next up, I’ve got to discuss the issue of the exploitation of the female form by famous, powerful, White artists.

I realize at this point, I’ve been covering this subject throughout the pandemic, and maybe it’s time to let it go.

But I’ll let you be the judge if it’s worth considering today.

Richard Prince, who’s taken heavy fire from the photo-world for years, based upon his appropriation of Sam Abell’s work, and then Patrick Carou, had some pin-up photos of pretty, topless, young women, and I really thought they were tacky.

 

 

But they were joined by cheesy, exploitative work by Andy Warhol and Jeff Koons.

 

(I normally love Warhol’s paintings, as he’s been a huge inspiration to me.)

 

 

As I stood there, in the museum in 2021, I couldn’t help but wonder if the curators were oblivious to the cultural moment?

Really, is this the time to be flaunting such things, when one has an entire basement filled with genius works?

Do we need to see big, bulging breasts painted/sculpted by rich, old (or dead) White guys?

I say no.

And the only female artist of that level of renown in those galleries was Cindy Sherman, whose images both critique and simultaneously reinforce the stereotype of the young, blonde, damsel-in-distress.

 

 

Sure, we all know Cindy was subverting tropes, but the AIC draws plenty of “regular citizens,” and in the context of the Prince, Warhol and Koons work, I suspect Sherman’s subversive photographs are themselves subverted.

 

 

 

 

Lastly, I’ll show some images from the André Kertész exhibit, which focused only on small prints he made during stint living in Paris.

 

 

Normally, that wouldn’t matter, (the size of the photographs,) but after looking at so much big work, reveling in the power of scale, I admit it was hard to get so close to small pictures to absorb the details.

(The one Mondrian painting included, b/c Kertesz had photographed his studio, was a brilliant touch.)

 

 

There were beautiful night scenes in Paris, including images of the Eiffel Tower. (Naturally.)

 

 

And we also saw some well-constructed interior photos. (Including Mondrian’s studio, which explains the original painting on the wall.)

 

 

But wouldn’t you know it, one of Kertesz’s prominent subjects, while living in Paris, was shooting pretty and/or striking young women.

 

 

Like Paul McCartney admitting in a recent New Yorker article that he got into a band to catch birds, (English slang for girls,) I’m not going to hate on Kertész for gravitating his camera towards attractive women.

So many photographers have done it, and it’s not for nothing that Hollywood, (and the entertainment industry in general,) treats gorgeous young women as such prized commodities.

Certainly, these photographs were excellent, and held my attention while my brain cells slowly rebelled against me. (It was nearly 4pm on a day I walked 15 miles.)

But it is a good place to end today’s column.

When we describe “agency” and “power dynamics” in 2021, it’s within the context of a long history of the exploitation of women by men.

Sure, anyone can photograph anything they want these days, as long as the subject is a consenting adult.

I do think each artist who likes to photograph “hot chicks,” in our new times, should have a pretty compelling reason to do so, given our culture of objectification.

That’s all I’ve got.

Lots of reporting from New Orleans up ahead.

See you next week!

 

The Art of the Personal Project: Christaan Felber

 

The Art of the Personal Project is a crucial element to let potential buyers see how you think creatively on your own.  I am drawn to personal projects that have an interesting vision or that show something I have never seen before.  In this thread, I’ll include a link to each personal project with the artist statement so you can see more of the project. Please note: This thread is not affiliated with any company; I’m just featuring projects that I find.  Please DO NOT send me your work.  I do not take submissions.

 

Today’s featured artist:  Christaan Felber

 

It’s been eighteen months since the global pandemic was first announced. It was a rare time where the machine of society, usually loud and seemingly unstoppable, came to a grinding halt and the resulting moment of silence remained etched in the memory of humanity for a lifetime. The sense of paranoia was dense, like a fog that had wrapped itself around the world. We were all facing an invisible enemy that had the ability to take the shape of anyone: our neighbors, our friends, our loved ones. The crisis also introduced us to a slew of new laws and rules. The most popular being the enforcement of always maintaining a minimum distance of six feet apart from everyone. We were constantly being reminded of this seemingly arbitrary distance just about everywhere. It was written on the floors of grocery stores and announced in the news, on the radio and over PA systems. Unfortunately, it also served to push the symbolic wedge even further between us.

As a human, it was scary and heartbreaking. As a professional portrait photographer, it was devastating. It had seemed we’d completely lost our ability to empathize. We were collectively in fight-or-flight mode and the thought of even approaching a stranger felt impossible and maybe even dangerous. My ability to connect with people and take their portrait, a skill I had constantly been working on and strengthening, had already begun to atrophy. I felt like an Olympic runner who had been damned to a potential eternity in bed. So, I decided to do something.

I wanted to use these circumstances as a challenge to connect with strangers and, by using an outstretched tape measure set at exactly six feet, include a visual representation of the physical and emotional distance that had been set between us. I approached people everywhere I went customers and check-out clerks in department stores, people I’d see walking through town, strangers in parking lots, and UPS workers delivering packages. At first, I was nervous; I didn’t know what to expect, but after some time began feeling more comfortable establishing rapport with people. It almost felt normal. I then realized that by using the very thing that had gotten me into photography to begin with – that of utilizing a camera to connect with people – had allowed me to reestablish trust again and, for a brief moment, for the fog of fear and paranoia to gently part.

To see more of this project, click here.

 

APE contributor Suzanne Sease currently works as a consultant for photographers and illustrators around the world. She has been involved in the photography and illustration industry since the mid 80s.  After establishing the art-buying department at The Martin Agency, then working for Kaplan-Thaler, Capital One, Best Buy and numerous smaller agencies and companies, she decided to be a consultant in 1999. She has a new Twitter feed with helpful marketing information because she believes that marketing should be driven by brand and not by specialty.  Follow her at @SuzanneSeaseInstagram

Success is more than a matter of your talent. It’s also a matter of doing a better job presenting it.  And that is what I do with decades of agency and in-house experience.

 

The Daily Edit – Ash Adams: Patagonia

Fall 2021 Patagonia Journal

Photographer: Ash Adams

Assistant: Sarah Pulcino

Photo Director: Heidi Volpe
Art Director: Annette Scheid
Editor: Madalina Preda

Heidi: How long have you been living in Anchorage, what brought you there and why have you stayed?
Ash: I  have been living in Anchorage now for a little over ten years, with a brief year a few years before that before I left for grad school. Honestly, I came up to Anchorage because I was burning out working in cities in the lower 48 and wasn’t making the work I wanted to; being a young journalist is such a hectic, yet formative time, and my personality needed to be somewhere where it could breathe. I felt that in Alaska I could work as a freelancer and really sink into a place. Alaska has very few photojournalists who work for national media to this day, and very few women. So it felt like an opportunity to cover underreported stories and also an opportunity to learn.

I’ve stayed for a number of reasons, but mostly I tell people that I’ve stayed because I love it here, and I do. I love how much space is here, how much wilderness. Before living in Alaska, I had almost no acquaintance with the outdoors; I would need to take a minute anytime I came to “You are Entering Bear Country” sign at the start of even the most trafficked trails. Now, it is not uncommon for me to be backpacking for days (and sometimes weeks) alone. I found a place in the world through becoming comfortable in wilderness that I had no idea I needed. My children, now 7 and 9, backpack with me as well.
I love the people here, and many cultures, foods, and dialects. I love how much I have learned from the people here.

Having my children here, and with a person who is Inupiat, is obviously another pull. Making sure that they are close to and connected to their heritage is important to me, as is making sure that they feel that they have a place in the world, which I think comes from being connected to the land.

