Does the How Support the Why?

I try to balance the technical, or the craft, with the concept. I believe that the craft should support the work, not the other way around. 

Too many times you see photographs that rely on the process, size, or technical skill of the photographer for their value. That only goes so far. A process photographer is not an artist (necessarily). They are process photographers. Skilled at making large or technically difficult images. That’s all. There’s nothing wrong with that, but a lot of times, viewers conflate size and technical complexity with art.

How do you create art? What is it that makes one photograph art and the other not? These are hefty questions that take a lot of conversation and background to answer. The quick, uncomplicated answer is narrative. What makes anything art is a good story. We, as humans, need to make sense of the world through stories, or life experiences. And if the stories are constructed well, sensible and coherent, they will resonate with us. That, to me, is the quick definition of art. Yes, it should be enigmatic, and interesting. You can leave some things to interpretation, of course. However, the main theme should be easy to understand. Complexity can come later. 

Balancing the craft with the concept is difficult. I usually find myself wanting the viewer to travel in time (visually) to the place that I’m telling my story about. Or I want the viewer to feel like they are looking at a memory of something, a forgotten place or time. That’s why I use 19th-century processes. It creates temporal confusion. It engages the viewer and supports my narrative.

Think about how you work. Do you ever consider these ideas? Does it make sense to lean on the narrative rather than the technical? What’s more impactful and meaningful to you? I find myself more interested in why the images were made rather than how they were made. And if the “how” support the “why” it’s can be a powerful piece or body of work!

In the Shadow of Sun Mountain (Tava Kaavi)

“The key to the creative type is that he is separated out of the common pool of shared meanings. There is something in his life experience that makes him take in the world as a problem; as a result, he has to make personal sense out of it.”

― Ernest Becker, from the Denial of Death

I was born in Utah (U.S.A.). It was named after the Ute people. The Nuuchu, or “Mountain People” occupied most of Utah and Colorado for centuries, long before the Europeans arrived on this continent. 

I currently live in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. It’s beautiful here. The landscape is breathtaking. It’s the closest thing to a perfect place I’ve ever been. However, it has a very sordid and sad history. 

Most Americans live their day-to-day lives without ever thinking about the real history of their country. Topics like genocide, land dispossession, forced migration, and colonization are rarely discussed, if ever. Every day I go outside and I’m reminded of this land’s past and the people that lived here. For me, it’s unavoidable.

Through these photographs, I want to share both the beauty and the tragedy of this place I call home. I want to esteem the Ute people both past and present. And I hope to engage the viewer long enough to put this history and the people into their consciousness. Ken Burns said, “Being an American means reckoning with a history fraught with violence and injustice. Ignoring that reality in favor of mythology is not only wrong but also dangerous.”

RED MOTHER EARTH - WHERE THE PEOPLE OF SUN MOUNTAIN LIVED
A Whole Plate Palladiotype print from a Calotype (paper) negative.

I’ve approached this work from a place of deference, wonder, sadness, and loss. I’m torn about where I live and what I know. I often think about what happened here and question why it did. It confuses me and creates inner conflict for me; like a type of cognitive dissonance. I struggle with living on this land, and yet I’m in awe every day of how sublime and beautiful it is here.

What do I do with this terrible history? My answer is to embrace it, study it, wrestle with it and transform it into a weapon for the human spirit; one that will enlarge my sense of responsibility and strengthen my moral resolve.

This project has also served as a cathartic release for me. It’s one of the biggest reasons why the work was created. While the work is metaphorical, it acts as a catalyst in resolving my relationship with the land, its history, and the people that lived here. Telling some of their stories through my images gave me a better understanding of who I am in relation to this place and its history and people.

At dawn, Tava-Kaavi (Sun Mountain) is the first Colorado mountain to catch the sun’s rays. The mountain is over 14,000 (4.300m) feet above sea level. The Ute believes it’s where Mother Earth meets Father Sky.

Before it was America’s Mountain, “Pikes Peak” (its colonized name), it stood at the center of the Tabeguache (tab-a-watch) band of the Nuche/Ute tribe’s geography and identity. They were the “People of the Sun Mountain,” placed here by Sunif (the wolf) to grow and flourish amid the foothills of the majestic peak.

The Tabeguache tribe was the largest of the ten nomadic bands of the Ute. They followed the herds of wild animals throughout their lands, harvesting the elk, deer, and buffalo at specific places at certain times of the year. This lifestyle mandated that they move their camp every three or four weeks. They constructed a medicine wheel at the heart of each new camp, linking them to Mother Earth like an umbilical cord. The rock outcroppings were called, “the bones of Mother Earth”. And the large red rock formations were considered “grandfathers.”

