The fall colors this year have been a lot of fun to watch, especially here on campus. So I couldn’t let a little thing like a rainy day stop me from wandering and grabbing a few images.
Orange, yellow, green, muddy browns – all the October colors were there. Although the rain would knock many of the more colorful leaves down.
I haven’t had the time or energy to get out and take autumn photos like I’ve wanted to. We had the weekend up north, and lots of Halloween fun, but I feel like I’ve watched this autumn pass by. Thankfully, an umbrella makes dreary day image making possible.
In Sound City, Dave Grohl’s love letter to the legendary, hit-making studio in California, he and other musicians gush about the “real” process of getting guys in a studio and recording music live, on two-inch tape: “the human element of creating and recording music.” ProTools has its place, many of the artists say, but there’s nothing like analog.
We’ve heard this before, of course. Everyone from filmmakers to photographers are returning to (or, in the case of movies, never leaving) film.
Lots of words get used to describe this process: magic, alchemy, mystery, human. Digital is too “easy.” You can fix everything with digital. Etc.
For many, it’s a return to what is known. Analog is more familiar to those of a certain age. A lot of what Grohl and Christopher Nolan and other film fans seem to be saying is, “You missed the good stuff, the good old days.”
Those of us who adopted photography as a hobby or profession in the digital age don’t know what a dark room is like because we’ve never used one, and may never step foot in one.
(A side note: my college newspaper had a darkroom attached to it, behind this sweet swiveling circular door, and I did spend some time in there – but never to actually develop or print images. I remember photography students spending a lot of time in that room, and I’d catch glimpses of what they were working on when they brought their prints out into the light.)
We seemed to have this big upswing, in the ’80s (music), ’90s (movies), and 2000s (photography) toward digital art making. In the last decade, that digital tide has swung back, and more and more artists are experimenting with analog again. Call it the Maker Movement, call it hipsterism, call it whatever, but vinyl records and photo film seem to be doing okay again. Not great, but not dead.
So it is with blogging – away from federated, silo’d social media platforms and toward artists and writers owning their material.
Maybe we’re all learning that perfect isn’t the goal. The goal is to make something great, imperfections and all. Something human.
Lately, I feel like I’m exploring more and more musical acts, especially in progressive rock and metal. So many musical discoveries have come from a combination of Spotify, YouTube, Amazon, and following the bands I love. I feel like I’m awash in music, and it brings me a lot of joy.
Don’t get me wrong: I still purchase my music, usually in physical form. I give myself a monthly musical budget, and I’m not afraid to spend that money.
But music discovery? Spotify makes this so easy.
The steps go something like this:
Listen to a band I enjoy
Look at the “Related Artist” tab on Spotify and poke around
Check out YouTube to see if the artist has any music videos (remember those?)
Head to Amazon to see what reviewers say about their albums
Put an album in my Amazon wish list to reference later
Purchase the album
Rinse, repeat.
I don’t do like the kids do these days and use Spotify (or Apple Music, or any other streaming service) for all my music needs. But I do find that it’s perfect for experimenting, and for checking out albums that I’ve always wanted to hear before I buy.
(And thank goodness for YouTube. If an artist is not on Spotify, chances are someone has ripped and uploaded their album to YouTube.)
For those bands that have been on the periphery of my musical tastes, digital music venues offer me a free sample. It costs nothing, except a potential album purchase down the road.
I haven’t been this excited about music since around the time I was in college, when so much good stuff was coming my way from friends in school and college radio. Today, the material is almost overwhelming, because now the entirety of rock and roll’s catalog is at my fingertips. A lot of these newly-discovered artists have quickly become some of my favorites. That’s a fun feeling.
Supporting my favorite artists with actual money is so important. Thanks to these streaming services, I can find more favorite artists to support.
Some workers like to listen to music when they find themselves losing focus. They may also plug in their earbuds to escape an environment that’s too noisy — or too quiet — or to make a repetitive job feel more lively.
In biological terms, melodious sounds help encourage the release of dopamine in the reward area of the brain, as would eating a delicacy, looking at something appealing or smelling a pleasant aroma, said Dr. Amit Sood, a physician of integrative medicine with the Mayo Clinic.
And the more you know what you’re doing, the more you can listen to music.