You’ve obviously earned trust from the community in order to share their stories in a variety of outlets. I would think this is reciprocal, what has the community taught you? 
The communities within Alaska have taught me so much that this is particularly hard to answer, but Alaska has especially taught me about the concept of community itself. Alaska is an island made up of islands, and so every person in a community matters. It is easier to see the responsibility each person has in a small place and to therefore see your own. People see each other here. After one assignment, I was driving at night and the snow drifts were huge and the roads were slick, so even though I was driving carefully and had the right tires and right car for this, I slid into a bank and was absolutely stuck. I had no cell service and my GPS had died a while back. Within about 6 minutes, a truck came down the road, and two teenage boys hopped out, pulled out a tow rope, and just pulled my car out of the snow, with almost no words (and of course they would accept no money). It is this small act that honestly was huge. And teenagers already knew to do that; they’d been taught to see the people around them and acknowledge that they are part of the story of the world. I think about things like this a lot lately; individualism has a very dark and damaging side, and being a part of a place like this gives my heart hope.
And then there’s languages and cultures; the concept of what real family looks and feels like; the tastes of whale, seal, bear, moose, caribou, and so many other flavors I’d never had before; what resilience looks like–the list goes on and on. I am grateful in every way.
Ash Adams loading film while Photographing Warren Jones for Patagonia./Photo by Sarah Pulcino

Patagonia asked you to find a local assistant for this project, how did that align with goals you already had for mentorship?
Diversity within the photo industry has been a hot topic in the last few years, but it’s been on my mind for well over a decade. I currently am a founder of a mentorship program, Show and Tell Alaska, with my ex-husband and co-parent, Brian Adams, who is both a phenomenal photographer and person, and the program was developed in response to a lack of diversity in photojournalism and in this state. People do not necessarily need a degree to be able to tell their stories to a larger audience, and for many and especially in rural Alaska, that doesn’t make sense; I think aspiring photojournalists need people to show them how to hone skills they’ve already started to elevate their work and then they need contacts within this specific industry that people often come to through educational programs (where people also learn about all of the workshops that will build them up, too). The lack of diversity in the industry is due in large part to just not having access–to mentors, to contacts. There have been many, many photographers who have come to Alaska from outside on $20,000 (or higher) grants to do a weekend workshop on i-phone photography in a village who then use the contacts for their stories and bail, and we wanted to do something that could actually help diversify our industry in this diverse and geographically complex state in a meaningful way.

So, all that is to say that working with Sarah Pulcino (who is currently in the mentorship program, but was not yet at the time), aligns with my values for a number of reasons; there are not many Indigenous female photojournalists in this state, and I want to support her journey in any way that I can. She’s talented and lovely to work with.

Did you know Waren prior to this assignment?
I did, but not well; Alaska is a small-town state, and Warren is a brilliant writer who travels in similar circles, so we had met casually here and there over the years. After this assignment, however, Warren and I (and his family) have become a great deal closer, which was an unexpected benefit from making the work.

You have a love for writing, poetry that come up while photographing Warren?
Warren and I likely talked about his writing during the shoot, though I’m not sure that we’ve ever talked about poetry (in addition to journalism, I publish roughly a couple of poems a year in literary magazines, which is something I started doing in my early 20’s, but it’s such a tangential part of myself that it rarely comes up). We often tend to talk about ideas more than anything, and my recollection of the conversations of the day were no different. His article for Patagonia is a great example of the deep wells that he gets into on his own and that we also get into collaboratively; he is a deep thinker who revels in the way things connect. That we both love words I think becomes a kind of framework but not the subject of conversation. (If that makes sense!)

This Week in Photography: Looking Back

 

 

I just saw a massive hawk.

(Up in a tree.)

 

 

 

They’re around a lot, this time of year, the red-tailed hawks.

The brown, dead grass makes it easy to spot prey, so they sit and wait, before swooping with efficient ferocity.

I’ve noticed, over the years, whenever you get too close, the hawks fly away.

 

 

 

It doesn’t matter whether you’re a threat or not.

Either way, as soon as you reach their discomfort zone, off they go.

(That’s nature for you.)

 

 

 

 

The coyotes are no different.

I’ve seen two this week; their sand-gray coats blending perfectly with the ground color in winter.

(Until the snow comes.)

If you want to appreciate a coyote, and watch the way it moves, you have to stand perfectly still, and if you’re inside, never open the door to get a better look.

They always spook.

Always.

Again, it’s in their nature.

At the merest hint, the faintest whiff of trouble, off they go.

(It’s not for nothing coyotes are such great survivors.)

 

 

 

 

 

This week, in addition to watching hawks and coyotes, I’ve also been following The Beatles massive new documentary, “Get Back,” on Disney+, by the master of lengthy story-telling: Peter Jackson.

(Trying to explain to my kids why “The Lord of the Rings” trilogy was such a big deal, in an era of digital-effects-ubiquity, was more difficult than I might have imagined.)

 

Courtesy of IMDb

 

We’re only halfway through Episode 2, but I needn’t bother with spoiler alerts.

We all know how the story ends.

The Beatles break up.

 

 

 

 

 

They go out on top, as their late-stage-music is some of the best ever recorded.

But they also dissolve the group, more-or-less hating each other.

A decade of unhealthy relationship patterns turned the band into a ticking time-bomb, and the only question was when it would go off.

Not if.

There is a phenomenal moment, early in Episode 2, that Sir Paul must have nightmares about, as he correctly predicts in 50 years time, people will shake their heads that The Beatles broke up because Yoko Ono sat on an amp.

(Sidebar: Peter Jackson’s opening disclaimer scrupulously states each person is rendered accurately. If that’s true, Yoko was an inscrutably odd bird.)

Immediately after his prediction, though, the film cuts to a scene in which Paul and John are secretly recorded at lunch. The dynamic duo basically admits they ganged up on poor George all these years, denying him power or agency.

The agree (again, not knowing they were being taped,) that he had a right to be pissed at them.

It gives context to the narrative that George is ready to ride off into the sunset, with his Hare Krishna buddies, who at least show him some GODDAMN RESPECT!

 

 

What The Beatles prove, not-quite-exactly 50 years ago, is that unresolved emotional issues in relationships can doom even the most productive, successful, lucrative “family” the world has ever seen.

If you can’t sort out your business, it’s going to blow.

That’s as much a law of nature as spooking hawks.

 

 

 

 

 

When a person has tried every way to make things better, and failed, eventually that person will tap out.

Or go down in flames.

And this week’s book, “Tulsa, OK,” sent in by Victor d’Allant, a French photographer based in San Francisco, makes that point visually explicit.

Page after page.

This one came in Summer 2021, but I bumped it up the pile, as it represents two anniversaries at once.

“Tulsa, OK” was published this year, on the 100th anniversary of the Tulsa Race Massacre, and the 50th anniversary of Larry Clark’s seminal book “Tulsa.”

Speaking as an artist, a critic, and a human, the cold-open “Watchmen” recreation of the Tulsa Race Massacre was one of the most disturbing, riveting things I’ve ever seen filmed.

(Up there with the beginning of “Saving Private Ryan.”)

Larry Clark’s “Kids” would also make the short list, as watching poor, young Chloë Sevigny get HIV from her punk boyfriend almost made me vomit. (Should I have said spoiler alert? The movie is 26 years old.)

 

Courtesy of IMDb

 

And Clark’s “Tulsa” was one of the first photo books I was shown in class, at UNM in the late 90’s, and until that moment, I hadn’t realized anyone could make art that way.

 

 

 

 

As the well-written, extensive opening essay in “Tulsa, OK” explains, Larry Clark lived within the world he was documenting, in Oklahoma, and Victor d’Allant did not.

The former was a junkie, making photos of his own world, the latter is a “Visual Anthropologist” with a single-mother-drug-dealer as a fixer, introducing him around the sad, defeated city.

Said fixer, Julie Winter, actually wrote the intricate introduction, in which tells us she knew Victor before she ended up Tulsa, and invited him to come check it out.

Julie refers to this book, (as well as Clark’s,) as “grotesque, terrifyingly awful, full of despair.”

That about sums it up.

The text briefly mentions d’Allant photographs his subjects naked, but I don’t think it really landed in my consciousness when I read it. (At least, not enough to prepare me for what was coming.)

The quote is here:

“Many subjects in both Larry’s and Victor’s books are pretty much naked, as if they both felt their sitters were trying to display some human softness in this awful universe. But in truth, it’s a clever way for the artists to show what would be hidden beneath clothes: cuttings made in desperation, tattoos ordered on some drunken whim, flesh damaged by too many pregnancies…In Tulsa, Victor told me one night as I was trying to fall asleep, ‘nudity shows the fragility of life and the difficulty of survival.'”

 

 

 

 

 

I say this now, because it would be impossible not to discuss the elephant in the room, with respect to this book.

Given how much I’ve written about the male gaze in the last year, and the question of when, if ever, men photographing nude women is OK, (because of power dynamics,) I just couldn’t resolve the tension.

So many of the portraits of down-and-out, attractive young women, topless, or totally nude, struck me as exploitative to the point of obscenity.

Many viewers would likely dismiss this book immediately, and on the final page, even the text editor is credited as anonymous, because he doesn’t want his name associated with the book.

OK.

I said it.

But when a book is admittedly meant to be “terrifyingly awful,” you need to expect some fucked up shit within.

(And I will not be sharing any of the explicit photos below.)

