The mind plays games. As I have aged, I look back on my earlier work (years and decades ago) and question whether it was me who made the photographs and wrote the essays. They seem to have been made by a more talented photographer and writer. These thoughts got stirred up while I was looking through a book that I made in 1998 called “Subconscious Perceptions”.
The book consisted of an opening statement and an essay adapted from my MFA thesis titled “The Role of the Unconscious in the Creative Act”. The photographs have an overlaying sheet of vellum that contains a quote related to the unconscious. I hired a graphic designer to create the vellum overlays, the title page and to typeset the printed pages. When I view the book today, I am amazed by the effectiveness of the combination of words and images. Unfortunately, I could not find anyone interested in publishing the book.
I write better than I talk. I am a visual person. When I write, I prefer to use paper and pen. I can see my written work. When I talk, my words are unseen and invisible to my visual brain.
When looking back at my work, has time caused me to see things different? Is my aged vision causing a warping in the way I see? Is my mind reformatting information through different neural pathways? Where did the ideas, the big words, the creative photographs come from? Did I do that? Maybe it is just a trick of my mind.
Examples: The first image is the photo with the vellum sheet covering the page. The second image is with the vellum removed. The quote is from the book Bill Brandt Photographs 1928-1983 which was edited by Ian Jeffrey.
Analog photography is still alive and does not want to go away. The latest analog news is the resurgence of old-time photo booths that still use developing chemicals and provide a black-and-white photo strip of four different poses. A company in New York called Classic Photo Booth salvages old booths and restores them. There is also a different company in Europe that refurbishes them.
Apparently, they are a big hit and people are lining up to use them. It is another sign that people are looking for other options besides digital. I am certainly trying to do my best to keep analog alive. I still use 35mm, medium format and 8×10 large format film in my photographic work.
There are now digital “photo booths” that mimic the old-time booths. I attended a wedding where a digital “photo booth” was in operation. Actually, there is no booth involved but just a table, a backdrop, a camera, a printer, some props and an operator. A photo strip of three poses was provided. The digital booth lacked some of the spontaneity of the old-time booth where there was no operator and you enter the booth and close a curtain for some privacy. The photos took minutes to develop, wash, and dry before a strip of images dropped into a slot for pick up.
Photo booths were also used by artists in their creations. Probably the most famous was Andy Warhol and his work with portraits and self-portraits in the 1960’s which he used to produce silk screen prints.
In 2025, the photo booth is 100 years old. Let’s hope analog photography can survive another century.
Photo shot with black and white film using a vintage Olympus Stylus Epic camera. All images are copyrighted.
“he, too, was one of those who pursue life as it flees, a hunter of the unattainable, like the takers of snapshots.”
From the short story “Adventures of a Photographer” by Italo Calvino
I am not sure why photography was so associated with hunting where words such as, photo shoot, snapshot, and capture, are part of the language of photography. Historically (1800’s), the snapshot was a term used in hunting to describe a quick shot. It may have also been the sound that hunting rifles made when fired. Personally, I do not like the word “hunter” which makes me think of killing. I think most photographers are harmless. Why not just use the word photographer. In a previous post “Psychology and Photography” I stated: “I am not a hunter and I do not hunt with my camera but am constantly searching for new avenues for my photography.” The search for the unattainable is a valid characteristic of many photographers. Despite the many failures, the drive to keep looking and photographing seems to be instinctual.
I am a photographer in search of the unattainable. I am always searching for the next great photo. It is my hope that I will get one “exceptional” image during a photo session. Basic elements such as composition, lighting, exposure and focus must be satisfied but more important is whether the image visually excites me. Does it have unique visual qualities such as an interesting juxtaposition, a certain pose or look, a special element that is an unanticipated surprise. The image must make me want to look. Unfortunately, such photos are rare but that doesn’t stop me from my photo searching. The photograph must visually rise above my other images.
It is an innate obsessiveness to find something or someone worthy of photographing. Even when I do not have a camera with me, I still see life in photographic terms. For me, there are unlimited possibilities.
Analog photography is very tactual. I recently was loading large format sheet film into 8 by 10inch film holders which I use in my pinhole camera. It is a very tactile process since it has to be done in total darkness and involves the sense of touch. The film has notches in one of the corners which identify the type of film and also indicates which side is the emulsion side (which has to face out). The dark slide which covers the unexposed film until ready to be used has little bumps along the silver side the top edge which indicates that the film under that side of the slide is unexposed and ready to be used. The other side is black with no notches and this indicates that this film has been exposed. Sounds complicated but the point is that touch is integral to the process.
After I was done loading the film holders, I realized how much I enjoy the tactile sensations experienced in analog photography. The tactile sensations continue through taking the photographs and processing the negatives. Touch is involved in every step.
