Category: WORK IN PROGRESS

THE END OF THE FIRST BEGINNING

As I mentioned here a couple of weeks ago, I made a few first beginnings of the edit/sequence of my current project. Then I put that on hold and painted my kitchen floor. Unlike editing and sequencing photos, when you paint a floor you know when its done. Satisfying in a nice, simple way.

I’ve known for a while that relaxing into an edit, allowing down time for the back of your brain to process, is important. After all, that’s how I approach shooting my projects: slow photography. Let the thing you are studying seep into you. Think just enough, but not too much. The time I spent painting the floor was most beneficial. Not only did I get a swell floor, it also gave me time to rethink my approach to the edit/sequence, and to wonder a bit more about what this project might actually be about.

After the floor was finished I spent about 5 days, on and off, really moving images around. Did at least 20 iterations that were between 15 and 25 images long. Just to explore possibilities. I worked on possible pagination,  flow of content and feeling, figured out possible ways of ordering the whole thing.

Then I walked away from it again, realizing that it just kept changing, that my perspective was, for now, shot.

But I learned a lot, saw possibilities I didn’t know existed (except in my dreams). It’s still pretty clunky and very unresolved. There are obvious flaws in how the flow of images might be read, bad page turns and all the other stuff that happens when you’re trying to figure out a solution to a puzzle with a lot of moving parts, a puzzle that has no one correct solution. But some solutions are more correct that others, right?

Then what I did was, I showed a PDF of this, the end of the first beginning,  to a few random, non-photography people who just happened to be visiting (like my niece, and a couple of droppers-by). Listened to what they had to say.

And I sent it off to Colin Pantall and Timothy Archibald, two photographers who, in the past, have provided me with shrewd insight into what I’m doing. Their comments and perspective on some of my previous work changed how that work was presented.

Their initial comments really got my brain going. They agreed on certain directions and images but had opposite opinions on others. (One referenced Robert Frank, the other David Cronenberg!! If this project could even approach a marriage between those two sensibilities I’ll be a very happy camper.)

I’m fine with, and expect, varying opinions. One of the aims of this project is to create a book where the actual subject isn’t too nailed-down. On the other hand, varying opinions from trusted sources add to my confusion. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m prepared to be (and to remain) confused. And I will continue to embrace contradiction.

So for now I’m just going to chill, do some thinking on my own and then get back to it again. And that will be the beginning of the second beginning.

 

THE FIRST BEGINNING

After a year and a half of shooting for my new project I thought it might be time to have a hard look at what I’d done.

I went to Staples and made 300 small laser prints, the selects from all those thousands of pictures I’d been stacking up on my hard drive.

Let’s get physical . . .

Went up to my studio and laid them on the table. My first thought was, Tony, you’re gonna need a bigger table.

My second thought was, Tony, get a grip. Get ’em from the table to the wall and there’ll be room on the table for more.

Easier said than done. I hemmed and hawed, choosing the first image seems so important. Then I thought, Tony, this is only the first beginning, there will be dozens, if not hundreds more beginnings to this thing before you’re done.

So I just picked one and stuck it to the wall, followed it with another and another. Tried some permutations, explored a few options.

Then I took the dogs for a walk.

There, I had begun, that was the main thing. The other important thing, I told myself was, Tony, don’t let this thing you’re doing climb on top of you like bad drugs, just go for the ride, enjoy it.

A while later I went back, added, subtracted, wondered, tried to feel.

Then I did the dishes, made dinner, ate it, decided to paint the kitchen floor red. After all . . . life goes on.

The next day I realized that when I began this edit/sequence, began to mine this data, began my search for just enough meaning in that stack of pictures, I had been falling back on old, familiar patterns. That’s not going to work here. Unlike my previous projects this new work isn’t about any specific location, demographic or fact. In fact it’s fiction. I’m going to have to figure out a new way of relating to my photos, and of having them relate to each other.

So far my only conclusion is that this will be the most difficult edit/sequence I have ever attempted. There are so many threads to weave here, so many layers, so little is defined.