 

 

 

 

 

The book is dynamic in its design, featuring messaging-app-style text bubbles, calendars, and really excellent image placement, with respect to the visual path.

There is a fire-engine red throughout, and as Victor is from Paris, I need to acknowledge in every episode of “House Hunters International” I’ve ever seen filmed there, that color has always been included in home interiors.

Always.

To the point that Jessie and I joke about it.

They’re filming in Paris?

We’re gonna see that red…

I guess it represents passion, or desire.

Maybe both.

But the quality of the production here, and the compelling, first-person stories of violence, addiction, depravity and love, within the context of a culture of poverty, kept me glued to my seat.

Page after page, my jaw would drop.

I never got comfortable with why the women were depicted topless, when confronting the camera directly, but there are some images, done in a documentary style, where the action is not directed by the photographer… and yes, the nudity makes sense there.

Trigger warning: one story describes a woman being fisted while she’s having her period, and I really hoped we wouldn’t see that illustrated, but we do, in full color.

Damn!

For a book trying to reflect on the vision of Larry Clark’s “Tulsa,” and the worst racially-motivated massacre in American history, I get that controversy serves a purpose.

(Which is why I’m reviewing this book, and why I don’t think it should be banned, panned, or denied its existence.)

It’s a seriously fucked up book about a seriously fucked up subject.

I’m guessing Victor d’Allant is an edgy dude, and though it might be cliché, the French supposedly consider Americans to be prudish.

The structure of book implies that all the subjects chose to be photographed, but if you’re high as a kite, can you actually offer consent?

(He even does a ride-along with the cops, which pisses off his new-underworld-buddies.)

So there we are for today.

Most of you will probably hate this book.

Some of you will love it.

As my old basketball coach used to say, “Where you stand depends on where you sit.”

 

To purchase “Tulsa OK” click here

 

 

 

If you’d like to submit a book for potential review, please email me at jonathanblaustein@gmail.com. We are particularly interested in books by artists of color, and female photographers, so we may maintain a balanced program. And please be advised, we currently have a significant backlog of books for review. 

The Art of the Personal Project: 2021 Books to Purchase for the Holidays

The Art of the Personal Project is a crucial element to let potential buyers see how you think creatively on your own.  I am drawn to personal projects that have an interesting vision or that show something I have never seen before.  In this thread, I’ll include a link to each personal project with the artist statement so you can see more of the project. Please note: This thread is not affiliated with any company; I’m just featuring projects that I find.  Please DO NOT send me your work.  I do not take submissions.

 

Today’s featured artist:  Various Photographic Artist and their published books of photographers I have featured on “The Art of the Personal Project”

Sam Kittner:

Faceless Faces in Public Places is a curated collection of 80 images made during the pandemic.  And can be ordered here

 

David Black:

 

Candy Mountain is the final installment in David Black’s trilogy of titles with Hat & Beard Press. It follows his first two volumes, Cerro Gordo and The Days Change at Night, on another magnificent photographic journey, this time through the vast Western landscapes of his childhood memories and current geographical explorations.  Pre-order here

 

Grace Chon

Japanese dog grooming does not follow the rules of traditional, breed- standard grooming. In fact, it only has one mission―to make dogs look as adorable as possible! With extreme attention to detail and careful consideration of a pup’s best attributes, Japanese dog groomers and salons achieve the perfect transformation by forgetting uniform looks and getting creative.  Purchase this book here

 

David Doubilet

Two Worlds: Above and Below the Seas.

Purchase here

 

Tony Novak-Clifford

Rising Tides: A Photographic Rediscovery of the Chesapeake Bay Tidewater Region

Purchase here

 

Michael Grecco

Punk, Post Punk, New Wave: Onstage, Backstage, In Your Face, 1978–1991 features stunning, never-before-seen photography from this iconic period in music. Order here

 

Max Hirshfeld

Though Sweet Noise: Love in Wartime (Damiani – October 2019) features events that began seventy-five years ago, the material is eerily timely.  As Eastern Europe grapples with this horrific legacy, and many countries are reassessing their responses to mass immigration, those in a position to bear witness need a supportive environment wherein art and language serve to remind the world what can occur when hatred and the concept of ethnic cleansing are given free rein.

Purchase this book here

 

Jimmy Chin

THERE AND BACK: PHOTOGRAPHS FROM THE EDGE

The Academy Award-winning director of Free Solo and National Geographic photographer presents the first collection of his iconic adventure photography, featuring some of the greatest moments of the most accomplished climbers and outdoor athletes in the world, and including more than 200 extraordinary photographs.  Order here

 

Happy Holidays!

 

APE contributor Suzanne Sease currently works as a consultant for photographers and illustrators around the world. She has been involved in the photography and illustration industry since the mid 80s.  After establishing the art-buying department at The Martin Agency, then working for Kaplan-Thaler, Capital One, Best Buy and numerous smaller agencies and companies, she decided to be a consultant in 1999. She has a new Twitter feed with helpful marketing information because she believes that marketing should be driven by brand and not by specialty.  Follow her at @SuzanneSeaseInstagram

Success is more than a matter of your talent. It’s also a matter of doing a better job presenting it.  And that is what I do with decades of agency and in-house experience.

 

 

The Daily Edit – 30 Moons Apart: Hashim Badani

30 Moons Apart

Photographer: Hashim Badani

Heidi: How were the first few months of lockdown in India for you?
Hashim: The initial months of lockdown in India skewed all sense of distance and direction. I was living close enough to my parents to spot their home, but further than I have ever been in every other way. I decided not to visit them through this period, which felt particularly surreal during the month of Ramzan.

How did you cope?
I borrowed a telescope and found it bridged the gap a little. I called Ma and asked her to come to the balcony. I was able to spot her–a white speck. This became a routine, even a strange mode of communication. I would make photos of her through the telescope, and she would make some pictures aimed in my general direction.

In between, I found myself collecting pieces of the city that surrounds us. Otherwise receding images gained focus–the fact that we’re a port, or that the sea is never far. This is where my father went to work; these were some of the places where I grew up. All seemingly unreachable but carrying a sense of familiarity. Much like the moon. The moon that dictates the beginning and the end of this month.

Maybe it is the strange solace we seek from traditions when times are tough. In the end they only fit right, together, in the lunar chart made over thirty days.

This grid of images shot through the telescope is a map of many things, but most of all it is a way home.

How did the pandemic force you to find creative solutions for self expression?
I think when the pandemic began and the world went into various states of lockdown, there was a massive urge for me (and I believe many others) to learn or create something during this period but then the numbers started rolling in and the devastation was extreme. People were losing loved ones. India saw a huge urban to rural migration crisis as the government had left its citizens with few alternatives. At some point we started looking inward and reflecting on what mattered to us. The work borne out of that stems from a similar space.

How did this new act of “seeing”, be it through binoculars or a telescope, push you as an artist?
It made me rethink my relationship with photography. One which had so far followed the more linear approach of having a brief and finding a way to translate it. This was more organic. There was no brief. I was responding to how I was feeling. That in some strange way altered things for me and now I find myself more curious about the idea of photo fiction rather than just documenting.

What made you keep the edges of the images organic?
When I began looking at the images together it was fairly obvious to me what I was going to do with them. The imperfect circles of the images were what got me to that decision.

What are you bringing forward from the last two years, and what are you leaving behind creatively?
A large part of my decade old career has involved traveling. Mostly internationally. The pandemic turned that on its head. I wasn’t certain where my next gig would come from if I wasn’t allowed to travel. It took me a good year to make peace with that and change my approach to make work with what surrounds me. So far it has been rewarding. I am no longer excited by the idea of ‘skimming the surface travel editorial’ type of shoots that I once truly enjoyed. I want to find ways of doing work that is more immersive, closer to home or the idea of home.

Are you still selling prints in order to support those in need?
My print sales are currently not associated with any organisation but please keep an eye on my instagram handle for regular updates.

What projects are you working on now?
I am currently pursuing assignments that I am not certain I would have made the time for in the past. Some perhaps not as much about the images produced but the learnings they allow. I am currently in the process of documenting the palliative care work done in India by the Cipla foundation. At the same time I am quite excited by the idea of photo fiction and the path it allows me to take to narrate certain stories. One of them is called #makingupmanto. The series allows me to relook and document South Central Bombay through the life of a prolific and controversial writer who briefly lived in the city during the country’s partition years. I have also found myself on the other side of the camera hosting and participating in non fiction shows this year and it has been an interesting experience.

