monochrome

Oct

2012

Sketches: Native Cowboy

A young Indian cowboy sits alone and brooding high in the stands at the International Indian Finals Rodeo in Albuquerque, New Mexico, September 2012.

The contestants wait all evening for the shot at glory. Whether it be a barrel race lasting nearly a minute, a team calf roping event lasting half a minute, or the eternity that 8 seconds can seem on the back of a raging bull, they have one chance in the evening to pull off a great ride or to suffer abject defeat and possible injury.

I don’t know what led this young cowpoke to brood so: a poor ride; a father’s scolding; the mocking of friends. But it was clear he needed to be with his own thoughts for a while.

The International Indian Finals Rodeo drew competitors from Calgary, from Hopi, from Mescalero Apache, from Navajo and from many in between, with each competitor carrying the pride of their tribe on their shoulders. In addition, they carried the pride of Native, First Nation’s People.

There were not many spectators. A few curious attendees, but mostly the sense was that the stands were populated with the competitors’ family members. But I tell you, the competitors were as good as they come.

Mar

2012

Bosque del Apache, Part 2

In my previous post I showed a quick series about the Geese and Sand Hill cranes at Bosque del Apache, a National Wildlife Refuge about an hour south of Albuquerque, New Mexico. It’s a photographer magnet.

We had found a field full of birds, out of which came the images in the previous post, but soon they decided to move on to their nighttime location.

We decided jump ahead of the birds to go to an area known as “The Flight Deck.”

The “Flight Deck” is an observation station placed in the flooded fields at a favorite resting spot for the birds. Word has it that thousand of birds usually spend the night here…as well as several zealous photographers. This time the birds landed at a neighboring field without a deck. They tend to do that if there are predators nearby. So all that was left was a gaggle of photographers with impossibly large lenses, the water, and the sunset.

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.

Aug

2011

Carry Your Crappy Camera

I’ve been thinking about this post for a while. Regular readers here will be aware that I’ve decided to focus on the craft of photography for a while rather than on the gear. The plan is to learn the skills, the vision, the art, the mystery, the feel of making photographs that please me and I’ve found that new or more gear doesn’t always accomplish that for me. And so, I’ve been thinking a lot about how I think about photography.

Thinking about thinking; it is a strange and wondrous exercise.

You see, I love shooting with my Nikon D300. I paid a good sum of money for it. I love the feel of it. I love how I can change settings quickly and intuitively through the myriad of buttons on the outside of the camera body. It feels good in my hands. You know, I’m just into this camera.

Lately though, I’ve taken to shooting with a used Nikon D80 I bought. At first it was just for novelty but I had bought this camera for a couple of reasons: first, I felt I needed a backup camera body; second, I needed something my wife could put on “Auto” and make a nice picture quickly; third, I needed a camera that would keep my interest while shooting on vacation that she could also use easily; fourth, I needed something I didn’t value quite as much as my D300 because I have two little boys who tend to dump sand on me, jump on me, and splash water on me (decidedly non camera-friendly occurrences.) So the D80 entered the stable.

But after a while I noticed something about how I thought about this backup D80 camera: I didn’t care about it as much. Now, normally that would make me want to shoot with it less. But I found myself shooting with it more. Strange. So I started that thinking about thinking thing again. Why?

Well, I’m more willing to take risks with the D80. I’m more willing to get it close to water and I’m more willing to get it down near sand. I’m more willing to use it in precarious situations and I’m more willing to hand it over to someone else.

The image above is an example of what I’m talking about. My extended family and I were walking in a wood in western Maryland while attending a family reunion and my 3 year old son was dragging behind (short legs and all that.) My 18 year old nephew hung back with me and at one point, looking back toward my son he said, “this would make a cool shot, Uncle Brian. The trees above and Sebastian below.” He gestured with his hand that he was visualizing something. I didn’t even look back to see what he was showing me- I just handed him my D80. “You see it; you shoot it.” I told him. And he did.

