BUY MY BOOK! BUY MY BOOK!

After self-publishing (one copy) of Sketches in May of last year, I decided to throw the files online and publish it again, this time with Blurb. Blurb worked wonders for my John Hubbard thesis book and helped me snag a spot in a show in New York.

Now, both Sketches and Sketches II are available through my Blurb bookstore. They're tiny little things, and aren't too expensive. I just got the test pressings in the mail and they look pretty good.

And, with a collective finger-crossing propelling my destiny, the two Sketches books and the Hubbard book will make their way to New York in the hopes they'll be selected for a photobook exhibition. Wish me luck.

All three books are available for purchase and preview at my Blurb bookstore site.

PS. Copyright apologies to the creators of The Critic, and to John Shaw, who is the only person I know that will get the joke.

Artist Statement #3

There is a slew of photographers whose artist statement says something to the effect of "I take photographs of the beautiful things/moments other people don't see."

That's mean. That's a mean thing to say. Why say that?

Capturing a moment (and is that even possible?) no one else sees and then (presumably) showing it in photo form to the person (or people) that have missed it eliminates the chance of said person (or people) witnessing that moment for themselves. It cheapens the moment. It deprives people from looking for things for themselves. It insults the average viewer by insinuating that they missed something, the way you feel when you miss the comb hidden in the tree in the puzzle in Highlights.

A statement like this also defers ownership and responsibility on the part of the photographer. The modernists all photographed their subjects because they thought the subjects were beautiful and they were personally moved by that beauty. The postmodernists photographed their subjects because they had things to say about photography itself.

The contemporary photographer is let off the hook by making a sweeping, bland statement about their photographic vision. It doesn't say anything substantial; it merely says that they have a keener eye than the average person and that makes them a little bit more important. And that's something that should be assumed of any photographer any time they frame something and put it on a wall for someone else to see.

I don't want to be told that you're witnessing a secret reality that can only be seen through your lens. That's ridiculous. I want to know what it is about you that makes you take these photos. With that knowledge, I'll be more inclined to understand what it is about myself that makes me appreciate them.

Or, if I can't figure that out, it'll make me want to go make some of my own work.

Artist Statement #2

Art cannot change the world.

There was a time when it probably could, like Fountain or Guernica or Raft of the Medusa or David or the Sistine Chapel ceiling or photos from Vietnam or the moon or whatever. But we've evolved past that. Long past that. Postmodernists probably feared changing the world, and we've probably moved past them too (though they're still out there, lurking in the shadows).

Art still has meaning in it, but art only touches people on personal levels these days. There's no overwhelming consensus on Joseph Kosuth or Kiki Smith* or Banksy. A Family of Man-style exhibit could go over well in certain contexts (provided there were enough famous photographs in the show to draw big enough crowds), but overall responses would sound more like "Wait, that's supposed to be me? That's not me!" than "Oh my gosh! We're, like, all the same! Hugs!"

Famous works of art have an easier time changing art nowadays than changing the world. And even changing art is a difficult task, considering art changes all the time or not at all, depending on who you ask.

There's too much individualism in movements and actual works for any singular person or piece to change the world.

That's not a bad thing. Not in the least. The bad thing is the people who are kidding themselves by thinking that their work - or anyone's work - is going to change the entire world.

* Kiki Smith is German. Did you know that? I did not.

More From Art Camp, Day 5-ish

Much more progress on the new book front. The printer I ordered was on its way to Grand Rapids by mistake, but has now been rerouted and will be here shortly. Then printing will begin.

Next week, Art Camp will focus on the production of physical books made on the typewriter.

In the meantime, enjoy another sneak peek from Sketches, Vol. II.

Sneak Preview

Art Camp* began today. These sketches have been sitting on my computer for more than a few months and it was high time I get a move on and do some work. They follow in the footsteps of Sketches (Vol. 1), which I finished and turned into a small book in May of 2009. I can't believe that was over a year ago.

These new scans come from the same filmstrips and will ultimately end up as collages in a similar book.

A sneak preview of one of the images can be viewed by clicking the small image above.

Images from Sketches (Vol. 1) can be viewed by clicking here.

* "Art Camp" is my feeble attempt to sequester myself from outside distractions in an attempt to get my art-making on the right track for the rest of the summer. The only other activities I will engage in will be eating, sleeping, the occasional shower, and maybe some tennis.

And I Made Something

Last term was a train wreck in about 30 different ways.

But, as a great philosopher once said, "don't dwell on the past. Always move forward."

And on March 29th, the spirit moved one Oregon photographer to take an exceptionally boring image. Everything starts somewhere, though, right?

Artist Statement #1

A recent lecturing artist I saw reiterated the idioms for creating good art work when in a pinch:

1. Make it big. If not, then...
2. Make it red. If not, then...
3. Make 1,000 of them

These are all gimmicks. They're things to get people to pay attention to work that otherwise wouldn't merit attention. We've all done it. At least I know I have. Maybe minus the red part. I've never really been a fan.

Gimmicks are abundant in photography. Selective coloring, hand coloring, printing the leaders, soft focus, cross processing, the unsharp mask, the image macro, and the granddaddy of them all: HDR.

But all photographers miss the one major thing inherent to their medium: photography itself is a gimmick.

Photography alleviated painters, drawers, and printmakers of the "need" to work representationally. Photography was a novelty, albeit a cosmically amazing one, when it was first invented.

Thus photography's relegation to the backseat of the artistic merit bandwagon.

Photography is an even bigger gimmick now, when anyone can pick up a cheap digital SLR, throw a high pass filter on their work, get a million hits on Flickr, and rake in a few decent paychecks on Smugmug.

But rather than get caught up in the fickle fight to rescue photography from its gimmickry, we should embrace it. Let photography do what it does, and let's not worry about what all of those painters and drawers think.

Now go and make some LOLcats.

Philadelphia (And Other Updates)

On Thursday, I'll leave Oregon for the first time since January for sunny Philadelphia and the Society for Photographic Education's National Conference. Hopeful highlights: food, friends, and presentations that had better be good.

The end of March will see some of my work in two shows in New York's Climate Gallery. Book pieces. Small ones.

An overhaul of my website will take place once the conference and this hectic term are at an end.