This Week in Photography: Love and Wisdom

 

 

Happy Thanksgiving!

(You know I like to write on Thursdays.)

 

 

 

It was Thanksgiving, 2011, when I stumbled upon my signature style, so I’m always thankful for the opportunity to share my thoughts with you each week.

Thank you for the motivation, the inspiration, and all the kind words you’ve sent my way, as an audience, over the last decade.

I appreciate it!

The truth is, I have much to be thankful for.

I’m healthy, and have an amazing family, when it comes to my wife, children, and the dog.

(Who knew pandemic pets would be such a thing?)

 

Haley in the yard after dusk

 

My kids are off-the-charts fantastic; beautiful inside and out.

Being their teacher, their life-guide, their friend, their pandemic companion… it’s been the most rewarding experience of my life.

And I’m thrilled to report that after 20 months, my wife’s recovery from clinical depression is going better than ever.

We still have the occasional setback, and have learned it’s a disease like cancer, where you hope for a permanent remission, rather than all-out-victory, but really, Jessie is happier and healthier than she’s been in years.

Surmounting this challenge together has made us stronger as individuals, and as a family unit.

 

Thanksgiving 2021 family selfie, by Amelie Blaustein

 

I love my job, get plenty of recognition for what I do, and have created a network of super-talented, kind, and loving friends around the world, while also getting to travel.

As I said, I have much gratitude, and try to share it on the regular.

With respect to my family of origin, things are rarely rosy, and we had yet another blow-up last night, as our respective value structures do not align.

But no one’s road through human existence is totally smooth, and truly, we grow through challenges.

(Of course, personal evolution requires self-awareness, and the discipline to admit one’s failings in order to self-improve, which many can not do.)

Thankfully, the sky is deep blue at the moment, the sun is pouring in through the window opposite my writing-chair, and my belly is full with leftovers from Tuesday’s dinner party.

Hope you’re having a good morning so far as well!

 

 

 

 

That said, working on a holiday is challenging.

This time of year, the wheels come off the bus, as we all function on an annual cycle, and our energy winds down with the calendar.

So let’s get the show on the road, shall we?

I reached into the book stack this morning, searching for the final 2020 submission. (Need to keep my promises.)

I swear, I assure you, I had no idea it was thus, but the ultimate book from last year is actually an exhibition catalogue sent along by my friend, Richard Bram, called “Richard Bram: Short Stories,” which was published by the Mannheimer Kunstverein, in Germany. (In conjunction with a retrospective he had in Mannheim.)

 

 

 

 

Richard Bram is the best friend I’ve made via social media.

After corresponding on Twitter, we met up at the Photo Plus Expo, in NYC in the Fall of 2010, on the very first assignment Rob gave me for this website.

 

JB in the Fall of 2010, courtesy of Susan Worsham

 

He’s a kind, thoughtful, considerate, smart, literate, intellectual, creative soul, and has turned up as a character in this column many times now.

Once, we shared beers and katsu in a tiny Japanese restaurant in the East Village, after listening to a lecture from a brilliant Belgian video artist. In 2019, we toured Photo London on the day I ran into my NYT nemeses, and on another occasion, we walked through a terrific exhibition at the Brooklyn Museum, alongside a Slovenian photographer who’s based in Beijing.

 

 

 

 

In particular, because my family of origin believes in unconditional love, (code for not having to be nice to, or interested in someone, yet still they’re supposed to “love” you,) having friends who share my ethical and moral framework is a big part of how I’ve become a sane, happy person over the years.

So it was quite interesting to see this book, which chronicles my friend’s vision, as he has grown as a human, and a photographer, over time.

Full disclosure: when I opened it up, it contained a note stating the book was a gift, and not intended for review. (Though I told Richard when he sent it, every book that arrives is considered for review.)

I don’t love this one, and find it inferior to his Peanut Press book, “Richard Bram New York,” which I reviewed positively several years go.

 

 

But it is perfect to discuss today, for several reasons.

 

 

 

 

To begin with, Richard, in his many decades as a street photographer, has been fortunate to roam much of known Earth.

As a witness to humanity, he’s done a great job.

Off the top of my head, we see images from New York, Kentucky, (where he also once lived,) England, France, Italy, Germany, Japan, China, Cuba, Cambodia, and Mexico.

(Likely I’m missing a few locales.)

The book is structured with a schism between the early black and white work, and his later shift to color. (Which is the work I know.)

In the B&W section, there is an homage to Elliott Erwitt, one to Cartier-Bresson, and a captured moment of Mohammed Ali that will make you stop and take notice.

The images feel more generic, or derivative, but are still inspirational, because you sense the humanism in the man. And the Occupy Wall Street photographs, depicting a moment lost to time, are also prescient, as the ideas motivating that movement are more relevant now than ever.

{Editors note: when photographing the book just now, I realized perhaps I was a tad harsh about the B&W images. Some really are charming.}

 

 

 

 

When the shift to color comes, I released a breath, because while the essay tells us it was a challenge for him, I’d argue his vision is stronger working this way.

The compositions are more dynamic and strange, (edge to edge,) and some of the colors really pop.

Hot pink on the streets?

Why not.

The color pictures also have a wit that feels particular to the man.

Watching Richard’s work get “better” as he ages also gives a viewer reason to hope.

In the ideal world, with age comes wisdom, and perspective.

With experience comes deeper knowledge.

As I wrote in my 2019 London series, Richard lives in Limehouse, which is a river-front neighborhood in East London.

He has a daily relationship with the Thames, in romantic ways most of us can only dream of.

Watching the light change on the water, and the tides rise and fall.

 

Richard by the Thames, 2019

 

The book ends with his moody photographs of the river, and having seen those views with my own eyes, it made me nostalgic for London, a city in which I feel so comfortable.

Sitting here, on American Thanksgiving, licking the wounds from some pointless family drama, the last few images put me in a positive frame of mind.

If you have proper love in your life, it doesn’t matter who delivers it.

Real love is based upon respect, kindness, compassion, empathy, joy, and genuine interest.

As I’ve grown over the last 11 years writing for you, I’ve tried to share the accrued wisdom.

I’ve tried to cultivate my curiosity, chat with as many people as possible, see new things, eat great food, and live in a way that would entertain and educate you, along for the ride.

So it’s no exaggeration to say that writing this column has made my life so much better.

Thank you!

And I hope you stay safe and healthy this week.

See you next Friday!

 

To purchase “Richard Bram: Short Stories” click here

 

 

If you’d like to submit a book for potential review, please email me at jonathanblaustein@gmail.com. We are particularly interested in books by artists of color, and female photographers, so we may maintain a balanced program. And please be advised, we currently have a significant backlog of books for review. 

The Art of the Personal Project: Kris Davidson

The Art of the Personal Project is a crucial element to let potential buyers see how you think creatively on your own.  I am drawn to personal projects that have an interesting vision or that show something I have never seen before.  In this thread, I’ll include a link to each personal project with the artist statement so you can see more of the project. Please note: This thread is not affiliated with any company; I’m just featuring projects that I find.  Please DO NOT send me your work.  I do not take submissions.

 

Today’s featured artist:  Kris Davidson

 

The idea of belonging — the desire for it, the threat of it — wends its way into every American story ever told. In her brief history under the name America, this country has wrestled with every form and manifestation of belonging: how to belong to an old land, a new land, how to stake a claim of ownership of said land; how to belong to oneself, how to belong to each other, either by brute force, subtle coercion, or by open-hearted, willing choice.

How we hold our stories — as a nation and as individuals — is inexorably tied to how we understand how we belong within a society. As an immigrant to the United States, I am keenly aware of the tangled storylines of my adopted homeland; America’s storytelling tradition is expansive, born out of countless colliding, merging and overlapping storylines. American Portraits (working title) is a photo-collage series that seeks to honor the vast range of individual stories held within the American people. These large mixed-media portraits consider Americans from all walks of life, adorned with shared personal snapshots, revealing threads of ancestry and aspiration, a mix of hope, loss and dreams. Each portrait is a collaboration of sharing, reflection and listening spread over many months.

Americans have come from every corner of the world — willingly and unwillingly — creating a cultural landscape of shimmering memories and endlessly shifting storylines of many refurbished selves. Every snapshot deployed in these collages contains layers of meaning when considered across time, as a part of a larger American storyline.

We are made up of blood, bones and stories. A form of cultural DNA, stories show us who we have been, who we are now, and who we are becoming. This project is a way for me to make sense of the stories of my adopted homeland while also honoring individual Americans along the way.