WILLOW TREES - FREMONT COUNTY, COLORADO
Crack willow (salix fragilis)! Willow bark was steeped as a tea by Native Americans, and the young twigs and bark were chewed to relieve headaches. It was later found the active ingredient was salicylic acid, the basis of today's aspirin. The chemical name for aspirin comes from the willow family name, Salicaceae.

A Whole Plate Palladiotype print from a Calotype (paper) negative.

I live in one of the areas where the Tabeguache tribe lived during the summer months. My photographs are about coming to terms with my relationship with the land, the people, and its history. I want to honor the people, the plants they used, the rocks, and the trees they dwelt among and used to survive and thrive for many centuries. I’ve spent time learning about the symbolism and metaphors they used and I’ve constructed photographs based on historical and contemporary uses of these ideas and beliefs.

The work is made with the 19th-century wet and dry collodion photographic processes as well as the Calotype process (paper negatives) in the Whole Plate format (6.5” x 8.5”). I used a period lens circa 1870 for the work. From the glass and paper negatives, I’ve made Palladiotype prints (Palladium), 1873, and original Kallitype prints (1889). Both are contact printing processes. It was very important for me to use period processes and period gear for these images. The processes and optics have a way of transporting the viewer to that time period (the 1840s - 1890s). 

I called this body of work, “In the Shadow of Sun Mountain”. The photographs are all made with the great mountain watching over.

The Ute honored and respected this land and all of its life, never taking more than they needed. The fauna, flora, and landscape represent all that they loved. It provided the shelter, food, and medicine they survived on. Their life here was balanced and good.

Ben Mitchell, guest curator of "Edward S. Curtis: The North American Indian" said "...history is a very powerful force, because history, when you’re immersed in it, isn’t just looking at the past, history constantly informs the present you’re living in — or it better, if we’re paying attention...history also points us to our future that we’re going to share. We learn from history how to live in our present, and how to plan to live in our future.”

I can’t change the past. No one can. But my hope is that the viewers of this work will see the beauty and the tragedy. I want the photographs to reflect the memories of a better time and wrestle with the history and terrible events that followed. My goal is to put a “pebble in the viewer’s shoe”. I want them to contemplate the past, the present, and the future. I hope to inspire, motivate and create compassion and empathy for the people, the land, and all the life on it.

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

Robert Jay Lifton

WHITE POPPY

Native Americans found many uses for the alkaloids in the white poppy. Preparations made from different poppy species have been used to treat skin disorders, eye problems, headaches, toothaches, digestive trouble, coughs, colds, and insomnia.

A Whole Plate Palladiotype print from a Calotype (paper) negative.

The Ute/Tabeguache Culturally Modified Trees (CMT)

UTE’S CULTURALLY MODIFIED TREES IN COLORADO

A Tree symbolizes permanence, and longevity and its firm base symbolize the concept of 'roots' and an ongoing relationship with natural surroundings.

Native tribes distilled resins from a number of trees for varnish, lacquer, medicines, and incense. Elmwood was used for eating utensils. A yellowish dye was derived from the sumac and black oak trees. Darker colored dyes were produced from walnut, maples, and locust trees.

The definition of a Ute Indian Prayer Tree is, “a culturally modified tree.” What this means is that the Ute would take care to modify the tree by peeling its bark or bending it in places using hemp ropes created from Yucca plants or horse hair. The most common trees used by the Ute were ponderosa pines and Aspen.

According to John Wesley Anderson, author of Ute Indian Prayer Trees of the Pikes Peak Region, “All trees modified by the Ute were sacred and prayers to recognize the tree’s consent and permission in the modification were made along with gratitude to the Creator.”

In the Pikes Peak region, which includes the area around Monument, all five types of prayer trees can be found:
1. Trail marker Trees
2. Medicine Trees
3. Burial Trees
4. Story Trees
5. Prophecy Trees.

The trees are listed in the frequency they are found. The Prophecy Trees are the rarest; however, one does exist in Fox Run Park in Monument.

A Trail marker Tree’s distinction is having a 30-degree bend to the trunk before it extends upward. These trees were culturally modified from the time they were a sapling by using hemp ropes attached to a stake. These trees always point toward a geographical or navigational reference point.

A Medicine Tree is distinctive by its scarred bark that has been pulled away from the tree trunk by a Ute medicine man. The bark is peeled from the top down to the bottom in one section.

