This week showcases work from Rosalind Solomon’s book, Chapalingas, which Vince Aletti describes as “the first comprehensive overview of Rosalind Solomon’s work…  a moving record of a 30-year journey of discovery by a photographer whose commitment to her own flinty, humanist vision places her, as Ingrid Sischy writes in the introduction, among an ‘endangered species.’ Organized poetically, Solomon’s book embraces her subjects with unusual warmth—a combination of candor, curiosity, concern, and almost helpless yearning.” (from Photograph magazine).

This week, Michele Abeles interviews Molly Smith.

MA:  I first saw your work at your solo show at KS Art and more recently in a group gallery show. I’ve been a fan then recently I looked at your website (http://www.mollyvirginiasmith.com/) and was surprised that what first appears is a photograph: not one of your sculptures, collages or paintings which are the type of work I associate with you. Could you tell me about your decision to feature a photograph on your website?

MS: I was reluctant, as you were, to create a website of my work. I have never shown my photographs with the sculptures, collages and paintings, but consider them an important part of my work. So, a website seemed a fitting place to display some of the photos I take daily to record my environment. The first photo on the site changes every day and I recently added an archive of the best hits. The photographs feel like clues to the rest of the work in a way. Some pieces may be so abstracted that the photographs can be a guide to the shapes, textures and situations you see represented in collages, drawings and sculptures.

MA: The photograph that appeared today is some sort of quilt splayed across a car seat. Immediately I saw it as a spider web. Most of your photos seem to be abstractions of nature? And then your sculptures collages remind me of a collision between nature and the city.

MS: Lately they have been. The first work I showed in New York was a series of landscape paintings and then after living in the city longer my subjects became more urban, reflecting my surroundings. I am fascinated with trash on the street. But I’ve been working with nature more lately. I collect images from my daily experiences, and that tends to be my walks with my dog in Prospect Park nearby or the walk to my studio. Although it’s the same cycle every year, I am always overwhelmed by the changes I notice-the leaves changing color, then falling, then bare branches, then growth, on and on…

MA: There’s a history of artists using photographs as source material. Do your photographs function that way? Or are they their own entity?

MS: mmmm… (that’s my pondering sound!)

MA: hah hah…Yes, I should note that we are conducting this interview over “chat.” We have to imitate sounds….

MS: I may answer this in a roundabout way, but both of your questions make me think of the way photography has supported and extended my artwork. I visited my friend, and an artist, Fabienne Lasserre in Oaxaca, Mexico last year. I took something like 300 pictures a day with her. After spending a week together she said she saw the city the way I would, and constantly thought “Molly would take a picture of that..” So photography has seemed to function in this way for me as an explicit form that describes my way of seeing. And as for the tradition of using it as source material, photography has played various roles in my process. Right now I am allowing it to stand on its own at times but it also serves as a source for imagery. That relationship has been very direct, using photos to paint from. Then I rejected that method and still took the photographs but had a ‘warm-up’ routine before heading to studio where I would draw from the photos at home then take the sketches to the studio to work from the less detailed and gestural version of the photos. Now I do a little of all of these things.

MA: So you bring drawings “based” on photographs into your studio?

MS: Yes, at times. I got some strict idea that it felt like ‘cheating’ to have the photographs there to work from. And I still work this way for certain pieces, to work from the sense I retain of an image rather than the direct image.

MA:  That makes me wonder what is your relationship with memory, photography and other artwork? It’s hard to break photography’s association with memory but I don’t know about other mediums.  What I’m curious about is generalized experiential memories (like listening to music or walking) not specific personal narrative memories.

MS: Well, to extend that strict studio practice, there have even been times I’ve rejected photography altogether because I have been examining this idea of memory.  I would make up these elaborate mnemonic devices to remember the names of things I had seen to jog my memory of the image I would draw when I got to the studio. The experience I want to relate and record and hopefully recreate for a viewer is that of noticing something and then the image you retain when you walk away. I am interested in how few details, or which specificities you need to describe an image. Then the images and the way I remember them dictate their material manifestation. Sometimes it is a gesture that can be physically remembered through sculpting it, or when there is a combination of gestures or materials it may call for collage, or a combination of media.

MA: Part of why I wanted to interview you is because photography is not your main art practice however it is related.  It’s sort of like you are extending the limits of the photographic in your sculptures, collages and paintings. Or perhaps working in all these mediums gives your work a more complete exploration of the experience of being in the world?

MS: mmm, I love that.

MA: And what you are doing adds an extra layer of mediation

MS: Of course, that seems so simple, but it is something I struggle with in comparing myself to other painters and sculptors because I have never been strictly a studio artist. I feel that I do a lot of my work out in the world, and then the studio is where I assemble and meditate on it, in a way.

MA: Doesn’t seem simple to me at all.

MS: Yes. I think about the line between something being simple, possibly in the form yet complex in the idea.

MA:  How do you decide when one of your photographs is strong enough to remain as it’s own entity and then other times make something in another medium that is related in content?

MS: Great question, something I ask myself all the time. Lamely put, it’s a feeling I get. Sometimes it feels like drudgery, and back to all that strict studio practice stuff, but it feels like just going though the motions to recreate certain images in the other media. If sculpture, collage, or drawing doesn’t offer another level or way of seeing the subject then there is no point in working with the photograph further. But that doesn’t mean the photograph is necessarily enough on its own. The ones that are seem to have already manipulated or captured the subject the way I would through the other media. So, for example, the first photograph archived on my site is a jewel case sprinkled with raindrops resting on a grate. There is already so much going on there that I don’t need to further describe it to a viewer. In fact the thing that photography offers in its sharp detail, tells about that subject better than I could through any other media.

MA: That’s great. Do you have an example you could share of a “failed photograph?”

MS: I was just getting to that, thinking about how I have tried to recreate some of the photographs and failed. They have been boring. I was looking at the picture of a branch that makes an oval of sorts in the snow. I haven’t made a collage out of this but can imagine if I did it would be straightforward, and possibly beautiful in a way, but I imagine it to be minimal and dead. The magic of that image, for me, is finding such a simple and elegant composition naturally occurring, then my framing points at it and that’s it.

MA:  This idea of experiencing the world visually, through a medium reminds me of the way Lee Friedlander’s photographs?  Have you seen any of his work?

MS: Back to deceptively simple. Yesterday, I just saw one in the Surface Tension photography show at the Met. It’s a packed show but his simple and quiet piece caught my eye. There is definitely something in his use of shadows and his formal sense of space that I like.

MA: Any particular image?

MS: I think the one I saw is a ’self portrait’ capturing his shadow.  The shadow is a phenomenon I never tire of. Usually I use my dog’s shadow to convey the physicality of the moment. I am now painting Flick (my dog) everyday at home. This came about from having my middle school students draw him. They are making accordion books in which Flick has to transform into something else over 6 pages. The best thing is he retains Flick-ness, not necessarily his dog-ness! They are responding to his texture, shape or color so it’s actually taught them exactly how I want to see.

This week showcases work from one of my favorite photographers, Michael Schmelling.

This week, Asha Schechter interviews Michele Abeles.

Asha Schechter:  Because this interview takes place online and I have mostly just seen your work there, I am curious about your website. The pictures repeat, and new pictures come later. It’s almost like a parody of a typical photographer’s website. Do you think of it as its own thing? Would you ever show your pictures like that in a show? Repeating images, I mean.

Michele Abeles:  I never thought of it as a parody. Originally I planned on having it appear to repeat forever—I would add the same section over and over each day until it was too long for anyone to bother going through. The literal repetition goes along with how I’m skeptical about how much of what goes on in the world ever really changes. The images are all titled by a date with no year, so there’s no chronology, to cite another example. I’d like to try a physical manifestation of the ideas I’m thinking about here, but for now it has seemed to work best on a website.

I’m curious—how that could be a parody?

AS:  Well, the idea of the photographer’s website is usually to show large images of their work so people know what it looks like and can hire them or give them the big show. To have a site that is somewhat confusing and repeats undermines that a little bit.

MA:  What about photographers not expecting to get hired? I really didn’t want to have a website—perhaps that crept in there. But mainly it was a solution to wanting to make a body of work with no beginning and no end.

AS:  Does that relate to what you said about the world never changing? What about the idea of familiar and unfamiliar in your pictures? In some of them I feel like you are pointing towards photographic tropes (The Vista, The Cat, etc.), but in others, like your new “human still lifes,” it seems like you are referencing but then expanding on those tropes.

To clarify what I mean, if the world never changes, do we just keep making the same pictures?

MA:  It seems the world changes how it looks but how we act doesn’t change. That’s just my hunch. So perhaps we do take the same pictures, but they look different. As for tropes . . . . I’m resistant to that term. When I made that body of work [Caught in a Secret History], I did not set out to take one photo from one type of photography and one from another. I just didn’t work in a literal kind of series, taking the same picture of the same thing.

AS:  But how do you make a picture of Yosemite without thinking about its history? Or a picture of a snowy glade?

MA:  I was still learning about the history of photography while I was working on those photos. (And I still am, of course.) I was thinking more about personal history/memories, and how photographs in people’s albums usually show how one wants to think things were. I was subverting that. They’re supposed to be like pictures of a family vacation gone bad, where things are not what they seem. I wanted that idea to be a baseline or metaphor for how it was impossible to know what was really going on post-September 11th and in the Bush years. I think because they were not serial and jumped between tropes in photography, it was initially a difficult group of work for people to enter. I know it’s all a little compressed. Richard Benson remarked, “Only an alien would get that.” Which is fine.

AS:  Only an alien would understand that idea?

MA:  Only an alien would look at my pictures and think what I was thinking, I guess. I don’t know. It was one of those funny things people say in crits. He was looking at a different edit than what is on my website now.

AS:  Why would an alien know more about contemporary life then an earthling?

MA:  Good point! Maybe because they have some distance.

AS:  Literally. He makes pictures with like 5000 layers, right?

MA:  Yes!

AS:  Maybe he’s an alien and he was trying to throw you off the trail.

MA:  I was cutting too close to the bone.

AS:  I watched that short video you had in the Circular File video; can you talk a little bit about how that came about? Was it meant to be a piece, or were you just documenting your shoot?

MA: In the abstract, I’ve always found “portrait” photo shoots to be a weird and funny experience. Initially I wanted to video my shoots because I was curious what I miss when I’m focused taking pictures, the in-between moments and the shifts that occur between images. First I filmed a couple shoots, just set up two cameras and then acted as usual.  After viewing the footage, it was obvious it couldn’t be that simple to be interesting as a moving image. Or actually, it could be, but it wouldn’t be appropriate as a Circular File piece, because my segment would be quite short. Then I began to think the video could be in the form of short interstitial segments that would be shown between the other artists’ segments. Ultimately, for the purpose of Circular File, it had to be edited into a single segment. It morphed into a slight spoof on photography. I got to bring out the smoke machine, played a single song on repeat. (Years ago I worked as a photographer’s assistant on fashion shoots. Certain aspects of those shoots amused me, like playing a single song for hours on repeat so the model can get their groove.) The video wasn’t only a spoof, however. It’s something that I’ll work on more to become its own piece.

AS:  Was that table supposed to fall? That was exciting.

MA:  Yeah, I kicked it! Just kidding. No, that was not planned. It also was the second time it happened to that particular model, on two separate shoots. For a while I’d had this rule that when shooting these still lifes with people, they had to always be on a table to give their body language an air of precariousness. The table I had on hand was a folding table.  FYI: folding tables are not sturdy enough to shoot people on top of.

AS:  He seemed mad. Was he?

MA:  No. Shocked. It’s scary to have a table fall out from under you! He is a sweet guy and an interesting model.  He’s a real performer and said he’d still pose for me again.

AS:  Hmm. So you want to make more of these photo-shoot videos?

MA:  Yes, I will. But they will have to be their own thing. It was difficult to take photographs and video “a photo shoot” where I’m playing the photographer.

AS:  So are you actually taking photos in the videos or just pretending?

MA:  I started out taking photos and then ended up pretending. Though I did like some of the fake photographs. I was curious if I’d end up with some surprising photographs if I wasn’t trying. You know, offer myself up to fate.

AS:  Yeah.

MA:  But that usually is the case with photographs, right?

AS:  Yes.

MA:  Actually, yesterday I had some great luck. I spent the whole day searching the Internet for some sort of grid, like Muybridge used in his pictures. I wanted something to give reference to the size of objects. I spent the whole day searching online and found nothing. It was depressing. Then I went to drop something off at my studio. Outside in a dumpster were about 100 rolls of measuring tape. They weren’t exactly seamstress measuring tapes but they are some form of demarcation, with lines every inch, probably thrown out from some warehouse.

AS:  So you’re going to make a grid on the floor of your studio? I like this idea for the interview, that you describe the picture you are going to make and then people can look at your site in a while and see if it was everything they dreamed of.

MA:   I’m not going to do a grid. I guess that’s typical of my process. I usually start off with an idea and do something else.

AS:  OK.

MA:  Or maybe I will make a grid. Am I frustrating you?

AS:  No. I was excited about the sneak preview idea, but it’s kind of dumb.

MA: Well . . . they can see I didn’t use a grid and did something else. Maybe they’ll decide I should have used a grid.

AS: I noticed on your site that if I CTRL-click on an image, I could see what you called the file. Is that the title? Some of them are just weird numbers, but I have always liked that way of seeing what people call things for themselves.

MA: Like what?

