It has been nothing but doom and gloom in the news for several months now.
Sadly, we are in a severe economic downturn, and many people have lost their jobs, or their homes, or have seen their retirement funds pummeled.
Among the various sectors in the economy, the arts are particularly vulnerable. I recall reading somewhere that the average income of an artist in Canada is around $5,000 a year. That probably represents a mix of full-time and part-time artists, but no matter how you cut it, making a living as an artist is never easy.
At several shows this fall, I heard artists lamenting that sales were down dramatically from last year, sometimes by more than half. At one show, 28 artists manged to sell 7 pieces over 10 days.
Admittedly, art is seen by many as a luxury, and when you have to decide between art and your mortgage .... well, no contest. Nonetheless, I'd like to ask you to consider the arts in these times of economic distress. If you can afford it, buy tickets to a concert, go to an art show, or donate to an arts group. Without continued patronage from art lovers, our art community will be badly hurt in this troubled economy.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
But is it art?
One thing that I enjoy about doing art shows is the communication with people who view my work. Generally, I am flattered by the lovely comments from folks who stop by and look at the images.
One idea that I encounter fairly regularly is the notion that somehow photography and art are two different things. Of course, this is a dialogue that has been going on since the first photographs were made in the early 1800's!
In the 20th century, leading lights such as Stieglitz promoted photography as a unique and whole art form, and by the 30's, there was a general consensus in the art world (i.e. academia and major public galleries) that photography deserved a place among more traditional art forms. I cannot imagine that someone could look at an Edward Weston nude, or an Ansel Adams landscape and fail to see the artistic merit.
The idea persists in some circles, though, that photography is at best a poor relation to the traditional art forms.
I suspect that this has to do with two realities. First, it is possible for almost anyone who is not blind to pick up a camera (especially a digital point and shoot) and create an image. Whether that image has any artistic value is another matter altogether, of course.
The second, related issue is the notion of craft. Traditional artistic media require some learning and skill to create the final work (although looking at some work that is exhibited, one might want to debate that - with tongue firmly planted in cheek).
Fine art photography, as distinguished from snapshots or purely documentary work, is ultimately about the final print. That print must be visually appealing, and reflect the photographer's intent in capturing the image. Adams wrote about the importance of "previsualization" to photography. What he meant was that the successful image is the result of a photographer looking at a scene, and imagining what the final print would look like. The ability to do so is the result of learning the craft of photography.
We need to acknowledge that all photography is an abstraction - a two-dimensional representation of a four dimensional world (with time as the fourth dimension).
The final print that a photographer exhibits represents the culmination of a process, which includes perception of a scene/composition, choice of camera, medium (film type, digital settings), camera and lens set up, exposure, processing choices, image manipulation (darkroom or digital) and final output and presentation.
The photographer exerts artistic control at all of these points.
Contrary to some opinions, the fine art photograph represents a considerable amount of "craft", analogous to the traditional artist's choices of composition, medium, tools, and development of the ability to manifest their artistic intent.
So, is photography art? Yes and no. The family snaps of the dog or cottage sunset are straight and literal records devoid of expressive intent or craft. A fine art print that incorporates the photographer's creative process from perception to print is arguably a work of art.
One idea that I encounter fairly regularly is the notion that somehow photography and art are two different things. Of course, this is a dialogue that has been going on since the first photographs were made in the early 1800's!
In the 20th century, leading lights such as Stieglitz promoted photography as a unique and whole art form, and by the 30's, there was a general consensus in the art world (i.e. academia and major public galleries) that photography deserved a place among more traditional art forms. I cannot imagine that someone could look at an Edward Weston nude, or an Ansel Adams landscape and fail to see the artistic merit.
The idea persists in some circles, though, that photography is at best a poor relation to the traditional art forms.
I suspect that this has to do with two realities. First, it is possible for almost anyone who is not blind to pick up a camera (especially a digital point and shoot) and create an image. Whether that image has any artistic value is another matter altogether, of course.
The second, related issue is the notion of craft. Traditional artistic media require some learning and skill to create the final work (although looking at some work that is exhibited, one might want to debate that - with tongue firmly planted in cheek).