A Burial Tree is distinctive and contains two 90-degree bends in the tree which point to where the Ute tribal leader is buried or a cedar tree to mark the possible site of the tribal leader.

A Story Tree or Message Tree’s distinction is that a short story or message is carved into an Aspen tree. These carvings are called Aspen Carvings or Arborglyphs and can be compared to Petroglyphs (rock art). These arborglyphs provide specific messages to other Ute Indians, such as the location of freshwater or good camping grounds.

The Prophecy Tree is also referred to as the Providence Tree or the Intertwined Tree because it is two trees that have been culturally modified to grow together. The Prophecy Tree is the rarest of all Ute Prayer Trees. The purpose of this tree is to tell of a future event, of someone or something. These trees could have required generations of Ute to cultivate them.

(From castlepinesconnection.com)

How Loss Helped One Artist Find Beauty in Imperfection

I connect with her thoughts and approach to making art. I consider my work about loss and beauty. While not as personal it's still a universal concept.

Painter Alyssa Monks finds beauty and inspiration in the unknown, the unpredictable, and even the awful. In a poetic, intimate talk, she describes the interaction of life, paint, and canvas through her development as an artist, and as a human.

Concept and Craft, Why Are They Important?

“In The End of Art Donald Kuspit argues that art is over because it has lost its aesthetic import. Art has been replaced by "postart," a term invented by Alan Kaprow, as a new visual category that elevates the banal over the enigmatic, the scatological over the sacred, cleverness over creativity. Tracing the demise of aesthetic experience to the works and theory of Marcel Duchamp and Barnett Newman, Kuspit argues that devaluation is inseparable from the entropic character of modern art, and that anti-aesthetic postmodern art is its final state. In contrast to modern art, which expressed the universal human unconscious, postmodern art degenerates into an expression of narrow ideological interests. In reaction to the emptiness and stagnancy of postart, Kuspit signals the aesthetic and human future that lies with the New Old Masters. A sweeping and incisive overview of the development of art throughout the twentieth century, The End of Art points the way to the future for the visual arts.” In the book, “The End of Art” by Donald Kuspit

On Friday, I posted about choosing your medium. I have another word for it. I call it “craft”. I use the word in the context of marrying CONCEPT and CRAFT. Allow me to try to explain what I mean.

Plate #104 - A Whole Plate bleached Cyanotype from a Wet Collodion negative.

The concept is WHAT the story or work is about, and the craft is HOW it is made, or what materials are used and why. If I’ve learned anything over the years making (art) pictures, it’s this: You must have a strong, coherent narrative. You must marry or join the craft or medium with the narrative. And you must have context and intention supporting all of it. Give context to what the work relates to, intention, why was it made, and explain why you chose the materials that you did. How is it all connected and how does it relate to you, the creator/maker/storyteller? In other words, what is it that you want the viewer to think about or understand after seeing the work? In one sentence, “My work is about ___________ (fill in the blank).

This is a heavy lift. It’s very difficult to do. That’s why few people do it. I always hear the counter-argument that art shouldn’t need any of this. That it should stand on its own, without explanation. In part, I understand this argument, however, I don’t agree with the premise. Most of the time, I hear this from people who have nothing to say about their work. I’ll write more about this in the future.

“Splitting Aspen” Plate #118 - A Whole Plate bleached and toned (tannic acid) Cyanotype from a Wet Collodion negative.

So few other mediums get away with that kind of argument. In the photography world, we get away with a lot. If you make a pretty picture or a “chocolate box” picture, you’ll get praised and plenty of accolades for it. You might even win an award! It doesn’t have to have any narrative, context, or intention, and it wouldn’t matter if it were a digital snap or an ultra-large format historic process image. If it’s based on technical merit, you’ll be in the same boat. It’s big, it’s this process or that process, etc. The technical folks will love it. If it’s pretty and “knowable” or a technical feat, the masses or the techies will like it. And if you’re making work that the masses or techies like, it might be that influence driving you (I make pictures that people like or that are technically difficult) rather than making pictures based on a personal, authentic narrative. I call these types of photographers, “commercial photographers” and “process photographers”. A lot of times, they call themselves artists.

That’s the superficial part of making photographs. Let’s talk about the other end of the spectrum. I just read Donald Kuspit’s book, “The End of Art” (see quote above). I don’t agree with all of it, but I certainly understand where his head is at when it comes to postmodern and post-post-modern art. He rails on Damien Hirst and other artists that work in such a conceptual way it seems ridiculous to a large part of the population. Their commentary on suburbia, and the mundane can be confusing if you don’t know the context of the work. A lot of it is ridiculous hyperbole. Made up to make money and draw attention.

