G. Steve Journal

Without Art....

According to some, and I don't disagree, my last post may have been a bit heavy.  Though I stand by the sentiment, there may be better ways of expressing it.

Visited St. Petersburg, FL recently and was encouraged by the renaissance of art, esp. in the 600 block of Central Avenue, where we acquired some works by the very talented and prolific Coralette Damme, aka the Crafty Hag. (http://www.craftyhag.com)

On her website we came across an unattributed quote that expresses in different terms, the sentiment expressed by William Carlos Williams, but with a bit more levity and joie de vivre:

"“Without art, we’re all just monkeys with car keys.”

Exactly.

 

Not By Bread Alone...

"It is difficult to get the news from poems, yet men die miserably every day for lack of what is found there."

William Carlos Williams

... and what is found there is the essence of any creative endeavor...

 

Freedom

"... the most expensive thing in life is free time for creative expression.”

 

 

Ambiguity

I was listening to an interview with engraver and portrait artist Bernard Moser speaking about a new book that had been published recently featuring one hundred of his portraits.

The interviewer commented on the fact that the subjects were often pictured in poses that did not reveal the entire face of the sitter. Moser admitted as much and when on to explain that leaving out some details made for a stronger, more memorable likeness.  "I find the more ambiguity there is in a work, the more expressive it can be."

As a photographer I found this especially interesting, since we are, for the most part, limited to the reality before the lens. But I've also found, as I've noted before, that sometimes it is the smallest portion of a landscape that can be the most revealing.

I realized the same quality of ambiguity that Moser observes can make a portrait more expressive may be applied equally well to the creation of an expressive landscape.  Ambiguity yields expressiveness.

 

 

New Eyes

I was listening this morning to radio host Scott Simon interviewing Donald and Lillian Stokes, authors of the Stokes Field Guide to Birds celebrating it's 30th anniversary.

They were out with Simon in a park in urban Washington, D.C. and were seeing a number of birds common to anyone's backyard bird feeder, including black-capped chickadees.

Donald Stokes said people often ask : "After thirty years, don't you get tired of seeing the same birds over and over?"

"No, I never do," he replied, and went on to note that he always seemed to find something to admire about or learn from each sighting, even of a common bird.  "The challenge in life," he went on, "is not finding new places, but having new eyes."

 

Snapshot

When I see well-composed, sharp photographs, let's say in a travel magazine or at a camera club, I think of Ansel Adams' comments that he had: "...seen a lot of sharp photos and fuzzy concepts."  "Snapshot" is the term that comes to mind: an image that does no more or less than document what happened to be in front of a camera lens at the time.

I had a conversation at the gallery this past week with a couple who were admiring the images and commenting on the reality of each image capture – namely how easy it was to view the photos and forget that the photographer – me – was present at each scene – winter and summer, early and late – and got to experience the entire scene, not just a visual representation of it.

Though they are right about that, of course, I then suggested to them that, once the photograph is made, printed, displayed and acquired, it may take on iconic qualities that move the image beyond the "snapshot" Adams spoke of and transcend the reality of the experience.  To my way of thinking, that is actually what I am hoping for when I photograph.

After some time passes and an image has been on display or available at the gallery, it seems to me the qualities that make some images appear more evocative than others have little to do with the actual scene itself, or even the photographer.  They become a presence in their own right - just as real as the "reality" from which they were plucked.