Helenium Autumnale

I would like to recommend two books for you to read. The first one is called “Homo Aestheticus” by Ellen Dissanayake. And the second one is called “The Singing Neanderthals: The Origins of Music, Language, Mind, and Body,” by Steven Mithen.

Homo Aestheticus
“Dissanayake argues that art was central to human evolutionary adaptation and that the aesthetic faculty is a basic psychological component of every human being. In her view, art is intimately linked to the origins of religious practices and to ceremonies of birth, death, transition, and transcendence. Drawing on her years in Sri Lanka, Nigeria, and Papua New Guinea, she gives examples of painting, song, dance, and drama as behaviors that enable participants to grasp and reinforce what is important to their cognitive world.”
—Publishers Weekly

“Homo Aestheticus offers a wealth of original and critical thinking. It will inform and irritate specialist, student, and lay reader alike.”—American AnthropologistA thoughtful, elegant, and provocative analysis of aesthetic behavior in the development of our species—one that acknowledges its roots in the work of prior thinkers while opening new vistas for those yet to come. If you’re reading just one book on art anthropology this year, make it hers.”
—Anthropology and Humanism

The Singing Neanderthals: The Origins of Music, Language, Mind, and Body
“Mithen has many fascinating suggestions about how the circumstances of early hominid life on the African savanna may have provoked changes in anatomy and improved the range and precision of communication… By bringing music to the fore, Mithen remedies earlier neglect and offers his readers the most perspicacious portrait of the role of communication among our remote predecessors that I have ever encountered. That is a great accomplishment… Mithen’s book, in short, seems destined to become a landmark in the way experts and amateurs alike seek to understand the character and evolutionary importance of hominid and early human communication… [The Singing Neanderthals] offers a learned, imaginative overview of the most important and most elusive dimension of the real but unrecorded past: i.e., how communication among our predecessors changed their lives, sustained their communities, and promoted their survival. No one has previously undertaken that task so well.”
—William H. McNeill, The New York Review of Books

The Same Thing, Over And Over Again...

"Illuminated Sunflower" from my project, "In the Shadow of Sun Mountain". A whole plate, toned cyanotype print from a wet collodion negative.

I’m writing this in response to my image, “Illuminated Sunflower,” that I posted yesterday. Here are some of the comments/responses:
“It’s strange looking but familiar.”
“Is it real?”
“I’ve never seen a sunflower that looks like that.”
“How did you do that?”
”Is it manipulated?”

MY RANT
Have you noticed that, as photographers or artists, we tend to follow what’s “accepted” and recognizable in photography? In other words, we make the same images that we’ve seen a million times over and over again. It’s almost like we’re in a trance or robotic. We have a very difficult time doing anything else.

These images are everywhere out there. Go to any “fine art photography” group online and you’ll see that 90%+ of the pictures are easily recognizable—same content, just a different photographer.

You’ll see old barns in empty fields and abandoned places (usually a farm or an old warehouse). Autumn leaves in a bowl or just on the ground. Foggy, misty landscape scenes. And any kind of flower in a vase. How about an old piece of farm equipment (tractors, old trucks, etc.)? National parks are always in the mix—a large format photograph of any recognizable landscape, especially anything from Yosemite National Park. I call these images “sunset and driftwood pictures”. Most of the pictures are (manipulated) digital images, or in some groups, there will be a few large format black and white film pictures that are scanned and made into digital prints. And some even make silver gelatin prints. But the numbers are going down fast. Regardless of the process, the content will be the same.

Before you send me a nasty email, let me say that there’s nothing wrong with doing any of that type of work! Obviously, the masses love it. It sells pictures, no doubt, and if that’s your hustle, more power to you. But creatively, I feel like these types of photographs fall short—way short. I feel like I’m listening to a broken record, playing the same part over and over again. Nothing new. It feels like visual torture to me sometimes. And it’s derivative.

We are conditioned to respond to familiar things. I get it. It’s kind of like, “Oh! I recognize that and I know people think it’s important, so I like it too!”. Those kinds of feelings and responses are embedded in photographers’ minds—so they keep making pictures that people will recognize and like. Commercial photographers are bound by this obligation. They need to sell pictures. As fine artists, we’re not bound to this way of working or thinking. In fact, we should reject it completely.

