Tag Archives: grass

Xochicalco

In the Mexican state of Morelos, there is an ancient temple complex that may date as far back as 200bc.  This archeological site is known as Xochicalco or “the place of flowers,” and during 700-900ad it was populated by up to 20,000 inhabitants. The actual identity of the people who lived there is unknown, but they are believed to have been Mayan influenced.  Although in its heyday, it was a bustling trade city, this place is now a tranquil park, more suited for meditation, and contemplation.

The day we went to Xochicalco was hot and humid, two things that this polar bear does not suffer well.  As soon as we reached the temple complex, I was off and running, trying to make as many different images as possible before my sightseeing companions got bored and wanted to head home.  Within ten minuets of working I was drenched in sweat.  I really wish I had had more time to explore, as Xochicalco is truly magnificent.  Although, it is an UNESCO World Heritage Site, you basically have the run of the place and can climb the temples and explore the ancient ruins at will.  I don’t know if in the hour I had to shoot, I was able to capture much, but I do know in the future I would love to return to another temple complex.  In the end, I got scurried away by a grounds keeper that wouldn’t let me use my tripod, but was fascinated by what I was doing.  He kept trying to to use my camera to take my photo for me.  If my phone hadn’t started to ring, telling me to come back to the car, I’m sure I could have gotten a final shot with more than one of me standing on the top of the temple.

I used my Neutral Density filter for these images, and although I do love it, I am still learning how to make the best images.  I have not yet decided such things as how I look in sun versus shadow, etc.  After doing so much work at night, I can generally visualize exactly what will happen in any given circumstance, but in daylight I am often surprised. One of the things I don’t love about this filter is the color shift; it generally muddies and grays out colors.  Thus, I decided to push them off the gamut.  I like the results, but they are not set in stone.

The House of One Hundred Years of Solitude

In mid August, I headed down to Cuernavaca, Mexico, to visit with my old friend Marela Zacarias.  Marela grew up around Mexico City but currently resides in New York City; she was on a trip to visit family and I was invited to tag along.  The house we stayed at has been in her family for generations.  This beautiful compound is a bit like Marquez’s House of a Hundred Years of Solitude.  It is built on a large sloping hillside that is terraced and ends in a deep barranca below.  Each level accommodates different areas including gardens, swings, walkways, and swimming pools, all in various states of repair.

There is a special magic to a place like this, a place where there are echoes of parties long since past, children grown up, and a future yet to come.  One can imagine golden era Hollywood starlets, flirting under the canopy of lush trees, limbs embracing each other like lovers. If you listen carefully you can hear the sounds of children squealing in delight as they dash down the waterslide, crashing into the grotto like swimming pool.  Here and there are the shadows of gardens being taken back by the jungle, gardens that must have grown abundant tropical flowers.  The past is present, but there is also a great deal of promise, as slowly the structures are being reinforced against a climate that loves to decay anything in its grasp.  Who knows what mysteries will unfold or what tails of love will transpire.

On a trip to the local artisans market, I purchased a small handmade, papier-mâché tiger mask.  As I have previously discussed, I am trying to incorporate some different costumes and props into my images.  One of the things I have always liked about working with long exposures is the anonymity, as my face is usually blurred and unrecognizable.  I think that this allows my viewers to place themselves into the images.  Now that I am fequently working in full daylight, using my neutral density filter, I find that I am more recognizable and a masking is a great solution.  In the past, I created a lot of images dealing with issues of masking, whether through makeup, costumes or just personal identity.  I feel like this is an interesting integration between work that is old and new.

The Thirteen Grandmothers

This summer I was invited by my friend Terra Celeste to attend the 11th council of the Thirteen Grandmothers.  I had no idea what I was getting myself into by attending this gathering, and in a lot of ways the repercussions of this event may directly affect my life for the next several years.  The thirteen grandmothers are indigenous women from different cultures around the world.  They are on a mission to pray in their own individual and collective ceremonial ways in order to bring peace, and balance back to the universe.  Although these women are often confined to walkers and wheelchairs, make no mistake; they are possibly the most powerful group of women I have ever encountered.