Whether you are using large format film, medium format or 35mm, touch is essential. Loading exposed film in the dark into a film developing tank in preparation for processing requires touch and dexterity. I use stainless steel developing tanks and reels and I find that the cool smooth touch of the metal is pleasurable.
It is obvious that analog photography has many more opportunities for tactile stimulation than digital photography. I also use digital capture and processing. Sight rather than touch is the most valuable sense in digital photography. Loading and unloading a memory card along with using a computer screen, a mouse and keyboard is basically the tactual highlights. Touching photo paper is the most tactual thing I do in digital.
Over the decades, I feel that my analog work is far better than my best digital work. I recently attended the NiNPAH (Nude in Nature Photo Art Haven) event where I worked with two models for two hours each. I decided to only use black and white film. I exposed two rolls of 36 exposures with each model which is my usual shooting pace. When working in black and white, I visually interpret the scene into a gray scale. I even prefer to watch old television shows and movies that were filmed in glorious black and white. For me, color photography requires a different mindset and is visually less fulfilling than black and white photography.
For me, the tactility of analog photography has no comparison with digital photography. Perhaps that is why there has recently been more interest in analog. People want more of a hands-on approach. I admit that there are many ways to mess up throughout the analog process. I have made what is probably every mistake possible but that is part of the challenge and the results are rewarding.
I can see why most people prefer digital. It is more full-proof (although I have managed to find ways to screw up).
My final argument for analog is that film cameras are less complicated than digital. My Nikon F100 film camera manual has 111 pages. My Fujifilm 645i medium format film camera is 39 pages. My Nikon D750 digital camera manual is 504 pages. In my analog influenced opinion, digital did not make photography easier.
Digital photography is here to stay for now. I only hope that a small space will continue to exist for the few who still use analog photography and value its tactility.
A recent black and white photograph. All images copyrighted.
Erlebniskunst or “experience art” in German, is a philosophical concept that emphasizes the importance of the viewer’s experience in the appreciation of art. It was first developed by the philosopher Hans-Georg Gadamer in the 20th century. Gadamer argued that art is not simply an object to be contemplated, but rather a dynamic process of interaction between the work and the viewer.
From the Philosophy Dictionary of Arguments
Certain words peak my interest. I recently encountered the word Erlebniskunst in an article about art. I related to the concept behind it and wondered if and how it applies to photography.
All the research information that I was able to find came from philosophy articles that stem from the original concept developed by Hans-Georg Gadamer who wrote:
“the power of the work of art suddenly tears the person experiencing it out of the context of his life, yet relates him back to the whole of his existence.”
I noted in a previous post titled “Creators and Observers” that I believed that we need more observers who are sensitive to aesthetic qualities in photographs and that there should be a visual/emotional relationship between the creator and the observer. A photograph that connects with a viewer should be able to create a spell on the observer. Sometimes an image will leave the observer speechless and stir emotions and aesthetic senses.
I feel the “art of experience” can apply to viewers of both photographs and the other arts. The observer must feel the emotional connection which has primacy over what is seen. Unfortunately, many viewers only see what is on the surface of the image. Some pictures will speak to you if you are receptive and allow them to do so.
“Art is only through feeling, so alive and sensitive that the picture is as the breath out of the mouth, but coming from the heart.”—Abraham Walkowitz
My photograph “Repose” was part of a gallery show. A viewer was having an emotional connection with the work and started telling me what she was feeling. I asked Rachel if she could write down the thoughts that she was experiencing.
“At first glance, “Repose” appears almost apocalyptic – the nude woman, staring blankly off into the distance, her partially curled body laying in a dormant cornfield, the sepia tones of the photograph adding to the eeriness. A quick assumption could be that the figure is dead, a simple conclusion placed together by the drained color palette and lifeless cornstalks. The composition of the picture plane with it’s single point perspective makes the viewer feel as though he/she is physically in the space. The viewer is no longer only an observer, but now also a participant. It’s this play with composition that signals the viewer to take pause, and examine the photograph longer. The figure, and older woman, lays in a pose reminiscent of a relaxed fetal position — a posture associated with new life. However, everything else in this photograph recalls aging, or nearing a state of hibernation, dormancy or death. The field the figure lays in has clearly been harvested, indicating an end to the growing season and an approach toward winter. Winter is often thought of as ‘the end’ of the cycle of seasons: plants fade, animals hibernate, and humans retreat in their own ways, waiting for spring to come when life will re-emerge and be re-born. Winter brings stillness. This stillness is expressed in “Repose.” It’s the stillness that allows the viewer to reflect. While, “Repose” is clearly a photographic commentary on aging, it’s not one of hopelessness. Like the seasons, the figure has lived through seasons of her own life; and in the stillness the viewer recognizes the beauty in her age and the life that she still has left. Moreover, “Repose” causes the viewer to think about his or her own mortality and life. It works as a memento mori of sorts — but a reminder that life continues, rather than a reminder of death.”