AS:  “City,” “owl,” “betwixt” . . . Is that last one a Twin Peaks reference?

MA:  No, it wasn’t a Twin Peaks reference, though I was a fan of the show. I give them simple, obvious labels so that in the future I can recall and locate my pictures. You should see my new titles—I mean labels.

AS:  Would you like to share them?

MA:  They’re all weird because of working digitally; they’re automatically given file names like 000054632.

AS:  What do you think of somebody like Christopher Williams, who provides all this precise but sort of meaningless information in his titles?

MA:  Williams’s titles are great because they don’t add meaning that’s not in the photographs. But they are thought-provoking and actually do make sense with his conceit. . . . Maybe I will title them using part of the file name the camera assigns them. What I don’t want is for the title to be as important or more important than the image.

AS:  Didn’t you use to have funny titles? Like “The People I Met at Taco Bell”?

MA:  I did. But I dropped that. With that picture, though, I DID meet those people at Taco Bell. So it was logical.

AS:  Too much work?

MA:  No. I take things seriously but I like humor, and have trouble realizing that not everyone sees the humor in what I’m trying to do, or wanting too much to amuse myself.

AS: How did the show that’s at White Columns right now come about?

MA:  Margaret Lee was given a show there. Instead of doing a traditional show with only her work, she decided what she showed would be something like collaboration mediated through curation. She’s been making simple sculptural objects—potatoes, cakes, and other things. She gave me a cake and some potatoes and asked that I somehow include them in what I was working on for myself.  Together, it’s a single piece—it’s her show, essentially.  But at the same time, each individual artwork stands on its own.  My photographs needed Margaret and Darren’s work to be complete. And that wasn’t obvious until the installation and Margaret’s wizardlike installation skills came into play.

Though it was a group work, it was not a process where we all worked together on the show. Margaret and I met a couple of times, then she showed Darren my photographs, and then she met with him. Darren and I did not meet until the day before the opening.

AS:  Is working in that mode something you would like to do again—having constraints on what you can photograph?

MA:  I would. But I don’t think this mode can be replicated. Margaret is working in a way that appears similar to typical curatorial modes, but it’s much more nuanced and experimental. We are both fans of working within a tradition and tweaking it.

This week showcases work from Peter Hujar (1934-1987). The majority of this showcased work is from Hujar’s body of portraiture, of friends and acquaintances, that he photographed in his Second Avenue studio in New York City.

Jake Stangel: How and when did Photo Force come together?

Lincoln Barbour: About a year and half ago, Portland Monthly [Portland's regional/cultural magazine] brought on a new AD Hector Sanchez. I thought that this could mean a shift in the photography direction at the magazine. I organized an informal get together with the more frequent contributing photographers to the magazine: Stuart Mullenberg, Daniel Root, Steven Scardina, and myself. We all thought this was a good idea because none of us had ever met before and things were changing at Portland Monthly. We all wanted there to be an open discussion about what could happen to us as contributors. Ultimately, not much changed and we all still shoot a lot for Portland Monthly and its sister publications, but the informal meeting grew into a friendship and we decided that a group collaborative was a way we could grow this into more than a social club. We later added Brian Lee (who also shot for Portland Monthly) to the group to round out the various photographic specialties.

Photo by Lincoln Barbour

JS: Photography tends to be a fairly insular profession… you don’t have co workers and collaboration is seldom. The site even speaks of the “advantage [of] working together instead of against each other for photo assignments.” What are some of the merits of working in a collective, as a team of sorts? How closely did you work together as the projects progressed?

LB: For sure. In fact, a support of peers is the one thing I’ve missed since moving to Portland from Central Virginia. Back East, I had a large network of professional photographers that gave me advice, support, and encouragement in my early career. I hadn’t found that core connection until this group formed. I think we all provide a sounding board for each others’ ideas and also a good reality check on what we’re doing. As far as projects go, doing something together really was a way to light a fire under everyone. In sort of contradiction of mental states, we each were trying to one up each other at the same time trying to support what each of us was shooting. Ultimately, I think we all got better shots, than if we had each shot something on our own accord.

Photo by Brian Lee

JS: How did your shooting styles and areas of interest compliment each other on this specific project? Did the five of you learn a good amount about each others’ areas of ‘expertise’? Does it relate at all to the kind of assignments you get now?

LB: The Oregon Food Bank project, Farm to Table, was a learning experience and a great one at that. It pushed us creatively and took us out of our comfort zone. We originally all wanted to just shoot a concept, like “The Economy”, and see what came of it. Steven Scardina came up with the idea to funnel that energy into a non profit, specifically the Oregon Food Bank. He and his family had been volunteers for years already, so shooting this project was something we could all get behind based on his experience. Each of us have a very different approach to photography and also to what we knew about the OFB. It’s a huge operation and we all learned a lot about what it takes to feed the needy in Oregon. Each of our photographs try to honor that process in way that we as individuals can relate to it. For some of us, it was about the people. For others, it was about the food. In either case, we all tried to create images that satisfied our creative soul as well as something useful to OFB in their marketing.

Photo by Stuart Mullenberg

JS: Tell me more about how you approached the Oregon Food Bank. Was the organization into the idea from day one, or did it take a lot of persuasion? Was it difficult for all/any of you to get the access needed to shoot your projects?

LB: Fortunately, we already had a connection to the marketing department with Steven Scardina’s relationship to the OFB. So, getting their support wasn’t difficult at all. Once we were on board, the staff at OFB were so helpful in getting us access to locations where we could shoot. In some circumstances, we would just show up and shoot whatever was happening. Other’s planned out their shoots and the smaller OFB agencies were also very helpful in allowing us to be there. For instance, Daniel Root shot a lot of portraits at Sisters of the Road (a soup kitchen in downtown Portland). Though he had permission, nothing was really planned. He saw something in the people there who were working for their food and just asked them if it’d be okay to take their picture.  Some said yes, and he got some incredible shots.

JS: What kind of support have you guys found for both the collaborative and assistance in exhibiting it to the world?

LB: There’s been a lot of support, way more than I expected, which has been wonderful. I think because there are five of us and we all know someone, it was easier to spread the word around than if it had just been a solo project. Once word got around, exposure just started happening and that creates more interest, which generates more exposure, and so forth. It’s a wildfire kind of thing.

Photo by Daniel Root

JS: What has the reaction been to the work? Has it helped garner a good number of new contacts and opportunities?

LB: We haven’t released the full body of work yet, so it’s hard to fully judge what the reaction is. So far so good though, and the OFB is really happy to have usage of the images, which is what really matters to us. We all took an approach to this project like it was a job for a paying client. And the work created is the to the best of our abilities. It’s our hope, that a potential client will see what we are all capable of in a non profit situation and then hire us collectively or individually for a commercial job. In a way, PhotoForce is our rep and an agency for doing good.

JS: Do you have recommendations for photographers looking to start their own collaborative in the future?

LB: The most important thing is camaraderie with everyone in the group. If you all can’t get along and respect one another, than it just becomes an ego competition and that’s not much fun. Once you find a group you can get along with, identify what your goals are and try to work together to achieve those goals. Everyone has their strengths outside of shooting, so capitalize on them to support the group. Be respectful of each other and let down your guard. Don’t be afraid to share a client or a contact. Sometimes I can’t do a shoot, and my first recommendation will be one of the 5 in this group. So, make sure you can stand by everyone in that group.

Photo by Steven Scardina

JS: What’s next on the table for the Photo Force?

LB: After the show, we will officially deliver the PhotoForce images we all created to the OFB. There are way more than the 26 at the exhibition and we’ll put up a larger web gallery on our site at a later date. I’d like the site to really reflect the whole project. In April, the prints will go on display at Marylhurst University for a month, so we’ll probably do another round of promotion then. After that, we start planning the next pro bono project. This was such a great experience and we all learned a lot from it. We’re looking forward to the next one.

This week, Jason Fulford/Hernan Diaz interviews Asha Schechter.

Jason Fulford: For my part in this leap frog interview, I chose photographer Asha Schechter. Internet access has been spotty here in south India, so I wasn’t able to conduct the interview directly. In my stead is author Hernan Diaz, who met with Asha last week, face to face in Los Angeles. I have transcribed and edited the conversation below:

Hernan Diaz: So where did you take the German Shepard test?

Asha Schechter: It was a website called dogster.com. It was a series of questions about your habits and your lifestyle. “If you run into your friend, what do you do?” Questions like that. So I answered them as honestly as I could.

HD: And you’re a German Shepard?

AS: That’s what it said. Perfectionist. Which is a funny thing – are dogs perfectionists?

HD: I don’t know. The Nazis liked them.

AS: Right, and they were in the pursuit of perfection.

HD: I guess so, the Aryan dog. Okay, so the list of topics that Jason suggested I bring up included, let’s see if I can remember, kitsch, meditation, prayer and physical contact. Is there any one of these keywords that you find appealing?

AS: Isn’t there a specific term differentiation between kitsch and camp?

HD: Yes, I think Susan Sontag has a book on that.

AS: Is it something like one is trying to imitate something genuinely, and the other isn’t?

HD: I think one of them, I don’t know which, is more cynical than the other. In one there is a sort of genuine investment in the object. And the other one is in quotes, or is a wink.

AS: Maybe something has to *become* kitsch.

HD: So it’s a matter of context?

AS: And it’s original intention needs to be there so it can be transformed into something that someone else can perceive as kitsch, or as ironic.

HD: Can you think of an example of that?

AS: There’s a sign on Venice: “Howard’s Bacon and Avocado Burger.” It’s an amazing sign, 70s-style, and huge. I’m sure it was sincere, on some level, when it was made.

HD: It was eye-catchy and it became kitschy.

AS: Yes, catchy became kitschy. Almost anything commercial – advertising or commercial photography – all those things eventually become kitschy.

HD: But according to what you’re saying, isn’t kitsch sort of a second layer that you bestow on something? Always *meta* something?

AS: It becomes that eventually to someone, maybe not to the person who started it.

HD: You take pictures of pictures, right?

AS: More or less. I take pictures and put them on a scanner, and then assemble them into larger pictures.

HD: And do you find yourself quoting them in the ways we have discussed?

AS: I want to avoid kitsch and irony. There’s a quality of comedy, or humor. But it’s not the kind of humor… there’s a quality of obviousness to kitsch, a specific reference, like we’re all familiar with, say a dancing hot dog. But something that’s in one of my pictures, or in one of the newspapers I’ve made, is like a really banal picture of a phone. It doesn’t have an obvious reference, like it was once this, and now this. I’m more interested and drawn to photographs that, outside of the context in which they were created, make almost no sense.

HD: How do you choose them?

AS: It might strike a specific cord with me based on some kind of personal association. Most of the pictures I use that are *found* are from small circulation community newspapers. I collect them, and then spend time in my studio going through piles of them and cutting out anything that catches my eye – rather than having a preconceived idea of where this picture is going to end up, or what it’s going to be juxtaposed with. I juxtapose them with pictures that I’ve made, or with photographs made by putting things on scanners. It’s like stock photography in a way – using this one kind of archive as stock images.

HD: So it’s kind of like the *objet trouve* of the Surrealists? This thing that you find in an unexpected context…

AS: I guess I want it to be more than that eventually. You start with this thing that’s divorced from its context, then you add it to this other thing, and then what it equals is something else entirely. You’re not thinking of the fact that it’s divorced from its original context.

There might be a picture that I find that has a specific relation to a picture I’ve taken in the past. For example I took this one picture at a family birthday party a number of years ago… there was a spontaneous massage train in a forest, among my family and some of my friends. I took a picture of it at the time, thinking, “Why is this happening?” Then I was looking through some newspapers, three or four years later, and I found a picture of a group of construction workers all pushing on each others’ backs, holding up a big piece of metal. So the two pictures start to inform each other in funny ways.

HD: I think there are two things here that Jason would be interested in. Because he did say “physical contact.” And that appears in two ways in what you just said. First, massages, and I’m curious if you enjoy them. And second, the physical contact between different pictures, in one space. So let’s start with the massage.

AS: I don’t feel comfortable getting massages. I get really self-conscious. There is an idea in my family that I’m this person who’s a little wound-up. I have a lot of anxiety. And my stepfather is always saying, “I’ll get you a massage.” And I’m like, no way. That would only cause me greater anxiety.

HD: I think we agree fully.

[…]

HD: So why do you feel that Jason mentioned mediation? Is it something that you’ve talked about in the past? Or maybe it’s just that he is in India.

AS: I sent him a book a long time ago. It was all text. And he never wrote me back about it.

[JF: Sorry Asha, I’ll make it up to you.]

AS: But it’s actually related to India. It was my first year of school, and I had been corresponding with a guy in India. I did a project where I hired ghostwriters to write biographical anecdotes. And this one guy from India found the ad on New York Craigslist. He was really into it. I would say, “Here’s something that happened to me,” and he would write a sort of fictionalization – make it into a narrative. I gave him the prompt like, “I went to this place, and this is what happened.” You know, a few sentences. And he would flush it out with his imagination. He started writing these more and more… I hate to say ridiculous, I mean it sounds condescending, but I think he knew, he would really exaggerate the difference between him and me, and project his idea of what someone in the United States, in my class or whatever, does. He would say something like, “Dear Lord Schechter, I know you’re probably at a fancy Hollywood party with a famous model. We have to write your biography soon, and then you’ll be on all the talk shows with Oprah Winfrey.” This kind of thing.