I’m nervous and excited.

drool.SEEKS RECENT PHOTO PROGRAM GRADS 

drool. would like to get together with 3 or 4 (or 5) recent graduates of local photo programs. I’m talking Algonquin, Ottawa School of Art, UOttawa, SPAO, and any other ones I’ve missed.

The aim is to initiate a conversation (for publication on the blog) about the trials and tribulations of, well . . . recent photo-school grads.

There is no agenda other than to bring forward your thoughts on how it’s going for you, what you think of the local photo-scene, how your expectations were met and not met, and any other issues that may arise.

If you are interested in participating please PM me. Or, if you know someone who fits the bill, please share this with them. (You will find my email address on my website, which you will find by clicking on the tonyfoto link at the top of this page.)

Re: READING THE GRAPES OF WRATH

I’m re-reading The Grapes of Wrath, by John Steinbeck. It’s really affecting my thinking.

“Tom said, ‘Prayer never brought in no side-meat. Takes a shoat to bring in pork'”

As most of you probably know, it takes place in the 1930’s and tells the story of the Joad family’s journey from their farm in Oklahoma to California, where they hope to find a better life. They’ve been “tractored off” their land by a combination of the Great Depression, bad weather and the advent of agri-business (one man on a tractor can take the place of twelve or fourteen families). The banks now own the land and put profit before all else. Sound familiar?

I remembered the broad outlines of the story from the first time I read this book, a long time ago. What I am struck by now, with this reading, is the breadth of detail, the mix of story with document (or, maybe, information).

Page spread

Politics, nature, family dynamics, square dancing, religion, camping in ditches, how to change a connecting rod in an engine, and the list goes on. All the stuff of human existence is mixed in together, given equal weight. And interspersed within the story are short, poetic chapters that flesh out an even broader perspective.

Detail

I’m pretty sure The Grapes of Wrath is not really informing my current project, but it is seeping into me. Its form, its content, its way of seeing life, are all seeping in. And isn’t that why we look and read and think?

And, one other thing: A photograph of Florence Owens Thompson hangs in my kitchen. It’s an alternate frame of the more famous image  known as Migrant Mother, by Dorothea Lange. When I look at it now I see it in new ways, with a deeper understanding.

Florence Owens Thompson, by Dorothea Lange

GRANT

I’ve just finished writing a grant. And let me tell you . . . trying to succinctly define/describe a project as amorphous as the one I’m working on is a can of worms. It’s not as though I’m shooting a series of portraits of trans people, or landscapes on the edge of town. That stuff , while it can be tricky, is pretty straight-forward, with lots of precedents and a handle (or is that: hook?) that the jury can grab ahold of.

In my head I have a pretty good idea what I’m trying to do. I’m sure you, too, sometimes have a feeling that is deeper than thinking, where, in a split second of clarity you just know something. Except it’s all in your head and almost impossible to verbalize. Problem is, you don’t really know anything until you can say it out loud.

That’s the reason I write my blog. It’s also a reason to apply for a grant: you are forced to make the idea(s) behind your project concrete.

I’m trying to keep my application clear and simple, but I’m also throwing in some highfalutin words to, you know, let the jury know that I know what’s what. Here’s a paragraph from my application . . .

I also had to submit 12 images to support my application. So, for the first time in a long time I had a hard look at what I have so far done. The subject matter is (as I have planned) all over the place, but I think the way the images feel binds them somehow together.

In the end what I did was, I chose 12 images that are the bones of one appendage of the work. And I kind of overstated it, too, brought some obviousness forward. That way, at least, there might be some cohesion for the jury to grasp. I’m not sure how much more plain I can (or want to) make it. Here are three of the 12  images I submitted . . .

Last week I wrote a bit about photo contests. I reckon getting a grant and winning a contest are kind of similar. If the jury is sympathetic to your work (or, maybe, friends with you) you have a chance of being a winner. But it’s still a crap-shoot. The plus side of applying for a grant is that, win or lose, you are forced to think through and write down the aims and ambitions of your project. That, and there is no application fee.

Of course, if you just want to sort out what you’re thinking, you could always start a blog (or a personal journal). That’s free, too.