unbillable hours

Migration, Pt. 1

I managed to transfer my photos from August and September 2005 to this site from Those Dark Trees.  It's a little weird, seeing that year-long gap between August 2005 and this month.  I'm going to work on filling that gap by transfering over the pictures.  I don't know how much, if any, of the text blogs will make their way over here, but I imagine a few will. 

In between doing this, work, teaching a good friend how to sail, and you know, the basics of life, I'm also working on an essay about those things that should have been in Adult Life 101 or some similar class in college.  You know, things like not overextending yourself. In any event, the essay should be forthwith shortly.

Sweep the Floors

I feel as though I am reopening a summer house that has not been used since long before I grew up and moved away.  There's dust on the writing desk, and the pen is definitely out of ink. 

I gave the Movable Type blog a year's worth of a chance. It's too much of a pain for me to deal with the "stuff" of web design.  I don't want to have to think about it.  Thus, I think I will be migrating, however slowly, the content of Those Dark Trees back here, to Unbillable Hours. 

picture envy no. 31

The New York Times has an interesting article on the growing relationship between two great museums of photography, The George Eastman House in Rochester, New York, and the International Center of Photography in New York, New York, and their development of an online exhibit at www.photomuse.org.  Unfortunately, I keep getting a "connection refused" message when I try to link to photomuse.org.  I assume that this is due to the glut of people trying to check it out from the NY Times.  I'm interested to see what the site will have on there.  NYT explains the online project thusly:

... an ambitious project to create one of the largest freely accessible databases of masterwork photography anywhere on the Web, a venture that will bring their collections to much greater public notice and provide an immense resource for photography aficionados, both scholars and amateurs.

The Web site - Photomuse.org, now active only as a test site, with a smattering of images - is expected to include almost 200,000 photographs when it is completed in the fall of 2006, and as both institutions work out agreements with estates and living photographers, the intention is to add tens of thousands more pictures.

Randy Kennedy, Amassing a Treasury of Photography, N.Y. Times (Jul. 20, 2005). 

I checked out some of the photos attached to the article (in lieu of visiting the site); they're impressive works (Capa, Stieglitz, and Brady are amongst those represented).  If Photomuse is going to head down that road, it could be a hell of an inspiration. 

picture envy no. 30

Sam Javanrouh, bce christmas lights (Dec. 22, 2004). 

Javanrouh is one of the bigger photobloggers out there, and that's for a reason: he has a good eye.  I enjoy the precision of this shot.  There's nearly perfect symmetry going on, which is something that the human eye is drawn toward (in fact, there are those that think that the biological notion of physical attractiveness is based on the symmetry of faces). 

BCE Christmas Lights also has a silvery tone that I like.  I watched (for the fourth or fifth time) my copy of The American Experience: Ansel Adams.  Adams was great with black & white film.  Perhaps the greatest (well, either him or Stieglitz).  Adams could draw a certain shimmering tone that really changed the way we look at the American West.  Having seen some of the places he photographed, Adams did a lot to change the way the places actually appeared in his work.  Golden mountains take on a white, papery tone.  Pale green aspens become tinsel.  That tonal change is pretty impressive, as is the tonal qualities of BCE Christmas Lights.  There's a gradient to the tone in this work that furthers the sense of order therein. 

Unrelated:

This week's Carnival of the New Jersey Bloggers is up and raring.  There's some great shots on it that reference some of my favorite NJ architecture.  As always, link early and link often. 

fifteen minutes with the gray lady

I'm happy to see that the Carnival of New Jersey bloggers is being reported on in the New York Times.  Suzette, Prop, Barista, and others have some cool stuff worth noticing (of course, noticing Barista only serves to expand the Bloomfield empire.... something I find frightening).  Incidentally, Prop was already famous:

The Glorious Leader is a man of the people.
(C) Fiends of Prop 2008, Inc. (no matter what Pops says....)

Why wasn't I in the article?  I was at the bar, of course.

More on the Carnival of New Jersey Bloggers can be found at Enlighten-NewJersey.  Sluggo Needs a Nap is hosting next week's edition. 

Picture Envy No. 24 - And Pilate asked "What is truth?"

A quiet Memorial Day heads into the homeward stretch for me. I can see from my window the many wreaths placed at the foot of the Red Bank VFW statue, and during my lunchtime walk, saw the black-shrouded visitors at the local 9-11 Memorial. The one that stares out the Manhattan skyline from the banks of the Navesink, the river that cuts through this town that lost more people on that day four years ago than any other place besides New York itself.

Sy S., Gas Station, on Altphoto (May 27, 2005).