 

ABOUT ME + MY PROCESS:

As a visual artist, Kris works primarily with American stories and memories. As a photographer, she makes portraits with a medium format camera (for large prints) and utilizes reproductions of archival/personal photographs shared by subjects in her artwork, along with paint and additional mixed media elements.

A native of Sweden, Kris Davidson spent the first half her childhood in the Scandinavian Arctic and the second half in Texas. In her twenties she became a travel photographer working worldwide, collaborating with various editorial and commercial clients including National Geographic, Lonely Planet Traveller, and others. In recent years, she has shifted her focus towards an in-depth study of the United States. Across all her current work, Kris investigates the question of what it means to become and be an American, with an eye to the role of reconstructive memory as it gives shape to individual identity in a larger cultural landscape. She also uses mixed media elements on photographic prints to explore the fluid intersection of perceived truth, memory and imagination.  LightSource SF was the printer on this project.  They can be found hereInstagram

 

To see more of this project, click here.

https://www.instagram.com/hellokrisdavidson/

 

APE contributor Suzanne Sease currently works as a consultant for photographers and illustrators around the world. She has been involved in the photography and illustration industry since the mid 80s.  After establishing the art-buying department at The Martin Agency, then working for Kaplan-Thaler, Capital One, Best Buy and numerous smaller agencies and companies, she decided to be a consultant in 1999. She has a new Twitter feed with helpful marketing information because she believes that marketing should be driven by brand and not by specialty.  Follow her at @SuzanneSeaseInstagram

Success is more than a matter of your talent. It’s also a matter of doing a better job presenting it.  And that is what I do with decades of agency and in-house experience.

 

The Daily Edit – Fairy Creek: Ola J. Cholewa

(A logging sort filled with old growth red cedar in Haida Gwaii 2018.)

Fairy Creek, Unceded territory of the Pacheedaht and Dididaht First Nation People

Photographer: Ola J.Cholewa

Heidi: Before joining the protest at Fairy Creek were you involved in other environmental movements?
Ola: I first visited Fairy Creek in early April of this year. Prior to that in 2018 I had the privilege of living in Haida Gwaii for a year. Haida Gwaii is an archipelago off the central coast of British Columbia where Haida settlement has been proven to date back to 13,800 years. Shortly after moving to the island for a new job, I quit my job with certainty, and I found myself participating and documenting a stand where Haida citizens re-claimed the rights to their territories and put a temporary halt to a forestry operation that was expediently harvesting one of the islands last available stands of old growth red cedar.

During this stand I witnessed the approval of an injunction by the B.C. Supreme Court, which granted the RCMP the ‘legal authority’ to forcibly remove Haida citizens off their own land to make way for industry. Shortly after camp was dismantled, illegal logging commenced at St’alaa Kun by the Forestry company, Husby Forest Products.

It was this experience that opened my eyes to the fact that our ancient old growth forests are threatened and endangered. I also learned how the exploitation of land is directly related to the exploitation of Indigenous People’s culture. I was introduced to the complex issues that have arisen out of tensions that sometimes exists between Band Council governance systems and Hereditary Chief governance systems within Nations.

My experiences in Haida Gwaii gave me the initial courage and the motivation to participate in the protests that were taking place in Fairy Creek.

What was your process like in terms of joining and photographing the protest camp community?
Initially I spent weekends on the mountain, getting a feel for camp. I spent time walking the lands of the Pacheedaht and Dididaht First Nation People, humbled that I had been welcomed by Elder Bill Jones and Hereditary Chief Victor Peters. I sat beneath ancient cedar trees- Grandmother and Grandfather tree up at a River Camp. I walked through mossy groves of lush old growth forest that was left intact along the river during previous logging operations. (The feeling of walking within untouched ancient old growth forest is comparable, I imagine, to the feeling of swimming in water for the first time. Sound, space and time all warp into an unfamiliar feeling. The beauty, balance, and biodiversity are simply too overwhelming to take in all at once).

)Two ancient cedar trees near River Camp at Fairy Creek.)

As I continued to visit on weekends, I could sense the movement was gaining momentum. Shortly thereafter an injunction was granted by the B.C. Supreme Court and on May 17th the RCMP began to forcibly remove land defenders and their supplies off the logging roads. It’s important to note that members of the Band Council did ask protestors to leave and agreed with the planned forestry operations, although, Hereditary Chief Victor Peters and Elder Bill Jones along with many other members of the community did not agree. Their views were ignored by our government and mainstream media.

My first stint on the frontlines was a time in which I spent 5 nights up at Waterfall camp. It was an experience like no other. The nighttime missions, the pickaxes, the deep wells and complex hard block devices were all overwhelming to witness. Also, the intense pushes up the hill by the RCMP each morning and their nighttime patrols. I witnessed people chaining themselves into the land to block industry from accessing land deemed to be clear-cut, impeding industries perpetuation of the destruction of ancient eco-systems. The community shared in the knowing that once destroyed, via clear-cutting logging methods, the land would never be the same. No place for natural succession. Forests are planned, planted, and turned into farms. The biodiversity of the land lost forever.

In what ways are you experiencing effects of the ecosystem destruction?
Today the land in our Province is literally speaking. The fires, the floods, the mudslides. Atmospheric rivers and heat domes, unfortunately two frightening terms we’ve become acquainted with this year.

We know that old growth forests are great climate moderators, cooling the air when it is hot, warming it when it’s cold. Douglas Fir stands hold the capability of withstanding fire. Trees are incredible organisms that retain and circulate water while they work to stabilize and create soil. Old growth forests work as giant carbon sequestering machines while tirelessly and simultaneously manage to pump out rich oxygen for us to breath. Ancient old growth forests are also deeply connected to the cultures of many Indigenous Nations in our province. From their arts to their medicines. Also, histories are literally held within the ancient pathways and the culturally modified objects that can be found within old growth forests. Activist and friend from Haida Gwaii Lisa White shared these words with me back in 2018. “Our culture is very, very, dependant on healthy lands.”  Like the roots of the forest- land, language and culture are all deeply intertwined.
(A culturally modified tree or CMT in Haida Gwaii showing a test hole that was carved into a trunk of a standing ancient tree. Test holes were used traditionally to check if trees were rotten on the inside. A way of avoiding unnecessarily cutting down a tree.)

Joining a blockade is bold action. Why did you choose to participate this way?
I joined the stand at Fairy Creek to support the land and its biodiversity. As Rivers are being granted the same legal rights as human beings, I believe that our remaining Old Growth Forests should finally be afforded the same.

I joined the stand at Fairy Creek to support Elder Bill Jones, Chief Victor Peters, select members of the Pacheedaht First Nation and other individuals who wanted to join forces to stand up for the rights of Indigenous Peoples access to healthy lands and waters. It is time the government offers Nations, Inuit, and Metis, other means of economic gain. Means outside of resource extraction.

I joined the stand at Fairy Creek to do something useful with my time. To be a part of something greater within a wider community. To avoid complacency, comfort, and distraction. To take the feelings of overwhelm I was feeling and transform them into some sort of meaningful action. In my journal I wrote, “Uncertain of what else to do but travel to the Ancient Forests to congregate with like-minded humans.”

I joined the stand at Fairy Creek as a supporter of the movement and as a professional photographer. My camera, a tool that could capture both the light and dark. A tool that documented the hard work of a community that had a unified sense of purpose in protecting the forests and standing up for Indigenous rights while also documenting the violent actions of the RCMP and their escalating tactics while they enforced the injunction over time.
(Elder Bill Jones had to negotiate permission to enter his own territory at the RCMP exclusion line blocking the road to Waterfall Camp.)

In May I witnessed Elder Bill Jones and Chief Victor Peters having to negotiate the rights to access their own lands with the RCMP. This was just days after there was a discovery of 215 bodies of children found within the grounds of a former residential school in Kamloops which closed in 1969. (The last residential school in Canada closed in 1996, just 25 years ago). How was it that a respected Elder and Chief were being blocked from entering their own unceded lands? How did industry have so much power over the land? Where was the Reconciliation that our government has promised for so long?

(Pictured here is Skunk in ‘The Well’. This is deepest hard block I have witnessed to date.)

(Front liners working through the night. This device created a 5-person hard block. An 80 year old man helped with the dig that night and also proudly took it upon himself to chain himself into it the next morning.)

It was recently published that 5 months of enforcement up at Fairy Creek cost the RCMP $3.7 million dollars.  But still, the heavy machinery and fancy equipment could not outsmart the creative human minds on the frontlines. It was in the middle of August when enforcement really took a turn- there was a shift in the teams and tactics that were utilized on the ground.