How do we do that? In my mind, there are three ways to accomplish this. The first is unique content—what’s in the picture. This can also include the context of the image. Your narrative can support something that’s been seen before if it’s a meaningful part of the story. Second, is the way the image is made (what process). And third, how you produce the image/print (post-production printing).

I know that influence is incessant; we really can’t get away from it. We bring everything we know and have seen to the image we’re making. And it’s very difficult to “pass” on the obvious, recognizable image. I think this is where experimentation and exploration can pay big creative dividends. Get out of the habit of only making pictures in “good” light or only composing in the way that you’ve seen. Try new things and break the rules. Play with optics, processes, and even post-production stuff (again, I’m talking about printing here). Do your best to make images of scenes or objects that you would never normally photograph. Then, play with the way you make them. If you’re lucky, you’ll discover a new way to work that supports your story, and the pictures will be interesting to look at! You’ll discover ways to see things that you’ve never really seen before.

Otto Rank said, “What we achieve inwardly will change outer reality.” I believe that. Art can be a powerful way for you to experience and understand life. It can give you a way to tackle the big questions in life and find meaning and purpose. E.O. Wilson came up with a word in the 1980s. “Biophilia” (it’s a book actually), which means “the love of life”. I do my best every day to be grateful, humble, and love life as much as I can.

“A River of Wood”—a cyanotype print on Canson Vellum (Tracing) paper.

“A River of Wood”—a Palladiotype print for reference—from the wet collodion negative posted here.

Three sheets of paper in an iodizing bath. These will become calotypes (paper negatives). This is the first step.

Three sheets of freshly iodized paper. These will become calotypes (paper negatives). I usually iodize six sheets at a time.

What Makes a Photograph Meaningful?

HOW DO YOU SELECT PHOTOGRAPHS?
What standards do you employ to select photographs for a body of work? And what distinguishes the images you select as significant or meaningful? Believe it or not, some photographers have never given these questions much consideration. “I pick what looks good!” or “I pick what sells!” That’s about as far as they go. Some never even think about making a body of work. They simply make “one-off” images and call them good.

For the storytellers: the narrative is only as strong as the visuals you choose to portray. Therefore, these are important questions to ponder. If you don't carefully choose images using criteria that complement the narrative, you’ll disrupt the flow—like hitting a sour note in music. So, how do you go about doing that?

TIME
The first thing you need is time, and a lot of it. Time to read, research, think and create. You need time to connect the dots in regard to your pictures and educate yourself about the deeper and more profound ideas around the work. This doesn’t happen in a week or two. This process can take years.

I know this turns a lot of people off. It’s anathema to the world we live in today. Few people are going to put the time in to make it work. However, for those few, the reward will be life-changing.

WORK & PRODUCTION
You will fail more than you’ll succeed. That’s a good thing. It will make you appreciate the successful pictures even more. They are a rare and wonderful thing. If you do it right, the process will keep you humble and grateful. I believe you need those attributes to make good work.

You need to make a lot of photographs, which also requires a lot of time. I’m not talking in digital photography terms or numbers. However, you need to make the work in order to see it. If you can’t see it, you can’t select it or reject it. Have you heard that saying, “You can’t learn to drive in a parked car”? Make the photographs!

Another type of time is a timeline, or how long it takes you to complete a body of work. If it takes months or even years, that's fine. Don't put a timeline on your project. Let it reveal itself organically. Give every photograph you make your undivided attention. As I said above, spend time researching, reading, watching, observing, thinking, and considering a lot of different ideas. Make a lot of photographs of any ideas that you think might work. And make some photographs of ideas that you don't think will work, too. You might be surprised. It’s important to leave some serendipity in this process, at least a little bit.

Push yourself. Forget about “rules” or what you think people will like or not like. That’s all a waste of time. Don’t let any of that rent space in your head. Don’t get caught in the trap of trying to please people. This is your work, your ideas. Stay focused (no pun) and stay the course!

Don't fret over the pictures as you make them; there’s plenty of time for that later. To date, I've created about 120 negatives for my project ("In the Shadow of Sun Mountain.") I've only been working on it for about a year. It sounds like a lot, but in reality, it's only about 2.5 negatives per week.