It upsets me that the art world creates these kinds of environments. It doesn’t need to. It alienates so many people who would, otherwise, understand art and appreciate it. It would enrich their lives and could even make them better people. I’ve heard people say, “Oh, I don’t go to art galleries, I don’t understand art”. That statement always makes me sad. It’s the out-of-touch elitists that has put that in the mind of the average person. Every human being can understand art. It’s up to the artist to make that happen (the point of this post). Whether the people like the work or not is a different question. But they should be able to understand the intention behind the work.

A Whole Plate Cyanotype from a Calotype (Paper) negative.

I always ask people why filmmakers have to tell stories in their work - you know, beginning, middle, end? Character development, plot, etc. Or why do musicians have to follow certain rules to make music? You know, notes, scales, timing, etc. Why do writers have to use proper grammar and construct a sentence in a certain way? You know, subject, verb, noun. There are “rules” to follow in these mediums so that the audience can understand the story or the narrative. I’m not a “rule” follower per se, I think it can be really good and really creative to break rules, but not just for the sake of breaking them or the inability to construct a narrative.

Connecting ideas and concepts to life experiences is what art can do really well. It can draw people in, tell a story, and leave them questioning their beliefs, opinions, etc. Art can make the world a better place, or a more interesting place, but it needs to be understood in order to do that.

I’m not preaching about beating people over the head with didactics or statements. But there needs to be context and intention behind the work - and it needs to be accessible to the viewer. I’m simply stating that pretty pictures or chocolate box pictures won’t stick with you, or make you think very much. Art should provoke, it should make people question and think. You can accomplish that through authentic and connected narratives.

Think about what you have questions about. What are you concerned about? What are you most connected to? What do you love? What do you dislike? Like Socrates said, “examine yourself” and find out what your art is about. Then share those ideas with the world. There will be other human beings that connect with the work. They will find it important and meaningful. It may only be 10 people or it could be 10,000 people. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that it gave you meaning and significance.

How Does The Medium You Choose Affect Your Work?

When we talk about “medium” in art we are referring to the materials and processes we use to create the work.

It’s important to select the appropriate medium for your work. It’s probably a bad analogy, but when the medium and the message are in conflict or don’t work well together, it’s kind of like going to a wedding dressed in your swimming attire. It just doesn’t fit.

Maybe that’s part of your narrative, and if it is, ignore this post. I’m addressing someone that’s putting together a story and that wants the visuals to support the narrative.

There are a lot of questions to ask when you start working on a project. Maybe the project is something that you’ve been thinking about for a long. Or maybe it’s something new. Either way, you need to find the medium that best suits the work.

For the majority of my writings here, I’m referring to the use of photography for making art. Not always, but most of the time. I’m going to use photography in this post so I can easily address the question about the medium affecting the work.

If you’ve started a project, or you’re thinking about one, how do you lay it out? Or, how do you organize your thoughts about it? What process do you go through? And when does the medium come to mind? How important of a role does it play in the work?

When I talk about the medium, I’m referring to format, type of film, optics, process, or processes, paper, presentation, etc. To me, that’s all very, very important. Since I work in 19th-century photographic processes, I want my narrative to be supported by the medium. I can’t stress how important this is to me. I want it to feel “right” and natural. My objective isn’t to confuse the viewer, or play tricks on them, but to engage them. It’s almost like having a dialogue. In order to do that, we need to speak the same language and have the concepts and ideas make sense. The medium is key here. For my project, “In the Shadow of Sun Mountain,” I’ve selected the most period-appropriate processes I can. My story takes place between 1850 - 1880. This is when the colonizers removed the Ute/Tabeguache from Colorado. Specifically removed them from where I live now.

For the past year, I’ve worked with wet and dry collodion negatives. Just recently, I started back making paper negatives (Calotypes) too. I’ve experimented with some very obscure negative-making processes in that time as well. I’ve made Platinum Palladium prints, Kallitypes, both modern and vintage, and Rawlins Oil prints.

These processes fall within the time period I’m referencing. I’m using the Whole Plate format. It was popular during this period as well. And for optics, my glass ranges from 1858 - 1877. Everything fits. I want the images to appear as they would have during this time.

