words + images.

Have you ever looked at JPG Magazine's Photo Challenges?  If you have artist's block, they might be a perfect afternoon adventure.  Uncertainty in my professional life (my second AmeriCorps year ends in August, and this time I'm going to get a real, civilian job) has led to stress and lack of motivation in my personal projects, which I think is par for the course for many people in situations like this.  My biggest ideas have gone to the back burner, and I can only assume my usual energy and lust for new challenges will resume once I secure a full-time job.

In the meantime, I know I can't just come home and play video games every night, so I've decided to do as many JPG Photo Challenges as I can.  Not only do they only encompass a short portion of an afternoon, they encourage me to try out new and silly techniques like camera tossing.

This afternoon I experimented with the Create-A-Filter challenge, with mixed results.  However, if you've never tried putting a thick nylon stocking over the lens of your DSLR, I highly recommend you do.

Whenever I get into a rut, I love to find new techniques or tools to try out.  A friend recently gave me some Agfa color film while cleaning out her house, and at first I wondered what exactly to do with it (I shoot black and white).  Then I found a little Flickr pool by the name of Color Films Developed in B/W Chemicals.  I was really taken by the almost eerie images I found there.  I just may be in love with cross processing, and as soon as my current roll of film is done I think I'll try it!

Despite being exhausted from a weekend of staying up late and playing host, I couldn't resist processing the roll of film I had during my New York weekend.  I even printed some contact sheets, which I'll post in all their scratchy, contrasty glory.

One lesson learned: 200 speed film is such a hassle!  I bought a bunch of it thinking I wanted a little less grain, but it just needs too much light for my tastes.  On the next roll I'll go back to my trusty 400 and make more use of my new backdrop paper.

Anyhow, some images that caught my eye on the first glance:

"A portrait photographer depends upon another person to complete his picture.  The subject imagined, which in a sense is me, must be discovered in someone else willing to take part in a fiction he cannot possibly know about."

-- Richard Avedon

This sums up my entire current preoccupation with portrait photography.  As I read more about Avedon's work, I am increasingly fascinated by the connection he builds between photographer and subject.

In a way this wordless connection strikes a deep chord with me as an introverted person.  This doesn't just describe portraits.  For me, it describes the underpinnings of how I relate to other people.

At first I wondered if a difficulty connecting with others in everyday life would beget a similar difficulty in pulling the "subject imagined" from those I photograph.

The answer, I think, lies in the integrity of that wordless connection. As I watch people from afar, am I imagining my perceptions of them?  If they don't reciprocate of even know about the connection I feel, is it real?

Or, do I understand people well but just have trouble expressing myself to them?  If this is the case, one could argue my portraits of people are a window to how I see/understand them.

You might remember me writing about a great organizing self-help book I discovered last summer.  Though this may be a slippery slope, I recommended it to many of those closest to my everyday life: my husband, my boss, my whole team at the office during a training.  Surprisingly, I don't think I offended anyone, and I hope I didn't offend one of my colleagues when I asked to borrow my copy back from her today.

As I try to begin a new photo project, take on more responsibilities at work, and catch up on all the household chores we've let slide lately, it's been a rough road.  Post-it notes and stacks of paper have accumulated on my desk.  Simple tasks -- like signing out the conference room, for example -- have slipped my mind.  My to-do list has officially reached a length where I sit at my desk and wonder just what it is I need to do.

I tell this story not to advertise the book again -- the last name thing is just a coincidence, okay? -- but to point out how all this can stifle the creative process.  Unhealthy disorganization absolutely kills self-esteem, which makes beginning a challenging new project especially hard.  There are many BFAs in my cohort who spend "more time thinking about art than creating it."  Clearly this is a problem we all need to confront and deal with at some point.

The hardest part is, I know my lack of motivation/impetus to sing, play music, make art, open and sort the mail, keep the house clean, etc. doesn't spring from a lack of joy in doing those things.  Most likely, it springs from an imbalance in my brain chemistry, something I have to work hard every day to reign in.

Plenty of artists -- perhaps a disproportionate number -- struggle with this, and in many creative individuals a little chaos is even considered unique, inspired, non-conforming.  The reality is, for some of us it can be crippling.

So I am breaking out my book again, admitting my word isn't as good as it was a few months ago, and acknowledging that staying on top of my game -- and that means being happy, confident and productive -- is a hard process not without its backtracks and obstacles.  I have to imagine it's like and addiction in some ways: going through the steps, seeking support, and feeling like I'm swimming against the current of my natural state of being every day in order to stay in a good place.  But I just need to focus on the positive reinforcement I get from every forward step I take, no matter how slow the progress.

A coworker recently forwarded me an article from the Baltimore Sun about a phenomenon the writer calls "online sociability fatigue."  I call it good timing, because when I got her email I hadn't touched my Twitter or Google Reader feeds in about a week.

As a person with  more than 1000 unread items in Google Reader at any given time, a twice-weekly blog, a Twitter feed for the not-as-blog-worthy tidbits, a Flickr stream, and a healthy addiction to Facebook Scrabble (among other things), it's out of character for me to go even a few days without any of these things.  I even considered getting a smartphone just so I could stay connected and productive during the rare times I don't have access to a computer, like the three-hour drive up to my parents' place in Pennsylvania.  This description doesn't even address the blogging, Facebooking, Flickring and YouTube-ing for work, which is another story entirely.

Sometimes, though, I wonder if I shouldn't be doing more to stop the tide here.  How much is just too much?  I have friends who don't log into Facebook every day and they get along just fine.  Though I don't think it takes up too much of my time, on days when I consciously shun my computer upon returning home from work I do get a lot more accomplished.  I play my flute, I sing classic show tunes, I pick up around the house or plant a new garden.  If I feel especially brave, I might make plans with friends.