As we know peaceful protests can turn violent. Did you ever feel threatened or experience aggression here?
On August 19th and 20th I witnessed an extreme escalation in the violent behaviour that came from the RCMP and Paramilitary. They pushed and aggressively rushed land defenders on the frontlines of Fairy Creek back towards the very last stand at Camp Landback where Indigenous Matriarchs were stationed. The intense movement tripped up land defenders and they toppled on top of one another. The RCMP and Paramilitary officers took this opportunity to tear and drag individuals out of the crowd to make violent arrests, some of which were clearly targeted because they were BIPOC. The violence and aggression was unnecessary and unprovoked. During these two days I also witnessed media presence on the ground being denied access to document the RCMP’s operations. On the night of the 20th there were only a few hard blocks remaining.  On the morning of August 21st , RCMP enforcement was present at the front lines for a total 97 days, they were almost at the last hard block at River Camp which would clear the road for industry. The RCMP was desperate, especially given that the injunction was soon to expire. It was on this day that I again witnessed an unprovoked attack on a group of 60 protestors who were participating in their civil right to peacefully protest. This occurred after the movement in which land defenders enveloped a gate in the formation of a human blob.

What commenced from the side of the RCMP was excessive use of pepper spray and force. Meanwhile some of the land defenders were bare-foot. Others yelled out, why are you doing this? We aren’t doing anything wrong? I saw my friends in the crowd and I saw youth. I witnessed honourable humans putting their bodies on the line in hopes to create a more sustainable and ethical future for us all. There was no retaliation from the side of the protestors. One voice could be heard calling out, pull back, pull back. The group remained peaceful.
(Land defenders on the morning of August 21st 2021 just before being pepper sprayed and attacked by the RCMP.)(The intense push by the RCMP and Paramilitary on August 20th which led to violent arrests.)

The RCMP’s frustration in failing to remove land defenders in what was nearly 100 days of enforcement might have had something to do with the officers violent actions that commenced that day. The alternate option could have been to peacefully wait out the blob, but with being so close to the end of the line at Camp Landback I believe the decision was made out of desperation to clear the road.

With your intense experience and coverage what impacts do you hope your imagery will have?
I hope my photos will emote a sense of community and unification and inspire others to get involved in the experience of participating in meaningful action within their own communities. Experience is always more transformative than reading about other people’s experiences.

It’s difficult to know what to do with all the footage I gathered, I can’t help but feel a sense of urgency to share out and amplify the truth of what I’ve witnessed over the last 8 months. I was relieved to hear Patagonia was publishing a story about Fairy Creek. We are so infiltrated with media these days and it’s hard to know where stories will make the biggest impact. I felt grateful that Patagonia, with such a large following, is amplifying the truth of what is happening here on the Pacific Northwest Coast of Canada.

I also hope my photographs illuminate how Indigenous Communities are being treated by the RCMP and our government right here, right now in Canada. The government has recently claimed that there is no old growth logging taking place in Fairy Creek, a classic play on words to appease the public. Although a two-year moratorium has been placed on the inner portion of the watershed, logging all around the outer edge continues. For example, in an area where a friend and artist discovered a rare speckle-bellied lichen on a stand of ancient trees at Heli Camp is now gone, diminished to nothing but a clear-cut.  If we continue to turn a blind eye there will be nothing left for our future generations.

I’ll end with the words of Elder Bill Jones which he shared during a speech back in August. He said, “We will indeed tell all those who are in power that we are here, that we are standing for our old growth and that we will not back down.”

(Elder Bill Jones welcoming a crowd of his supporters.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This Week in Photography: Growing Older

 

 

“Poor man wanna be rich, rich man wanna be king,
And a king ain’t satisfied ’til he rules everything…”

 

“…it ain’t no sin to be glad you’re alive…”

 

From “Badlands,” by Bruce Springsteen, written in my hometown of Holmdel, NJ, 1978.

 

 

 

I’m re-watching “Marco Polo” on Netflix.

 

 

Such a brilliant show.

It was the first thing I binged, when we finally got high-speed internet in 2015, thanks to Barack Obama.

He’d given a massive chunk of money to the Kit Carson Electric Co-Operative, here in Taos, to bring fiber-optic cable to every rural home in the County.

The funds were allotted in 2009, as The Great Recession began crushing so many Americans, yet it took 6 years for them to wire up our home.

And we were lucky, as the money ran out soon after, and some people got screwed.

Now it’s 2021, and I wouldn’t have been able to work through the pandemic, without Obama’s largesse.

(Thanks, Barack! We miss you!)

How could I have Zoomed without the good WiFi?

I really don’t know, but hopefully the new Biden infrastructure package will help those left behind without sufficient bandwidth.

(Hopefully.)

 

 

 

 

That said, “Marco Polo” is fascinating.

I was just telling Jessie, it’s the kind of entertainment that helped launch Netflix, paving the way for all the streaming services to follow.

It’s also the kind of content no one is making anymore, as it was far-too-expensive.

(I read Netflix lost $200 million on the production.)

The amount of money spent, to recreate 13th Century China and Mongolia, must been seen to be believed.

The costumes, thousands of extras, the palaces, the horses, the piles of corpses; no expense was spared.

To achieve that degree of verisimilitude alone was a feat, but the acting is also terrific, the story-telling taut, (well, they do drag things out a bit,) and the kung-fu is stupendous. (Shout outs to Tom Wu and Michelle Yeoh.)

Doing a bit of research, I learned the show runner, John Fusco, also created “Young Guns,” “Thunderheart,” and “Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron,” so the Dude is obviously a unique talent.

 

John Fusco, proud of being 62

 

But massive productions like this rest on the collective skills of hundreds of people, not just one, and that kind of lucre is now only dropped on Marvel movies. (That Benedict Wong, who was genius as the lead, Emperor Kublai Khan, is now a side-player in the MCU is definitely ironic.)

I could shout out so many of the actors, but Olivia Cheng deserves particular mention.

{Caveat: I’d be remiss not to state this was a Weinstein Company co-production, and the heavy nudity included would not be acceptable these days, if such shows were still being made. Which, again, they’re not.}

Olivia Cheng played a concubine/assassin, (a combo she reprised in the underrated “Warrior,”) and she is such a badass.

 

Olivia Cheng in “Warrior,” Courtesy of Elle

 

There is a scene, relatively early in the first season, where to show off her skills, (to the audience,) she fights, and kills, three soldiers intent on raping her.

She does this, it should be said, entirely naked.

It did take me out of the narrative, just a touch, because I empathized with the actress, wondering how vulnerable she must have felt, to be in front of the camera like that, without even the meagerest of fabric defenses?

The scene reminded me of the unbelievably cool fight in the steam room, in “Eastern Promises,” in which a nude Viggo Mortensen takes out a Russian Mafia thug.

 

Courtesy of Flickering Myth

 

But that scrap is brutal, lacking grace, while Olivia Cheng’s triple-murder is filmed as if she barely breaks a sweat.

Girl power, indeed.

 

 

 

 

I mention all of this for a reason, of course.

This morning, I looked at one of two remaining 2020 submissions, a slim, self-produced book of poems and images, by Roxanne Darling, called “I AM: For the Love of Nature.”

It arrived in December 2020, and features a series of self-portraits, in which the artist took her clothes off, in nature, in a feat of self-empowerment, declaring the aging female form should not be ignored.

(She was photographed from ages 63-66.)

As an honest critic, I’ll say these images are not the type I’d typically review, just as art.

There is an audience for every style of photography, for sure, and this is not exactly to my taste.

But I’ve written countless times, books are experiential, not just a collection of successive images.

Pictures do not need to be brilliant for a book to have power, and one like this, in particular, in which an artist is taking control of her own narrative, often gets extra-juice from that context.

 

 

 

 

The opening essay states Ms. Darling has a history of trauma and abuse, and we learn at the end that her first nude-in-nature photo came just after she buried her mother, who died at 92. (We’re also told her partner, Shane Robinson, took the photos, so it’s not a tripod-and-timer photographic system.)

A fit of instinct pushed Roxanne to disrobe, and then she continued to do so, in various landscapes around the American West.

When I watch something like “Marco Polo,” I occasionally feel the naked women are being exploited by the camera.

Yet as we saw recently with Jason Langer’s collaboration with his muse, Erika, that is not always the case.

