At the beginning of May, Hannah and I spent two weeks backpacking in southern Utah, around Zion and Grand Staircase - Escalante. We were there just long enough to wet our appetites. On the way back, I picked up Edward Abbey’s Desert Solitaire. How is it that I haven’t read this book before?

I love that desert, I do. There is much about this world that is wild, untamed and fantastic. Go. Take a long walk and breathe it in. Your life may depend on it.

And then, there’s Niagara Falls. Makes me want to cry.

Pictura is a wonderful new gallery in Bloomington, Indiana. As far as I’m aware, it’s the only full time gallery in the region dedicated to art photography. If you enjoy photography as an art form, they are well worth a visit. While you are there, thank David, Brenda and Martha for the great work they are doing.

To add to my enthusiasm, Pictura is hosting an exhibit of my latest series of images, Little Pieces all Together. This body of work looks into enchanted coordination within the details of the natural world. Last month’s Pictura opening drew quite a crowd. Come and see what the fuss is about!

Little Pieces All Together - Opening Reception May 9, 2008 - 5:00pm to 8:00pm

Pictura Photographer’s Note - May 28, 2008 - 7:00pm
I’ll also be kicking off the Photographer’s Note series with an artist’s talk at 7pm on May 28th. See you there.

Pictura Gallery
On the Square at Sixth and College
122 W. Sixth St. 
Bloomington, IN 47404

Upcoming Events

Here are a few other upcoming events:

Blog posts may be slim for the next couple of weeks. In addition to the shows, I’m also leaving for a backpacking trip in the canyons of southern Utah. Until then, I wish you well.
 

I delivered a group of photographs to a gallery today. Two of the pieces were printed at 33″x50″, larger than I’ve ever printed before. Now, I’ve heard a range of rants against large prints: Big prints are just a fad. You don’t have the intimacy that you do with small prints. I’ve heard that large prints are just compensations for ego, shouting out “pay attention to me!”

When I started photography, an 11×14 was a really big print. The first time I framed an image to 18″x24″, the final result seemed impressively humongous. I felt dangerous working with such a large piece of glass. Why, a few months earlier my largest images were 5×7’s and that was splurging. That changed last year when I bought a printer that uses 24 inch wide rolls of paper. These “huge” prints only seem so large because photography as a medium has, for most of it’s history, been tech-limited to printing smaller. Bigger doesn’t necessarily mean better, but smaller doesn’t either. They’re just different. And, with different options we can express different things. We’re used to paintings in large and small sizes. We’ll get used to it in photography as well. 

Now, I’m not dismissing the small photograph. There’s something precious to holding a photograph in your hand and taking in the detail. However, looking at my images printed big, the size just feels right. Especially in the images with all the little pieces. There’s enough detail to let each little piece be it’s own entity, and enough presence to stand back to observe the overall motion in the composition. Yeah, I just love those big prints.

By the way, one hazard of printing big is framing big. I spent a couple of days last week cutting two inch strips off the long side of 32″x40″ glass sheets. I had to give myself a little pep talk before each cut. You need to have a cool demeanor when cutting glass, ’cause if you get frustrated there’s nothing safe around to punch. I had a couple of cuts go wrong and felt doomed to losing every piece of glass in the case. After the next cut came out perfect, I leaned back in a sigh of thankful relief. By the time I was done, I had broken just the right amount to have enough left over to frame everything. Whew.

More of spring from yesterday’s afternoon walk. These tiny web resolutions just don’t do images like this justice. I’m looking forward to printing this one big.

It’s spring. The trees are blooming all around town. I love it.

There are certain types of weather that get me itching to be outside - the good weather. It started as warm, sunny, cloudless days, with a gentle breeze. A few years ago, I bought a stunt kite, the kind with two strings that allows you steer the kite into acrobatic maneuvers. I could also reliably steer it into the ground. Good weather now included windy weather. I’d see the trees swaying and itch to be out.

With photography, good weather started with the magic hour, the golden light around sunrise and sunset. Then, it became the soft light of cloudy days. Then it was harsh light filtered through leaves.

Lately though, the good weather has been with the rain. The damp earth smells good. The world changes in front of me as drops land and slide and glisten. The rain patters as drops land on my jacket hood, like a drumbeat to the soundtrack in my head. It’s me, the woods and my camera. My camera is wet, as are my nose, and my knees, and the trees. Through the puddles I play.

If you have been following my work, you may have noticed that many of the images depict lots of small bits of things: leaves, grass and bits of trees. They are abstractions of organized chaos, if you will. I started making photographs like this about two years ago. I didn’t start out seeking to make these kinds of images. It was after the fact, as I reviewed my shots, that I would notice I was attracted to these types of compositions.