I'm going to take a different tack with Picture Envy this week, if only because I happened upon something that intrigued me and merits discussion on its own. I came across Altphoto (some shots on this site, it should be noted, are not safe for work) via Conscientious, a weblog that discusses photography (and, apparently, puts forth some rather left-leaning views on politics; I can do without the politics, but I like the discussion on photography). Altphoto is one of the websites out there where people can post their photos for comments and rating. I suppose that there are good sites for that sort of thing, and that there is a value to it. One can get a lot of useful information about how one should change shooting, processing or post-processing (i.e., photoshopping). I still am uncomfortable about this sort of thing, though. I can tell when people host my photos from Unbillable Hours on other sites because I can see the bandwidth drain. I've had a few occasions when I've noticed people copying my photos onto other sites. Moleskinerie, for example, has done so on a few occasions, but only to point to me, and I've appreciated the kind words I've received from that site's operator. In the one instance where I've found my photos being "pulled" to another site, draining my bandwidth, I've been less charitable in my response, as I found it more akin to plagiarism in how that (intentionally unnamed) site used my photo. Nonetheless, there are probably many points of merit and denigration that can be made with respect to sites like Altphoto that I don't want to address here.

I want to talk about Gas Station, the discussion associated with it, and why there is something about both this photo and the attitude behind it that I dislike. I come to this discussion – and this is relevant, as you will see – as an amateur with respect to post-development manipulation of images with Photoshop. I've learned a few tricks here and there – as can be seen by The Gates # 4, Untitled # 3, and (my favorite) Philosophy is a Walk on a Slippery Rock – but I am not terribly adept at using the application.

I trawled through Altphoto, tabbing images I liked when I came across Gas Station. First, I noticed that it reminded me of the work of someone else. I almost felt like I've seen that work before, either in my collection of photos by Walker Evans or in my viewings of Gary Winograd's work. It feels a lot like the famous Life magazine photograph taken by Andreas Feinenger, Route 66, Arizona, 1953. I liked the image, but I was also put off by how similar it was to the works of others.

Looking at it again, I realized there was something else that bothered me: it was surreptitiously unreal. The texture seemed too perfect. I wondered if the soil really had that yellow tone. Was the sky really that dark when the photo was taken? I've been out west; I worked in New Mexico for one summer and drove across country twice. I knew that, during the day, if the sky is light, it is light clear up to the farthest reaches of the heavens. Thinking about it logically, I knew the image is manipulated, even before I read the comments to the image. The mountains, I could assume, are the foothills to the Rockies. If they were, they run on a north-south axis into Canada. That means that, if this shot was taken on the western side of them, the photographer is facing east. For that sky to be that dark, it must be sunrise or sunset. If it's sunrise, for the mountains to be that light, there would be a sun flare coming from behind the mountains. The morning stars, and likely Venus, would be visible. If the photo was taken at sunset, then the mountains would be completely dark or as dark as the darkest portions of the eastern sky, as they would be losing their western-descending source of illumination. In other words, the sky could not have the shading gradient seen in this image. (And if we wanted to get really astronomical, the shadows of the parked cars, angling toward the mountains, indicate that it's a eastern facing view taken after the meridian point of the day, i.e., noon, and likely in the early afternoon, as the shadows are not long enough to indicate the angle of a later illumination by the sun.)

When I scanned the comments to the image, I saw this one by Havanai:

"You've apparently dodged (lightened) around the CAFÉ sign. The halo you created around the sign makes the manipulation too obvious and diminishes the otherwise appealing image."

I scrawled back up the page and checked out the shot again; sure enough, there was the halo mentioned by Havanai. While Havanai thought that the photographer, Sy S., lightened the sign (which he may have), I believe that the photographer darkened the sky around the foreground of the image. I scrawled back down to the comments. There, Sy S., the photographer responded to Havanai's comment.

"[Y]es thats [sic] true – but in my opinion this is what makes it special. [T]he manipulation is only onvious [sic] to people who know how to [manipulate photos, I presume]. [F]or all the others[,] the effect is nice! [M]y opinion … thanx [sic] anyway!"

(Ellipsis in original.)

Upon reading that comment, I was angry. It was as though the photographer had said to me "I'm going to mess around with this photo and you won't know because you are dumb." I have to wonder if others, upon seeing that, felt the same way. Looking back at the photo, I believed that I would have eventually noticed the dodging just as I had noticed the manipulation of the color of the sky.

What bothers me about this is that I feel, in a sense, that the image is now a lie to me. I cannot go to the place where Gas Station was photographed and see the same thing that the photographer represents as the image that he saw. I think this is because I believe that color photography, much more than black and white photography, is representative of "the truth." When I look at an image that I've taken, like Being There # 5, I know it represents what I saw that day in 2004 on the streets of New York (well, sort of; the image was shot while the camera was on my chest so that it would not be obvious that I was photographing; therefore, the image's perspective is a few feet lower than it would be if shot at my eye level). I have to admit, though, that I've manipulated the colors of things in photos or cropped out things I didn't like. I'm as involved in this misrepresentation as others like Sy S.