Fine art photography, as distinguished from snapshots or purely documentary work, is ultimately about the final print. That print must be visually appealing, and reflect the photographer's intent in capturing the image. Adams wrote about the importance of "previsualization" to photography. What he meant was that the successful image is the result of a photographer looking at a scene, and imagining what the final print would look like. The ability to do so is the result of learning the craft of photography.
We need to acknowledge that all photography is an abstraction - a two-dimensional representation of a four dimensional world (with time as the fourth dimension).
The final print that a photographer exhibits represents the culmination of a process, which includes perception of a scene/composition, choice of camera, medium (film type, digital settings), camera and lens set up, exposure, processing choices, image manipulation (darkroom or digital) and final output and presentation.
The photographer exerts artistic control at all of these points.
Contrary to some opinions, the fine art photograph represents a considerable amount of "craft", analogous to the traditional artist's choices of composition, medium, tools, and development of the ability to manifest their artistic intent.
So, is photography art? Yes and no. The family snaps of the dog or cottage sunset are straight and literal records devoid of expressive intent or craft. A fine art print that incorporates the photographer's creative process from perception to print is arguably a work of art.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Marks on the land
Here is a bit of a rant .....
Up in Superior, I have always been bothered by the roadside graffiti, spray painted on the rocks. Well, this year it got worse. I went to photograph a large glacial erratic (boulder) sitting in the Sand River. As I got closer, I saw that it had been "tagged" and some attempt had been made to clean it up. Nonetheless, the Rock was ruined for me - it visual essence scarred.
Hiking along the beaches and trails, I came across all kinds of "construction projects" (not simple trail markers. These were often Inukshuk-type piles, and in some beaches, there were obvious piles every 10-20 yards! I personally like to imagine that I am in a relatively wild setting, even if I know that other hikers have come through here with regularity. On driftwood beaches, all sorts of structures are piled up from logs, often in quite conspicuous locations. Trying to photograph these locations, I have no other choice than to "disassemble" these things.
Why do we have a need to leave a mark on the land? Can we not be content to simply be part of the landscape and move on, leaving no trace of our passing, so that others can indulge in the momentary fantasy of seeing the land as it was before Man came to change it?
Some friends of mine were quite surprised when I told them that I routinely took apart "Inukshuks" and other construction projects in wilderness areas (not in the Arctic!!!). Sorry, I don't want my wild landscapes tagged! Do you?
Up in Superior, I have always been bothered by the roadside graffiti, spray painted on the rocks. Well, this year it got worse. I went to photograph a large glacial erratic (boulder) sitting in the Sand River. As I got closer, I saw that it had been "tagged" and some attempt had been made to clean it up. Nonetheless, the Rock was ruined for me - it visual essence scarred.
Hiking along the beaches and trails, I came across all kinds of "construction projects" (not simple trail markers. These were often Inukshuk-type piles, and in some beaches, there were obvious piles every 10-20 yards! I personally like to imagine that I am in a relatively wild setting, even if I know that other hikers have come through here with regularity. On driftwood beaches, all sorts of structures are piled up from logs, often in quite conspicuous locations. Trying to photograph these locations, I have no other choice than to "disassemble" these things.
Why do we have a need to leave a mark on the land? Can we not be content to simply be part of the landscape and move on, leaving no trace of our passing, so that others can indulge in the momentary fantasy of seeing the land as it was before Man came to change it?
Some friends of mine were quite surprised when I told them that I routinely took apart "Inukshuks" and other construction projects in wilderness areas (not in the Arctic!!!). Sorry, I don't want my wild landscapes tagged! Do you?
Return to Superior
I was finally able to return to Lake Superior after 2 years absence.
It was as remarkable and inspiring as my first trip almost 10 years ago. You are immediately struck by the magnificent, rugged scenery, but as you look, you begin to see the textures and details of the unique landscape.