I'll probably end up with about 200 negatives when the project is completed. That number is based on the general categories I’ve selected for the work. Flora, landscapes, and objects. To get a sufficient number of photographs to make a body of work, I would need roughly 65 negatives from each area. If I select 30–40 images for the final body of work (prints), that would mean I'm only using 15%–20% of the (roughly) 200 negatives. Keep in mind that this is only a guideline and is subject to change.

You’ll know when you’ve completed the work. It will be apparent. I can’t give you any specifics, but I can tell you that you’ll know. If you’ve completed visually, what you’ve used words to describe, and they complement and complete one another, you’re finished.

EXPERIMENTATION
I try to experiment as much as possible while I’m making the work. Yes, I have my “roadmap” and that gives me my general direction, but I’m still working out the aesthetic. To me, that means trying new compositions, lighting, lenses, and printing methods. I'll try new papers, new toners, and even new processes. The only caveat here is that you don't want to get caught up in the technical minutia. You'll end up being a process photographer, not an artist. Chiang Kai-shek said, "We become what we do." It’s important to remember that.

Try to find what processes or techniques best suit your story. You want the viewer to "experience" the work and have context for what you're trying to do. That makes a big difference in the success of the photographs. Don’t cling to one process during the experimental phase. Try things. Figure things out. You’ll end up settling on a way to work that makes sense for your project, and you’ll have good reasons for using it.

EVALUATION
Critique your work. Be critical, realistic, and reasonable. You’ll see, as you go through this process, there are so many variables to making good pictures that fit into the story. What your objective should be is to group the images that immediately stand out. Eliminate the images that you feel don’t work straight away. Do the big, broad sweep as quickly as you can. You can always reconsider the images you put aside later. I’ve found that when I revisit images that I thought didn’t work a few weeks or months later, they take on a new power or influence. Images that I thought were “duds” now have new life in relation to the other work. Remember, this should be a comprehensive body of work; images working together to tell the story. Think of each image as a word or sentence—one flowing into the next. It should look right, feel right and support your narrative. And it should convey power and emotion when viewed as a whole.

Test strip from a Calotype (paper negative).

Taking A Deeper Dive Into My Concept - The Denial of Death

“Art is crucial for transforming death and pain into forms that can in some way enhance the life that remains.” 
- Robert Jay Lifton

Making Art is difficult. It’s a moving target. No one can just sit down one day and write out a concept, plan, and execute it all without changes, transformation, etc. And sometimes there are major changes to the ideas and concepts. Maybe even to the work. How it’s made, what it’s made with, etc.

As you make work, it reveals something to you. It reveals direction and purpose. But the heart of the work revolves around meaning.

“Deer Antlers” Plate #102. Whole Plate Palladiotype from a wet collodion negative.

As I make prints and live with these images my mind is changing the course of the concept of the work. I’ve been thinking about my project in terms of death anxiety lately. If you ever get a chance, watch my YouTube show called, “Dr. Sheldon Solomon, Death Denial & Artists, Terror Management Theory - Death Anxiety, Ernest Becker“. I was fortunate enough to have Dr. Sheldon Solomon on as a guest and we talked about all of this stuff. He co-authored a book called. “The Worm at the Core: On the Role of Death in Life”. It’s a book about Terror Management Theory (TMT). It’s basically Becker’s theories put to the test. In other words, Solomon and his colleagues test Becker’s theories in real life. Do we act differently toward people who are different when we are reminded of our mortality? What’s the driving force behind all human activity? Why do we start wars? Why do we commit genocide? Etcetera, etcetera.

This is what my project is slowly bringing forward. The more I think about these ideas and re-read the books I have, the more I move toward this as a main theme of the work.

I’ve studied Becker and Solomon for a few years. I first read, “The Denial of Death” by Ernest Becker a few years ago. In it, he argues that “the basic motivation for human behavior is our biological need to control our basic anxiety, to deny the terror of death.” (Keen 1973). Becker suggested that a significant function of culture is to provide successful ways to engage in death denial. Becker also noted that the root of evil lies in the selfishness of human beings seeking to protect their own existence in the face of their mortality, which he regarded as an essential aspect of human nature. Recognizing such evil within human beings gave Becker concern about the future of human society.