The Council was held on the Lame Deer Cheyenne reservation in eastern Montana.  Cheyenne grandmother Margaret Behan hosted this gathering.  Originally, three hundred participants were expected, but over the course of the four-day encampment, over seven hundred arrived from around the world.  I, like many others, did not know what to expect but the importance of this council was quickly evident, especially in regard to the Cheyenne people.

Initially, the event was to be held at Grandmother Margaret’s house.  After a forest fire came within a few hundred feet of her property only days before the opening, the gathering was moved to the local public powwow grounds, a move that proved to be quite fateful.  Although, the grandmothers are on a peace mission, change often comes with great resistance. After only a short time on the reservation, I was given a crash course in tribal politics.  Basically, it is tradition for the elder men to speak and hold council, and although women are generally free to express their opinions, they do not make important tribal decisions or hold councils of their own.

By bringing the grandmothers to the reservation, Margaret was going against thousands of years of tradition and was met with physical and psychological opposition.  A group of militant young men came onto the powwow grounds before the event and threatened cause problems if the grandmothers did not cease and desist.  This clearly shook up everyone involved and after a meeting between the grandmothers that lasted into the wee hours of the night, they decided to proceed.  Thankfully they did, because this may have been one of the most important events held in recent Cheyenne history.

As the days progressed, the grandmothers prayed, and began telling their stores, both personal and historical.  They told of war, oppression, massacre, marginalization, and the loss of land, food, water and children, they mourned the loss of old traditions and ways of living.  Many white people also came forward with stores of their own, including the great grandniece of General Custer, who asked forgiveness for her family’s roll in oppressing and murdering the Cheyenne people.  Slowly, the men started to come around, to hear the stories, and witness the healing the grandmothers were offering.  By the end of the gathering, many of the tribal chiefs had don their feather headdresses and welcomed the grandmothers, thanking them for taking action and opening their eyes to the possibilities of a new future.

So much happened while I was at this event I cannot begin to summarize everything in this brief blog.  Suffice to say, I saw a wild wolf, ran out into a lightning storm, witnessed a crowd react to a tiny ancient Nepali woman the way one would expect from a revival church, slept in a tipi, and made a promise I intend to keep.  In our final meeting, Grandmother Margaret asked me to return to the reservation and hold a photography workshop for the local kids.  I am just starting to work out the details of this agreement which involves a lot of research, grant writing, and planning, but hopefully by next summer I will be able to fulfill my commitment to Grandmother Margaret.

Finding My Vision

This summer, I was fortunate enough to be able to attend a photography workshop at The Anderson Ranch in Snowmass, Colorado. The workshop was called “Finding Your Vision,” and was co-led by Arno Minkkinen: prolific self-portrait photographer, and Jonathan Singer: technical genius extraordinaire.  Having these two team-up was really wonderful, as Arno is a master teacher and conceptual thinker, and Jonathan has an ability with Photoshop and printing beyond compare (as well as a brilliant mind).

Our class was comprised of twelve students whom have varying levels of experience.  As one of the more advanced students, I was really happy to find that the experience level of the others hindered no one in the class.  We all got our time, and we all had the opportunity to learn and grow as photographers (even though a week is a very short time to get anything accomplished).

If you have read some of my previous posts, you may have noticed the growing frustration I have had with my work.  I have been feeling a bit stuck, like my work is not maturing or developing.  It was for this reason I decided to take a workshop.  After sharing some of my images with the class, I was given a private meeting with Arno in which to discuss possible new directions.

Arno himself is quite a poet, and his critiques are certainly an extension of this philosophy.  I find Arno’s style of teaching really helpful for my creative thought process, as it leaves me loads of room in which to learn and explore.  Out of our discussion came this: most of my previous work was either performance art or opera, and now it was time to give the viewer front row seats to the theater!  This means that rather than feeling like the viewer has stumbled upon a performance, or is witnessing a spectacle so large he can only marvel, he is there with you, invited.  Up close and personal.

I can’t say that I have firmly grasped and embraced this in my work yet, but I do feel like it is slowly drawing me somewhere I was not before the workshop.  Yes, I still do opera and performances, but I am also trying to get closer to the camera, to sit in the discomfort of the situation, and to move the work into new realms.  I am excited to see where this takes me over the next year.