There are dramatic peaks and cliffs, picturesque coves and headlands. On a smaller scale you notice that the firs and spruces begin to outnumber the birches and maples.The rocks are covered with mosses and lichens, often brilliantly coloured. In early fall, the berries, especially the bright red ones of the bunchberries, dot the forest floor. The air is pungent with the smell of conifers, fallen leaves, and freshness!
As I hiked around the area photographing once again, it really hit home that this area has really been my muse for many years. It was here that I found inspiration to work on a series of images that attempt to convey the uniques qualities of Superior. It now feels like home, almost more than my real home, for reasons that I do not fully understand. Perhaps it is a deep instinctive connection to the wildness of the place, largely unspoiled by human presence.
Having just returned, I have to look after more mundane matters, like getting my film processed. That does have its interesting side though: unlike digital, I both worry and wait with excitement to see what I did capture - what were my successes, and what lessons need to be learned for next time.
It was as remarkable and inspiring as my first trip almost 10 years ago. You are immediately struck by the magnificent, rugged scenery, but as you look, you begin to see the textures and details of the unique landscape.
There are dramatic peaks and cliffs, picturesque coves and headlands. On a smaller scale you notice that the firs and spruces begin to outnumber the birches and maples.The rocks are covered with mosses and lichens, often brilliantly coloured. In early fall, the berries, especially the bright red ones of the bunchberries, dot the forest floor. The air is pungent with the smell of conifers, fallen leaves, and freshness!
As I hiked around the area photographing once again, it really hit home that this area has really been my muse for many years. It was here that I found inspiration to work on a series of images that attempt to convey the uniques qualities of Superior. It now feels like home, almost more than my real home, for reasons that I do not fully understand. Perhaps it is a deep instinctive connection to the wildness of the place, largely unspoiled by human presence.
Having just returned, I have to look after more mundane matters, like getting my film processed. That does have its interesting side though: unlike digital, I both worry and wait with excitement to see what I did capture - what were my successes, and what lessons need to be learned for next time.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Fun at the Art Show
Wow,what a year so far!
Two shows missed due to illness, and two shows hammered with thunderstorms!
I have to admit that it is a bit disheartening to go through all the preparation, loading and unloading, travel, and set up, to end up being rained out.I guess I was lucky that I encountered severe weather in my first year doing outdoor shows, and as a result, I upgraded my canopy, walls, supports and tie downs. The thunderstorm last Saturday wasn't very long, but it brought very strong winds that shook my display alarmingly. Fortunately, after the last show, I waterproofed all the seams in my canopy, and nary a drop landed on my display.
Some other artists didn't fare so well - a few folks I talked do had rain damage to their work, and one poor soul apparently lost her whole inventory.
The outdoor shows can be a lot of fun, a bit like going for a picnic, except with the addition of about half a ton of gear! It's always enjoyable talking to folks who stop by. They may ask where a photograph was taken or how. They may compliment me on my work. They may just stop and look in silence. It doesn't really matter - it's great to have the interest.
A lot of folks stop by that have an interest in photography. I don't mind talking about how or where an image was made, but I do try to point out that the show is about the images themselves. Which model of camera or lens they were taken with really doesn't matter. Whether the images were made digitally or on film doesn't matter to me(I shoot exclusively on film, because that has worked for me for a long time, and I am a believer in the adage "If it ain't broke, don't fix it").
The shows are also great opportunities to occasionally wander around and look at other artists' work. I have to admit that sometimes I'll see an image and think to myself, I wish I had taken that! I also have to admit that sometimes I'll see images and just scratch my head. To each their own, I guess. Of course, that's the attraction of an art fair - the variety of work, and the fact that the artists themselves are there to chat with you.
It has been heartwarming to see that most artists are keen to see other folks' work, and quite open to express their admiration. Yes, there are a few who are so intent on sales, and concerned about perceived competition, that they'll stay in their booth and stay quiet. Not many though.
It's usually a great sense of camaraderie that prevails. I find myself inspired and invigorated by other artists' work, and by positive comments from the public. Despite the exhaustion post-show, I always come away with a new enthusiasm for the next one.
Two shows missed due to illness, and two shows hammered with thunderstorms!
