RAINY DAY

North Grafton, Massachusetts   13 June 2012

It was raining this morning, not a heavy rain, but kind I like where it makes everything wet and shiny.  The colors are deep and rich.  But then I happen upon something that doesn't need color at all.  It's the sort of scene that slaps you in the face and put a big question mark over the rest of the day -- a big unanswerable why?

BEAUTY IN PASSING

Worcester, MA April 2011

MORE STUFF

In front of the Fitchburg Art Museum, Fitchburg, MA 25 May 2011

CAMPING HAPPILY

My driveway in central Massachusetts, December 12, 2008 -- yes, we suffered through the ice storm. Our power went out Thursday evening and we slept not a wink what with the limbs falling from the trees with a loud crack and then banging against the house. We took at least six direct hits and countless close encounters. Luckily very little damage was done. That's me with chain saw in hand getting soaking wet while cutting and dragging cut pieces to the pile out by the curb. With the help of our neighbor (in red jacket), Ellen and I worked until my chain saw decided to quit, and the neighbor's ran out of gas. It was late in the day anyway. The next day my daughter and her boyfriend came by and the four of use worked on cutting and dragging the stuff from the rest of the yard. Ellen and I, along with Dawg Sadie, spent Friday night in the house without power -- meaning no heat, but decided to move in with friends in the city until power was restored. It wasn't until this past Monday in the late afternoon when the guys with their bucket truck from the power company rolled down our street and turned on our block. Welcome relief to back in our own bed. This was our first experience of being forced out of our home due to a weather event, or for any other reason for that matter. It is very stressful. We lost all of our food in the refrigerator and some of the frozen foods in the freezers. And to top it all off, I caught a bad cold from working in the cold and wet for two days. And that my friends is why I have not blogged for the past week or so. It snowed about two inches yesterday morning which requred me to bring the snowblower around from its summer storage, and tomorrow morning we are due a nor-easter snow event. Last I heard we are in the 6-10" belt. Oh, Joy.

GENERALIST

Indian Harbor, Nova Scotia, Canada August 1991

The term "generalist" has been tagged to much of my work by a few of the curators, collectors, and critiques to which I have shown portfolios. And such comments were not offered as a positive response to the work, but rather they were being critical of how my work did not fit into the accepted trend that you have to make a whole bunch of pictures about the same idea, concept, or thing until you have photographed it to death. I can't do that. I'm more interested in things that are visually interesting, period. Those things that make me stop, linger, and look more closely. Those scenes that make me literally do a double-take. Often it is simplicity of uncomplicated scenes like the one above. I just liked the way the gulls dotted that spit of rock jutting out into the calm water. They were kinda' like notes on a sheet of music. I remember being transfixed for a few minutes as this scene played out in my head. I had to ask a fisherman who was working in his fish shack if I could set my view camera up on his back dock. I indicated to him what I wanted to photograph, he looked at the scene for a few seconds, then at me, and said, "Yeah, sure," like he understood why I wanted to make this image. I make a lot of such images, things that make me stop, like my brain wants to process the what I'm witnessing. The common thread of my work isn't about how many photographs I can make that illustrate a single concept, but rather a series of seemingly non-connected images that weave the fabric of my visual experiences.

AN OLD FAVORITE.....

"Dead Pecker Bench" Coupland, Texas October 1980

Once again, digging back in my old negs -- currently I'm about halfway through 1980. In October of that year, I happen to wander through Coupland. I had made an image across the street of some grain tanks, and while do so noticed these two old guys watching me. After finishing with the tanks, I wandered across the street with my 4x5 on tripod over one shoulder and camera pack on my other shoulder. Mr. Heinzke (on the right) asked what I was taking a picture of -- I told him I was interested in the way the light was splitting the tanks. We talked a little more and then he asked me: "You know what we call this place?" I said Coupland. "No -- where we're sittin." "It's the dead pecker bench!" At that, Mr Brockington smiled broadly in response to Mr. Heinzke's laugh. I told them after a joke like that, I should make a picture of the two of them. Mr. Heinzke turned to Mr. Brockington: "John, you think we should let this feller take our picture?" Mr. Brockington merely gently nodded approval. I quickly set up -- I remember it like yesterday, 4x5 Wista with the 240mm AS f/9 Fujinon (on my field notes I have the exposure and development recorded). We chatted as I made this image, and when I had put the camera away, I got their names and mailing addresses so I could mail promised copies of the picture. Mr. Heinzke wrote both addresses even though he never consulted Mr. Brockington -- he just knew the other man's address. I thanked them, shook both their hand. Mr. Heinzke had done all the talking, while Mr. Brockington had nodded twice and smiled once. From the time I took the camera out of the truck to make the image of the grain tanks until I put back after making the "Dead Pecker Bench" image was maybe 35-40 minutes. It was a good photoing day.