He wouldn’t reveal anything about his life. I asked him about it, and he would say something like, “Oh my sisters are driving me crazy. I want to move to the country.”

So I produced a book of our correspondence.

But then he wrote an article for a magazine called Royal, which is like a Maxim for Indian men. The article was about the ten most popular sex fetishes. And he put my name on the article, as the author.

Anyway how did we get on to this topic?

HD: We were talking about meditation. It’s funny, but yesterday – this will sound terribly pedantic, but it’s true – I was reading Descartes’ Meditations. And it’s funny that for him, to meditate, the necessary condition is actually shutting the world out. He writes, “I will now close my eyes, I will stop my ears,” and that’s how the whole thing gets going. And as I read it I was thinking about the conversation today, because I thought, that’s strange that Jason was thinking about meditation – to talk to a photographer about it – and this guy actually states that the first principle is to shut the world out, which seems so against the very notion of photography.

AS: I think that idea is interesting. A lot of the pictures that I’ve found are people meditating in nature, and it’s this idea: “I’m going to go out and be one with the world.” Like breathing it all in, and then Descartes is stuffing his ears with cotton…

HD: Well for him, it has to do with extreme skepticism. He doubts the world that he senses so much that he realizes that he can’t achieve truth. He can’t reach truth through them, so he needs to block everything out and look inward.

AS: Maybe this is a ridiculous stretch, but this idea of doubting the senses has some relationship with the way I think about photography, and a lot of people’s relationship to pictures as a transparent window to the world. The photograph as identification, or recording some kind of fact.

HD: But don’t you do that yourself? Aren’t you trying to achieve, in a different way, another kind of immediacy?

AS: That’s one of the things I haven’t resolved – using something to critique itself. A lot of the time, it feels like you’re just reiterating the problem that you were trying to reflect on.

This week showcases work from Phil Jackson.

This week, Bertrand Fleuret interviews Jason Fulford, a photographer and co-founder of the non-profit, J&L Books.

Bertrand Fleuret: In the three books you have published so far Crushed, Sunbird and Raising Frogs For $$$ you’ve been very decisive with the technique you’ve been using, color (with very few exceptions in Sunbird), square format, standard lens and a kind of steady way to compose your images. As if you’ve wanted from a very early stage to create a code, a language, where images become words, Lego bricks to build sentences, paragraphs or stories. An image shot today will ‘fit’ with one shot years ago. Is that right? Is being faithful to that language and saying something with it more important than the language itself? In other words, black and white, wide angle, portrait would do just as well? Pick Spanish or English and apply yourself to it?

Jason Fulford: To your first question, yes. At a certain point I realized that these Legos could fit together in infinite combinations. The possibilities opened wide and I decided to stick with the format. One of the books I keep close by is Either/Or, and a few weeks ago I re-read this quote: “The more a person limits himself, the more resourceful he becomes. A solitary prisoner for life is extremely resourceful; to him a spider can be a source of great amusement.” The thing about Kierkegaard though is that whatever he says, the opposite is also true!

The only adjustment I would make to your question is that the “language” is in the interaction of the Legos as much as in their individual construction. But no, I’ve settled on this format (squares & standard lens) specifically because it is well suited to be used as a building block. It holds the content without getting in the way. For all its limitations, a square is also very free. “Easy” as my mom would say.

BF: Your pictures, your books, their titles, are enigmatic, it seems that there are keys and clues seeded along and that you choose to hide some of them, how much or how little do you want the viewer to know?

JF: It’s a challenge because if you give too many clues, the reader who already gets it will be annoyed. If you’re too opaque, then you lose other readers. I believe that an open work lasts longer, and that’s my goal.
I just read an interview with Raymond Queneau. The interviewer was asking him about the hidden structures in his novel Witch Grass. His reply was, “I hope they’re not obvious.”

BF: In the Hapsburg Lip series that you published in Blind Spot and in some recent work you showed me you’ve been going quite far with layout, overlapping images on a page, playing with the size of each picture etc. You’ve also started to mix found images with your own. I keep looking at your photographs as some kind of vocabulary, how would this recent work translate into language/literature?

JF: Concrete Poetry comes to mind, although that’s not the perfect reference. It’s about the picture “in relation to.” In relation to another picture, the page size, the edge of the paper - all things that I can control with some precision. Then of course there’s a whole set of variables that I cannot control. In relation to your mood, your personal history, the weather outside as you read it. It may sound silly to talk about these variables, but they really do affect the way a picture is read. And the reading will change from day to day.

For my next book, I’m writing a text that will play off of the photographs. It’s a process that has grown out of the lectures I’ve been giving. I’m finding it challenging to write texts that have an open quality without sounding pretentious.

BF: Once I told you I was worried that film and the materials I use would not be available anymore, you answered that by then you’d be doing music instead, it kind of surprised me. Could you imagine doing something completely different? Is doing something the important thing, photography, writing or music doesn’t matter so much?

JF: Time will tell! I know you enjoy fixing up road bikes. Maybe when we’re fifty you’ll own a bicycle garage and I’ll be a carpenter. Here’s a Reitveld chair I built with my friends Gary Ford and David Reinfurt.

BF: I think I would get bored after fixing too many road bikes. Once we talked about an exhibition where you said an object gave you goose bumps, can you tell us what it was? 2 seconds of Captain Beefheart or Junior Kimbrough can give me goose bumps, a painting of Jerome Bosch, or a landscape, cheesy things can give me goose bumps too but photography never. It bothers me, I wish it would. What do you think?

JF: Oh it may have been Liu Xiaodong. I met him when I lived in Beijing. His paintings still knock me out. I’m thinking mostly of his Chinese street scenes from the nineties. He says so much with so little.

And this film of Skip James singing Crow Jane.

Jacob Holdt’s pictures have given me goosebumps.

BF: Do you have any project coming out soon, book, show, that you would like to tell us about?

JF: I’m almost finished with my next book, The Mushroom Collector. It’s a combination of anonymous photographs that Ted Fair found at a flea market and gave to me, plus two groups of my own photographs and a text that I’m writing. I think the book will print this spring and be available sometime over the summer.

When we started this interview last week, I was on press with J&L’s spring line-up: Mark West & Molly Rose by Jeff Barnett-Winsby and Hey 45 by Morwyn Brebner. The printing went well, and both books should be available in March.

Jason Fulford has lectured at the ICP, Cranbrook Academy of Art, LACMA, Mass Art, P.S.1, RIT, SVA, Wesleyan University and Yale University. He is also a contributing editor to Blind Spot magazine, and a visiting critic in the Yale MFA Photo program. Fulford’s photographs have been featured in Harper’s, The New York Times Magazine, Time, and on book jackets for Don Delillo, John Updike, Bertrand Russell, Jorge Luis Borges, Terry Eagleton, Ernest Hemingway and Richard Ford. Monographs include Sunbird (2000), Crushed (2003), Raising Frogs For $$$ (2006) and The Mushroom Collector (2010). He lives in Scranton, PA.

Congratulations to the ten recipients of the too much chocolate + Kodak Film Grant:

- Murray Ballard
- Anna Beeke
- Magda Biernat
- Phil Jung
- Collin LaFleche
- Molly Landreth
- Caitlin Price
- Andy Spyra
- Leah Tepper Byrne
- Susan Worsham

10 Winners Chosen from More Than 450 Entries

Jan. 5, 2010 – PORTLAND, Oregon – too much chocolate (TMC), a photo resource site, announced the recipients of the first ever TMC + KODAK film grant today. The grants, comprising each recipients’ choice of film from Kodak’s broad portfolio of professional films, enable 10 talented, emerging photographers to execute a new or ongoing personal project. Grant recipients, all un-represented photographers, will complete their projects throughout 2010 and at the start of 2011, will have them showcased through a variety of online sites, magazines, and gallery shows.

“We were blown away by the talent and ideas among the 454 applicants we received from around the world,” said Jake Stangel, founder of too much chocolate and a photographer. “With these grants, generously made by Eastman Kodak, we’re excited to help provide the tools our grant recipients need in order to bring their project ideas to fruition.”

“Our partnership with TMC on this grant- program stems from a shared thrill of discovering and supporting new photography talent,” said Audrey Jonckheer, director of Worldwide Pro Photographer Relations, Eastman Kodak Company, and one of seven grant judges. “Each winner presented a really compelling project, which we’re excited to see materialize as the year progresses, culminating with the exhibits in 2011.”

TMC + Kodak Film Grant Recipients (two sample images follow their project description):

Murray Ballard (Brighton, UK)
Murray’s project, The Prospect of Immortality, is a photographic investigation into the scientific technology cryonics, the practice of preserving a dead person or animal, by freezing them at extremely low temperatures in the hope that science and technology will be able to revive them, and return them to full health in the future.

Anna Beeke (Brooklyn, NY)
Anna’s project, Amsterdam, New York, is a photographic document of a town in decline, and the life that continues there. It is part topography, part emotional response, and part “portrait of a town” in the classic sense of the photo essay. Much of the project is about physical spaces, occupied and unoccupied:  Beeke explores the contrast between Amsterdam’s living and dead spaces, how its residents relate to the physical space of the city, and how their lives are informed by the landscape in which they carry out their daily rituals.

Magda Biernat (New York, NY)
Magda’s project, The Other in Me, explores the notion of cultural identity and home in a Diaspora. The idea is dictated by the search for a real connection to a place and the definition of Biernat’s own identity, one of a Polish woman living in the United States. With no strong connection to either country and her sense of displacement, Biernat feels forced to search for the place that she can call home.

Phil Jung (Boston, MA)
Phil’s project, Windscreen, revisits the ideals of early automobiles (freedom, hope, exploration and independence–quintessentially American ideals) by exploring the relationship of automobiles and their owners today.

Collin LaFleche (New York, NY)
Collin’s untitled project photographs 14 and 15 year-old freshmen from high schools throughout Manhattan and Brooklyn, as they jump into adolescence. A complement to LaFleche’s earlier project on kids in the final years of teenagedom, Right After, he hopes to further pull back those outer layers and instead trace this stage of life through time as it develops over the following few years, as these teens loosen the grip on their childhood innocence.

Molly Landreth (Seattle, WA)
Molly’s project, Embodiment: A Portrait of Queer Life in America, is a comprehensive, multi-media archive to reveal the untold stories of GLBTQ Americans today through large-format color portraits & in-depth video interviews. Traveling to every region of this country, Landreth records and archives the untold story of individuals beyond the stereotypical gay urban centers, while making personal connections and learning about how sexuality, religion, race, class gender identity and geography can affect ones outlook on life, love and community.

Caitlin Price (Washington, DC)
Caitlin’s untitled project will comprise photographs of aging women. These women are the protagonists of the stories about life and death, power and vulnerability, magnificence and uncertainty in the everyday.

Andy Spyra (Hagen, Germany)
Andy’s untitled project is a story about the aftermath of the Bhopal Gas-Disaster, the chemical factory explosion that killed more than more than 20,000 people. The project aims to not only show Bhopal, but to also visualize and transfer a feeling of how it feels to be in a certain place or situation.

Leah Tepper Byrne (New York, NY)
Leah’s project, Still Lives, documents The Children’s Village, a 150-year-old residential treatment center and alternative to incarceration site for more than 200 boys, aged 6 to 21 in upstate New York. Tepper Byrne was drawn to The Children’s Village out of a need to explore what it means to be young and confined, and was struck by the suspension of reality and time that seems to inhabit its borders.

Susan Worsham (Richmond, VA)
Susan’s project, By the Grace of God, is a series about Worsham’s home, the South, that takes her beyond her backyard, following a southern road, and documents places and characters that she uncovers.

Stangel and Jonckheer were joined in the judging by representatives of some of the industry’s most notable organizations, including:
- Marcel Saba, Director of Redux Pictures
- Clinton Cargill, Associate Picture Editor of the New York Times Magazine
- Conor Risch, Features Editor of PDN
- Andy Adams, Editor / Publisher of Flak Photo
- Alison Morley, Chair of ICP’s Documentary Photography and Photojournalism Program

too much chocolate is an online blogazine run by photographer Jake Stangel that aims to serve and connect emerging editorial, fine art, and commercial photographers all over the internet. The site focuses on dialogue, support, and exposure within the online photo community, with hope that it transfers into real world relationships and photographic growth for its readers.

Media Contact:

Jake Stangel, 301-938-9143; jakestangel@gmail.com

Colleen Krenzer, 917-826-2100; colleen@intersectcom.com

This week showcases work from Céline Clanet’s project, Máze, which documents a small Sámi village located at the highest point of the European map, far above the Arctic Circle, in Norwegian Lapland.

This week, Mårten Lange interviews Bertrand Fleuret.

Bertrand Fleuret is a photographer living in Berlin. He has published two books, The Risk of an Early Spring (Artimo, 2004) and Landmasses and Railways (J&L Books, 2009). He was born in 1969.

Mårten Lange: I first came in contact with your work through your book Landmasses and Railways. I was fascinated by the structure of the book; it is built very much like a novel, divided into chapters. Have you ever worked with text? How do you think the narrative of your book relates to that of a novel?

Bertrand Fleuret: I was more focused on creating an imaginary world and make it coherent and believable than I was with creating a narrative. People looking for a story in Landmasses and Railways might end up disappointed. There is a progression through a fictional landscape but it is very linear and basic, a crash landing, a journey towards a city, the exploration of that city, then an escape and fading into nature. It is up to the viewer to imagine his own story and meanderings through that world. There are some ideas, moods or sensations I wanted to put in there, for example a feeling that as we go further  into the journey we cannot go back, a certain timelessness of the place with a clash between medieval and futuristic aesthetics etc.