So what is it? What bothers me so? I guess it's that I wanted to believe – like others to whom photo manipulation isn't "onvious" – that the image was true. Color photos appear true to people, more so than black and whites (and these are heavily manipulated also; Ansel Adams did a lot to make his images as majestic as they were). Even though both color and black and white photographs are used in journalism, color photos are especially journalistic because they mimic – to some extent – what the eye sees.

Perhaps the appropriate response, for photographers, is to make explicit that they manipulate photos. Perhaps they should do nothing of the sort and maintain the mirage of reality in all cases except those with surreal or flawed manipulations. Perhaps the viewer should assume that all images are doctored. This last solution is the most troubling, as it renders impotent the journalistic intent of so many photographers.

I don't know what the solution is with respect to photo manipulation. The question is not new; such manipulation was always possible (basically). Manipulation is only relevant to this discussion now because it is so relatively easy with photo editing software in comparison to chemical manipulation in a darkroom. Even the general question about truth with respect to what we see is nothing new, as we can look at Plato and read him asking these same questions. Still, I ask: what do we do about this question of truth in the days of easy photo manipulations? How do we protect the viewers from seeing something like this and responding, as I did, with frustration?

9'6"x12'6"

Things will be quiet, probably for the remainder of at least this week, if not well into next week, during which time I will be struggling with setting up a new apartment and setting up my home network.  For those that have emailed me and wondered why I haven't responded while posts have been popping up on this site regularly, I've been off the network for about two weeks now, with a lot of pre-packaged posts set up in the hopes that I could transition to the new location without interruption. 

For those that need to reach me, mark your emails with "URGENT" or, if you have my cell phone number, attempt to contact me in that fashion. 

 In the meantime, I'll leave you with my favorite Zen meditation, as transcribed by Paul Reps and Nyogen Senzaki.  It's the one that I take with me everywhere. 

SOYEN SHAKU, the first Zen teacher to come to America, said: 'My heart burns like fire but my eyes are cold as dead ashes.'  He made the following rules which he practiced every day of his life. 

-

In the morning before dressing, light incense and meditate. 

Retire at a regular hour.  Partake of food at regular intervals.  Eat with moderation and never to the point of satisfaction. 

Receive a guest with the same attitude you have when alone.  When alone, maintain the same attitude you have in receiving guests. 

Watch what you say, and whatever you say, practice it. 

When an opportunity comes do not let it pass by, yet always think twice before acting. 

Do not regret the past.  Look to the future. 

Have the fearless attitude of a hero and the loving heart of a child. 

Upon retiring, sleep as if you had entered your last sleep.  Upon awakening, leave your bed behind you instantly as if you had cast away an old pair of shoes. 

Soyen Shaku, quoted in Paul Reps and Nyogen Senzaki, Zen Flesh, Zen Bones: A Collection of Zen and Pre-Zen Writings, 43 (Tuttle 1998). 

It's worth checking out Soyen Shaku's Zen For Americans, which can be found here and was originally published, in 1906, as Sermons of a Buddhist Abbot.  Shaku was the Abbot of Great Britain and, in 1893, was the first Abbot of Zen Practice to speak on the belief in the United States. 

No picture envy this weekend.  I spent the entire time in the hospital with my brother, who was foolish enough to decide to have a car accident.  I'm also on trial tomorrow, which is unfortunate, as it means that I now have to go to work and prepare. 

Behind the Lens #1: Justin Ouellette's Tryptique de la Chaldeenne

Note: This is my first attempt at a project I intend to work on over time, preparing long form interviews with photogbloggers and related subjects.  Criticism is welcome, although I would first state that the subjects should be treated with a great deal of courtesy. 

 

-Justin Ouellette, Tryptique de la Chaldeenne (2004). 

I was talking to a sommelier last night over beers (even sommeliers get to enjoy their profession’s equivalent of fast food now and then). He’s a tall, stout Irishman who used to work with me back when I was a park ranger.

The sommelier, C., told me that one of his favorite things about wine was learning the story behind a particular vintage. He loved being able to explain the history behind the vintner who made the wine, the ordeals of raising grapes, and his experiences enjoying the wine.

“All good things,” I replied, amused at the somewhat cloy nature of the thought “have some element of storytelling to them.” 

That, to me, is one of the best things about photography.  We – as photographers – get to tell a story.  Art, in photography, is universal because of storytelling.  Anyone can tell a story with pictures.  Storytelling makes universal any work it touches.  Not everyone can take a beautiful photograph, though.  Beauty is particular. 

Justin Ouellette’s Tryptique de la Chaldeenne is an example of the universal meeting the particular.  It’s a photograph that tells a story, but it is also a beautiful work in its own right. 

