Viernheim Synagogue Memorial & Some Project Thoughts

I can only imagine what goes through the minds of the people watching as I make photographs in the small towns and villages here.

This morning I went out to re-photograph the Synagogue memorial in the village I live in, Viernheim. They moved the memorial (I call them gravestones - they always seem to be weeping) a couple of months ago. They also included a little sitting area and bench. It's actually a lot better.

As I setup and made preparations to make a plate, several people walked by and stared - I mean stared! One old German man, maybe 70 years-old, or more, almost tripped, as he was walking by staring. He wasn't watching where he was going. I said, "Achtung, Baby!" - I wonder if he got the reference to the U2 album, probably not.

I don't mind people watching. I'm a voyeur by profession and passion. The thing that I don't is like not knowing if they're just interested, or if they're thinking, "I would prefer that this guy go away." It feels like the latter, but I'm hopeful that it's the former.

The photograph I made this morning is gone. It made me sick, but I wiped it from the plate. This is the only "evidence" that remains of the Ambrotype. What if I made this whole project like that? What if there were no plates in the entire project, only non-tangible (digital) representations? It would be a lot like the subject matter, no?

A friend/colleague emailed me the other day asked me about my thoughts on impermanence, or ephemeral art. He's working on his M.F.A. and doing some really interesting things with chalk-screen transfers. His images are only there for a short time on a chalkboard - this theme has been explored by a lot of artists, but it keeps coming back to me, time and time again. It feels like I'm not listening.

Just as the Synagogues and people were "wiped away", I think that this method may serve the project well. I first thought about breaking the glass, destroying the images, or having Germans do that in a performance. After some thought, I decided no, that's too much. However, wiping these images  from the plates, and maybe even keeping the Collodion I wipe off as residue may be the answer I've been looking for.

You have to remember, these images are extremely beautiful when you're holding them in your hand. They're a "precious artifact" in a lot of ways.  They're also a lot of work to make - a big investment in many ways -  time, money, effort, etc. So destroying them and only keeping (digital) representations creates a sense of loss for me - a lot like how I feel when I see (memorials) representations of these beautiful Synagogues (and people) that were destroyed.

I'm going to seriously explore this some more. Right now, in this moment, I feel very strongly about it.

"Destroyed Synagogue Memorial With Apartments and Playground" 8x10 Black Glass Ambrotype - 29 March 2009 - 0923, Viernheim, Germany (I flipped this positive so you can read the text) 
Notes: The memorials seem to be "weeping" every time I photograph them. The background (apartment buildings, trees, playground, etc.) appear as a painting or drawing, unreal, if you will. The gravestone seems to be emerging from a black earth - terrible and foreboding. 

Considering Creativity

What does it mean to be creative? Does it mean you are witty, fun and different? Or that you can make tiny flowers from pieces of bread? Play cover songs in a band? How about writing an incredible document like Thomas Jefferson did? How do you define it? What are the qualities and how do you recognize them?

I've been spending a lot of time traveling and teaching wet plate collodion workshops all over Europe. In between the technical and the fun, I've had my ear, my mind and my heart bent toward the creative spirits I've met along the way. I'm not saying that I gave a lecture or an artist's talk and requested feedback, but rather that I've quietly observed and listened to the words and ideas behind the people in my travels. It's difficult to explain, but there are a lot of passionate people making art out there. We rarely get to see it, it's rarely in galleries and it's never the latest craze (which sickens me anyway). It's usually found in unknown, unpretentious artists that are honest and authentic. Not perfect in anyway, but at least accessible and real. This is the kind of thing that excites me. Knowing that there are people like me, driven to make art and asking questions about ourselves and one another. It's all about narrative for me. Making art that is generative and allows the viewer, if they are present, to wander to explore and ask their own questions – it’s open to reverie.

The poet/writer C.K. Williams said that the poet (artist) has, "the right to vacillate, to wobble, to shillyshally, be indecisive in one's labors, and still not suffer from a sense of being irresponsible, indolent, or weak." It feels good to read that. It's one of my greatest weaknesses, I'm rather insecure as an artist (all artists are, if they are honest). I've done a bit of that "shillyshallying" lately.

My work has taken a nice turn recently. At least I think it's nice. After considering that the Kristallnacht project is almost impossible (read: almost) to complete (time, money and cooperation), I decided that I wanted to blend it with my personal interests and make it less pedantic and more authentic and, in my opinion, interesting. So, I'm blending Kristallnacht, Portraiture Work and both historical and contemporary theories of difference into my images.

My latest incarnations:

Carmen the Putzfrau and Heidelberg Brown Shirt Street

Heildelberg Synagogue Arc (Memorial) and German Man With An Axe