ENGAGED WITH WHAT?

Cinnaminson, NJ 1989

or

A Conversation with a Wall

I've alway thought the world was a strange place and that most people just tune it out. Some of us tune it in. I'm one to engage just about anyone I come into contact with everyday-- wait persons, mailman, people in a check-out line behind/in front of me, etc. Just can't help it. Even in "self-check-out" lanes, I talk back to the voice when it say "move you xxxx to the belt". I keep waiting for it to say, "move your ass, old dude" or some such. And I really get annoyed when it gets on me for not scanning fast enough.....no, I'm just cranky in my old age. The guy cleaning my window in the pic was someone I saw once a week or so.....he worked at the Shell station in Austin. In those days -- late '60s early '70s there was no self-pumping of gas, that came later. Service stations actually serviced your car. I figure it this way, if I'm friendly with people who "serve me" in some manner, like the guy who delivers my heating oil, in the long run that will pay off. Just the other day, I had to joy of switching my propane service (used for our gas cooking stove and gas clothes dryer) from one dealer to another. The previous dealer had starting charging us a yearly surcharge because we didn't use some minimum amount of gas, and our heating oil supplier has now started selling propane, and they don't charge a surcharge. So we switched, but the change over required that the old company come out, removed their tank and valving, and the new company had to come out and install the same stuff, but all new. That required a town issued permitting process. We thought there might be a problem with an outdoor lighting fixture being too close to the tank -- it was well within the 10-foot required distance for an ignition source -- but when the inspector came, I immediately went out (with my blind dog) to talk with him, and explain why all of this was necessary, and in the process chewed the fat a bit with him. He played with Dawg, asked about her blindness, and during all of this, signed off the permit. I walked with him back to his truck chatting all the while. He never even looked up at the light fixture. I saw him two days later in the grocery store, and we chatted a bit more, this time about the fire department. Point is, that guy will remember me, this house, and the blind dog. The next time I see him out and about, I'll ask some question like, "You guys getting to use that new aerial ladder?" That's just me. Ellen says I will talk to a wall if nothing else is available. I think that sort of questioning and curiosity is what shows up in my images. That what my form of documentary photography is all about. Russ Lee kinda' referred to it as visual and cultural anthropology. This diatribe came about due to an email conversation where my friend stated that when he was young he would avoid any contact with service people like the guy cleaning my windows at the gas station (referenced above). My daughter was like that when she was younger, and hated it when I would stop and chat with poeple I didn't know. Now she refers to herself as "Director of First Impression" at the museum where she works -- she handles the first desk of the museum, and you have to pass her muster for entrance to the museum. I guess she learned a bit from her old man.....

THE DAY AFTER YESTERDAY

Middle America 2007

Lots of people spent yesterday eating hot dogs and burgers from the grill, waving flags, drinking "lite" beer, watching fireworks, and generally raising hell. In a way, me and the family did, too. We visited old friends in a few towns over, and were treated to grilled burgers, greek salad, and wine.....we brought canolis for dessert. We weren't very festive. Couldn't even get excited by the Sox taking Yankees for the second straight day. So what ingredient was missing that would have made the day more in keeping with celebrating the birth of our nation? Probably not a missing ingredient, but an added one -- that feeling of gloom and doom. I have been for the past couple of years becoming more and more aware of closed and abandoned gas stations. While I have previously posted the above image, it seems somewhat appropriate giving the general social, economic, and political climate of our times. I thought about posting it yesterday, but maybe it's more suited for a day of reflection, rather than a day of celebration. In the sobering light of the day after.....