It had a big impact on me. It influenced my photography in major ways. I realized the question that I had been asking for over 30 years was, “Why do people do the things they do?” I was asking the question specifically as it applies to marginalized communities and how they are treated. Graduate school helped a lot but Becker put it all in perspective for me.

I quickly learned that the knowledge of our impending death is the reason we treat the “other” (anyone different from us in any way) the way we do. Anyone who threatens our “hero systems” either needs to conform to our belief system or be eliminated. Becker describes the human pursuit of “immortality projects” (or causa sui), in which we create or become part of something that we feel will outlast our time on earth. In doing so, we feel that we become heroic and part of something eternal that will never die, compared to the physical body that will eventually die. This gives human beings the belief that our lives have meaning, purpose, and significance in the grand scheme of things.

If our system that keeps death anxiety at bay is challenged (our hero systems), we lash out and can do horrible things. Ernest Becker said, “Man cannot endure his own littleness unless he can translate it into meaningfulness on the largest possible level.” Some of these “systems” are good, but most are bad. Becker argued that the conflict between contradictory immortality projects/hero systems (particularly in religion) is a wellspring for the violence and misery in the world caused by wars, genocide, racism, nationalism, and so forth, since immortality projects that contradicts one another threaten one’s core beliefs and sense of security.

As a vehicle for the masses to act out their urge for heroism, Becker went as far as to characterize society as a “codified hero system, which means that society everywhere is a living myth of the significance of human life, a defiant creation of meaning".

I feel like I have a good grasp of these concepts. I believe them to be true and accurate too. They answer questions (and ask) about the human condition in ways that I’ve never thought about. These are some of life’s very big questions. And these topics are dense and sometimes disturbing to deal with.

Currently, my project is dealing with the Ute, specifically, the Tabeguache band that lived on the land where I live now. It’s about my process of dealing with what I feel about living on stolen indigenous land. I’m trying to connect the landscape, rock formations, medicinal plants, and symbolic objects to the people that once occupied this land and were dispossessed of it. What I’m really dealing with is the question of death denial and death anxiety.

Ernest Becker said, “What man really fears is not so much extinction, but extinction with insignificance. Man wants to know that his life has somehow counted, if not for himself, then at least in a larger scheme of things, that it has left a trace, a trace that has meaning. And in order for anything once alive to have meaning, its effects must remain alive in eternity in some way. Or, if there is to be a ‘final’ tally of the scurrying of man on earth—a ‘judgment day’—then this trace of one's life must enter that tally and put on record who one was and that what one did was significant.”

My work isn’t about history. It’s not even about the Ute/Tabeguache. It’s about the denial of death, our immortality projects, and how we act these beliefs out.

This history is just one example of death anxiety. I could spend the day with you and show several small (or large) examples of this psychology playing out in our lives. This is what this work is really about. The questioning of human motivation, activity, and behavior; this history, this land, these places, and these objects, are simply ideas or metaphors to communicate those questions. I’ll continue to work on it.

“Meadow Barley” Plate #88. Whole Plate Palladiotype from a wet collodion negative.

The Studio Q Show LIVE! From the Rocky Mountains!

Greetings!

I hope everyone is doing well. I haven't had much time over the last couple of weeks. We've been crazy busy moving and getting ourselves set up to start our home build in the mountains.

I wanted to reach out and touch base with you and do a LIVE show today from our place in the mountains here - the Rocky Mountains in Colorado, U.S.A. Not much to show yet, we’re just starting, but we can talk wet plate collodion and "ask and answer" technical questions.

Join me if you can - tomorrow, Saturday, June 27, at 1000 hrs MST. It will stream LIVE on my YouTube channel as well.

We address attending a workshop and getting tutorials/online services.
(Administrated by Jean Jacobson)

Quinn’s Live Stream from Stream Yard: https://streamyard.com/4sffpya3a8

Quinn’s YouTube Channel: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KoFXbRk1u4g

Returning From Paris and Reflecting

Paris, France
It’s five o’clock in the morning. I woke up at four o’clock this morning. I flew into Denver late last night from Paris. I’ll be on this “adjustment rollercoaster” (up early and tired early) for a few days. It’s also known as jet-lag. Fun.