My original idea was to illustrate a science-fiction novel with images of our world, and then I thought it would be more interesting to do something purely photographic. When I started with no text at all I couldn’t make it work, it was impossible to edit things into a comprehensible book. I would have lost the viewers too. The chapters and their titles where necessary to give ‘readers’ a ground solid enough to step on. The Paul Bowles quote at the beginning was also necessary I think, to spell out quickly what my aim was.

On a different level there is no language within the photographs, I pointed the lens away from any billboard, traffic sign, branded T-shirt or anything that would have language on it, any trace of language brings you back to a specific country and time.

ML: At your website you show a selection of books, graphic novels and films that inspired the project. Among them are Andrei Tarkovsky’s Solaris and Chris Marker’s Sunless. These two films are both concerned with the idea of exploration. When making photographs, is exploration important for you? Do you consider the editing process an act of exploration or explanation?

BF: I don’t know if exploration is at the core of these two movies, I think their main concern is memory and how past things influence the present on an individual or universal level. In any case, watching both movies it is their aesthetics and their use of imagery, more than a story or a theme that hits me.

At the beginning of Solaris Tarkovsky manages to throw us into a science-fiction world with very unspectacular things, a horse, a field and a farm become unfamiliar and futuristic with some details like for  example the two boxer dogs, they look like fantastic creatures. Our imagination is called in to make that leap.

Sunless is so complex, the flow of the images and the narration are hypnotic. There is a sense of infinite curiosity of Chris Marker for things, be it a bird, a park, a gesture. He is not blasé. I hope there is a sense of wonder in Landmasses and Railways. The role and the nature of the narrator in Sunless are unique too; someone reads letters to us, who exactly is the narrator? The one who reads or the one who wrote? The writer of the letters is fictitious; the reader speaks like a friend of his, which makes her fictitious too. And we get carried by this voice and a constant flow of strange ideas and facts.

I don’t know what to call the moment of editing, I guess it should be a moment of explanation or resolve. But it is also maddening because of the possibilities, I set myself some kind of frame and a number of rules before I even start taking pictures to limit options. One could edit for ever. In a photobook the layout is also part of the edit, I try to settle for a layout early and stick to it.

ML: The photographs in Landmasses and Railways seem to have been made during a long period of time. Did you know what kind of story it would be from the beginning or did you realize that later?

BF: I had a very precise idea of what I wanted to do; I shot pictures for over four years looking for a specific kind of images. Things evolved of course and there is no absolute planning possible but I knew what I wanted to get. I had even made lists of things that would fit or not fit, things that would be OK and not OK, for examples trains were OK but cars and planes weren’t, porcelain was OK, plastic wasn’t,  all this was very arbitrary but defined the nature and texture I wanted to give to this world.

Before that, my habit was to keep a photographic diary. My first book The Risk of an Early Spring was a distilled version of it. When I shot pictures for Landmasses and Railways I put this diary format aside, but in the end it still works like one. It is a trace of those years especially because I didn’t travel purposely for the book, I took pictures within the normal course of days.

ML: I have a friend who says he finds it very hard to make pictures in the city he’s living in. He says that he associates photography with travel, be it physical or metaphorical. In a way, I agree. I can make photographs in my apartment, but I still need to get into a certain mindset. The feeling of waking up in an unknown place, a state of heightened perception. Do you know what I mean? What do you think?

BF: I think we all feel strongly that way. Photography pushes you out of the house. I’ve spent the past twenty years away from Paris my home town, I lived in London, Amsterdam and now Berlin, after all this  time Paris has become foreign too, all this unsettles me but at the same time I must have wanted it that way, and I must have wanted it that way partly because of photography.


ML: Have you shown Landmasses and Railways in exhibition form?

BF: I haven’t done a show of Landmasses and Railways, I would like to. I don’t know what it would be like, I would want to have some kind of impact that a book cannot have, big prints.

ML: I’m also curious about the Remora project. Could you tell me a little about it?

BF: Remora should not be taken too seriously. When Landmasses and Railways came out I felt a bit tired with it and also pretty lost with what to do next. So I started to do this to force myself to come up with 16 images every couple of months. I shoot whatever in the most spontaneous way possible, here everything is OK. It also goes back very much to a kind of diary.

I Xerox 100 copies, place them in transparent envelopes and glue them in the street. It is anonymous so the people who find them have no idea about who does it etc. I often see some copies torn apart on the sidewalk as if someone had been really irritated. Only once I witnessed someone looking at a copy carefully and taking great care to put it back in the envelope and then in his bag to take it home, it was nice.

It works a bit like a blog, except that it costs money, I have to go out in the cold, it’s anonymous, Google can’t find it and people cannot comment. It’s done in pure waste but I enjoy it.

This week showcases work from Christian Hansen.

This week showcases work from Carl Wooley.

]]> http://toomuchchocolate.org/?feed=rss2&p=2035 http://toomuchchocolate.org/?p=1998 http://toomuchchocolate.org/?p=1998#comments Wed, 23 Dec 2009 18:46:46 +0000 Jake Stangel http://toomuchchocolate.org/?p=1998 This week features an interview with Sam Falls. If his name is familiar, that’s I showed a fair amount of his work on Sunday Showcase two weeks ago.

I’d followed Sam’s work for a while and loved its mysticism, a feeling I don’t often get with photography. Sam and I started emailing back and forth after I’d reached out to him about showing his work on too much chocolate, and it only made sense to let our conversation dig a little deeper and become an interview on this site. So here it is: more work by Sam and a peek into his creative process.

Mother’s Studio

Return to the Alps (12)

Jake Stangel: You’ve lived in Vermont, Portland, and now NYC. We’ve talked a little bit about the differences between living in a space like VT versus NYC, but can you tell me what stages of your life you spent in each location, and how each place you’ve lived in affects your work? Is it tied into any “life outlook” that carries over into your photography or painting? Has there been a most fruitful place for you to live in?

Sam Falls: Well I was born in San Diego, CA. and moved to Vermont when I was five, though I spent parts of my summers in California with my dad. I went to college at Reed in Portland, and spent a little over four years there total, and have been living in Brooklyn for about three now.

I guess everyplace has its ups and downs; I’m not one of those people who like to go around pumping my fist about how rad Vermont is, but honestly it is a great state to live in. My mom, who is an artist as well, had to basically re-invent her work when we moved to VT and though we were pretty broke growing up I still feel like I had a privileged childhood. This relied not only on my mom’s hustle, but also the strength of community organization and individuals’ charitable nature, which I think runs throughout VT. Vermont is kind of sheltered, which works both ways – you leave with a sense that anything’s possible with hard work and that everyone is trustworthy, but there’s definitely a lack of exposure to arts and culture.

Godfather’s studio window

So Portland was great for that –it was accessible without being overwhelming. It was small enough where you could get around the city and skateboard all night safely, but big enough that there were actually places open all night and you could do anonymous poetry readings or see bands you knew. Artistically it was a pretty encouraging place to be but there wasn’t much critical judgment or venues outside of school, but tons of peer support – it was super exciting to have friends taking the arts seriously, as a plan for life. So Portland was a really confirming time and a great place to experiment with what I wanted to do while going to school and living cheaply. But then I think there’s kind of a threshold in Portland as a young artist in terms of osmotic exposure and growth in both seeing and learning which becomes the same as making and showing.

The best place for this for the visual arts seemed to be New York City. As soon as I got to NYC I knew things had to change because I’d been shooting mostly outdoors in nature with lights and set-ups, plus at first I didn’t know anyone, so that’s when I really returned to painting and started having a studio methodology.

Light Box

Sprayed Bullets

JS: As a riff off of the last question of location, I’d love to hear a bunch more about your in-studio setups, which I guess constitute a lot of your work by now(?). When did you start taking ‘studio images’ (would you call it that)? What brought about your working in a studio setting, and what are some of the most enjoyable aspects of working in a controlled environment?

SF: My ‘studio’ knowledge really developed from working for Trevor Graves at Nemo Design, a design studio/branding agency, where I was a photo assistant while going to college. In high-school I learned to shoot with hot lights and all, but Nemo was a full on professional set-up and Trevor essentially gave me a saturated two week crash course in shooting with medium-format digital backs, strobe lighting, creating backdrops, and the rest was “figure it out”. He also had a giant collection of old Polaroid and large format cameras plus film he let us take out and experiment with on the weekends. I shot my entire undergraduate thesis at Studio Nemo and basically learned everything through trial and error with Trevor always pointing me in the right direction but making me learn it on my own. This was awesome because Reed was totally a theory/conceptual driven program and I really just concentrated on my written thesis at school.

The enjoyable part of the studio set-up now is that I control an environment where I can do whatever I want with painting/sculpture/photography/video for five hours and not feel self-conscious or censored. There’s a lot of trial and error that goes into my work and many pieces never make it out, but each step progresses to something else and it’s nice to have a storehouse of these movements. I’m intent on having uninterrupted and sufficient time to work, everyday if possible, so it’s great to have a space with things like consistent lighting at 2 pm or 2 am, as well as not have anyone mess with my shit that needs to dry, drip, or expose. It’s like having a garage to practice a new trick in at night so that when your mom drops you off at the skate-park you feel comfortable skating around.

OOrange

Notre Dame Loop

JS: What kind of effect did working at Nemo have on you? In terms of direction, discovering what elements of creative/art worlds you appreciate, and which elements you didn’t?

SF: The technical and professional experience/education was priceless, and while the skills have helped with my own work, there isn’t much overlap in talking about creative/arts world from there to what I do now. I was influenced by how hard the head guys hustled and noticed the apparent happiness matched with stress of running a company, plus the respect and pride among the people working there.

JS: Could you walk me through any one image you’ve made that you really love? Any preplanning/vision involved, setup, and how you tweak a concept/aesthetic until you’ve made the final photograph? I’d especially love it if you could talk about either the shot of you upside down with what looks like a speedgraphic, the colored/gelled stones, or the red hair bands w/black hair.

SF: Yeah, I don’t have overall favorites of the pieces I’ve created (though I tend to favor whatever’s the most recent). Of the one’s you’ve mentioned, both the ‘upside-down’ image and Locks of Love are to a greater or lesser degree self-portraits. When I did the upside-down piece I bought out a Walgreens’ watercolor supply to make a portrait series of all 44 presidents (I made it to Lyndon Johnson I think), and at the same time I had found this mirror that I was going to shoot my portrait in and us a 3-D filter on to do a little humorous update on the Parmigianino Self Portrait in a Convex Mirror, but because both were turning out a little heavy handed I combined them in a way, trying instead to work with a perspective shift that involved a self-portrait on large-format film without using a cable release or having the mirror be a direct reflection of the self but focused on something else.

The watercolors function as a play on the color checker in photography, or maybe how I feel about commercial photography, as well as a reference to painting and portraiture. I wanted to also go for a sense of looping and I think there is some strange motion involved by not pointing the light source on the object being photographed (the mirror) but directing our attention to the subjects, the watercolors and myself (my hand). Also, the quickload film holder covers my face more to be equated with the subjecthood of the watercolors and the notion that it too “holds” all the colors necessary to paint a portrait. Sounds kind of overdone in writing I guess.

Locks of Love

Locks of Love is my hair that I donated to the organization of the same name – it’s just a straight photo of the hair after it was cut on a black backdrop.

JS: When you’re making work, do you find yourself experimenting with any recurring variables (anything from light to color to nontangibles like… illusion, etc.)? Are there ever “constants” to you?

SF: I really can’t say anything distinct, there’s never an equation that produces a picture. There are re-occurring subject themes, like art-history, portraiture, people and places of personal import, representation, and my interest in landscapes that have been romanticized by painters and in my own world-view, like virtuous mountains ranges, as well as aesthetic trends such as how color works in photography as well its trends in taste and/or beauty.  But I don’t work in a way that warrants one thing being pulled out and another plugged in, in fact that’s something I try to avoid.

No constants either – sometimes months will pass before I think it’s reasonable to shoot a horizontal oriented picture, but every night in the studio things switch up, pretty much. And whenever I leave New York I shoot and make ad-hoc studios wherever I go – for me studio really just means time and space.

Bird’s Nest/Cat’s Pad

JS: How much of your photography is done in camera? For everything else, is that done on a computer or… not in a computer?

SF: I’d say a moderate amount is done in camera, a moderate amount analog, and a moderate amount on a computer. I never consider one above the other.

JS: I feel a very appealing/approachable mysticism behind all of your work… I never fully know what’s happening, but I ‘get’ enough to keep looking… Either I am reading into your work too much- and a picture of a red umbrella and water canister is a picture of a red umbrella and water canister- or this feeling I get of hidden meanings/implications/subtle references are things I’m not picking up on. Could you help me out with this? Do you have any objectives for those who view your work?

Acrylic Water, Acrylic Floor

Rainy Day 1

SF: To avoid being obsessive and superstitious I basically subscribe to a materialist philosophy – so I wouldn’t say there’s any mysticism proper. However, I do find the Modernist truth approach an interesting and still available alleyway to get at more contemporary questions I have. This is not to say there isn’t a life to objects, like the red bota Lauren bought for our trip to Panama which we kept wine or rum in paired with another picture of the blue cards from that trip, each with a matching umbrella. Maybe ultimately those qualities are more for me than the viewer, and beyond that of course there is an objective, but it’s not always laid out or necessary for the picture to be meaningful in the strict sense of authorship and reading.

