We are in the middle of a snowstorm here in Cincinnati, Ohio. It has snowed most of the day and is supposed to continue through the night and into Saturday. Total accumulation predicted to be 15 inches. You can see a few of the shots I took of the snow today here http://flickr.com/photos/artisticlight/sets/72157604069716469/.
I don’t even know where to begin. The world around me is full of contrasts. The gap between rich and poor continues to increase. There is beauty everywhere and plenty of ugliness if you wish to look. I always thought that Heaven and Hell had the same address, it was a matter of what you wanted to see. So far my photography has focused on the beauty I see, and I never plan to stop seeing that beauty and capturing it. However, I also see a world that needs help. Since seeing the Crewdson lecture I have thought about my photography and I have decided to experiment and push into new areas. I spent a good portion of the weekend shooting scenes from the streets and this is my first portrait from the streets. I was fascinated with this man’s face. It tells a story of its own. We’ll see where this goes.
I just got back from an amazing presentation held at the Cincinnati Art Museum. The presentation was given by Gregory Crewdson a photographer best known for his elaborately choreographed photographs that frame mystery in everyday life.
It was inspirational. His work is fantastic. That said, it is not the type of work I usually admire and you will just have to check it out to form your own opinion. However, it was wonderful to see a photographer who thought as an artist and not a documentarian. He conceptualizes images in his head and then goes to great lengths to execute them, the result being masterpieces. I picked up more tidbits of creative thought and insight from his lecture than any other single event in recent memory.
I urge you to check out his work and do enough research to understand what goes into each photo he creates. You may or may not like his style, but his artistry, creativity, clarity of vision, drive to make his visions into reality are without question.
You can get more information about Mr. Crewdson and see samples of his work at Luhring Augustine for starters. He was also in PDN magazine within the last year. That was my first introduction to the artist.
Okay… It has been awhile, but I’m ready to pick my journal back up.
I also just setup a flickr account and I’m testing writing this entry from flickr and linking it to this photo. I took it at the Trans-Siberian Orchestra concert a couple days after Christmas 2007. Their concerts are just amazing and I recommend that everyone attend one if they can. Just click on the photo to be taken to my flickr site where you can see much more.
I’ll start writing more, but just wanted to test this before heading to bed for the evening.
I had never been to Mexico, and Oaxaca (wa’haka), Mexico is a place I did not know. If you had shown me the name in writing I would not have properly pronounced it. A series of events resulted in good fortune and my trip to this land.
One of my friends is Martha. She is the head of Anthropology at the University of Cincinnati, and an amazing person. Intelligent, alive, and caring she is part of the reason where I live is so special to me.
George is a close friend. Brilliant, challenging and fun would be three words that would be totally inadequate at describing him.
Exercising with my friend George and his sharing details about his extended time in Mexico made me realize my ignorance about a nation on our border. Martha has extensive knowledge about Mexico, and she has a second home in Oaxaca.
A life in change, a desire to see the world and find a place of beauty to call home, improving finances, and a large dose of personal freedom are the other missing ingredients that drove me to Oaxaca.
The first thing that struck me… well, the very first thing that caught my attention was having something to eat in the airport in Mexico City while waiting for my flight to Oaxaca. Spice! The food had flavor stronger than anything in an American airport. I loved it.
Once my plane landed in Oaxaca, Martha and one of her students, Melony, graciously picked me up at the airport and we drove to the Zócalo (the town square of Mexican cities) to grab an outdoor café table under an archway and a menu entirely in Spanish. There I enjoyed more of the spice of Mexico. A margarita, chapulines (small grasshoppers grilled with minced onion in oil until crunchy), quesillo a la plancha (Oaxaca’s famous white cheese), fresh tortillas, the night air, live music and a view of Oaxacan society celebrating their daily life intoxicate this weary traveler.
There is much more to say, but not enough time at the moment. You can see the growing collection of snapshots from trip on my personal photo album at http://andrew.artisticlight.com
Death is such a hard thing. It forces us to look at our own mortality and take measure of our life. These feelings have filled me today since attending a Memorial Mass for a close friend this morning. I say ’close’ though I had not seen her for almost 20 years, yet she and her whole family are an intrinsic part of who I am.
Mrs. B. was the mother of three beautiful children and wife to a loving husband. As much of my youth was spent playing with her family as it was with mine. They were good people, the type stories are written about. Mrs. B. baked goodies for us kids, talked to us, played with us, and made us feel special and a part of her life. She welcomed every new family to the neighborhood with her cooking, her conversation, and her warm heart. She and my mother would spend countless hours talking and laughing. When the mold for the ideal neighbor was made, she and her family were the design from which it was modeled.
She died suddenly. Complaining of back pain, her husband took her to the hospital. While tests were being performed on her to determine the problem, she just quit breathing. The whole world gently shuddered at the loss.
Attending her Mass, seeing the familiar faces of childhood friends, gazing upon my old school with the playground filled with young children wearing uniforms seemingly identical to the one I wore decades ago, it was impossible not to cry.