The next thing I’m addressing is the aesthetic. I want the images to create a feeling of memory. A feeling of the past, like a half-remembered dream, if you will. It’s important for me to address both the tragedy of what happened to the Tabeguache as well as show the beauty of their land, plants and symbolic objects through these images.

The medium carries a lot of weight in art. How and why it was made is central to the story being told. Think about how you address the impact of the medium. If it’s an afterthought, I would reconsider the question.

What Does It Mean To Be Creative?

I’ve asked this question a lot in my life. You hear the words “creative” and “creative energy”, “art”, and “artist”, in the photography world quite often. But what do they really mean?

I’ve talked about making “original” work before. Some of you pushed back and said that nothing is original, it’s all been done in the art world. On one hand, I would agree. On the other, I disagree.

When I use the word, “original”, what I mean is that YOU are original, the maker or creator of the work. There’s only one of YOU! That, in and of itself, starts the process of making original work. The next part is authenticity. Being true to the importance you feel about the work. Nothing derivative (copied) and nothing trendy or popular can be original or creative.

Following your vision, whether people like it or not is very important. If people don’t understand or “get it” it doesn’t matter. Creating art is something a person is driven to do. It’s almost like you can’t help it - it’s compulsive, or compelling in a way. It comes from a place that has nothing to do with money, fame, social media, etc. It has to do with the need to express. To get what’s “inside” out and in the physical world. It’s manifesting deep feelings, emotions, questions, concerns, etc. Making the intangible, tangible.

If you feel this need, or you’re compelled to create, you know exactly what I mean. You’re somewhat preoccupied with ideas, thoughts, questions, etc. about the work you want to make. It can take the form of a technical issue or problem to serve the conceptual questions or vice versa. We address these as problems in making art because that’s what they are. It’s not stated in a pejorative way, or bad way, everything in life is a problem to be solved, and creating art is no exception.

I’ve tried to work through a lot of these questions over the years by making photographs. Each year, I get a little wiser and understand myself better. You don’t have to be middle-aged to get it, but the years of experience never hurts. I think the best piece of advice that I ever got in reference to being creative was, to be honest, and true to your vision. As I said before, don’t follow trends, don’t make what’s popular, make what’s yours!

Life asked Death, “Why do people love me and hate you?” Death replied, “Because you are a beautiful lie and I’m a painful truth”.

The Quaking Aspen & Granite Rock. Whole Plate toned Kallitype (K1) from a Paper Negative (Greenlaw).

Understanding Art (Immortality Projects) and Death Anxiety

The psychoanalyst and philosopher, Otto Rank said, ”Art is life's dream interpretation.”

Rank was fully aware that art acted as an “immortality project” for humans. In other words, we all have projects that we want to live on beyond our physical selves (after our death).

“The Great Mullein” - Kallitype print from a paper negative.

We need these. What are they? They may be things like having children, getting a big job, wearing the latest fashions, and all kinds of material things. It could be owning a collection of antiques, belonging to a church, or a political group, getting an advanced degree, etc. These projects can be anything that allows us to be a part of something that transcends our death. It’s a way for us to “achieve immortality”.

We’re not afraid of actually dying. We’re afraid of being forgotten. That’s the crux of the issue. If you feel like you’re going to be forgotten, your life becomes meaningless and insignificant. We can’t bear that, psychologically speaking. So we need to create these illusions in our lives - “immortality projects”.

Think about the billions (some estimates say 10+ billion) of people that have lived and died on the earth. The vast majority, 99.99999%, are forgotten. Only a few in recent history, mostly bad or infamous people, are remembered. And, over time, they will be forgotten, too. It’s a frightening thought for most people.

Thinking that your life has no significance or meaning and that you’re going to die and decay is unbearable. Becker refers to us as “food for worms”. As humans, we all engage in activities that allow us, for a time, to disengage from the fear of dying and being forgotten or death anxiety. They provide us with what Becker calls self-esteem. Self-esteem gives us meaning and significance in the world. Without it, we can’t function, or, we can’t function very well. There are a lot of people that suffer from no self-esteem - you see them everywhere - low functioning, problematic lives. We need to feel good about our lives. And we do that through our projects.

One of my “immortality projects” happens to be art. I have a few in my life, but that’s the one you’d be familiar with. Am I aware of why I’m doing this? Yes, I am. Am I aware that in the “big picture” it’s meaningless? Yes, I am. Why do I keep doing it? Because I want to feel meaningful and significant while I’m here and want something of “me” to live on beyond my physical death. That’s why. And I’m fully aware of all it implies. I’m very aware that my art is meaningless in this context. Everything is. We can’t live every day with that terrible fact. We need a coping mechanism, a good and positive one. We need these projects, whatever they are, to survive and thrive in this life.