JS: You seem to have a lot of interest in objects and the ideas they signify or represent. Is this correct, and could you talk a little bit about it, either way? Are there any sorts of roots this approach that you can pinpoint?

SF: Well, I don’t know if I have so much interest in objects themselves as I do their meaning once leveled by photography. Their superficial qualities become much more important while their functional/defining characteristics become more abstract - this is interesting because objects become equated and appreciated for different reasons, what they represent gains importance over what they do.

Open Book (Visible Light)

JS: The classic influencers question: who/what are they, why are they, and in what ways do they factor into your work?

SF: Josh Willey, Lauren Maresca, and Jamie Kanzler are important friends whose lifestyles I admire – they’ve been critical and supportive, and most importantly have kept me honest.

In popular reference, Roberto Bolaño has been inspiring most recently – 2666 and The Savage Detectives exist now as the best new fiction I’ve read since Infinite Jest. Along with David Foster Wallace, there’s something sort of biographically harrowing expressed as in their novels that deals with sacrifice and sadness, an element of being reclusive by nature that’s synonymous with (their) work rather than circumstantial necessity, as well as a sort of elemental genius that is basically pure intent and honesty, as well as consideration for the reader.

JS: Do you work with mentors at all in any sort of formal or informal context? Who/what makes up your artistic social circle? Do you largely work in an insular way or do you flourish with more connectivity amongst like minded peers?

SF: My thesis advisor at Reed was a big influence and mentor, Aki Miyoshi. I stay in touch with him but it’s hard to keep a steady dialogue cross country. I’ve been working with Moyra Davey on my graduate thesis, I really respect her opinions and guidance.

Once a week I meet with Lucas Blalock, usually Sundays, and on Wednesdays with David Torch, Grant Willing, and Joe Zorilla. Also, usually Lauren Maresca and Militia Shimkovitz. That said, I really do work in an ‘insular’ way and am not a super actively social person really, I’d rather work, but it’s nice to see and share as much with people interested in similar things.

JS: Top 5 things you’re backing right now?

SF: Top 6?:

- My brother’s band OLDD NEWS (new E.P. here)

- My Mom and her work

- Lauren’s charcoal drawings

- Lucas Blalock

- Grant Willing

- Alex Auriema

This week, Asger Carlsen interviews Mårten Lange.

AC: Hello Mårten.

ML: Hello.

AC: I can tell by your name that you are Swedish- what part of Sweden are you from? Where do you live now?

ML: I’m from Gothenburg on the west coast. Born and raised here. Lived here for a long time but now I’m moving to England.

AC: I first came across you work online, I liked it from first glance. It seems like you have an obsession with photographing ordinary “boring” subjects and making them look almost foreign in their environment?

ML: That sounds about right. It’s especially true with the Anomalies series.

AC: You have a certain way of looking at shapes and forms- where messy and seamless environments goes hand  in hand- how do you balance that?

ML: The “messy” and “clean” pictures are isolated in their own exhibitions and books. I’ve never shown them side by side. If I was to mix them up, I guess the question of balancing would become more difficult.

AC: I think black and white photographs give an impression of more “real”- and also pulls it away from current time - what do you think ?

ML: I disagree. To me, monochrome photos are very surreal. The gray world is far away from the world we see with our eyes, which isn’t gray at all. It does seem to alter the perception of time though. Maybe that’s because we’re used to the distant past being in black and white. Also, time markers such as clothes and cars are harder to see in gray.

AC: Your photography appears to have a stand in classic B/W photography- yet your use of flash and light exposures  look very “unschool” - like “bad techniques” becomes part of your style and storytelling. Am I right?

ML: I guess I just find the crime scene approach to flash photography to be the most efficient. I need a lot of light to be able to shoot in the dark or to get a good focal depth. I never thought about it terms of good and bad technique.

AC: What is your overall idea of creating photography? Your stories are very underplayed and, and it demands a very “trained eye” to understand your approach- what and who inspires you?

ML: I like looking at things and finding out what things look like when they’ve passed through the camera. I have done projects about quite different subjects; machines, trees, crows, ships and so on. But they’re all about creating some kind of disturbance or exaggeration. Something more dense, heavier than everyday reality. Photography can do this.

As for inspiration, I listen to a lot of music. And I try to look at photo books every now and then. This year, Bertrand Fleuret’s “Railways and Landmasses” and Jochen Lempert’s “Recent Field Work” has inspired me a lot.

AC: All your series appear  to have the same general mood- but with different narratives - for example what makes you go from the project Crows to  Machina?

ML: I did Machina in 2007, Crows in 2008-09. I move on to the next project when I’m finished. They all connect in a way, just like you say, but there is no big plan behind it all.

AC: I alway spend a lot of time researching for my own ideas - like the balance between getting inspired by journalistic subjects versus more abstract themes. You know, like you want to tell a story but still keeping a good amount of confusing elements in your picture. What is your take on this?

ML: I like confusion. Confusion demands attention. If everything made sense, I guess there wouldn’t be any reason to go deeper.

AC: Do you consider yourself an artist with a camera or a photographer?

ML: A photographer.

AC: How big are you prints and how big are you editions?

ML: They’re small. Anomalies is 30×30 cm, edition of 1+1AP.

AC: Did you have any desire to make a color photo?

ML: I worked with colour before switching to gray. I don’t have any desire to go back right now, but maybe sometime.

AC: Do you prefer analog over digital?

ML: No.

AC: You also published a few books with Farewell, how many runs are your books ?

ML: Do you mean how many copies? When I started in 2007 it was 100, now it’s 500.

AC: Who is Farewell books and where do you sell them?

ML: Farewell is me. The books are sold at the website and at various bookshops around the world. There’s a list at the website.

This week showcases work from Dru Donovan.

This week, Vincent Skeltis interviews Asger Carlsen.

Vincent Skeltis: I think we met once, correct? Maybe had drinks after an S Magazine party?

After recently seeing your new “Wrong” series, I tried to recall that brief evening, hoping to remember if there were any signs of strangeness to you that I could attribute to someone who maybe would construct such a series of images, but I can’t recall anything that stood out as obviously weird or off about you.

Asger Carlsen:  Yes, I remember you. You where wearing black boots, black jeans, a wife beater and a red lumber jack shirt with tattooed arms sticking out. We had two gunnies with Patrick at the dive bar (Milady’s) on Spring St… We talked about money… after that I think we talked about blow jobs. The next day I was actually thinking, that Vincent is strange.

VS: What prompted you to begin making these pictures? They are bizarre, aren’t they?!

AC: I received a comment from from a woman online saying “its wrong and its sick.” Maybe she is right, I just have a strong need for entertaining myself and I really enjoy doing stuff like this. I find it interesting to confuse in context of visual matters and words. I like to confuse people. I think not understanding everything you see or hear is a bigger inspiration to people then they realize, and after a while, people will find relation to things they have seen before, or things that might be part of there own lives.

Maybe, I already said too much?

VS: I wanna know more about the initial conversation that started this project. My guess is you were sitting around getting shit-faced with your buddies and thought, “Hey guys, I wanna photograph frolicking legless children and two-headed fat people fucking giant blobs of snot while watching their dogs gnaw on fleshy bones!”? Am I close?

AC: No, not drunk. It came from looking in used medical books I got from a stand on Broadway.

VS: I’m a huge fan of technical ability, I love when it becomes a subtle force within images. Cutting right to the chase, how are they made, and how much time do you spend on the pre and post production end of these images?

AC: Most of pre-production is hand making materials and all the post-production is done by my friend Christian. I think computer manipulated images is a balance. For example, I don´t get impressed by perfect skin tones.

VS: What do you mean when you say “I think computer manipulated images is a balance?” Can you explain?

AC: I like the idea of using computers, but it can be used in many ways. Like real more then fake. Got it ?

VS: Is there a reason you’ve exclusively chosen to show these (or shoot these) in Black & White, opposed to color?

AC: I like the idea of destroying my own photography and not doing nice looking color photos. Black & White also adds to the idea of reality - or simply it looks better in b/w.

VS: Could I ask where you’re from? And where do you live, and how old are you?

AC: I’m from Copenhagen, Denmark, I live in Chinatown (NYC) and I’m 36 years old.

VS: Tell me about the title you’ve chosen for this project. Why “Wrong”?

AC: I like the sound of the word wrong - it always catches my eyes when I see it written down, but it’s just a name.

VS: Has the Wrong Series been completed, or are you still making pictures for it?

AC: It’s almost done, I have some ideas for pork meat that i need to play with.

VS: What are your plans for the series? Would you like to exhibit the work?

AC: It will be a book in January, published by Morel Books in London, and so far I have a sole show in Copenhagen.

This week showcases work from Mathew Scott.

The following is from a recent project Mathew shot for XLR8R magazine about a new style of dancing created mostly by high schoolers in LA, called jerkin:

This week, Luke Gilford interviews Vincent Skeltis.

Luke Gilford: Hi Vincent, thanks for letting me pick your brain for a little bit…I think your work is incredible!  I was first introduced to it more than a year and a half ago, and I’m still moved by your “Nowhere But Up” project. Could we start by talking about how you originally conceived of it, or what you wanted to accomplish with it? How did the project change or evolve after you started?

Vincent Skeltis: Nowhere But Up didn’t begin with a specific concept, but with an idea. The driving force behind this project wasn’t about me as a photographer – really it was about me being an angry and fatherless son. It initially began recklessly. At the time I had no relationship nor connection to my father, but after receiving information of his whereabouts through my mother after he contacted her mysteriously seeking any remaining medical records from their marriage, I decided to force myself into his life. In truth, I wanted answers to questions I had been asking myself for years, answers only he could provide.

VS: What I set out to accomplish changed dramatically from the day I met him for the first time, to the day he died ten months later. My camera (I shoot predominantly large format) has greatly assisted my work – it’s large, cumbersome, and intimidating, especially to someone unaccustomed to sitting for portraits. I wanted to scare him, and maybe impress him a little too. It’s large enough for me to hide behind when I too am feeling uneasy.  I instinctively hated him, and wanted to impose my success upon him in a childish way. I wanted him to feel regret and shame. The most interesting part was, although I never knew his reasons for abandoning us, not only did the project begin to thrive, but an actual friendship did as well. I began to see who he was, and, if I may go out on a limb here, understand what motivated his decisions. To this day, I’ll vehemently argue against any parent’s choice to remove themselves from their child’s life. But in my father’s case, it was the best decision not only for him but ultimately, for me. Coming to understanding and accept this certainly evolved over time.

LG: I know you and your father share the same name. When thinking about family, what do names mean to you? What about when thinking about art and photography? (i.e. names of projects, image titles, books, etc)

VS: I’ve always been very fond of being my father’s junior by name, even before knowing him. There was a time in my teens when I was so angry that he wasn’t there, and I asked my mother if I could legally change it, but that thought vanished quickly. Later in life I began to romanticize the notion of sharing the same name and ilk with another man I’d never met, wandering the earth somewhere. Perhaps as a result, I place a lot of thought in the naming of things. I especially appreciate a striking combination of a First and Last name. The power a strong name can conjure when said aloud is something of an auditory art form. That said, I love “Untitled” works.

LG: Now that you are a father yourself, have any of your feelings about your own father changed?  How has photography played a role in your relationship with your son?

VS: That question makes my skin crawl. Find me someone that doesn’t embody any, however few, attributes of their parents, and I’ll give you a dollar. From what I’ve come to understand about who my father was in life, I can say without a doubt that I am certainly my father’s son. However, repeating his mistakes is something I will not do. My role as a father has been a two-part story up until now: In the beginning, I didn’t sense he was interested in me at all, as his mother was the caregiver and sole dependent in every way. In hindsight, it’s easy to understand their bond was natural but, as it was happening, it enabled me to distance myself from my son. My ego was vanishing as I felt useless. Now, however, my role in his life is growing as quickly as he is, and our own bond strengthens daily.

VS: My son Henry, is still a little too young to fully understand what it is I do, even when I photograph him. His mother is a stylist, he appeared on the cover of a Nordstrom catalogue when he was one year old, he’s lived in the basement of a Lower East Side art gallery, and he’s always surrounded by creative people. But, he’ll interrupt anyone at any time and begin talking about spear fishing and what animal carcass he saw at the butcher shop that afternoon. He has heavily invested interests of his own, and he’s not the type of child you can sway – an attribute I suspect he got from me.

LG: When I first contacted you and mentioned my interest in “Nowhere But Up,” you called it “a relic”. I know you were just joking, but I’m still curious how you feel about the work now. As time goes by, do the images feel more or less intense to look at?  Whatever the case may be, do you think that perpetuates (or challenges?) your feelings about the more general function / power of photographs as documents or art?

VS: Well, I wasn’t really joking. I’m fond of the work I produced from that experience, however I consider it less of an art project than a personal process I had to go through in order to allow more significant, creative interests to come to light. If I hadn’t had the opportunity to ask questions only my father could answer, I very well could be the same person I was prior to meeting him - the same self-destructive and angry boy. I attribute the work to my transition towards adulthood. The photographs are not commercially viable photographs. They were too raw, real and personal in a way that, say, Nan Goldins’ or Diane Arbus’ portraits are not. In her greatest work, Goldin explored her life with photographic material as the backdrop, and made compelling and human stories through the use of photography that drew you in. Arbus did the same, with a wonderful cast of characters. Nowhere But Up was treated more like forensic familial research. I think great work should transcend one’s personal story, rather than just tell it literally. You could say I’ve moved on from the actual work, although will always carry the knowledge I gained about myself during the making it of.