Télérama spot - this brought people in for portraits - full days!

It was a good trip. This was our second one in less than sixty days! Taxing and tiring to say the least. It was a lot of work and a lot of fun. It is bitter-sweet when these exhibitions end. I’m glad it’s over but it’s sad at the same time.

Wet Plate Collodion: The Past, Present & Future
As I sit here in the quiet this morning and see the Facebook posts and read my email, I find myself thinking how fortunate I was to start working in Wet Plate Collodion when I did. It’s a madhouse out there now. Truly a head-spinning environment - so many people posting “their first plate” and “look how big” etc.  – it’s emotionally draining to me. The competition grows everyday for a place at the Collodion table and there’s simply not enough room.

At some point, it will melt down and everything will even out again. Let’s talk in ten years and see who’s doing what. Most will fade away, I’ve seen it before and it will happen again. There will be less than a handful that make serious work with the process or accomplish anything significant with it. That’s how it unfolds.

My Wet Collodion CV
Over the past 10 years, I’ve accomplished a lot in this small, niche world of historic processes. My biggest accomplishment, and the one I’m most proud of, is that I created three bodies of work that were all exhibited in Paris and all received high marks from the viewing audience there.

2003 – 2006: “Portraits from Madison Avenue” (America)
2006 – 2010: “Vergangenheitsbewältigung” (Europe)
2011 – 2012: “The American West Portraits” (America)

Most artist/photographers would give their left eye to simply visit Paris let alone have a gallery, exhibitions and good representation there. I was told by the gallery owner on Saturday that my show, “The American West Portraits” ranked number one for seven weeks in the photography shows of Paris (Télérama). That’s amazing, I’m proud and honored. How can you feel “unaccomplished” with those kinds of things in your life? Not only did I exhibit there, I also made hundreds of commissioned portraits and taught several workshops; including Collodion negatives and printing (Albumen, Salt and Collodion Chloride).

I’m also very proud of the fact that I was instrumental in reviving the Wet Collodion Process in Europe. My five years (2006 – 2011) of traveling and teaching has spurred on a resurgence of the process that would have not happened without my efforts. My wife, Jeanne, and daughter, Summer made all of that possible. We worked hard and had a lot of fun, but we also changed the direction of photography there (in this context) by doing what we did. As with all educators, you get lost and replaced over time. In other words, the people you teach will teach and so on and so forth. That’s okay, it’s the natural evolution of things. The important thing is to remember the contributions, not simply the teaching of the process. That’s what I’m referring to here. My influence not only taught people the process, but it built community. You would have never seen Wet Collodion at Foire de Bievres (nor even heard of it) or had the Collodion parties and community assemblies without my years there.

Over the years, I’ve written three books about the process, too.

2006: The Contemporary Wet Plate Collodion Experience
2007: Conferring Importance; Thoughts on Identity, Memory and Difference
2009: Chemical Pictures (revised in 2010 and 2011) with DVD and Online Video Workshop

And the final entry in my Collodion CV would be The Archer Project (2010). I spent fourteen months and a lot of money to honor Frederick Scott Archer with a custom plaque citing his invention of the Wet Plate Collodion process. If you ever visit his grave in the Kensal Green Cemetery in London, you’ll see the fruits of that labor. The Collodion Collective that I put together was made up of a couple of British blokes; Carl Radford and John Brewer, but the bigger body consisted of 51 Collodionists from around the world contributing a plate to honor Archer.  Although I had to take on the majority of the financial burden, I have no regrets and wear the effort as a badge of honor to Archer and to this wonderful process.

Reflection & The Future
When endings come in your life, like this show ending for me, you tend to reflect on what you’ve done and ask questions. And you end up in a state of melancholy – you go as low as your highest point was high – it’s tough.

I’m unsure of what’s next. Or if there will even be a next. That’s where I am now. Time will tell. I’ll take some time to rest and think it all through. However, should it end tomorrow, I’m very pleased and very proud of what I’ve done over the last decade. Thanks to all the people in my life that make it possible for me to do what I do. I love you and am eternally grateful for your presence in my life, these are your accomplishments, too.

