From Dust
It has been too long since my last installment. Much has actually transpired artistically, but for the sake of you, the audience, I must retrace my steps back to the next important step in my MFA project evolution.
At this point in the academic sphere we were being asked not for creation of specific assignments, but to bring to the class whatever we wanted. There was a certain amount of expected participation, I suppose, but to each his own. We were asked to bring whatever imagery spoke to us, whatever imagery we found to be on track, in line with the path we had each chosen, even if only for the moment.
This is the image that I produced to bring in. Even though I have no intention to be at all deceitful or selfish in the production of this blog, I am not going to specifically reveal the particulars of this shot because it is far more evocative if you let your mind create its own story. It was in the presentation of this image that I learned several things about myself, and several things about the way in which people view images.
One of the elements of this particular image that has become a hallmark of all my future work is the way in which it is produced. It is, not unlike Self Portrait V, a series of accidental intentions that have lead to the ultimate image. For one, it is also a sort of test. I was testing the lighting to see if I wanted a hard edge or a soft edge on the frame. I found that having both in succession creates a sort of landscape in which the raven has been given sky and context. I also wanted to fit all of the negatives under one piece of glass, but only had this small piece of glass, which creates the rectangular graphic element that has become a sort of internal frame and point of interest that, on the whole, people seem to respond to and like in this image.
One of the things that I learned about being around photographers is that they recognize part of the inherent nature of the image that can only be realized by someone who is familiar with how silver gelatin prints are made, and how an image composed in this way is unique. No two images that I make in this way in the darkroom can possibly be the same. The reason for this is that each time I create an image in this manner, the negatives have to be placed on the paper by hand, the glass laid on top of them, which in and of itself can cause tiny drafts of air that move the negatives at the last moment, and of course the individual burning and dodging, which has to be determined once the light is enlarger is on, since I cannot see the individual parts until light is moving through them. Each image is entirely unique, until such a time as it is scanned to be reproduced in a forum such as this. But my images, my intent, is to continue using the traditional medium, because it cannot be forgotten that the silver gelatin print and the digital print are two very different creatures with very different ancestral lines. Distant cousins, perhaps, but they have been given too much power over each other. They are both photographic in the sense that cameras are used, but silver gelatin prints are photographic also in their printing, in the paper that you use, the negatives that capture the light, and the darkroom in which you create the final product. It is a much greater sense of painting with light, in every stage of the process, and should not be so easily compared to digital.
Digital has many advantages over certain aspects of photographic needs in the commercial, and even consumer, world. My argument, however, my belief, is that you cannot forget the equally diverse advantages of the silver gelatin print. It depends partially on where you are coming from artistically, what your goal and purpose are, but also your intended outcome, and, most importantly to me, why you create the imagery. For me it is a process of creation, of organic communication and growth. For me, it is imperative that I maintain my alchemist's roots, because it is as direct a communication of light, vision, and concept onto paper as any other medium I have found. There is great beauty in that communication, and it was through discussion with my peers that I determined that.
I will also never forget this particular class because of the comment that Tasha Moore made after there had been some discussion of the image. She asked me if it was intentional that I had laid the negatives down in a way that was, in itself, reminiscent of the flapping of a bird's wings. I remarked that I had not noticed that before and had merely placed the negatives as they seemed fit to be placed. It was through her that I also realized that there were things in my images, things that make sense and speak a great deal about who I am, that I am not aware of. It was also the last class that Tasha attended. The loss of her voice in the program was felt reverberating through the halls for many months to come. She is an intellect and an artist that I hope to reconnect with someday. But it was the cumulative voice in the room that day that, in many ways, started the greater progress of my project. It was determined with almost certainty at that point that my final show would be printed by hand in the darkroom.
At this point in the academic sphere we were being asked not for creation of specific assignments, but to bring to the class whatever we wanted. There was a certain amount of expected participation, I suppose, but to each his own. We were asked to bring whatever imagery spoke to us, whatever imagery we found to be on track, in line with the path we had each chosen, even if only for the moment.
This is the image that I produced to bring in. Even though I have no intention to be at all deceitful or selfish in the production of this blog, I am not going to specifically reveal the particulars of this shot because it is far more evocative if you let your mind create its own story. It was in the presentation of this image that I learned several things about myself, and several things about the way in which people view images.
One of the elements of this particular image that has become a hallmark of all my future work is the way in which it is produced. It is, not unlike Self Portrait V, a series of accidental intentions that have lead to the ultimate image. For one, it is also a sort of test. I was testing the lighting to see if I wanted a hard edge or a soft edge on the frame. I found that having both in succession creates a sort of landscape in which the raven has been given sky and context. I also wanted to fit all of the negatives under one piece of glass, but only had this small piece of glass, which creates the rectangular graphic element that has become a sort of internal frame and point of interest that, on the whole, people seem to respond to and like in this image.
One of the things that I learned about being around photographers is that they recognize part of the inherent nature of the image that can only be realized by someone who is familiar with how silver gelatin prints are made, and how an image composed in this way is unique. No two images that I make in this way in the darkroom can possibly be the same. The reason for this is that each time I create an image in this manner, the negatives have to be placed on the paper by hand, the glass laid on top of them, which in and of itself can cause tiny drafts of air that move the negatives at the last moment, and of course the individual burning and dodging, which has to be determined once the light is enlarger is on, since I cannot see the individual parts until light is moving through them. Each image is entirely unique, until such a time as it is scanned to be reproduced in a forum such as this. But my images, my intent, is to continue using the traditional medium, because it cannot be forgotten that the silver gelatin print and the digital print are two very different creatures with very different ancestral lines. Distant cousins, perhaps, but they have been given too much power over each other. They are both photographic in the sense that cameras are used, but silver gelatin prints are photographic also in their printing, in the paper that you use, the negatives that capture the light, and the darkroom in which you create the final product. It is a much greater sense of painting with light, in every stage of the process, and should not be so easily compared to digital.
Digital has many advantages over certain aspects of photographic needs in the commercial, and even consumer, world. My argument, however, my belief, is that you cannot forget the equally diverse advantages of the silver gelatin print. It depends partially on where you are coming from artistically, what your goal and purpose are, but also your intended outcome, and, most importantly to me, why you create the imagery. For me it is a process of creation, of organic communication and growth. For me, it is imperative that I maintain my alchemist's roots, because it is as direct a communication of light, vision, and concept onto paper as any other medium I have found. There is great beauty in that communication, and it was through discussion with my peers that I determined that.
I will also never forget this particular class because of the comment that Tasha Moore made after there had been some discussion of the image. She asked me if it was intentional that I had laid the negatives down in a way that was, in itself, reminiscent of the flapping of a bird's wings. I remarked that I had not noticed that before and had merely placed the negatives as they seemed fit to be placed. It was through her that I also realized that there were things in my images, things that make sense and speak a great deal about who I am, that I am not aware of. It was also the last class that Tasha attended. The loss of her voice in the program was felt reverberating through the halls for many months to come. She is an intellect and an artist that I hope to reconnect with someday. But it was the cumulative voice in the room that day that, in many ways, started the greater progress of my project. It was determined with almost certainty at that point that my final show would be printed by hand in the darkroom.
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