LG: I know you’re working on a new project about “personal history”, but this time it’s not about yours, and it’s a feature film. When working on these story-based documentary projects, do you find yourself trying to strike a balance between an individual’s “self importance”, and a more universal metaphor? If so, what is that process usually like for you?

VS: I am, yes. In short, the film explores the cultural need to hide our true selves due to our fear of judgement, isolation and persecution. Revealing raw truths about ourselves can be social or professional suicide, and I think that’s bullshit. If more people were to speak freely and openly about their views, concerns and beliefs, while at the same time doing so with integrity and most importantly, vulnerability, I think communication between all human beings would be more efficient. Starting this project, I too have realized my place within this new and cynical culture. I’ve been guilty of speaking a bit too freely. Often times I speak openly with an air of contempt in my voice, and that’s something I’ve been working on. The general fear of saying something, doing something, admitting something or being something that society could possibly reject, is what I’m exploring.

LG: I feel like a lot of your images deal with sex and sexuality in some way or another.  What do you think about the relationship between photography and desire?

VS: As a photographer, my interest in exhibitionism stems from my own desire for acceptance and attention. Voyeurism is just downright human!

VS: Regarding the relationship between photography and desire, Americans know all too well of what I’d call a false sense of desire, commonly referred to as porn. I tried shooting porn in Los Angeles years ago, when Nerve was just launching their online galleries. The photographs were so crude, and about as sexy as a child with a nosebleed. Though I’m somewhat perverted in casual conversation, I didn’t understand the audience I was shooting for. I became incredibly desentized after three days spent taking some of the most absurdly raunchy pictures I’ve ever shot.

VS: Sex and sexuality does play a huge role in most all my work, mostly due to the isolation both the photographer and the model feel while making a sexually charged photograph. A portrait of a nude woman in a stark room, facing away from the camera while smoking a cigarette and maybe staring at the ground, is so much sexier to me than a portrait of a nude woman engaging the viewer, visually asking for attention. Sexuality in photographs is most effective when the subject appears both physically and emotionally contemplative. If you can represent someone’s mind at work while their body is exposed, that, to me, is sexually charged imagery.

LG: What about nostalgia? Is it something you embrace or resist in your work?

VS: Would you mind if I provided a visual answer to this question?

A photograph of an installation piece I made for my exhibition, Nowhere But Up.
Mel’s Coral #58, 2005, Sheet Metal, Photograph, Adhesive, Plexiglass, Electrical Wire, Flouresent and Incandesant Bulbs.

My backyard, where the very same piece now rests, enduring all the seasonal changes New York has to offer.

LG: And lastly, how has being a photographer / artist influenced your thoughts about memory and legacy? How do you want to be remembered?

VS: Legacies! I don’t feel the need to leave behind a “legacy.” Why strive to be remembered for only a small number of things?

But every question deserves an answer. When I was younger, I wanted to be known for shooting fashion. As I got older, and after working on more personal projects, I started to view fashion photography as a medium with a very short shelf life. Many great photographers have escaped fashion’s disposability - Bourdin, Newton, Horst, Hiro, Meisel, Penn, Avedon, Bailey, Knight, Testino - and built legacies based on groundbreaking fashion photography. But they are/were also simply great artists.

This preoccupation with the need to be famous is everywhere you turn. And it shouldn’t be. Stay afloat, make great work for your own reasons, but no artist should give a fuck about what someone writes about you because you took a wonderful picture.

For this one-year mark, especially for the sake of more recent readers, I wanted to do a reverse chronological archive of first half of interviews too much chocolate has run since December 2008. A catch-up of sorts. I’ve pulled some of my favorite quotes from each interview; if the interview sounds interesting, go ahead and click on the date to view the entire interview. Enjoy, and see you next week.

December 1, 2008: Trevor Graves, co-founder of Nemo Design

“We are looking and thousands of creatives a year, I may not have a job today for you but I may in the future so I want to put your website in my bookmarks folder under “something”. David Lachapelle I would put under “Fashion” or “Sexy”, Ansel Adams I would put under “Landscapes”, Annie Leibovitz as a “Celebrity portrait” photographer. Make my life easy, where can I classify your style?  Is that category the type of work you would like to be doing ten years form now? I don’t want this to sounds harsh, but I have 10 minutes for you today; ask yourself how do you want me to remember you?”

“As a professional photographer if the first year doesn’t break ya, the next five will keep trying. The only thing that gets you thru those trials and tribulations is your pinpoint focus on what the goal is for you personally. Goals like amazing travel, meeting interesting people, shooting a subject like no one before you, are at your inner ego and help you reach that goal. Being a photographer like many arts is a selfish undertaking. Be ready for those bumps in the road with relationships if you truly are committed to being the best.”

December 10, 2008: Noel Rodo-Vankeulen, founder of the We Can’t Paint network

“The blogging community has reacted favorably [to Wassenaar] , but I’m most impressed with the amount of publishers, critics, and institutions that are actively taking Wassenaar and other web specific publications seriously. For myself, one of the biggest compliments is when I come across an artist’s CV or commercial gallery with a link to an article or feature published on the We Can’t Paint Network. It’s a sign that the Internet, online magazines, and more importantly blogs (if well written), are slowly becoming a contending modes of criticism and discourse within the art world”

“…we need to constantly reassess the overabundance of these spaces being considered as nothing more than promotional outlets. Is it really necessary to repost a photographer’s work on a number of blogs because of his/her mass email update? What does this accomplish? It all feels a lot like high school and increasingly it is nice to see that authors of these online spaces, specifically blogs, are questioning worthwhile content and trying to be critical. When you scratch the bottom of barrel I think the community needs to first deal with placing and treating the “archive”. How do these individuals want to deal with their history?”

December 17, 2008: Jen Jenkins, founder of Giant Artists

“Celebrity portraits, lifestyle, reportage, and fashion, for example, all of which might originate in the editorial arena, can translate easily to advertising.  It’s more about the style and tone of the work, or the photographer’s ability to connect with their subject, for instance.  Clients in the editorial or advertising world are constantly looking for fresh, creative talent, and I wouldn’t say that having years of experience or having a rep necessarily makes you more or less of a commodity.  If a client is looking for a specific style and a younger artist fits that style, they’ll want to consider them.”

“[on advice for emerging photographers] Consistency, a strong edit, and a high quality portfolio and prints.  I want to see a consistency in terms of the photographer’s style, and I want the client to walk away from a portfolio review confident in what they’ll get if they hire that photographer”

January 7, 2009: Photographer Richard Renaldi

“I have no reason to feel possessive about composition and stylistic choices that I make with the camera.  These are ways of shooting that have been - and always will be - available to anyone who knows how to make use of a camera.  For me, ideas are as important as craft, and when the two merge then and only then do I think that the work has value for me.  When I look at other work in which the craft is similar to mine or to another artist’s - and the idea is great - I actually get excited.  When the idea is good and the craft is bad, or vice-versa, I am naturally disappointed.  This idea of ownership of an aesthetic is interesting as since copycats and imitators are prevalent in every business, and we live in a very cutthroat culture.  So much importance is placed on success that it is no surprise people feel compelled to mimic. I think that is part of our nature.  I do however think that when someone is being original and true to their personal vision we somehow know it, much like food that is prepared with love: it just tastes better.”

“My advice when sequencing is to follow an order or rhythm that feels natural and organic. If something feels too forced, then it is.  If you love an image then fight for it and make sure it gets in there.  But if you can see that it might not work for a particular project then don’t feel bad about letting go. There may be a place for that photo somewhere else someday.”

January 21, 2009: Marcel Saba of Redux Pictures

“We realized early on that in this market, with so much competition and fast turnaround time and small travel budgets, we couldn’t sustain the business on just NY and LA based photographers. So we branched out in 2004 and took on people in smaller regional markets (Charleston, Milwaukee, Cleveland, etc) as well as overseas photographers.  We also represent other agencies around the world, so their photographers are available for assignments in the US. In the beginning we took regional photographers on for the reasons above, but a great thing happened along the way: the clients liked the style of the photographers so much that they started sending them on shoots around the world.”

February 4, 2009: Rob Haggart of A Photo Editor

“I really only write about what interests me. That certainly has changed plenty since I left working full time as a Photography Director from being concerned mostly with how PE’s deal with Editors, Art Directors and Photographers to looking at the industry as a whole and interviewing people who are busy shaping the industry now. One thing that I think makes my blog unique is that I’m not a photographer. I love working with photographers, I love photography and know a lot about the business from being in it for a while but I don’t know how to take pictures.”

“Well, purely from a hiring point of view I probably don’t want to peek into your mind and I certainly don’t want to see pictures that don’t reflect your skills as a photographer. When I visit a photographers site to make a hiring decision I want to see the pictures that will land on my desk.”

“Coming from the magazine business the audience always came first. Way before the advertisers and the big bucks happened, a loyal and somewhat defined audience had to emerge. Anything that starts with the advertising first is destined to fail. If you want to advertise to someone you have to gain their trust first. The real beauty of what’s about to happen online is the low cost for advertisers to get in the game. How much money do you need to make a project like that worthwhile? $70,000? That’s how much one page of advertising in one issue of a decent size magazine costs. Don’t you think the right advertiser would be willing to pay that much for a years worth of exposure.”

“The problem right now is advertisers know the old way works and are unsure if the new way is as effective of exactly how much should be spent on this new medium so the risk prevents them from just going for it. If I wanted to make it big in the photography world I would start a firm that specialized in media buying online and I would put every single cool blog, community and interesting idea into my offering and come up with a million different ways for them to spend their money reaching people online and help support the development of these communities.”

“I could scream every time I click on the view the sideshow button and a little tiny slideshow box comes up about the size of an 1/8 page image in a magazine. Do you media people even fucking know anything about slideshows? People used to project that shit on their wall, 8 feet high. It’s completely idiotic the way people treat photography online.”

“I think it will always be a struggle for photographers living somewhere else to be considered first for shoots when there’s budget for travel. A decent analogy would be to ask yourself why you hire a local accountant to do your taxes. Why don’t you hire one in Dallas?”

February 11, 2009: Photographer Jeremy Weiss

“Shouldn’t everything be personal work?  Shouldn’t your “work” photos be just as personal as your “personal” photos?  I don’t understand how someone could shoot one way for one thing and a completely different way for something else, friends or strangers.”

“A lot of people out there think a rep is the end all cure all problems for their career and really I don’t think it’s a good idea until you are already making a living at taking pictures.  One, because having a rep is frigging expensive.  I couldn’t imagine when the 500 bucks we were getting for an editorial shoot was the most needed money ever having to give a percentage of it to someone and then on top of it paying thousands of dollars a year on promotional materials that most reps require.  This may be harsh but having a rep isn’t going to make you a better photographer, what makes you think if you weren’t making a living off your photos on your own that you would with a rep?”

“I would say just really be honest with yourself and think about if a rep can benefit as much from having you on the roster as you can from being with them.  It’s like having a pimp, they handle all the shit you don’t want to but it’s not all magical.”

February 18, 2009: Photographer Joel Meyerowitz

“I suddenly realized that photography was something you did physically, and there was movement to it. You didn’t have to direct your models to stop, to hold that pose, or to move their heads a little bit to the right or left: all that was unnecessary.  Robert was barely speaking to these girls: just moving around them; and every time I heard the click of the Leica it seemed almost like a seizure in time, and I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I learned that life has these little clicks in it: and you can keep moving; and as I was watching the models, I started trying to anticipate when the clicks would come, and he and I were in sync a number of times. As the shutter went off it seemed, for an infinitesimal part of a second, as if life had set itself, and then started moving again. Leaving there two hours later I couldn’t get it out of my mind; and walking out into the street, I kept seeing moments frozen in time: people sticking out a hand for a taxi, or pausing momentarily to look into a shop window, suddenly seemed framed, and infinitesimally frozen for the camera. Innocent everyday non-incidents, became stop time moments; and by the time I got off the bus at 53rd Street I was so hooked that I went upstairs and quit my job. I went straight to Harry and said “I’m going to quit this job and go out to make photographs.”

“Editing for something as full as a lifetime of work certainly poses interesting challenges. First there’s the opportunity to review everything. What a trip that is! So many twists and turns, roads not taken, dead ends, unexpected openings that transform the work and one’s life. So taking it all in once again is a way of identifying who I was at the various moments of consciousness along the way. It’s about trying to make sense of the rhythm of life and work, and what are the essential elements in the work that are genuine and that form the ‘core’ of me, the man, as well as me the artist. And these two aren’t really separate, it’s just that sometimes there are splits along the way, and so aligning them is part of the discovery of making a retrospective work.”

March 18, 2009: Photographer Emily Shur

“I do feel that it is important to have a consistency in one’s perspective as a photographer.  The fundamentals – composition, light, authenticity, and point of view - should be there whether someone is shooting something for money or for his or herself.”

“The feeling of “making it” has never really hit me at any memorable point in time.  There have been moments of happiness and pride and moments of depression and hopelessness.  I suppose making a living solely from one’s photography is an accomplishment and could be construed as “making it” although I have always wanted so much more than just that.  I have not yet achieved the level of success I wish to achieve, and until I do, I’m not sure if I would describe myself as having ‘made it’.”

