After looking through many photos, including ones from the protests in Paris, I decided on a photo for my New Year’s greeting that spoke to me of innocence, exploration, passage, sharing, quiet companionship. It was taken over the summer in the south of France. I saw those kids coming and wanted to get the shot before the adults behind them entered the picture. I like to imagine them traveling alone, in one of those magical children’s’ stories where there is almost always flying. There’s something Peter Pan or Christopher Robin in that boy’s profile.
I’m a little late getting out my wishes for this New Year. The momentum I was creating the first week in January took a detour with the Charlie Hebdo story. People being killed down the street from where I live and work, for expressing their ideas, shined a big light on the word “now.”
Like the little girl in the tutu at the supermarket, happy with herself, at play each moment of the day. Why wait for an “appropriate occasion” to wear that flashy skirt? Why wait until tomorrow to call that grandmother, sister, or father and tell them you were thinking of them, right now, today, for no other special reason, other than they are important to you and you love them?
Do you have something important to say that someone, somewhere should hear? Write it, send it, ship it, say it. Release fear and it uncovers love, they say. I’ve found this to be true.
For my 8th birthday someone gave me a diary with a teddy bear on the front. I remember it very well, especially that I didn’t quite understanding what I was supposed to write in it. My first entry began in the 3rd person. Now I know when I received my first camera. I believe it was a Kodak with disc film, it’s the first one I remember using.
For one week only (because I’m soon flying to sweet home Chicago!!), I’m offering a selection of cyanotypes for sale. The perfect Christmas gift!
10 unique prints, signed, numbered and framed. See details and more photos here:
The newest issue of Off The Wall came out last week and two of my photos are inside. Each issue has a focus, and this one, the letter H in the series, is on photographers who are also women.
Pick up a copy, among many great things, there are photos from the early archives of Nan Goldin, interviews with Anne Biroleau & Hélène Giannecchini (on the Alix Cléo Roubaud show at the BNF), with Scarlett Coten and Héloise Gosset, and my favorite, Sabine Weiss who, at the age of 12, used to contact print her pictures “in little wooden frames placed under the sun and fixed with kitchen salt.”
descollages dans le marais, paris.
I’m testing out the app Guidigo that lets you make a guided tour of just about anything. I created one to collect my recent street work during Mois de la Photo in Paris (The Month of photography, it happens every 2 years in November).
I’ll be adding stops in the coming days, and perhaps some audio. I had some trouble uploading sound, so decided it was a sign I should stick to writing. Let me know what you think!
It takes a long time, but I really enjoy writing with found words. I’m trying different ways to incorporate them into photographs, either inside the image or outside the frame, on top of the image. The wall above my desk has one example of a step in the process.
I have always loved photographing sculpture, since those first assignments in my Jane Addams Community Center photo class in Chicago. It was during that time that I shot this photo, early one morning on my way to an office job in the Loop.
I’ve always liked this photo, and have given it as a gift, but this print has spent most of the last decade hidden away in a box. Last week, while hanging photos at home, I needed something vertical to fit a space in my installation and went searching for the one print I knew I had of the Reading Cones, on a soft matte fine art paper.
Now that it’s up there, I love living with it on my wall. It is grounding, regal, quiet and confident. And, it merits being printed bigger than the A4 I modestly permitted it.
I am getting much inspiration from Odilon Redon today.
Tout se crée par la soumission docile à la venue de l’inconscient.
Everything is created by quietly submitting to the arrival of the unconscious.
- Odilon Redon, 1898
I had a great time in Arles this year. Most of us have likely read the reviews by now, and while the “In” festival may have been underwhelming, Arles was, as always, a great place to network and spend time with people I don’t often get to see in person.
And the “off” festival is getting bigger and better every year. This year I decided to continue in Arles, the work I began last October during les Rencontres Photographiques du 10e in Paris.
So on most nights, after vernissages, dinners, projections, and parties, I took my broom and bucket out and pasted up my street exhibition in the off-off festival. In the process, I met Isabelle Chapuis and Alexis VI, who were pasting up (with admirable precision) their series Blossom (love it) and watched the evolution of Delphine Henry and her group’s series “Parade,” titled after François Hebel’s name for this years festival. I loved the silent collaboration, placing my work among theirs.
Last night in Arles.
The Rencontres festival did not take risks, it largely stuck to the usual suspects,
this is a shout out to the festival-off, and off-off.
It’s the most labor-intensive business card I’ve ever had.
Business cards for Arles this year.
Happy July 4th! Before I go buy some sparklers to put in my tarte citron, I want to share this magazine I just finished making with Blurb (it’s so fun to make a magazine!). You can preview some of the pages below. And if you’re in Arles next week for the festival, you may see some of these photos as you’re walking from café terrace to photo exhibition!
I taped this to the wall across from my desk today. Someone once said this to me because he liked something I wrote.
Note to self: do the work, show up, even if you don’t know what you’re going to say. We all have something to share, even with only one other person. He or she may be waiting for it right now.
While still processing last week’s classical music fest photos, this weekend I’m photographing Jazz Pas Grave, the 3rd edition of a festival at 59 Rivoli that brings some really fabulous musicians together. Some highlights while I’m waiting for the next concert to start…
And our energetic team of volunteers passing out the program in sidewalk traffic…
I spent day two of the classical music festival at 59 Rivoli filming and real-time editing the live stream. My ambition was to be photographer and videographer at once, but that really isn’t possible. Taking 25 photos a second on five different cameras, with my 6D around my shoulders, I photographed the screen in front of me. We had placed the cameras better than I was able to place myself. Here are some highlights of the Quoatuor van Kuijk and the Collectif Warning.
Yesterday a 3-day classical music festival, which thinks outside of the box of what we might expect “classical” music to be, kicked off at 59 rue de Rivoli in Paris. This is the 3rd edition that I’ve photographed for them. This year two concerts were performed in the St Merri church, and the last concert of the night, Le Cabaret Contemporain, an electronic-dance-classical-move-your-body hybrid, transformed the 59 gallery into a nightclub.
When I was a kid I thought our family photographer was the same guy I heard singing on the radio. His name was Ron Stewart. I was only 3 or 4 and I thought it was incredible that he had these two different jobs.
I loved going to see him because he had this vast space (for a toddler) with a bunch of odd things in it, like tiny bird cages, old stuffed animals, fancy kid-sized furniture, and soft lamplight on dark walls that made it very cozy.
His method was to let children wander in this cabinet de curiosités and photograph them while they did it. Distracting parents waited outside (in today’s paranoid times that probably doesn’t happen much). At some point he would pose you, I know because we have the photos, but in my memory it was the time I spent wandering and discovering that stayed with me. In one session I found a teensy toy chick that I held in my hand the entire time. It was so soft. I wanted to keep it forever. I don’t know if he let me take it with me. That must have happened a lot.
I thought about Ron Stewart recently when I was photographing children hiding in the studios at 59 rue de Rivoli here in Paris. They were participating in making a clip for the Pharrell Williams song Happy. Observing the boy below, and his reaction to the disco ball sparkling in the sun reminded me of that little chick. If it were my disco ball, I would let him take it home.