Balthus, the artist, was a fascinating character. Nicholas Fox Weber, the writer, wrote an excellent biography on the amazing life of Balthus. The book “Balthus-A Biography” was published in 1999 when Balthus was still alive and Weber was able to interview him over a number of years.
I find that the paintings by Balthus are evocative, provocative, erotic and dreamlike. I felt an immediate connection with his work. Even though his paintings and my photographs are very different, they both elicit similar responses from viewers especially concerning the nudes.
Balthus and I react to probing questions about our work with similar responses. When questioned about the meaning or message of a particular painting, a Balthus response was: “It’s absolutely not symbolic. The meaning of the painting is the painting.”
When Weber asked him about the painting “The Room” Balthus replied that “The Room” is simply a painting of a nude in a room with a girl at the window.
Another Balthus response when questioned about eroticism in his paintings was: “The problem is that everyone sees eroticism. My pictures aren’t erotic. The problem is psychoanalysis.”
Quotes from my writings reflect similar reactions to criticisms of my photographs. In 1997, I wrote a “Personal Statement” as an introduction to a book featuring my early nude work where I wrote: “A common reaction to my work is that the images are disturbing. The images are not disturbing to me. They are simply expressions.”
Another quote which is from my “Artist Statement” is: “I make my work without a social or political agenda. There is no message or hidden purpose. The photograph is the photograph. What the viewer sees and interprets is out of my control.”
While reading the book on Balthus, I found the similarities between our responses and thinking processes to be uncanny. Also, the relentless questioning of Balthus’s artistic intent by Weber reminded me of my graduate school professor, John Weiss, and his agitation with my responses regarding my work. His normal reaction was that I should take more responsibility for my photographs instead of denying intent. Neither Weber or Weiss could accept either of our simplistic responses to our work. They both pushed for more information in an accusatory manner as if we were taking the easy way out instead of searching for meanings in our work. For me the information that was wanted was neither available nor important to me.
An observation made by Claus von Bülow, a friend of Balthus, was that he felt Balthus more as a perpetual voyeur of women that as an active lover. When I photograph a model, I view it as a business relationship and not a chance for a romantic relationship. But I would say that I am a voyeur of women. The difference between Balthus and myself is that he preferred young girls where my preference is to photograph older mature women.
Another difference is that I believe my unconscious plays a role in my image making whereas Balthus vehemently denied any influence from the unconscious.
For me, the work of Balthus stimulated areas of my brain that connected with his paintings even though I cannot verbally say what this connection is. As Balthus said “the painting is the painting.” The visual elements of the painted canvas are all that mattered to him.
Here is an older photograph from my Collector Series. For me, it is simply a woman standing in back of a window behind a broken shard of glass. The viewer can make more out of it if they wish.
It has been two years since I last used my pinhole camera. I made the camera over twenty years ago. It is made out of plywood, a little bit of foam rubber insulation, and a lot of black duct tape to help make it light tight. I use old film holders that I load with 8-inch by 10-inch black and white sheet film. I used brass shim stock and a #9 sewing needle to make the actual pinhole. A friend gave me an old Packard-Ideal shutter that uses a pneumatic bulb attached to a tube to open and close the shutter. I installed small levels on two sides to help keep the camera level. I use a hand- held light meter to get an initial reading but also use a reciprocity chart to help compute a more accurate exposure time. Exposure times are usually in the 7-20 second range which means the subject must try not to move while the film is being exposed. Film has become very costly. A box of 25 sheets is now over $200 US which means that each exposure is $8 per sheet of film.
There are many challenges when using this camera and numerous ways to ruin a sheet of film. Exposures have to be accurate and subjects have to stay very still. There is the threat that a light leak may ruin an image. I have also gotten careless and forgot to return the slide back into the film holder and the film is totally ruined. I have had the shutter not fully open or close which results in another failure. Also, using the pinhole camera requires extra time to set up and post-processing the film can take hours. There is no guarantee that a good image will result from my efforts. I have no idea what I have until the film is developed.
With the potential for failure, the high costs, and the challenges to making a good photograph, the question is: Why do I use a pinhole camera?
First, I like the way the images look. There is a dream-like softness and ethereal quality to the images. Part of this may be due to the fact there is never a super sharp focus like you get using a camera with a lens. Another quality is there is an infinite depth-of-field from the closest to the farthest object. The angle of view for my camera is very wide. I like the resulting distortion which can make items close to the camera appear stretched. Sometimes accidental movement by the model can add to an image and even an accidental light leak can occasionally benefit an image. I like working with large format film and I like the uncertainty of the results. I set everything up and hope for the best.