“I think the fact of the matter is that we (as photographers) all have to diversify our palate a bit and get more creative about where we find work.”

“My general approach to portraits is to be honest with the subject and try to appease to their artistic sensibility.  I let them know that I want to make an interesting and smart portrait; that I take photography and my shoot with them seriously.  Some people get it immediately and there’s very little discussion that has to happen.  Those are my favorite shoots.  Other subjects are just not creative thinkers, and then I rely on certain safety tactics I know will produce an acceptable, probably not amazing, but an acceptable portrait…  Something I’ve learned in my time shooting people is that not every shoot is going to be a portfolio piece or a winner.  That isn’t to say that I don’t go into every shoot with the same level of respect for the assignment and the subject because I do.  There are just times during certain shoots when reality sets in, and I realize that particular one isn’t going to go down in history as my best shoot ever.”

“there’s no guarantee that your subject is going to agree to do any of the things you had in mind.  That’s why I leave lots of room for collaboration.  Ultimately, I want the subject to like what’s going on in the picture and feel good about the shoot in general so I tend to say, “This is what I’m thinking…” and see what happens.  Sometimes they say yes, sometimes no, and sometimes we fine-tune the idea to something the subject is more comfortable with.”

This week showcases some badass work from photographer/artist Sam Falls.

This week showcases a project called Some Fox Trails in Virginia by Susan Worsham. Susan writes, “This series of photographs is taken in and around Virginia, the place in which I grew up. The title comes from a book written by my father’s ancestor, to show the lineage of the Fox family in Virginia. For my own purpose, it acts as a metaphorical map, of the rediscovered paths of my childhood home.”

This week, Matthu Placek interviews Luke Gilford.

Matthu Placek: I love your pictures Luke…let’s talk. Define Mother?

Luke Gilford: Hi Matthu! Okay, wow, I don’t really know where to begin with the whole “Mother” thing. I guess like most people, I’m often attracted to things I don’t understand. For me, the concept of “Mother” is simultaneously straightforward, and infinitely complex. I think I have always been interested in the idea of Mothers but not so much as an identity or role within society — more as a metaphysical symbol to which we can all somehow relate. Of course everyone has different ideas about their own mothers, or feelings about motherhood in general, or what about Fathers?

I’m not intending to ignore any of those issues at all, but rather just trying to focus specifically on this idea of birth – and tangentially, that very “real” yet also very “abstract” bond between mothers and children. And who doesn’t have something to say about it? I wonder, is it even possible to not feel something, when thinking about one’s mother? If we’re told that our mothers are responsible for so much of our insides AND our outsides, how much of our consciousness is truly, even singularly, devoted to her? Of course then another question arises: What might be the power of our COLLECTIVE “Mommy” consciousness? Could it be that “she”, both individually and personally, as well as distantly and enigmatically, is the root of EVERYTHING, ever? I guess there’s a degree of over-simplified sarcasm there, perhaps in recognition of the potential (inherent?) level of awkward nostalgia (plus a whole underlying philosophical paranoia about personally identifying as a gendered male, therefore NEVER being capable of understanding birth and life cycle from the unique perspective of a mother).  But more than anything, I think somewhere along the line I just developed this really earnest curiosity about how “Mother” might function like a “bottom line”, an ultimately satisfying and concise symbol, universally.

MP: What image would best explain/describe the above image of your grandmother Rosalie?

LG: Before I started working on the “Mother” series, I had another ongoing project called “Merging”, which initially grew out of a couple really intense romantic relationships. I started with thinking a lot about “twinning” — when two people basically become one (or less abstractly, when one’s ideas and energies and everything else intangible become entwined and indistinguishable from their partner’s). In hetero-normative cultures (and often queer cultures, too), doesn’t this sort of experience (status?) usually manifest itself as a child? Or rather, are children our most consistent representation of “merging”? But what happens when sex isn’t involved? How do we interpret such ambiguities? So I started trying to find ways to represent this idea of the in-between (which can also be known as “merging”), by focusing on its most fundamental quality: two independent entities becoming one. I later realized that this whole “merging” concept is inevitably related to my questions about the essence of “mother” too.

LG: Rosalie is my biological grandmother, but when I was born she requested that I refer to her only as Rosalie.  She expressed that she had always felt like someone’s daughter, someone’s girlfriend, someone’s wife, someone’s mother, and now someone’s grandmother… but never simply Rosalie. So for as long as I can remember, “Rosalie” she has been.  I very much respect and admire her ongoing quest for independence; in fact I think I am often influenced by it.

LG: After my grandfather passed away last summer, I moved in with Rosalie to support her in the transition. Of course our bond grew even stronger… so much so that I noticed it transforming into a VERY ironic form of co-dependence.
While I will always technically be her grandson, and she will forever technically be my grandmother, our roles in each other’s lives have transcended any singular definition. Many times she accidentally refers to me as “Donald” (her late husband), or “Jimmy” (my father), or “Andrew”, (my uncle), and sometimes just “Rock”, my recently appointed nickname. Regardless, I am actually none of those people, because in many ways, I am all of them. While she resisted classifications that insinuate co-dependence in the past, she now clearly longs for the companionship that comes with those roles. And perhaps in this moment I embody all of those characters: father, boyfriend, husband, son, grandchild, roommate, and perhaps most simply, “rock”. I cannot deny that this desire for companionship is not mutual or even universal, either. But neither is our resistance to it.

LG: On one hand, our culture seems to increasingly pressure us into establishing a unique identity (an “ego”), yet we are still instinctually drawn to the very un-individualized dynamics of parent/child, partner/partner, etc/etc. But no relationship seems to actually exist in such discreet terms, and it is precisely these blurry boundaries (even within our most ordinary relationships) that can be incredibly rich representations of extraordinary phenomena, always resting just beneath the surface.

MP: What have you shared with Rosalie in recent months that no one else knows?

LG: Some days we just sit around in our pajamas and read and talk and eat a ton of ice cream. Way more days than either of us would care to admit.

MP: Do you say, “I make pictures,” or I take pictures” and why?

LG: That’s a really good question. Sometimes I notice when people purposefully say one or the other, and I always think it’s a little silly.  Drawing a distinction between the two seems irrelevant, as I feel like I’m perpetually taking and making and then back again. Some artists are more focused on working with found images, while others set up their own – I love working both ways. No matter what though, I am so much more interested in talking about the ideas behind the picture than if I took it or made it or what kind of film I used or the paper it’s printed on.  I know those issues can sometimes really influence a viewer’s interpretation, but compared to the process of constructing MEANING, the actual acts of taking or making are usually quite peripheral.

MP: Is it more important to create timely images or timeless images?

LG: I think as humans (and especially as artists) we can be so obsessed with our own legacy. It’s often a distraction, and so impotent anyway – I mean, can we ever be truly satisfied, if our goal is to be a legend? I find that really troubling with a lot of contemporary art making. But at the same time, I think it’s incredibly important to try making work that escapes what’s timely or fashionable but rather aims for the root of something more substantial. It’s so much easier said than done though, personally I feel like I’m perpetually thinking about (and struggling with) this timely / timeless issue.

MP: What word best describes a successful image to you?

LG: Transcendental!

MP: You have begun to experiment with multiple exposures, often mixing portraits with abstractions. How have the results influenced how you think about images?

LG: That’s also a really interesting question, because I think it might actually be the other way around… I was initially drawn to those techniques BECAUSE of how I think about images. So for example, a few recurrent concepts / themes in my work are alchemy (creation, illusion, and magic – which also point back to the photographic process itself), time (generations and passing), and abstractions (pure feelings). Working with multiple exposures is often intended to illicit the sense of time lapse, cycles of life, and a narrative that goes both forwards and backwards, as well as layers upon itself.

MP: Is it humanly possible to remember what love or pain really feels like after it’s gone and before it happens again?

LG: Wow, that’s such a stunning articulation, I’m not quite sure how to respond. I suppose a big part of us wants to believe that’s the whole purpose of pictures in the first place: to represent, to evoke, and to remember.  I actually think this question really relates to an ongoing debate between science and philosophy. It seems that a lot of neuro scientists would argue that when we’re experiencing love or pain, very specific chemicals and responses are activated inside our brain, so a simulation of such an experience (i.e. a picture) simply cannot activate the same set of responses, as our brain is capable of differentiating between an experience and a simulation. Philosophers, however, would probably suggest that whether they are evoked via simulation or not, feelings are feelings.  So if we look at an image and it reminds us of love or pain, many of those same chemicals will be activated, reminding us of the “real” experience (sometimes quite intensely).  Aren’t these concepts of simulation the basis of film, television, the Internet, video games, virtual reality, and so on? I’m definitely not a scientist or a philosopher, but I do believe that images are capable of more than simply simulating experience – in fact they contain the capacity to engage us in ways that real-time conditions may never (because we’re too preoccupied with PLANNING our next kiss, for example, rather than reflecting on the feelings of “love”). People may say that photography is dead, but I tend to think that it’s still very much kicking and screaming. Images function as a mirror (for better or worse), both individually and collectively. And yes, I do believe that photographs may also break down mental or emotional boundaries, taking us through all kinds of psychological territory, and potentially leading to complex transcendental (!) experiences of their own unique variety.

Christian Brecheis: In an other interview you said you lay the groundwork for your transition into commercial photography already at an early stage while you were working as a snowboard photographer. How did that go, could you use any of your work from shooting snowboarding for you book or did you work on self-assigned projects to create a portfolio of that direction?

Kevin Zacher: Before I became a busy snowboard photographer I was building portfolios.  Snowboarding was a passion and so was photography.  I simply melded the two and then treated snowboarding as a commercial business. Always prospecting for new work  and showing my portfolio to potential clients and magazines inside this niche.  I was told early on by someone I respected to find a niche. I was also concurrently talking with reps and showing them my book, as I knew that was the direction I wanted to go in when snowboarding had run its course.  I did work on some self assignments, but largely due to a heavy travel schedule I would just try and document as much as I could.  I became known for getting moments no one else was in this snowboarding culture.  Both in action and in the lifestyle. My style at that time was heavy fly on the wall documentary of the sport.  A lot of quirky compositions and joyous moments.  I used those pictures to build my first books which in the end landed me a rep.  So yes, largely I was able to use the work I did in snowboarding both on and off the hill to gain an agent.

CB: How did you develop your visual style on editorial assignments as a snowboard photographer?

KZ: It came naturally.  And since then I have built on it.  I am doing more mature work now, yet still retain a Joie De Vivre in my pictures that I had developed and made a conscious effort to make years ago.  I have evolved and continue to evolve the look.   I am quite comfortable telling a story visually, aesthetically and compositionally.

CB: What was your motivation to shoot snowboarding back then?

KZ: I loved it!  Thought I could go pro.  Eventually realized I couldn’t and still wanted to be around it.  At the same time I was using my camera to stay involved.  Stay part of the tribe.   I really felt like I was doing something special.  That I was creating imagery that would live forever.  The travel, the locales, the talent and the hunt all motivated me.  It’s the same now with my advertising and editorial career.  The hunt for more work, great subjects, great locations keeps me motivated.

CB: What turned out to be successful marketing for yourself approaching new clients?

KZ: Marketing is marketing.  It’s such an intangible thing.    You just never really know which marketing you are doing - whether it be postcards, emails, special mailings, resource books, et.etc. are working.  Unless you ask or someone tells you.  I think to date the most successful marketing for me has been to just become a part of the community.  Of course I tread all the traditional avenues of marketing, but to go out and meet with people and get to know them, get to know who they know is probably the best marketing I have done.  The VERY best marketing is the insatiable urge I have to want to make the work better than my client expected.  When I do that  they will come back.  I’ve accomplished three things.  More work,  a solid working relationship and in a lot of cases a friendship.

Verdict is still out on my blog.  I really do it to keep an (electronic) journal of my career.  I think to look back on in in 1,2,5,10,20,40 years will be something else.  But I would hope people look at it and see what I am doing and how I feel about it.  I really do use it to promote my work.  I see some photographers get weird about talking about what jobs they have done and apologize for what they call is a shameless plug.  I guess.  My job to myself as the boss of my index finger is to get the word out.

CB: What is your motivation to shoot commercial and advertising today?

KZ: The production.  I love being on set with the production value.  It’s exciting.  I remember as a kid seeing movie productions around town and thinking how exciting that was.  All the trucks and gear.  I also have always loved advertising and while never taken or fooled by tv commercials, I was always wondering how things were done and who came up with the ideas.

CB: How far do you go into a job with previsualized images?

KZ: Really depends on the job.  A lot of times I will get hired to fulfill a shot list and other times I will get hired to execute a layout(s).  I always try and come in with my own ideas regarding the layout or the shot list.  Something extra for the art director.  I spend a lot of time on airplanes and before conference calls making lists and notes.  ”Ok the layout  says it wants this, but how can I make it better or put my own little twist on it” is how I like to approach most jobs.  When I get hired to show up and do an editorial portrait or reportage I try to do as much research on the brand, the  location and subject as possible, but a lot of time you never know what your going to get or what the office or stadium will offer so you jot down some ideas, show up and let it rip.  I like to have fun with my subjects and try to keep the rapport and energy up.

CB: How do they come together, how close are they to the briefing you get?

KZ: They come together before the shoot in  a series of calls, conference calls with the creatives and they come together as you tech scout the location and then finally all this coagulates and solidifies on the day of the shoot.  It all comes together.  Assuming you have done the research, had the discussions and have a great production.

CB: Do you often pitch for jobs?