It turns out it is one of my favorite images from that reunion. And I didn’t take it. But it wouldn’t have been made had I been carrying that D300-I covet it too much and probably wouldn’t have handed it over so freely. And that got me thinking. 🙂

When we travel to foreign countries and are wanting to make portraits of people, wouldn’t it be nice to occasionally hand over the camera and let our subjects make a picture of us? Or have their family member or friend make a picture of us and our kind and generous subject together, to remember the occasion? Maybe we could even send them a copy of the picture or even print one right there with our Pogo printer so they could have a memento and stories to tell? It would be a great way to break the ice; a great way to engage with our subject; a great way to build a bond. Sure, perhaps occasionally a camera could get stolen. That’s what insurance is for. But it also wouldn’t be your D300.

Now, I’m aware that a D80 is not a “crappy” camera to most. But it is my cheaper and older camera-I bought it used, for not a lot of money, so it is more dispensable to me. What is your older camera that you might be willing to take greater risks with? How about breaking it out and carrying it with you and get those photographs you might have been passing up for fear of damaging your gear?

P.S: Stay tuned for a fun little announcement form me within the next few days as well.

Aug

2011

New C&V eBook: Andes: Print and Process by Andrew S. Gibson

Andrew S. Gibson is quickly becoming one of my favorite photographers as well as one of my favorite photography writers. I fell in love with his first 2 ebooks, The Magic of Black and White and The Magic of Black and White, Part II soon after he released them. I found they really taught me to “see” in black and white better and produce better overall images as a result, whether in color or monochrome. I return to those titles over and over reminding myself of his tips, suggestions, and direction as well as to receive inspiration from the absolutely stunning images included within.

Yesterday he released another ebook. It is a bit different from his earlier works for the Craft & Vision label in that this is not really an instructional book although the reader will get a pretty clear sense of how Gibson approaches photography philosophically. This ebook: Andes: The Print and Process Series features some of the same images in his earlier works but also delves into the journey that gave birth to those images as well as the thought process behind them.

Focused intently on several journeys to the Andes mountains in South America, Gibson recounts bus rides, exploratory wanderings, encounters with indigenous cultures, witnessing local festivals and really gives a sense of what it is like to wander and photograph the area, the land, the people, and their customs.

What struck me the most personally was the simplicity of Gibson’s gear and how it had a direct impact on the outstanding quality of the resulting images. On his first trip Gibson traveled with two simple Pentax 35mm film cameras with a 24mm wide lens on one and a 50mm lens on the other. On his second trip he traveled with a Canon EOS 350D (a Canon Digital Rebel XTi here in the U.S.) and 18-50mm kit lens. A kit lens!! Brilliant!! Just the proof I needed to be reminded that the quality of a photographer’s gear does not directly correlate with the quality of a photographer’s photographs.

So come take a tour of a gifted and skilled photographer’s images in this wonderful ebook: Andes: The Print and Process Series. If you’re anything like me you’ll be inspired to go out and make incredible images with simple gear.

Special Offer on PDFs
For the first five days only, if you use the promotional code ANDES4 when you checkout, you can have the PDF version of ANDES, A Print & Process Series for only $4 OR use the code ANDES20 to get 20% off when you buy 5 or more PDF ebooks from the Craft & Vision collection. These codes expire at 11:59pm PST August 6th, 2011.

Jun

2011

Cracked: the Challenge of Too Much Creativity

I don’t know. Not many weeks ago I was wallowing in self pity as I waded through the morass of Resistance; no mojo, no drive, no direction. Motivation wasn’t even waxing and waning; it was simply waning. Today I find myself on the flip side of that coin.

And it’s not much better, really.

Oh, I know. Don’t get me wrong. If I were back in the morass I would be praying for the challenges I am facing at the moment. I might just have actually done so back then. I don’t remember. I was lost.

But today I struggle with a different “problem.” Too much motivation. Too many projects. Too many ideas. I feel pulled in too many directions photographically. I’m finishing up a project for my brother; I’m putting finishing touches on a photobook for my family (it is nearly a year overdue and I’ve another due in August!); I’ve begun a project based on my nephew’s high school baseball games; and this spurred me to start another project that I’m keeping quiet at the moment in order to experiment with working through an entire project without outside input.

So, I feel torn, pulled, distracted. Too many irons in the fire. It feels like the opposite of “too many cooks spoil the broth.” It’s more that there are too many pots going simultaneously on the stove so that I cannot concentrate effectively on getting one right.

Finally, however, I recognized my “problem” and pushed through delivering the proofs for my brother’s pictures. Now I can focus on getting that photobook done for my family. But wait, I have a really great idea….