One of the new elements added to my work during this period, was finally using my 10 f-stop neutral density filter. This allows me to take long exposure photos during the day.  After years of only working at night, it opens up a lot of time to shoot and practice.  The filter also mimics the conditions I have in full-moon light and forces me to work through some of the issues I have found so troubling.  Since the workshop I have been using this filter a lot, and I am thrilled with the outcome of some of my newest images.

But rather than jump ahead, I am going to show you a few of the images that came out of this workshop, leaving the “ghost horse” series for the next post, as it deserves attention all its own.  Keep in mind that each image was part of a particular assignment so they may feel quite different from the work you have previously associated with this blog.

For more info on Arno Minkkinen: http://www.arno-rafael-minkkinen.com/

For more info on Jonathan Singer: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Singer-Editions-LLC/116575908398381

For more info on The Anderson Ranch: http://www.andersonranch.org/

The Highline

I’m not really sure what my problem was last night.  Maybe it was the full moon, maybe it was the fact that I have not slept in my own bed in weeks, or maybe I was just being crabby.  Nonetheless, when we got to our shooting sight last night and I realized that Alyose’s tripod’s quick plate was practically welded onto my camera, and would not work with my new tripod, I started cursing like a sailor, and tried to give up on the shoot.  Aloyse would have none of it!  She made me rig up the camera with books, Luna bars, eyeglass cases, and we actually got a few really nice shots, despite my lack luster attitude.

Last night we shot out on the new Highline Park, an elevated abandoned train trestle, turned walking park, through the Chelsea neighborhood.  This beautiful new addition to the city makes for great views, and a lovely shooting backdrop.  The full moon behind herringbone clouds in the background was not too shabby either.  I really want to return to this space for a re-shoot, as I feel like we could greatly expand what we started (especially with a tripod). Unfortunately, I am leaving NYC in 4 days, to head to Spain for a month, and we have a pretty full schedule until then that does not include re-dos.  It is possible that I will be returning here for an extra two weeks when I get back from Spain, we shall see.

We ended the night with some white wine at the Drunken Horse and continued the theme of ‘drinking with friends is the greatest art of all.’  Taking over the back of the bar, and generally irritating our polish bartender, Aloyse, Mark and I did a bit of musical chairs for the camera. A special thanks goes out to all of our collaborators last night, Mark Schultze, JP Magenis, and Justine Evans.

The General Theological Seminary or the Times Square Debacle

We met at Times Square for the second time, to no avail.  That place is damn hard to shoot.  Noisy, crowded, bright lights and dark spots, enough neon to simulate true daylight at night, working there is an effort in futility.  We are tiny, just another attraction, as tourists take our photos we become part of the madness.  We walk away feeling defeated.  We got no good images from the shoot, nothing even worth putting up here.  It feels so depressing.  We insist that we will return, that we will get the shot, but I wonder.  Maybe sparkly dresses will help.

Then at 11:30pm we decide to head across the street to the campus of the General Theological Seminary.  We have the keys.  We let the dogs off their leashes to play on the lush green grass, a magical oasis on this gritty island.  The school once owned most of the area, I think 140 acres, or what is all of Chelsea.  Now it is just an enclosed city block, with dorms in the surrounding area.  We needed a re-do, a confidence builder, a reminder that yes we can make beautiful, meaningful images, that Times Square had not sucked out or souls.

We donned our new matching dresses, and carried candles on to the close.  This felt so safe, so natural, so relaxed, and so easy.  We effortlessly, began our process of creating, of using light and location.  Obviously, it is easier to create in such a beautiful quiet environment, but shooting there versus Times Square made us think about the nature of the work we were creating.  What we do has such an inherent spiritual quality, for us and for the resulting images.  I think shooting in Times Square, the epicenter of consumer culture, really drains that spirituality away from us.  Where as shooing on a theological campus inherently fills us up with that mysticism.

Does this mean we should abandon Times Square?  That we should shoot in only sacred spaces?  I am not sure, but I really don’t think so.  I think that Times Square, like any trial by fire, pushes us to our limits, to the nature of our faith.  It has not happened yet, but I think if we can make strong and meaningful images there, it will be a great accomplishment.  We must now think of the ritual, the dance that can protect us from the overwhelming nature of Times Square.

Meanwhile, we have this…which basically rocks: