The passage of time is a funny thing. When you are a child, it seems like it takes forever for Christmas to arrive. And yet as an adult, five years fly by in the blink of an eye. One thing for sure, we never have enough of it. Never enough hours in a day, never enough time to do all things you wish to do in life. And we never know how much of it we have. We weren’t born with expiration dates. So we don’t really think about it a lot as we go through life. We make plans like there is always going to be enough time. And yet we are never fully prepared for the moment that time runs out. I guess we tend to think it never really will. But it does, and we reset the clock, and move on.
I ponder the concept of retirement. When I was younger I thought it would never happen. Or at least in the conventional way. I assumed at one point my assignment work would simply go away. Then all that would be left is my work, my projects. But often my projects have grown out of my assignments. That client work takes me to places I wouldn’t go on my own and opens door to possibilities that I hadn’t thought about. My work has always been about those possibilities. So what would happen if I close those doors? Of course as time marches on, those doors will quietly close on their own.
I suppose I am a tad restless these days. Trying to figure out where to go with my work and wondering if it even matters. I often feel a pull to return to my old way of working. In black and white, maybe even with film. But I don’t really want to deal with the mess or expense of it all. Yet my refrigerator holds a stash of film and paper, just in case… My new works come pretty easily. But that is the nature of digital. Digital is easy, immediate and largely only requires pushing buttons. But one still has to see, still has to compose, still has to recognize the creative possibilities that lie in front of use every day. One still has to make creative choices, and sometimes the creativity is knowing when and where to push the button.
It has been a strange summer around here. Coming of the wettest winter and spring in history we entered into a period of the driest stretch in history. And it has been hot as well. Then there was the eclipse, which was rather cool and then the forest fires that blanket the region in smoke and orange colored skies. And ash as well. the orange fog was kind of pretty in a way, but also a bit frightening considering the source of the fog. The forests are on fire, all up and down the west coast. Very odd.
It was late summer of 2012. My mother was dying, Carter was facing open heart surgery and the great recession lingered on. The future was very uncertain. We would sit on the deck or veranda, as I called it, late in the afternoon, early evening. We would watch the planes over head, flying off to exotic places. We knew certain planes by the sounds of their engines. That’s the flight to Dubai. That one to London. The conversation was somber that evening, pondering the immediate future. When the British Air flight came over, we both looked up to gaze at the 747 as it lumbered across the sky. I asked Carter if he would like to be on that plane. Without hesitation, he said yes. Thinking quickly to myself, I thought, maybe not London, but somewhere else in Europe. I had always wanted to take Carter to Spain, I always wanted to return. So I said to him, how about Barcelona? Sure he said, assuming I was kidding. I researched flights and hotels the next day, and went out and got a Barcelona guide book. I planned the trip and gave the book to Carter. What’s this? We’re going, it will be your 80th birthday present. I spent my entire summer earning on that trip, and had the most amazing time. My mother would pass away before the trip, but she was happy for me and wished me great adventures. I am not always that spontaneous, but sometimes you really do have to just go for it and live life like it is your last day on earth.
I have read that the problem with contemporary photography is that we are still concerned with modernism. Still view the photographic image as a facsimile of reality. More or less. To deviate invites both scorn and praise, depending on the level of fame of the artist. If the gods of the art curatorial world smile upon you, then you can do anything you wish, including “borrowing” another artist’s work and claiming yourself to be brilliant. But to those artists that dwell in the realm of the unknown, higher standards are applied. They are held to the standards of the medium, that a photograph is somehow real and somehow factually represent the world around us, as tired, boring and out dated as they are. But it doesn’t look like a photograph…
A gallery dealer I worked with many years ago recently contacted me to say she had all this stuff of mine she wished to return. We haven’t worked together is almost 15 years. What could she have? But she came by my studio, which she had never seen, and brought this wealth of my history of working with her for almost 10 years. Newspaper clippings of reviews of my shows, press releases, slides, invitation cards and several 8×10 toned silver prints that had been used for reproduction purposes. I was pretty impressed, considering she could have chucked the whole lot to the garbage. The prints were in pretty good shape, but then silver prints are pretty durable things. So I matted them and intend to return them to her so that she may have a record of what we did together. This collection represents the 5 shows we did from 1993 to 2000.
Thank you for taking the time to view my website. It is dated now and needs a seriously make over. Only the blog is relatively current, the rest dates to 2012 and really needs a re boot. And thank you for your kind words. My life has been an interesting journey. I did take a lot of risks, but I had plenty of support along the way, from my parents, friends and colleagues who believed in what I was doing. I was also able to follow the end of my nose as it were, to explore ventures as they were presented to me. that’s how I got into the White House and the teaching gig in Rome. Had I had a conventional day job, I probably could not have done those. It also helped that I was single, or at least had no kids. I am sure my obligations would have led me to take less risks. I probably would have played it safe. But who knows? And of course some of it is luck or good fortune. Being in the right place at the right time kind of thing. And a lot of it comes down to passion and perseverance. You really do have to love what you do. It’s really that simple.
Noodling around in my archives of film, I am trying to decide what to trash and what to preserve. I find little ditties like this. It was spring of 1976, in the final days of college at the University of Cincinnati. My best friend Mark Giambrone and I were about to head out into the world. So to commemorate the occasion we made this goofy self portrait, as it was called back in the day. What were we thinking? Where were we going? Were we forward thinking visionaries? Or clueless kids? Perhaps both? But it appears we, at least, had a sense of humor. And that is always a good start.