Certainly, with Roxanne’s book, the message is super-clear: she feels strong, beautiful, at peace, and engaged with the natural world around her.

(And she believes the aging female form should be celebrated, and deemed attractive, not hidden away in shame.)

As the father of a young girl, I’m always aware of the manner in which the media, and her peers, can impact my daughter’s self-esteem.

My wife and I discuss, with some regularity, how to prevent Amelie from getting “body issues.”

So I’ll always have a soft spot for books like this.

For offerings that scream, “Fuck you if you try to marginalize me, or insist women of a certain age no longer matter.”

This one is cool, for sure, and I’m so glad Roxanne sent it my way.

See you next week!

 

To Purchase “I AM: For the Love of Nature” click here 

 

 

If you’d like to submit a book for potential review, please email me at jonathanblaustein@gmail.com. We are particularly interested in books by artists of color, and female photographers, so we may maintain a balanced program. And please be advised, we currently have a significant backlog of books for review. 

The Art of the Personal Project: Justin Bettman

The Art of the Personal Project is a crucial element to let potential buyers see how you think creatively on your own.  I am drawn to personal projects that have an interesting vision or that show something I have never seen before.  In this thread, I’ll include a link to each personal project with the artist statement so you can see more of the project. Please note: This thread is not affiliated with any company; I’m just featuring projects that I find.  Please DO NOT send me your work.  I do not take submissions.

 

Today’s featured artist:  Justin Bettman

Having grown up in a reform Jewish household in Northern California, my initial perception of the Hasidic community when I moved to NYC was that it almost looked and felt like a completely separate religion. But I wondered: how are we similar? In this portrait series, I wanted to bridge the gap between the reform Jewish community I grew up in and the Hasidic Jewish community that I lived adjacent to in NY.

There’s a difference between watching people and really seeing them. To that point, many photographs of the Hasidic community in New York have a voyeuristic and documentary quality to them since there is a lack of permission and trust by many of the individuals in the Hasidic community. I did not want to replicate that. Rather, I wanted to elevate them and treat them the same way I would treat any individual or celebrity coming into my studio. I wanted consent and permission.

For many reasons, sitting for a portrait within the Hasidic community is seen as taboo. There is not a rule written in the Torah that expressly prohibits doing so. However, one of the main unwritten rules within the Hasidic community is to do what everyone else does and avoid what everyone else avoids. Without a doubt, the toughest part of this project was gaining the access and permission to find willing subjects to sit for a portrait.

My main goal was to make each person feel comfortable enough to reveal their unique characteristics and personality. Oftentimes, the outside world only notices the surface level trademarks that are reflected in the Hasidic community — their intricate hats, their beards, and their payot. I strived to go beyond that.

I used these photo sessions as an opportunity to learn more about the Hasidic community and share my experiences as a reform Jew. Through this sense of shared humanity, I was able to capture something timeless, personal and honest.

Many people have asked why I didn’t include women in the project. I had a few Hasidic women who were willing to sit for portraits, however they didn’t feel comfortable having their images shared publicly.

 

To see more of this project, click here.

Instagram

 

APE contributor Suzanne Sease currently works as a consultant for photographers and illustrators around the world. She has been involved in the photography and illustration industry since the mid 80s.  After establishing the art-buying department at The Martin Agency, then working for Kaplan-Thaler, Capital One, Best Buy and numerous smaller agencies and companies, she decided to be a consultant in 1999. She has a new Twitter feed with helpful marketing information because she believes that marketing should be driven by brand and not by specialty.  Follow her at @SuzanneSeaseInstagram

Success is more than a matter of your talent. It’s also a matter of doing a better job presenting it.  And that is what I do with decades of agency and in-house experience.

 

Pricing & Negotiating: Lifestyle Images For A Vacation Company

By  Craig Oppenheimer, Wonderful Machine

Concept: Images of people enjoying a luxury vacation

Licensing: Unlimited use of up to 30 images for two years

Photographer: Lifestyle and Portraiture Specialist

Client: Luxury vacation brand

Here is the estimate:

 

Fees: The client hoped to promote their brand and a new vacation they were offering with a lifestyle shoot featuring talent partaking in a luxury vacation over three shoot days. They would primarily use the 30 images requested for collateral purposes, with the slim chance of print ads in industry specific publications. I started with a creative fee of $2,000 per day for three shoot days, and added $300 per image on top of that to arrive at a creative/licensing fee of $15,000. While I wanted to go higher on the per image fee, I felt collectively we would probably be pushing the limits on a fee for this brand based on an initial call with the client. On that call, they also confirmed that they would be able to provide the locations, any necessary lodging, meals and prop styling.

Crew: We included a small crew consisting of a producer (including prep, shoot and wrap days) and two assistants for the shoot days. The client was comfortable without a dedicated digital tech.

Styling: In addition to a hair/makeup stylist, we include a wardrobe stylist and a wardrobe stylist assistant to shop and provide clothing for six talent. Each talent would have two outfits each, which we estimated at $250 per outfit. We also included a bit of padding for styling kit fees, and expenses incurred while shopping.

Casting and Talent: As a cost savings measure, we included a line item to cover casting from cards, rather than working with a casting agent and having a live casting. We included session fees to cover six talent for three days each, as well as modest talent usage fee, which we felt would work for the market and licensing needed.

Equipment: This covered the photographer’s own gear, and the potential need for a few rented lenses/supplies for three days.

Misc.: We included a few hundred dollars to cover any unforeseen expenses that might arise.

Post Production: This covered the time it would take the photographer to do an initial edit and then a per image fee for retouching of 30 selects.

Feedback: The estimate was well received, however we heard back a few days later letting us know that they determined their budget was $50k, and they asked what we could do to come down to that number. We discussed the production approach, and the client was comfortable taking on those responsibilities while reducing the talent needs as well. We removed the producer (while adding a pre-pro day for the photographer to help line up her crew), reduced the talent to 4 instead of 6, reduced the styling and equipment expenses, while making a few other additional tweaks, and submitted the following estimate:

Results: The photographer was awarded the project.

The Daily Edit – Fairy Creek: Agathe Bernard

Cree Land Defender Lady Chainsaw Lady Chainsaw, chained to another wheelchair on the river camp bridge ready to confront the RCMP. Her fierceness is contagious, arrested more than 60 times

The Cleanest Line: Dispatch from Fairy Creek

Photographer: Agathe Bernard

Heidi: Fairy Creek is located on the territory of the Pacheedaht Nation, RCMP began enforcement of an injunction to clear forest defenders out of the way of logging company Teal Jones. The battle to protect this area is still ongoing, what drew you to this protest?
Agathe: In all honesty, when things started intensifying at Fairy Creek, I was swamped. I was working on a film about a double amputee going to the paralympics, pushing for the Sinixt (some of the Columbia River indigenous) to retrieve the rights back to their territories and get their voice heard through another film. I was working on a massive coastal cleanup. I didn’t have a lot of personal time then. I felt very isolated from the pandemic and in need of some girl time and community connection. So when Marie-France texted me to join her and Leah and a few other girlfriends, I knew deep down I had to show up, for the ecosystem, for the forest who gave me so much peace and to connect with the girls.

There were several female activists in your images; of course, men were present but was there a sisterhood afoot?
Definitively! It’s actually quite fascinating how Fairy Creek gathered so many caring women. When the police force was so intense, knowing that we had each other and could take care of each other and laugh, sharing food or resources was an absolute force. These friendships are forever changed and so much stronger because we shared that experience together. Building community, in this case, a sisterhood around the things you love and care for, I think is the key to flight for environmental and human justice.

The violence against Indigenous women appears to be much more pervasive than publicly available data would indicate. This suspicion was confirmed in 2013, when the RCMP released a report revealing 1,181 cases of missing and/or murdered Indigenous women and girls. The 2015 update document now unavailable on the RCMP’s website added 19 female Aboriginal missing cases, for a total of 174 Aboriginal females missing for at least 30 days as of April 1, 2015.

Missing Murdered Indigenous Women MMIW is an essential and necessary movement that gives voice and raises awareness for mothers, daughters, sisters, wives and friends that have gone missing from reservations. What did you want your images to say and or how did making those photos hit you as a woman?
I was quite intimidated to take photos of these incredible indigenous women. Knowing how much they had been through and suffered and how hard it was for them to show up for their right in hopes of a better future for their daughters, sisters and grandchildren. That was a very humbling experience! In these images, I was trying to convey their fierce and strong nature, that enough is enough, and you just don’t mess with indigenous women, period. In each woman I could see a set of Russian dolls standing, lineage of generations standing into each woman and saying: “No more, we have had enough, and we will not put up with the abuse anymore”.