On the first of October last year, I took a walk in the Whitehouse Nature Center in Albion, Michigan. It was a beautiful fall day, one that only hinted at the darkness to come. The leaves were just starting to fall, and I wanted to play with the light and see what I could capture.
This what I came up with – edited and processed more than a full year later.
I’m doing this more and more: letting projects sit for a while, and then addressing them months (or a year) later to see what sticks out, creatively. For these leaves, I knew I wanted to let them marinate for a while.
Last weekend we traveled up to Harbor Springs, Michigan—a beautiful little bayside town along the Little Traverse Bay, on Lake Michigan—to visit family for a birthday party. These little weekend vacations are a nice, quick getaway. We need a distraction from selling the house, and who can say “no” to northern Michigan?
The autumn colors were gorgeous, of course, but so was the light coming in from the big living room window. It’s one of my favorite situations to shoot in; we’re lucky enough to have a big window in our living room back home.
But for this weekend, with all the cousins playing together and quiet fall mornings spent sketching or watching the game, we soaked up all the light and seasonal spirit we could.
I’ve been enjoying the heck out of Rebecca Lily’s (of that fame) 365 project blog. It’s a lovely mix of daily images and journaling.
But it got me thinking: what if you did a 365 day photo project and didn’t share the output with anyone?
No blog, no social media, no nothing – just kept all those images to yourself.
Now, what if you took those photos and made a photo book, but only shared it with someone you love or admire? One person, one copy.
Or what if you created a photo book and only printed a copy for yourself?
As artists, hobbyists, and professionals, sometimes we feel the need to share everything we do. But what if you made something just for you? Would you still do it? Would it still be worth doing?
About a year and a half ago, I had a crazy idea for a portrait project: Gather up some of the talented artists in my hometown of Jackson, Michigan, take their portrait, and share their story.
It took time, and thinking, and a bit of bravery, but last June I started to reach out to local artists and introduce myself. For many of them, it must have been weird to get an email from a random guy saying he wanted to take their picture.
Remarkably, I received very few “no thanks” replies. There were a few artists who couldn’t make the time, or life circumstances got in the way, but overwhelmingly everyone I talked to was up for it – if a little confused about what the project was about.
So one by one, person by person, I built a subject list. I started with people I knew (thanks Cassandra!), introduced myself at local art festivals, and got in touch with art collectives in the area. I discovered artists and their art.
It was a long game. I knew it was going to take months, and it ended up taking me well into the fall to photograph everyone. Then I had to transcribe the interviews, edit the photos, write the profiles, and design the book. It was a lot of work. And this was after having a brand new baby!
But here I am, one year after the launch, and everything fell into place. My first show at Sandhill Crane Vineyards was a big success (above), and we had another group show at Art 634. Two shows, two months – two opportunities to show off my project and the talented artists. Maybe even help out the artistic economy in town.
I’m super grateful for all the support I’ve received from my community. I feel like the hard work I put in has been worth it, that I’m getting these artists out in front of people, and that big, ambitious projects like this are important.
Artists In Jackson has helped me think differently about my photography. I’ve learned that photography can be a great way to meet new people, and to give back to the community.
And as a “maker” of stuff, it’s been so rewarding to make the photos, write the stories, and produce the book. It all tickles that “joy” part of my brain: I made something that people purchase and read and hang on their walls.
It’s super satisfying.
Last March I had an idea: what if the artistic community in Jackson got together and threw a big social media party – an advocacy and awareness campaign to promote arts and culture around the county. That idea came to fruition, and today is the day, thanks to my colleagues at the Arts and Cultural Alliance.
There’s an inherent mysteriousness in shadows. With shadows there seems to be a disclosure of sorts, but not the full story. Thus, imagination is kicked in gear, and the viewer is invited to complete a fitting story.
…Not only is there ambiguity and unfinished story embedded in every shadow, but often, a visual leading of the eye to the subject proper.
The whole essay is great, as are the images, but the above passage is the nut. It’s what draws me to take photos of shadows – of slices of light and darkness.
I’ve trained myself so that most of what I see is in terms of where the shadows are. Shadows are the reason I’m so against HDR photography (especially in urbex situations).
Why not leave a little mystery? Why not let the viewer participate in the story?