Becker was clear that this is not an ego thing. This is completely normal and even rational in some contexts. If we allow ourselves to fall into constant fear and anxiety about the meaninglessness of everything, we suffer and the people around us suffer as well. Most people are not consciously aware that this is going on in their lives. They only think that the new job is going to provide success or the new relationship is going to bring happiness. And they probably will. It will be in the context of fending off death anxiety. I’ve said it a lot, all human activity is driven by death anxiety, or in the service of keeping it at bay.

Dr. Sheldon Solomon is writing and talking a lot nowadays about another way to deal with death anxiety. He says that gratitude and humility will suffice, or can replace immortality projects. Or living in gratitude and humility can even become an immortality project itself. I’ve been thinking a lot about his ideas. I can see what he’s referring to in general. Both of those attributes are the polar opposites of death anxiety responses. The fear and worry are subdued with gratitude and humility.

So if you’re aware of this, pick projects that are positive. Projects that won’t hurt other people; and projects that will help humanity in some way; large or small. Express whatever it is that you feel connected to and concerned about. But be aware that we are all vulnerable to harming “the other” - people who are different from us, people who look different, believe different things, etc. Be conscious not to engage in projects that are harmful and negative.

"There was just that moment and now there's this moment and in between there is nothing. Photography, in a way, is the negation of chronology."

-Geoff Dyer, "The Ongoing Moment"

The Ute Lodge or Wickiup

THE UTE LODGE or WICKIUP
In the mountain forests of western Colorado, archaeologists and tribal members have recorded scores of sites that contain the remains of hundreds of wickiups, cone-shaped wooden structures built by the Ute, or Nuche, people more than a century ago.

Archaeologists have found and documented at least 366 wooden features at 58 sites so far, along with other structures including tree platforms, ramada-like shade shelters, and brush fences, according to national forest officials.

“Wickiups and other aboriginal wooden features, such as tree platforms and brush fences, were once commonplace in Colorado,” said Brian Ferebee, deputy regional forester for the U.S. Forest Service’s Rocky Mountain Region, in a press statement.

“Few examples are still in existence; the majority of the remaining features can be associated with Ute culture and consequently represent the only surviving architecture of the state’s living indigenous peoples.”
(Blake De Pastino from Western Digs)

Whole Plate paper negative (Greenlaw) of a reconstructed Ute Lodge or Wickiup - Rocky Mountains, Colorado.

The paper negative inverted in Photoshop. It was made with a vintage Derogy lens - wide open f/4 for 3:30.

The Weight of the World

We all have things that weigh us down. Things that feel heavy on our hearts and heads. Sometimes they’re very personal. Family, relationships, finances, jobs, and life, in general, can be difficult to navigate at times. Some of the things that weigh on us are more general, or “big picture”. The big world events, historical events, political events, and third-world countries with terrible problems can be things that we feel helpless to change.

I struggle with the latter quite a bit. The “big picture” problems. I see the world, and this country specifically, repeating history. I see things that are very disturbing. Americans are very divided today and are looking for scapegoats.

When we, as people, look for “the other” to blame our problems on, things get bad. I see a lot of this going on today. That’s what my project is about; how death anxiety creates situations for humans to commit terrible acts. The knowledge that we are going to die motivates all of our activities, good and bad.

For me, art has always been a way to confront, address, or deal with issues that concern me. So when you struggle with problems, you can create something that addresses those concerns and maybe find some catharsis, or relief through making the art or even in the act (physical) of making it.

In fact, the physical act of making art does that for me. The content, ideas, or concepts are, of course, very important too. The final image or piece is what I consider the residue or evidence of this process. One of the reasons I work in these old, arduous photographic processes is to fulfill that physical need in creating art.

Technology is great. We all depend on it and it can be positive in a lot of ways. However, when it comes to art, it doesn’t work for me. I can’t sit at a computer and generate images and press a button to print them. It’s empty, mechanical, too perfect, too impersonal, there’s nothing physical and there’s nothing that connects me to the work.

I know there are people that really enjoy the digital stuff, computers, printers, etc., and feel satisfied making work that way. I just don’t connect. The old processes and the physical act of creating are where I find catharsis, relief, and some satisfaction that what I’m doing matters and has significance in the world.

“The Struggle” - a Whole Plate paper negative (Greenlaw) on Clearprint paper.