Somehow, these seem like the elements of my life that constitute the meat, the stuff that means something.  In the end, the best friendships are ones where I can invite someone over and sit on the porch with a drink for a couple hours (geographic location permitting, of course).  Likewise, at some point I feel like a lot of the time I spend looking at art blogs should be spent exploring with my camera.

We constantly seek balance in our lives, and in many ways the irresistible flood of information coming from the Intarwebs is usurping the grounded, physical time we need to keep it together.  The thought of turning my computer off for a day, even though I still have one at work, scares me a little.  But I think it's something to aspire to.  I think I need to refocus on what I did before the Internet became a way of life (and yes, I do remember).

And, ironically, I'll probably blog about it along the way.

Come on out to Lotta Art, School 33 Art Center's annual fundraiser, where you can see one of my photographs and maybe even take it home!

From the School 33 website:

Lotta Art 2009
At Silo Point
1700 Beason Street
Saturday, April 25, 2009

Attend an evening of art, food and fun!  Meet and mingle with the contributing artists!  Lotta Art features juried art by more than 120 local artists who have generously donated their work to benefit School 33 Art Center. Each art ticket holder is guaranteed a work of art in this lottery-style drawing.  

Continuous Cocktail Buffet and Art Viewing begins at 6:00pm
Drawing begins promptly at 7:30pm.
Catering by The Pantry

Tickets
Art ticket - $175 each
Art ticket - $150 for members, participating artists, and tickets purchased through March 31, 2009
Guest ticket - $50, not eligible to select art work

Buy tickets online here.


Okay, okay -- can't shell out almost 200 bucks for a ticket?  You can preview the work online April 11-25 or in person at Silo Point April 18-24.

Yesterday I needed a short distraction at the office, so I pulled out my little notebook and paged through all the thoughts I jotted down a couple months ago.  Though I recommend this sort of review for everyone, I happen to have a terrible memory.  Reading my ideas from January can be like having them for the first time all over again, just from a different angle.

In early February, I wrote down a question in response to who-knows-what and stumbled across it in yesterday's reading: "do you more commonly read photos as social commentary or 'captured moments,' design elements?"

Portraits have invaded my mind of late, so I  applied this snippet there.  Portrait photography presents a personal challenge for me in that the subjects often look to the photographer for guidance.  I don't want to have that upper hand, as I am more interested in the "captured moments" and would rather allow natural poses to reveal themselves gradually.

Then again, one of my favorite portrait photographers is Richard Avedon, and his photos are far from candid or photojournalistic.  At the same time, Avedon evoked some essential truth from his subjects that seems inherently them despite his direction.

While I've always thought an effective commentary relied on candid, photojournalistic portraits, the photographer's role is more broad than that.  For example, Avedon took on a far more aggressive role than an invisible observer: he actively identified and pulled defining qualities from his subjects, often through touchy conversations.  Maybe this could be done in the passive style I've taken to in the past, but maybe it couldn't.  I'm beginning to realize I have to take the reigns at some point if I want to make a switch from inanimate objects to people as subjects of my work.

My point is, "commentary" and "captured [authentic] moments" aren't mutually exclusive.  Many portriat photographers build a very deliberate image from the human subject, and I'd like to explore this further.  As I said in my last post, though, I'm an introvert.  I have trouble building normal friend-relationships with people, let alone forming a precise photographer-subject relationship with people I may or may not have an existing connection with.  It's worth a try, though, and maybe -- in the same way that introverted people sometimes make the best actors -- it will be more comfortable than I expect.  Either way, I'm eager to find out how to achieve natural, engaging portraits with a consistent aesthetic style -- and I'd love to hear your thoughts on different approaches you've seen or tried.

Image copyright Richard Avedon.  View more at http://www.richardavedon.com/

Plans for a new photo project have given way to an abundance of introspection lately on art and self, and how the two intertwine.  The past two years represent an incubating period for my work, a time of smaller-scale projects to keep active as the next exciting idea worked its way to my doorstep.  While far from meaningless, these images still tend to portray scenes and subject matter I enjoyed photographing.  Here I emphasize the fact that the first few sessions or rolls preceded the complete formation of the idea.

Recently, a larger idea has preceded actual photographs and I've been preparing myself for a lengthier, heavier project.  As happy as I am for the breath of fresh air and the flood of new inspiration, this project means something far beyond rolls of film and aesthetic infatuations that got me thinking.

Stretching even farther, I would say I now want to create art with far more personal meaning, work that expresses fundamental aspects of self I've previously left unexplored.  Though I consider my series of nighttime industrial scenes as well as my reclamation images fairly well-developed projects, they act much like I do in everyday life: they make compelling insights, but don't necessarily bare the soul of the artist.

Artists play many roles, but most importantly they encourage the audience to consider a subject in a different light.  Visual art challenges our assumptions and preconceptions.  It questions common ideas and images.  But what happens when we bump up against subject matter that lies outside our comfort zone.  What if, in the process of discovering the images, we find we are less comfortable than we thought with the inherent publicness of art?

The images we create are intrinsically linked to our selves, a visual representation of our thought processes.  My feeling has always been that the best work is done just outside our comfort zones.  Just like you should always apply for a few jobs you're underqualified for, you should never be afraid to challenge yourself with a new project you're not quite sure how to manage.

I'm interested to know any current or historic examples of how introverted artists approach their work.  Is personal subject matter somewhat more abstract, just as we tend to speak more abstractly to suggest at -- but still skirt around -- an issue?  What about more thoughtful, but external, content, like lonely buildings or decaying industrial structures?  Or do many artists find it easier to express themselves directly through art?  It all stretches in front of me, to be discovered over the course of an exciting new project.  You can expect lots of writing and preliminary photos in months to come.