01
May
2013
guitar
15
Jan
2013
Sketches: Audience
There is more to this image than meets the eye. I suppose that is why many pictures are valued more by the photographer who made them than the audience. Often images have a backstory the viewer is not privy to and this leads to the photography of self interest. I have fallen prey to it; you probably have too. We see such self-interest a lot these days of social media, especially in apps like Instagram. Most of the time I try to let – or make – the images I create stand on their own. There is something in me that believes this is the mark of good photography.
But there are also times when an image augments the words associated with it; and when words augment the image. I think this is one of those times.
This image shows a lone guitarist, on stage, playing to a single audience member who seems to be nursing his beer slowly, sip by sip. To my mind he is intrigued enough by the guitarist to draw out his enjoyment of his ale, but not enough to commit to another glass. There is a feel of sadness to this image for me – a solitariness for both men sharing this experience. One performs; the other absorbs. But each seems in their own world, with their own emotions and thoughts. I am reminded of the reality that we are each alone with our introverted nature: the thoughts and feelings of our mind.
And yet this image is anything but that. The performer, Keith Sanchez, a fantastic guitarrista from Belen, New Mexico who plays the music circuit of central New Mexico and runs the New Mexico Academy of Rock and Blues teaching children a love and appreciation for the musical style, is the son. The single audience member, his father.
This is a father and son connection. Having sons myself I can’t help but wonder at the thoughts and emotions present within the father. I’d love to know.
We spoke at length, Keith, his father, his mother, my wife, my sons, and me. I was taken with Keith’s playing style, his set list, and his choice of languages. You see, despite his heritage and name, Sanchez did not grow up speaking Spanish but rather learned while living in Ecuador with his family during his teen years. Have you ever heard “Hotel California” in Spanish? I have! He rocks it!! And he was friendly, and open, and clearly close with his parents. And he made a point to entertain my young sons from the stage. Not too big for his britches, this guitarrista.
I look forward to hearing him play again and perhaps continue our conversations. He performs at Il Vicino Cantina the last Sunday of the month, at the Luna Mansion in Los Lunas every Friday night, and periodically at Scalo’s Il Bar and Opa’s bar in Nob Hill.
On a side note, there were more audience members than myself and the father. This is a long room and the tables behind me were filled with local families and groups of friends enjoying a freshly made pint, the music, and good company.
26
Sep
2012
Sketches: Upright
12
Sep
2011
Daily Practice
Submit to a daily practice. Keep knocking and the joy inside will eventually open a window. -Rumi
Things have been busy here in monkdom. I know many of us have busy lives; it is one of the things that tends to define us as Americans, it seems, and I notice it often as a casual yet telling response to a friendly greeting in my parts. “What you been up to?” the greeter asks. “Oh, not much. Busy, busy…”
Not many more details are given and none more are requested, as if to say “well, if you won’t volunteer it, or don’t remember it, then it’s not that important to me.”
Well, here, we’ve been busy, busy. And I’m gonna tell you about it, mostly because I’m enthused about it and also because all this business is separating the wheat from the chaff for me and the role of photography in my life.
The quote above is a quick little ditty that has deep meaning for those spiritually oriented, but it also speaks true of those of us in the quest for that satisfying artistic expression: our voice. “Submit to a daily practice and have faith” that quote seems to say. Work daily, practice daily, be mindful, daily and what you seek or what you need will somehow, somewhere, present itself.
It is a challenging thing to do because submitting to this daily practice is supposed to challenge you. It is supposed to make you question what you are doing and why you are doing it. It is supposed to take you right to the edge of the limits of what you know about your art (and even perhaps yourself) and make you peer, seriously peer, over the edge at “what if?”
For me this has been coming through stress, challenging work, lack of sleep, deadlines, limits, and illness. Life has been full, my responsibilities feeling so vast, that there seemed to not be room for photography in it. I actually asked myself if I should stop for now; if I was trying to do too much.
I haven’t fully answered that question yet but I find myself coming through it all with greater clarity and with a realization that despite all the challenges some wonderful things have taken place throughout it all. I was recently paid to photograph a Baptism and was quite pleased with the result; I’ve had a photographic series published at Rear Curtain (the first and hopefully not the last); I’ve started lightening my gear bag as I wander and travel with wonderful results and more enjoyable trips; I’ve completed a new photobook I am excited about and awaiting the proof with anticipation; I’ve edited down a huge series to 6 images that I think tell a story with greater impact; I’ve begun to expose myself to varying art forms with greater enthusiasm and energy.
This past Saturday I convinced my family to take a drive to Santa Fe and had the chance to visit the Verve Photography Gallery there. It is a wonderful place with a welcome and accommodating staff and some of the most astounding photography gracing the walls. My purpose there was more directed than just taking in the prints displayed. I was after a book, or books, by Norman Mauskopf. Ever since Daniel Milnor (aka. Smogranch) had mentioned Mauskopf in a blog post I’d wanted to see his stuff. Both Milnor and Mauskopf are undertaking or have undertaken projects close to my heart: Milnor is engaged in a lengthy project on New Mexico and Mauskopf has completed fantastic works on horse racing, rodeo, and the Latino descendants of Spanish settlers in Northern New Mexico. All of these projects rank in the “holy crap” level of difficulty.
These two are in the stratosphere of documentary photography and noticing my attraction to their work has made me realize the pull I feel in my photography. What that is exactly still remains to be seen-that will require more practice-but the idea and the way has begun to take form in the fog.
By the way, Mauskopf is teaching a visual storytelling workshop in Santa Fe this October through Santa Fe Photographic Workshops and Daniel Milnor is leading one in Peru.