The American West Portraits; Hanging

I was very pleased with our trip to Paris to open my show. The photographs were received well, attendance was great and we had a wonderful time. 

We'll go back to close the show in June and do some more teaching, portraits and research for my next body of work. It's all very exciting. Thanks to everyone that helped make this possible. All of the sitters, the gallery, and most of all Jeanne!

These are some images that Fabrice Pejout posted on Facebook. These show the space, you can see why I get excited about my work hanging in this gallery. 

Here's an English article about the exhibition: France Revisited  

All 16"x20" Wet Collodion Positives - raw and real. photo by Fabrice Pejout

The main hallway - but there is a lot more to the catacombs that the images show. photo by Fabrice Pejout

Two 16"x20" Wet Collodion Positive plates. Photo by Fabrice Pejout

A Short Respite and Satisfaction

Quinn holding three 16" x 20" (40 x 50cm) Ambrotypes. Photos by Jeanne Jacobson

It’s Saturday morning, the sun is shining; I have espresso in my cup and have absolutely nothing on my "to do" list today. I haven’t felt like this for over a year!

For the previous eight months, I've been working seven days a week, 12 to 14 hours a day. I know that’s not healthy, but I had to do it at least for that finite time.

Since Jeanne and I landed at Denver International Airport last June, we’ve been setting up our personal lives, setting up a studio, making photographs, readjusting to America and preparing for the opening of my exhibition in Paris in three weeks. It’s been a long, exhaustive and expensive journey, but I can see the reward coming soon – soon as in less than three weeks – when we board the plane for Paris, France.

Like so many things in my life, I probably wouldn’t have agreed to make this happen had I known what it was going to take. And like so many things in my life, I have no regrets about saying, “Yes, I’ll do it”. Too often, people default to “No, I can’t” to every opportunity that presents itself.  They live with regret and miss out on living life. It’s a lot easier to say, “No”, than to say, “Yes.” It’s easier to be negative than to be positive. Why is that? 

I know it’s trite and cliché, but you have to ask what does “living” mean? I know it’s different for everyone, but the underlying theme is taking chances, taking risks, going where there’s no safety blanket or safety net. Getting out of your comfort zone, getting out there – and I don’t mean that you have to go abroad – it can be as simple as public speaking, changing jobs or quitting your job. Or, in my case, making an international move and then making a new body of work for an exhibition in Paris in six months time. Those things will make you feel alive. An English idiom we use is, “You have skin in the game”. That means you have something to lose or that you’re invested.

Regardless how successful, or not, the show is, I have already experienced something amazing. I arrived in Denver with nothing and in six months time, created a meaningful body of work that I’m proud of and that didn’t exist until I made it. It’s a very satisfying feeling. And to have a gallery in Paris that is excited and supportive means the world to me.  

The plates (glass and metal) are packed in the crate on the left and the photo supplies are in the foot locker on the right. These packages will be sitting in the gallery on Monday!Jeanne and I packed everything up Wednesday night. I had a crate built for the artwork and we used a hard case (large foot locker) for the supplies we need there. The inspiration for the blog was an email I received this morning telling me that the crates cleared customs in Orly, France and will be in the gallery on Monday.

Thank you, Jeanne! You made this happen for me! I love you!

Physiognomy & Anthroposcopy

Thanks to my friend, Caron, for this video clip. My work is steeped in this idea of physiognomy.  Physiognomy is also sometimes referred to as anthroposcopy, though the expression was more common in the 19th century when the word originated.

Denver Arts Week, Nov 4-12, 2011

I have some public events planned for Denver Arts Week. The First Friday (Nov 4) I will be in my studio offering some artificial light demos and then on Second Saturday, I will offer the public a rare glimpse at witnessing an ultra-large Wet Plate Collodion image being made with my 20"x24" Camera, aka, "The Mighty Quinn". CBS Denver (Channel 4) will be doing a piece on me as well. They are featuring three of us in the RiNo Arts District; Jonathan Kaplan (Ceramics), Yoshi Saito (Bronze) and me. Thank you, RiNo!

If you're in the area, please drop by. If you have any questions, feel free to email me.