The story is in the suffering.  The subject, a young woman named Layla, projects that in her furrowed brow and in her pensive downward glance.  Chaldeans are Persian members of the Roman Catholic faith; they are ethnic and religious minorities in homelands of Iran and Iraq, two states not known for their tolerance. 

The story, for the Chaldeans, is potentially becoming one of hope, and I see a bit of that hope in the third frame of Ouellette’s photograph.  With the overthrow of the Hussein regime, there is the potential for increased religious freedom in Layla’s Iraqi homeland (it should be noted that Layla, herself, was apparently a resident of New Jersey during her encounter with Ouellette). 

Ouellette explained in a January 12, 2005 email that he took this photograph (and others: see image 1, image 2, image 3, image 4) while in Paris, France.  Layla was studying at L’Institut Catholique de Paris, a world-respected university.  Ouellette knew Layla through living in the same building with her.  Perhaps he saw her first while heading down the stairwell to find a favorite café. 

The subjects we are drawn to are as much reflections of ourselves as they are of others.  I emailed Ouellette in mid-January 2005 regarding the Tryptique de la Chaldeenne and asked him how he approached Layla for these photographs. 

“I… just asked if I could take some pictures of her because I thought she looked interesting and she agreed,” Ouellette responded.

I wrote back to him in late February 2005, again asking about that experience.  “How did you feel about asking her to take her photos?  Are you comfortable with the experience of asking someone if you can take their photograph, or do you feel anxious?” 

I imagined the nervousness of asking someone out on a date to be similar to that of requesting someone to pose. 

“I wasn’t anxious asking her to take the pictures or even actually taking them,” Ouellette responded.  “The only thing I was worried about [was] the results later.  When you’re taking pictures for yourself, if you blow it it’s okay because you have no one to answer to but yourself.  Asking Layla if I could take her picture was easy, what wasn’t easy was the pressure to make the most of the opportunity.” 

In the kitchen of a small apartment in Paris, one floor below Ouellette’s apartment, Ouellette set up his Nikon F100 camera.  He considered the lighting and decided to use Fuji Provia 100F film, which captured the room in a warm, amber tone.  Ouellette, Layla, and another American student at L’Institut Catholique chatted and drank Bordeaux as Ouellette shot. 

I, the viewer, imposed the sorrow and the hope on the images.  I gave them feelings that were perhaps more my own than Layla’s (or Ouellette’s).  Ouellette explained that Layla was talking to her friend during what he recalled to be the five seconds in which he created the images making up the Tryptique de la Chaldeenne.  It is a viewer’s prerogative to project, I suppose. 

Ouellette shot for two hours.  Then, he packed up his gear.  He returned to America.  After developing his shots, he repeatedly tried to reach Layla by the email address she gave him.  He received no reply. 

Photographs are permanent reminders of the fleeting. 

Tangents #1

A few brief things:

• Perhaps because so many photobloggers were displeased with the slant of the site hosting the general "Bloggies," or perhaps because, frankly, photoblogging is better served by doing it's own thing, there seems to be a developing Photobloggies Award site.  I don't mean to say that photobloggers should isolate themselves from mainstream bloggers.  I just think that, given the technical nature of photography (as well as the technical interests of photobloggers), this will serve photobloggers better than being part of the overall "Bloggies" award schema.  I was nominated for some blog award a few years back.  I can't find the old nomination, but I think it was for best impression of a lawyer or something like that.  Hopefully, the photobloggies categories will be expansive.  Otherwise, it'll just be these folks getting all the awards. 

• I signed up for "Self Portrait Day" to give myself a new pain-in-the-a** photography exercise.  I hope to do it this weekend during a field trip to a place that figures heavily in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.  I don't plan on dressing up like Kate Winslet, however. 

• A few months ago, I was shooting a bridge in Trenton when a woman walked up to me, agitated that I might have taken a photograph of her young child.  I reassured her that I had not, but the encounter troubled me.  Jessyel Ty Gonzalez mentioned a similar concern in December 2004, and it completely slipped my mind that I intended to point out the post.   

• Political and adolescent pleasures merge into one: The Lebanese uprising, with it's wonderful, liberating effects, has been noted throughout the web.  In particular, the photo of one protester in particular seems to be making the rounds.  Not only is the photo a good one, able to demonstrate the cosmopolitan quality of those demonstrating for democracy in the Middle East, but it also has some remarkable and aesthetically pleasing elements: namely, the subject.   

Update
Heather Champ, the publisher of the very cool JPG Magazine (a copy of which has sat on my desk at home for some time), was kind enough to point out that there were Photobloggies back in 2003.  I was still focused on text then (and was still on blogspot, now that I think about it), and missed the event.