I have to admit that it is a bit disheartening to go through all the preparation, loading and unloading, travel, and set up, to end up being rained out.I guess I was lucky that I encountered severe weather in my first year doing outdoor shows, and as a result, I upgraded my canopy, walls, supports and tie downs. The thunderstorm last Saturday wasn't very long, but it brought very strong winds that shook my display alarmingly. Fortunately, after the last show, I waterproofed all the seams in my canopy, and nary a drop landed on my display.
Some other artists didn't fare so well - a few folks I talked do had rain damage to their work, and one poor soul apparently lost her whole inventory.
The outdoor shows can be a lot of fun, a bit like going for a picnic, except with the addition of about half a ton of gear! It's always enjoyable talking to folks who stop by. They may ask where a photograph was taken or how. They may compliment me on my work. They may just stop and look in silence. It doesn't really matter - it's great to have the interest.
A lot of folks stop by that have an interest in photography. I don't mind talking about how or where an image was made, but I do try to point out that the show is about the images themselves. Which model of camera or lens they were taken with really doesn't matter. Whether the images were made digitally or on film doesn't matter to me(I shoot exclusively on film, because that has worked for me for a long time, and I am a believer in the adage "If it ain't broke, don't fix it").
The shows are also great opportunities to occasionally wander around and look at other artists' work. I have to admit that sometimes I'll see an image and think to myself, I wish I had taken that! I also have to admit that sometimes I'll see images and just scratch my head. To each their own, I guess. Of course, that's the attraction of an art fair - the variety of work, and the fact that the artists themselves are there to chat with you.
It has been heartwarming to see that most artists are keen to see other folks' work, and quite open to express their admiration. Yes, there are a few who are so intent on sales, and concerned about perceived competition, that they'll stay in their booth and stay quiet. Not many though.
It's usually a great sense of camaraderie that prevails. I find myself inspired and invigorated by other artists' work, and by positive comments from the public. Despite the exhaustion post-show, I always come away with a new enthusiasm for the next one.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Without a camera ....
The other morning, before dawn, our dogs started barking furiously at the bedroom window. I got up, and saw a shadowy figure in our drive. I got a pair of binoculars and had a second look - it was a doe, standing rigidly, and alert. Then, a second, smaller shadow, and another. Coyotes!
The drama played out over a couple of minutes. The doe stamped and feinted an attack. The coyotes dropped back and circled. Finally, the doe turned and bounded down our drive, with the coyotes loping behind.
I hoped she would lose them, and expected that she would.
I didn't have a camera to document the scene. The images will remain with me a long time though. It was an emotionally charged drama that played out before me, a drama that is as old as Nature herself.
I don't regret not having a camera. The experience did underscore one thing for me: images remain as powerful symbols of our emotional experiences. For me, successful photographs are those that recall not just the scene, but somehow capture the emotion associated with experiencing the scene. Whether in a print, or in my memories, images are powerful signposts in my life.
The drama played out over a couple of minutes. The doe stamped and feinted an attack. The coyotes dropped back and circled. Finally, the doe turned and bounded down our drive, with the coyotes loping behind.
I hoped she would lose them, and expected that she would.
I didn't have a camera to document the scene. The images will remain with me a long time though. It was an emotionally charged drama that played out before me, a drama that is as old as Nature herself.
I don't regret not having a camera. The experience did underscore one thing for me: images remain as powerful symbols of our emotional experiences. For me, successful photographs are those that recall not just the scene, but somehow capture the emotion associated with experiencing the scene. Whether in a print, or in my memories, images are powerful signposts in my life.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Reflections on the summer art show season
The last show of the season.
How many times have I packed and unpacked this year?
I do recall meeting a lot of very nice people, artists and guests. I also recall some unpleasantness along the way .....
I have been genuinely touched by all the people that stopped by my booth, considered my photographs, and took the time to tell me how much they liked my work. For a creative person, that is what it is all about. If you are somehow struck by an image that I have created, then I have succeeded. I have opened a channel of communication beyond words, in a realm of visual symbols that encode some emotional content. Wow .......