Just about a year ago, I tried to explain why I was drawn to these coordinated little pieces, which resulted in a blog post.

…There is something really amazing about orchestras and choirs. Perhaps it’s the large group of people, each with their own talents, textures, voices and parts. When they all move together, they create something wonderful, something larger and outside of themselves…. This fascination has tumbled into an appropriation - at first subconscious and now intentional. I’m viewing nature and considering the orchestra.

Now that I had a notion of where I was going, I no longer had a random trend. I had a project. In the past couple of months, I’ve been editing down the images to a smaller, cohesive portfolio. And now, I’m finally at a point where I feel it’s ready to share. The project is called Little Pieces All Together. You can view the images, along with a statement about the project, in the gallery area of my website.

My friend Josie is exhibiting work from a new series, An Immaculate Nature. The opening is tonight (April 4) at the Wheeler Arts Community in Fountain Square. 

Tonight’s also the First Friday Gallery Walk. If you’re in the Fountain Square area, stop by my studio for a visit. I’ll have test prints from a new series that loosely concerns fairies. Cheers!

It was a tenuous proposition to begin with. Driving from Indiana to Florida is a test of any vehicle’s reliability. But, Mongo… Mongo could do it.

Mongo, my 1992 duo-toned Ford art-caper van, had a history of being disagreeable with the east. The van, being of old age and habit, would reliably break down each time the previous owner tried to drive it to Ohio. There were whispers of Mongo and the curse of Ohio.

I bought the van during the summer of 2006. A couple of months later, I was stopped at a gas station on the way to Cleveland, Ohio. While pumping gas, I noticed a large puddle growing by my feet. It was gasoline. The more I pumped, the more the puddle grew. Drizzle, drizzle, drizzle, went the little stream of gasoline. Right from the pump, onto the floor.

At least it wasn’t a problem with the engine. The hose to the gas tank was replaced, and we were good to go. Yeah! Good to go all the way to an art show in Florida. It’s hard to decide to do an art show in Florida. The expenses are high. You pretty much need to drive to get all your work and display down there. And, the length of the trip takes away from time working on other things. In Febuary, 2007, fresh with optimism, Hannah and I packed up the van, dug a path through the snow, and pushed off to Miami.

Setting up for an art show is stressful. There’s the logistics of getting the tent and display up, and the artwork hung. There’s remembering to charge the battery on the credit card machine. There’s hoping you brought the right mix of work. And, there’s the wondering if, after all this effort, there will be enough interest in your work to make expenses. I have a hard time letting go of this mental baggage when setting up. If possible, I favor a slow, laid-back setup, followed by a nice dinner where I can try to convince myself that this is a sane way to make a living.

Things were smooth on the way to Miami. We were going to arrive in the afternoon, with plenty of time to setup and then to explore the area before dinner. Then, I noticed Mongo was hesitating going up hills. One more hesitation, and then… nothing - the engine stalled. We were on the highway. I worked on trying to restart the engine, and at the same time switch lanes to get onto the shoulder. We coasted to a stop. The engine wouldn’t start.

I wasn’t sure where we were, but we were close to the show site. There was a highway sign in the distance, but it was too far away for me to read. No problem, I grabbed my camera with a telephoto lens, took a picture and zoomed up on the LCD display. Yeah! Try doing that with film. That’s the picture attached to this post. We were 20 miles from the show site. After going all that distance, we couldn’t make those last 20 miles.

Now, we’re racing against time. It’s getting near 4pm. The show requires that you’re setup before they close the site for the evening. After an hour, the tow truck arrives. Traffic is getting thick with rush hour. On the way to the mechanic, the truck takes us right past the show site! I considered asking if the van could be dropped off in front of our spot. There it was, after a thousand miles, the site of the show. We drove right by it, not knowing if we would ever get there.

We got to the service station. They wouldn’t be able to look at the van until the next day. I called around to the car rental companies in the area, but it was already past 6pm and they were closed. I was exasperated - ready to find a hotel and call it a night. No.. there must be a way. A call to the Miami airport car rental located a cargo van. A cab ride and a few hours later, we had the rental van back at the mechanic. It was dark as we unloaded everything from Mongo into the plain white cargo van. People walked by wondering what we were up to. I tried not to look suspicious.

We finally got to the show site, and talked our way past the security guards. It was near 2am when we finished setting up. There was no dinner. We were exhausted.

The next day, the sun came up and Mongo was repaired.