I look back at my life and wonder how it would have been different if certain choices were made. I look to the future knowing the choices I make today will be an important part of who I am tomorrow. Here is a wish that we all make smart choices… and, to Mrs. B. the world was better for the choices you made. Thank you for being a part of my life.
The lesson I take away from death is to live, and to live well.
As I often do, I will leave you with a poem. This one has been a favorite of mine for many years. Dylan Thomas wrote this near his father’s death. It was surely a wish for his father to fight for life, but there is no historical evidence he ever showed the poem to his father. It may have been something the poet needed to think and write for himself in the face of the inevitable.
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
by Dylan Thomas
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Spring is in full swing here and life is mirroring the season.
Cincinnati holds an annual festival called, The Taste of Cincinnati, at which many of the eateries within the city have a booth and serve samples of their food. Cincinnati has a strong German heritage which is reflected in the types of food offered. A few concert stages are erected, several blocks of the downtown area are blocked off, and bands play late into the evening while people mill about eating and drinking.
Krohn Conservatory is another local attraction that also holds an annual event at this time of year. For a month the Conservatory is filled with butterflies. Tens of thousands of them are flown in and released for guests to see and hold.
Today I visited both events during my daily walk of many miles.
I also recently purchased a guitar. I am taking lessons and finding it a great joy, though the tips of my fingers are sore! I have not played the guitar before, so it is a new experience. I did play the trumpet for many years when young and became very proficient. I am scheduled to go see a used one for purchase next week.
I will leave you with a poem. I love poetry and find some parallels between it and art/photography. They are both a means of communicating the infinite.
Invictus
By William Ernest Henley
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
I am frequently asked what camera I use for my photos. I have four cameras…
Kodak Pro/N - 14 megapixal digital camera that uses Nikon lenses and is made with 80% Nikon parts. It has a 35mm SLR body and uses a full-frame sensor.
Nikon F100 - 35mm SLR film camera.
Canon G7 - pocket sized digital camera
4×5 View camera - An old style camera that takes big sheets of film and you get behind it and throw the cloth over your head so you can see the image on the glass plate.
Most of my photos you have seen in the last couple of years have been taken with the Kodak Pro/N digital camera. It is the only full frame Nikon compatible camera on the market. Kodak has discontinued the camera and there is no other full frame Nikon digital camera on the horizon. A lot of research between me and some of friends is leading to a decision on my part to purchase a Canon digital SLR soon.
While I have some nice cameras, I don’t have any new furniture or clothes. Well, okay. I do have some clothes and furniture too, but I have spent a lot of money on photographic equipment. However, please understand that an expensive camera is not required for great photos. Your camera will do just fine. Good photos are the result of a good eye. If you have artistic vision then you “see” the shot.
I would say it is probably similar to expensive paints for a painter. When you make a painting, you’d like to use the best paints you can, but the paints do not really determine if you make a great painting. If you are a good painter you can make a masterpiece with the cheapest of paints. And no one looks at a painting and asks what paints did you use. You can make masterpieces with your camera.
It has been too long since I’ve written in my journal. Pursuing my photography, consulting, growing friendships, and a full life always seem to stretch the hours of the day. The photos included are a clue to my desire to keep getting more from each day. One evening a few weeks ago I had worked especially hard all day. It was after 2:00 A.M. when I finally stopped working. An unusually foggy night had developed and I looked out my windows and saw the street lamps glowing in the heavy mist. To “treat” myself after working so long, I picked up my camera and went outside. These are a couple of the shots I took that early morning somewhere around 3:00 A.M.
A recent highlight was a surprise birthday party for me organized by J.T. She went to a lot of effort and many of my friends were there. It was a great time and special. It was my first surprise party. And, don’t tell anyone but I’m Batman. 
I also recently discovered a great restraunt just a mile away from my home. Cafe Instanbul is an establishment that serves fantastic Turkish food. The service is warm and friendly and reflecting the personality of the Turkish owner. I discovered it with a friend and liked it so much I went with my mother the next day. Check it out if you’re near Newport on the Levee, in Newport, Kentucky. After your meal, try the Turkish Desert Sampler with a Turkish coffee. I did!
I always stay up too late. I am sure it is because I don’t want to confess that another day of life has passed and that I have not gotten everything I want from it.
Tonight’s bedtime avoidance was a movie titled, “In Her Shoes”. It is a movie about the relationship between two sisters. I won’t go into the details; I never like knowing much about a movie before I see it, so I won’t spoil it for you. Suffice it to say I was pleasantly surprised how good it was, I cried several times.
Of particular note were two poems read in the movie. They were wonderful and I can share them with you without spoiling any of the movie.
The first was a poem about loss by Elizabeth Bishop…
One Art
The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.
—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
– Elizabeth Bishop
The second poem was about love by e.e. cummings…
i carry your heart with me
i carry your heart with me
(i carry it in my heart)
i am never without it
(anywhere i go you go,my dear;
and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear no fate
(for you are my fate,my sweet)
i want no world
(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart
(i carry it in my heart)
You can find commentary and analysis about them on the web, but is it really needed? Whatever the words say to you are valid and true enough. I hope they touch you and that you enjoy them as much as I did this evening.
Now I go to bed.