The positive response is also a source of inspiration. When I succeed, then I am driven to try again. I don't believe that anyone creative can work in isolation: their "product", be it words, images or music, is part of an elaborate dance between creator and viewer.
The shows are hard work, and long hours. Few people make a living from these shows. What I sell helps to keep me out there creating images. If I tallied up the hours spent photographing, processing, printing, framing and attending shows, and what I earn from the process, I suspect I would make more slinging hamburgers, but that is completely beside the point. I am out there, creating images, and interacting with an appreciative audience. I do this because I love it.
Surprisingly, I have been criticized at shows. Comments about it being "just" photography, "I could do that with my (fill in the name of a digicam)", "I went on a trip and have hundreds of photos like that ","my kid took a photography course, he could do that ..." and on and on. All within earshot, or right to me. I have to admit to being stung by such comments, but upon reflection, I have concluded that all of these individuals only saw the most obvious - an image of a rock, or tree, or a scene from Superior. They did not, or could not, look a bit deeper to see why I had chosen that particular image. The same image that others would express deep admiration for.
I have always concluded that there are visually oriented people, and there are those who are not. Among photographers, the same split exists. There are plenty of fellows, usually keen to talk about equipment or camera clubs, who seem to pay no attention to the images on display..... it seems to be all about the technology, the gadget, and not about the medium or creativity.
The most memorable experiences from these shows are talks about images. What elements make it work, what about the image evokes a response, what emotional responses are brought out. I am deeply flattered by people' s interest in my images. I also learn a lot about the visual communication from these discussions. Of course, when someone is moved to take one of my images into their home, I consider that the ultimate compliment!!
So, if you have a perspective on the creative or communicative properties of photographs, I'm keen to hear from you. If you want to discuss the merits of the latest digicam, I just remembered that I have to count my loose change and take it to the bank .......
How many times have I packed and unpacked this year?
I do recall meeting a lot of very nice people, artists and guests. I also recall some unpleasantness along the way .....
I have been genuinely touched by all the people that stopped by my booth, considered my photographs, and took the time to tell me how much they liked my work. For a creative person, that is what it is all about. If you are somehow struck by an image that I have created, then I have succeeded. I have opened a channel of communication beyond words, in a realm of visual symbols that encode some emotional content. Wow .......
The positive response is also a source of inspiration. When I succeed, then I am driven to try again. I don't believe that anyone creative can work in isolation: their "product", be it words, images or music, is part of an elaborate dance between creator and viewer.
The shows are hard work, and long hours. Few people make a living from these shows. What I sell helps to keep me out there creating images. If I tallied up the hours spent photographing, processing, printing, framing and attending shows, and what I earn from the process, I suspect I would make more slinging hamburgers, but that is completely beside the point. I am out there, creating images, and interacting with an appreciative audience. I do this because I love it.
Surprisingly, I have been criticized at shows. Comments about it being "just" photography, "I could do that with my (fill in the name of a digicam)", "I went on a trip and have hundreds of photos like that ","my kid took a photography course, he could do that ..." and on and on. All within earshot, or right to me. I have to admit to being stung by such comments, but upon reflection, I have concluded that all of these individuals only saw the most obvious - an image of a rock, or tree, or a scene from Superior. They did not, or could not, look a bit deeper to see why I had chosen that particular image. The same image that others would express deep admiration for.
I have always concluded that there are visually oriented people, and there are those who are not. Among photographers, the same split exists. There are plenty of fellows, usually keen to talk about equipment or camera clubs, who seem to pay no attention to the images on display..... it seems to be all about the technology, the gadget, and not about the medium or creativity.
The most memorable experiences from these shows are talks about images. What elements make it work, what about the image evokes a response, what emotional responses are brought out. I am deeply flattered by people' s interest in my images. I also learn a lot about the visual communication from these discussions. Of course, when someone is moved to take one of my images into their home, I consider that the ultimate compliment!!
So, if you have a perspective on the creative or communicative properties of photographs, I'm keen to hear from you. If you want to discuss the merits of the latest digicam, I just remembered that I have to count my loose change and take it to the bank .......
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