It was like drawing a clean line with the past, acknowledging the intergenerational trauma and choosing to end it at all cost. I still have shivers going through my body when I think of how I felt taking these photos. I still feel so much shame for our society to have allowed that to happen and so much anger when I look around and see how people keep ignoring the harm. Some photos will change you forever.



When you are in the forest, what type of energy or messages do you get from the trees?
The forest is hands down my favorite place to recalibrate. Bathing in big trees sparks my senses so much. I love observing the leaves unfolding and the sun sparkling through the branches, hearing the sounds of the wind passing through…I grew up playing in a forest every day and visited the big lumpy tree daily, wishing it well. That tree had motherly energy to it; it was comforting, safe, always there for me until they built the golf course. I still go by that same place when I go back East, and it’s sad now, endless rows of suburban houses that look all the same.

I was given my first film camera at seven, and the trees were the first thing I photographed. I feel like I still haven’t broken down the code to give them justice. I never thought of them as male or female; they are the perfect balance between standing solid and sturdy yet swaying with the wind and adapting beautifully like a gracious feminine dance. It’s the ideal mix between the feminine, caring quality of nurturing and community and the more individualistic strong male nature of pushing upward towards the light.

How has the environment and or the outdoors informed your work?
I grew up in nature between a forest, a river and a lake that was the city water reservoir. The environment was always everything for me. I was a little bit of a black sheep and felt quite lonely at times with all my passions and big dreams; nature was my safe place.

I was stealing my dad’s Handycam daily, wrapping it in my sweater on my way to school and making movies secretly. I stormed into the minister’s office at 13 with it and my concerns about pollution. I wanted answers because it didn’t make sense that we were polluting our planet with aerosols.

I brought one film to show my school. It was about the seal massacre in northern Quebec (my mom and sister had agreed to play the dead seal covered in ketchup). My parents were teachers, so they explained everything we saw: how the glaciers formed, the river flow, how everything evolved through time. I was raised with curiosity and a thirst to explore.

When I went to BC for the first time at 19th years old,  I felt like I didn’t deserve to be enjoying the mountains. I didn’t understand why there were volcanoes amongst the coastal mountains, so I went to do a geology degree. That was a first-hand experience in seeing the inside of “the industry” that didn’t feel good. When I graduated, I worked in Peru, and our team was kidnapped. That experience was eye-opening, I was so naive. Eventually, I went to work as an environmental scientist specializing in contaminated soil and water, knee-deep cleaning up the industry’s pollutants. Unfortunately, because I was on the front line there, my health took a hit. I went back to school to do a graduate certificate in environmental education and communication. I feel like I am finally finding where I belong, bridging science and storytelling to show up for what I think is the most important. An incredible editor (you) told me once “you can express those motherly caring and loving qualities towards the causes you care for” and that is how I have resolved my own life purpose. Hopefully, seeing my work published and creating tiny ripples of change has brought me to hope that love, perseverance, and trust can do anything.

What message do you hope to share?
The balance with our environment is very fragile. Ecosystems are getting affected to a level they may not be able to recover, and I hope to help people understand we need to take better care of our mother. We need to look after her rivers, bring salmon back, leave the glacier alone, forbid development that brings crowds of selfie sticks, have the cruise ships gone so that whales can communicate, and regenerative design systems that prevent single-use plastics, hold industry accountable for ghost net and contamination, to name a few solutions.

Healing our mother comes hand in hand with healing social justice issues and healing ourselves because consumerism is a bandage. How much do we really need? What if we gave back the love our mother gave us?

Follow
@fairycreekblockade@rainforestflyingsquad and @camplandback on Instagram, and visit facebook.com/FairyCreekBlockade for daily updates from the front lines.

 

Featured Promo – Emily Brooke Sandor

Emily Brooke Sandor

Who printed it?
I chose Mixam.com to print the Saffron cookbook. I first learned about Mixam from reading aphotoeditor.com, so here we are, full circle! Mixam has great customer service and I’ve been very happy with their print quality.

Who designed it?
My boyfriend an illustrator/graphic designer, Daniel Peacock, and I designed the Saffron cookbook together using InDesign. I knew that I wanted the Saffron cookbook to be a blend of my travel and food photography and designing the layout flowed easily – starting with a brief written intro, a short history of saffron, tips on how to use and store it, followed by twelve recipes featuring saffron, and finishing with a photo story of the annual saffron harvest in Krokos, Kozani, in northern Greece. I also collaborated with Greek-American chef, Christina Xenos, who co-authored this project and developed the recipes for the cookbook.

Saffron crocus flowers bloom for three weeks, only once a year. Every aspect of the saffron harvest is done by hand – picking and gathering thousands of flowers each day, separating the red saffron stigmas from the rest of the flower, and skillfully drying and packaging the spice. I wanted the Saffron cookbook to reflect this level of care, too. So, I wrap each book, add a handmade stamp of a crocus flower on the front, tie the book with red twine in a way that’s meant to mimic the red saffron stigmas, and include a handwritten note.

Tell me about the images.
There are a few categories of photos:

A photo of the saffron that I grew at home and a bowl of saffron corms were taken with my iPhone.

The recipe photos were shot over three days with prop stylist, Robin Turk. I used natural light, a diffusion panel, and several reflectors. I shot everything on the Canon 5D Mark II with the 100mm lens.

Daniel and I traveled to Krokos, in the town of Kozani, to document the annual harvest over ten days. I shot stills and Daniel shot video. We met many wonderful people we are still in touch with via social media. As a thank you, I sent 20 Saffron cookbooks to Greece to the folks who allowed us to photograph them. The majority of our shooting time was photographing outside, in the saffron fields – mostly of the saffron flowers being picked, and shooting various portraits of the harvesters. We spent one morning photographing the dried saffron as it was being weighed and packaged at the Kozani Saffron Producers Cooperative. That evening, we documented the saffron sorting process. At one point, it was good to put the cameras down and join the women sorting the saffron.

While out shooting in the saffron fields one day, it occurred to me that I would really like to get a shot of a single saffron crocus flower on a black background. It was windy and hot outside, so I sat inside the rental car and photographed a single flower on my lap (I was wearing black pants). When we returned home, Daniel retouched the shot and it became the cover of the cookbook.

How many did you make?
I’ve printed 350 Saffron cookbooks so far. I’ve been sending them out to clients, family, and friends. I’m also selling the cookbook, along with a few prints from the saffron project, in my Etsy shop, Xploria. www.etsy.com/shop/xploria

How many times a year do you send out promos?
I usually send out promos twice a year – but with a big project like Saffron, I think it’s going to be my only promo for a little while.

Do you think printed promos are effective for marketing your work?
Yes, definitely. There’s something wonderful about sharing a printed promo/book with someone who understands and resonates with the work.

Where did you get the idea for the project?
It’s amazing to me that a big project can start from such a small question: what is saffron?

Before this project, I didn’t know much about how to use saffron beyond a few recipes, so my little jar of saffron sat mostly on the shelf, unused. I knew saffron was pricey but wasn’t exactly sure why. I was cautious about using the precious red threads in a casual way and unsure of what to make with them. This spice held a lot of mystery.

My journey with saffron started because I was looking for something new and interesting to grow in my Los Angeles home garden. Then I got a job opportunity to photograph in Bulgaria and Crete and decided to extend the trip to photograph the saffron harvest in Greece. The only catch was that I had to wait a month for the saffron harvest to begin!

One of the best pieces of advice that I ever got from art school came from the late photographer, James Fee. I had asked him how he mentally/innerly prepared himself for a photoshoot. He responded, “Don’t be afraid to shoot on the way to the shoot.”

So, in preparation for the saffron harvest shoot, and because we had plenty of time to explore, Daniel and I did some photo/video mini-stories together: an organic olive mill on Crete, the cultivation of citron on Naxos, and the production of Kitron (a special liqueur made only on Naxos), and a family farm growing Greek mountain tea.

I want the Saffron cookbook to inspire others not only to understand and appreciate what saffron is but also to give some practical, easy ways to enjoy this beautiful spice – to demystify it a bit. Simply put a few saffron threads in warm water, add some honey, and, ta-da! saffron tea. Full of health benefits and tasty, too.

Chef Christina, Daniel, and I put together a video presentation of the saffron cookbook: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p9ToGVUkKcM Christina demonstrates how to make a few recipes and there’s a video of the saffron harvest that Daniel and I created.