Despite all the negative aspects of using the pinhole camera, when everything goes right the resulting photograph is special and one of a kind. It can even be magical.
Here I am standing inside the Metropolitan Museum of Art in the gallery of the Manet/Degas show observing the painting “Olympia” by the artist Édouard Manet. It is a large painting measuring 51.1 inches by 74.8 inches. Completed in 1863, it is a picture of a naked red-headed lady with lilly-white skin lying on a rumpled bed with a black maid standing behind her holding a bouquet of flowers and a surprised looking black cat standing on the end of the bed.
A great deal of information has been written about how scandalous the painting was when it was exhibited at the 1865 Paris Salon and how it was instrumental in ushering in the age of modern art. In today’s world the idea of it being scandalous is at best quaint. But that is not what I want to write about.
I was standing in front of the painting when two ladies passed briskly in front of me giving a cursory glance at the painting with one saying to the other “that’s pretty” as they quickly moved on. Art appreciation at it best. For me, I could not stop looking at the painting. The scale of the painting along with the subject matter demanded attention. While closely observing every square inch of the canvas, I began to feel I was part of the scene as if I was traveling through time. I felt as if I was standing in the room depicted in the painting but I was a photographer working with the two models. I had asked Victorine to lay on the bed. She is naked except for a flower in her hair, a bracelet on her right wrist, a black ribbon around her neck, earrings and slip-on shoes. She came to the modeling session wearing these items and I could see no reason she should remove them. I usually go with serendipity. The other model, Laure, is wearing a pink dress with a white collar, a pink hair covering and holding a large bouquet of flowers wrapped with white paper. The thing that visually stands out on her are the red dangly earrings but since her head is turned only one is visibly hanging from her left ear. It definitely held my attention. I thought about having her remove it since it was distracting but again that is how she came to the modeling session and sometimes my meddling can detract from the composition.
When Victorine positioned herself on the bed, she just naturally posed in a comfortable position with legs crossed at the ankles and her hands finding positions that look natural and relaxed. It was just a coincidence that her left hand covered her pudendum. Her torso is propped up on the bed with pillows. The white sheets are messy and rumpled but again I don’t like to tamper with such details-I take it as it is. I asked both models to look at me which I thought would be best. Victorine looked at me but Laure made a questioning glance toward Victorine as if to ask a question. I liked the way she glanced and asked her to continue with that pose. Before freezing the image for posterity, a black cat unexpectedly appeared and jumped onto the bed looking directly at me. At first, I wanted to get the cat out of the picture but decided that it filled in that empty corner and proceeded to take the final picture. As I began fading away, I thought that Édouard would be happy with my photograph.
I slowly began to hear voices and saw people around me and realized I had returned to the museum looking at “Olympia”. Even though “Olympia” is a painting, I related to it as a photograph. First, it is a nude and a large portion of my photographic work is centered on the nude. Second, it is very naturalistic in appearance and has a relaxed demeanor. Third, there is a randomness to the composition including the models’ poses, the objects, the background, and the inclusion of the unexpected (the cat). These elements show up in some of my best work.
Of course, the above account is pure speculation on my part but there is some basis that these events could be rooted in photography. I believe photography’s role may have had some significance. The painting has a modern feel to it and although no photographs have been connected to “Olympia” it seems to have a genetic relationship to photography.
It is known that Manet did use photographs for some of his paintings and etchings including “The Execution of the Emperor Maximilian” and several portraits. Some of his paintings included photographic nuances associated with light and dark areas of compositions. Historically, film initially had difficulty recording middle tones which resulted in high contrast photos. Paintings using such photographs as guides emphasized such characteristics.
Manet was not a stranger to photography (I saw him referred to as an amateur photographer) and like other painters he used photographs to help in his artistic vision.
But does it matter. It really is about the painting. What you see and feel when viewing it. The painting pulled me right into it and I felt I was there in 1863 recording the scene on film. Perhaps I did and Édouard Manet used my image to help create “Olympia.”
References: The Artist and the Camera-Degas to Picasso
I recently was looking through one of my archival boxes of photographs and came across six Polaroid emulsion transfers that I created around 1998 or 1999. The process was complicated and getting a successful transfer was difficult. It involved using peel-apart film, soaking it in water until the image separates and floats, and then carefully moving it and placing it on a piece of paper without damaging the emulsion. I used Arches paper. I tried the process but did not enjoy it and the results were not always the best. Here is one of my transfers which I scanned from the original.
Sleeping Mind Photography 