KZ: I do some editorial pitches, but most publications aren’t uber receptive.  They usually have a clear idea of what stories they want and then they assign for them.  I have been doing more and more Pro Bono that I am going after.  Things that matter to me like Autism.

CB: Where do you get your visual input and inspiration from (regarding commercial work)?

KZ: My life, my surroundings, music, people.  No real deep answer here.  It’s a common question I see.  What is your inspiration?  I don’t know what better inspiration there is than life itself.

CB: What is your advise for a young emerging photographer eager to shoot commercial/advertising? How much should one focus on that and how much should you still rely on other topics one can work on the side? (in your case snowboarding)

KZ: Focus Focus Focus.  I focused on snowboarding.  But had I not focused on it I would have focused on something else.  Whether it would have been fashion, editorial or advertising.  I have in the last 6 years just simply changed my focus to Advertising and Editorial.  It is all about focusing your niche and aesthetic.

CB: How did you handle the change from being the freelance outdoors shooter to working on assignments?

KZ: With the same if not more fervor and energy. It’s really no difference.  I love what I do.  It’s about moving along on a life curve and always progressing and keeping inertia.

This week showcases a project called Horizonville by Yann Gross.

This week, Megan Mantia interviews Matthu Placek.

Megan Mantia: Matthu! I’m so excited to get to grill you for details on your stylish, crystal clear portraiture!  I’ve noticed you use a lot of old photography equipment when you work.  Does that provide challenges with film/development/ costs?  Where do you get old equipment that works so well?

Matthu Placek: Normally, I shoot with a large format 4×5 camera which, thank goodness, is not yet a relic. I’ve always shot a lot of polaroid which now constitutes a problem! Inherently, I don’t have such high expenses shooting 4×5 because the shot is well thought out before I’m “on set.” Knowing what the image is to be, based on the picture in my head, I’ll shoot 30 frames in total. In the end, I’m spending a hell of a lot less than if I were to rent a digital outfit. Using film, I know exactly what to do in order to make the idea a reality. To be honest, I have not yet wrangled digital in the way that suits my ideas….still I feel the digital world closing in on me quick!

MM: So you’ve shot some amazing people like Marc Jacobs, Richard Prince, Leona Lewis, Leelee Sobieski, & Julian Schnabel!!  Please, tell us fellow photogs how one goes about getting such insane models for portraits??

MP: I’ve been super fortunate in this respect to photograph artists I hold in high regard. Still, I’ve worked hard on personal projects which stay focused on subjects that bring something to my table. Artists have always been a point of interest because I can build on their work as well as their personalities. Leelee and Schnabel I approached directly to sit for a portrait. Schnabel’s portrait is one of a group of portraits in progress. The late architect Philip Johnson donated his estate to The National Trust for Historic Preservation and now serves as a museum of architecture. Johnson and his partner David Whitney were avid collectors of modern art with an impressive collection which can be viewed on the property in a gallery also designed by Johnson. My mission is to photograph all the living artists on the property that Johnson and Whitney collected. Persistence, good writing and getting Julian to jump in a cold pool in October were enough to get The Glass House on my side. Based on personal work such as this I’m then better able to be commissioned for commercial projects which suit my interests and/or aesthetic. Harper’s Bazaar UK approached me to shoot Marc Jacobs and Richard Prince together. Of course I was thrilled to do so. Alas, I had a mere 45 minutes to setup, shoot and breakdown. In the end, it all worked out just fine and I am super happy with the portrait!

MM: You shoot for the band Fischerspooner regularly right?  The world wants to know how you got over your initial crush on Casey Spooner!!!!

MP: When did you hear me say that!? Yes it’s true, I had a crush on Mr. Spooner after seeing Fischerspooner perform for the first time in 2000(?) at Gavin Browns Enterprise in NYC. They were doing 6 consecutive shows about 30 minutes each. I saw the first one and snuck into the last 5 shows. I then wrote, what has become, “the best fan letter ever” and Casey invited me for drinks with a couple friends. The rest is history. Although my crush turned into an artistic crush. I respect Casey and Warren’s view’s on entertainment, music and art a great deal. They’ve provided me with an enormous amount of inspiration and a lasting friendship….not to mentioned a wealth of documentation and portrait shoots with Casey.

MM: Who do you shoot for regularly in the magazine/ book/ gallery world?

MP: Most recently I’ve been shooting for Vogue, V Magazine, and The New Yorker. I work with Deitch Projects often with some of their artists. There are a few things coming out soon…a lot of the work I did on tour with Fischerspooner is running in an Italian magazine called MUSE and I’m working on a book of the images from the tour. I’ve just done a portrait for V and my first contribution to POP magazine due out in February. I love that month!

MM: It also looks like the bulk of shoots on your website are in exotic locations all over the world.  Do you travel a lot for work?  Do you ever take trips for personal photography missions?

MP: I’ve traveled quite a bit but I would not say I travel often, at least lately. I shoot a lot in New York. The FS tour would be the latest personal travel extravaganza. I’ve never really seen much of the states so that trip was really something!

MM: I heard a rumor that your mom has a psychic sense about her.  Can you tell us about it?  Has it effected the way you see the world?

MP: Not a rumor, that’s true. There’s not much to tell as it’s just a part of my life. Some kids grow up with PTA moms, I grew up with a mom who sees dead people. I can tell you one thing…I never got away with a damn thing growing up. She certainly showed and continues to show me how to look at the world in a positive way, to grow and accept change and lead a spiritual existence. I’m very fortunate and I feel this lifestyle influences my work a great deal. Especially when considering how I’ve been able to pull inspiration from dreams.

MM: What’s your weirdest favorite food?

MP: Cigarettes.

MM: Were you ever goth?

MP: I tried but failed miserably.

MM: OK last one- what are your feelings about current blog/photog culture and it’s effect on photography?  Do you protect your images from the all-access Web, or are you a free-love social networker?

MP: Blog culture is incredible I must say, in terms of reaching the 4 corners of the world. For example, the Leona Lewis portraits only ran in The London Sunday Times Magazine when commissioned. I never put enough effort into syndicating the images and feared they would never have been seen in the states. So I sent them to Perez Hilton as he loves her. He happily posted the images and for 2 weeks my website was hit thousands of times every day from people all over the world. The bloggers have a voice and it’s getting louder whether we like it or not!

This week showcases Daniel Shea’s ongoing project, (Untitled) Baltimore.

Picture Black Friday is a photojournalism project that aims to revisit and analyze a combination of forces- a worsening economy, financial desperation, excitement, fear, absurdity, and a distinctly American cultural tradition- that culminate the morning after Thanksgiving.

More specifically, Picture Black Friday is an open call for photographers throughout the U.S. to go out and produce images that document Black Friday- how you see it, on your terms. Imagine this project as an open assignment: you have freedom to approach this event from any angle you wish, returning with single images or even a mini-project that documents Black Friday like no other media outlet will. A selection of these images will be exhibited on the site.

This project is the brainchild of New York City photographer John Saponara. John has partnered with Jake Stangel, founder of the photo resource site too much chocolate, and Joerg Colberg, creator of the photoblog, Conscientious, to launch Picture Black Friday.

The Picture Black Friday project will be accepting submissions for one week, beginning on Sunday November 29th through December 6th. Photographers can submit up to 5 of their best images of and about Black Friday. Up to 400 characters of supporting text may accompany your images.

After the initial submission period ends, the Picture Black Friday judges will make a concise selection of work to be featured in a gallery on this site.

Our jurors will then choose from that selection the best image(s) and the chosen photographer(s) will be featured on too much chocolate as well as Conscientious. Jurors include John Saponara, Jake Stangel, Dr. Jörg M. Colberg, Brian Ulrich, Stephen Frailey, Amy Stein, and Jon Feinstein.

3.) The first round of emails (recap):

You’re ready to really wow these PE’s (photo editor)! You’re gonna show them tons of pizzazz, you’re gonna tell them how awesome your newest project is, you’re gonna tell them what kind of cameras you shoot with, you’re gonna share your artist statement with them!

Your email will likely be the 30th, 50th, or 90th that photo editor receives that day falling under the category of ‘promo’. These PE’s are busy people. They are probably working with fewer staff in the photo department than they were last year because there’s no ad money coming in. So they’re likely doing more work for the same amount of money, similar to the rest of the photo industry.

The photo editors you are sending your emails to might have anywhere between negative 5 seconds to 20 seconds to fully read it. You need to be concise, to the point, efficient, friendly, non-rambling, and quick to share the purpose of the email. There can’t be much in the way of extraneous wordage. In the case of the “I’d like to set up a meeting” email, I’ve found it best to say where you’re located, 10-15 words about your work (especially if you have a new project) that is hyperlinked to your site in the body of the email, the dates you’re going to be in town, and a small promo image. It better be fast loading, so make it 300-500px wide, compressed for web. Have 9 or 10 compressed promo/teaser images on hand, and tailor the best one to whoever you’re writing to.

Finally, show you care, show that you’ve been checking out their magazine, understand their assignments, and know their look. Make it clear you’re not just throwing out the net and seeing what gets caught. Be quick and specific. Going off the Oprah magazine reference earlier, write that you really enjoyed the Katherine Wolkoff photos that ran last issue, or that you think your work would fit well in W magazine’s front of book section. The more you show you care- and you really should care anyway- the more response you will get from PEs.

My personal response rate from these types of ‘cold emails’ (where I’ve never contacted the person before) was 30-40%; high by most standards, especially high by blast email standards. It’s totally worth the effort; every response led to a meeting, which is arguably the best way to start a really good relationship with a photo editor.

4.) The follow-up

For those who haven’t done much of this kind of email writing/campaigning before (and I’m not calling myself a veteran by any means), even a 20-30% response rate seems very low. You’re putting in all this effort, writing these individual letters, and you don’t hear back from 7 or 8 out of every 10 people you’re emailing. It might feel like a lot of time lost, but don’t get discouraged. Most importantly, you absolutely cannot take it personally. Even if you get few responses from your first round of emailing, this of it as a foundation point for each and every one of the PE’s you’re trying to reach.

As I wrote before, PE’s are busier than ever, but the majority of them are, in fact, looking at these emails sent to them. The might not click through to a site, and if the email and promo image are abominable, it’ll get deleted real quick. But there’s a great chance, especially if you wrote a good note to them and had a well-fitting image, that they will remember you and your work, albeit for the short term.

The 2 days after you send a PE an email are crucial, because you’re likely top-of-mind still, so if you follow up within this time frame, there’s a good chance your name might still register. Furthermore, going along with the theme of uber-busy photo editors, I have followed up with several who literally told me, “oh yeah, I really liked your work alot, I checked out your site”. This is the reality- everything could be set up perfectly: you write a great email, the PE checks out the work and likes it, and all of a sudden your great email is buried and there’s a crazy deadline for them tomorrow. It’s up to you to slip in there while the iron is still hot make setting up a meeting a breeze for these folks. In many ways, the followup is just as crucial as the original email.

What’s the best way to follow up? Two options. Send another email. Or make a phone call. Or send a fruit basket. Breaking it down:

Email: Safer/less ‘scary’ for many photogs, more comfortable, some PE’s prefer it to the phone, the PE might be out of the office but checking email. Con: The exact same thing you’re trying to combat- a lack of response from your original email- is likely to happen again.

Phone: Riskier than an email, for one. If you’re not good on the phone, if you get real awkward and tend to blurt out stupid things you wish you didn’t say, or stutter, or space out while on the phone, I don’t recommend calling up a Director of Photography of any major magazine. It’ll probably leave a bad impression. Some PE’s abhor getting cold calls, and you can catch them at absolutely the wrong time, which is no good. Also, expect the people you’re calling to pick up only 25-35% of the time.

The plus side of the phone: to be totally honest, it’s a super efficient, almost ruthlessly efficient, way to get done what you need to get done. It’s undivided real-time attention; the person you’re talking to can’t store you to be read later and forget about it. It’s great. But respect this on-the-phone time, and be as concise on the phone as you would be in emails.

If you call a PE, understand their time is precious, and be ready to fire on all cylinders. If you’re trying to set up a meeting, have your calendar up and ready to go. Know what you’re going to say. Spend no more than 10 initial seconds saying who you are, and why you’re calling. If you sent an email two days before (give em a day to get back to you in the first place), throw in a quick reference. For example, I say “I’m the Portland photographer who emailed you two days ago”.

If they don’t seem incredibly anxious to get you off the phone, ask if they’d like to set up a meeting time right then and there. If they do seem incredibly anxious to get you off the phone, respect that and listen for it. Be gracious. Say you’ll email them your site again, right away. So that 3 minutes later, they can associate the email they just received with the kind photographer who totally understood they were busy and emailed instead.

5.) You’re halfway there!

Tens of hours later, after filling up several pieces of paper with magazine contact info, after organizing a spreadsheet, after spending many mornings emailing many PE’s, after spending several afternoons doing follow-ups, you have four meetings! Hopefully you get more than that; set your sights as high as they deserve to be, but know there is a 99% that you will get frustrated at some point, there is a 99% chance that you will take this sluggish process more personally than it truly is, and that there’s a 99% chance that you will question why the hell you got yourself into a career of photography in the first place. But remember that it’s a long and slow ascent, and that you’re putting time into yourself, for a medium and profession you ultimately love. Try not to lose sight of that.

I hope this two-part series was helpful, and if you have any further questions, or would like me to play consultant to your site, feel free to email me via this contact form.