An art show and some insight

I did it. I participated in my first art show with my photography, and while I'm not counting my piles of money just yet, I did learn a lot from the experience.

Needless to say, I learned a LOT about display and how to manage a free-standing booth that I built by myself with crossed fingers it would stand over a weekend. It did.

Equipment for showing art is expensive. There's a reason people buy it, though: it looks professional. While I'm not a fan of the carpet covered panels you see at every art show, I do understand that they're easy for the artist and provide a visual cue to art fair patrons... "This is ART".

With a limited budget, pages and pages and pages of sketches, many trials and errors, an old drill, hammer, hacksaw, and screw drivers, I built my field of dreams.

Inexpensive wood can look pretty good when stained. I built simple panels that would hook together to equal 10 ft per side, stained them and that was my base. I also took an old screen I've had hanging around since 1990, ripped off the faded fabric, sanded the wood, stained it, and stretched canvas on the back panels to create a storage area in my booth that can also work as part of the wall.

Conduit bars and fittings are what created the stabilizing skeleton for this booth... cheap, fun, and no need for any fancy power tools (though, they would have been nice).

I had to set it up in my backyard (much to my neighbors' curiosity), and even used clamp lights on the last night to  work into the dark hours.

(the upper panels were made from large stretcher bars an artist friend donated to the cause, and canvas, painter's drop cloths stretched across and stapled tight. I hinged 2 panels together so each side had 2 hinged sets)

I spent hours studying artist displays online, looking closely at how the professional set ups work, and doing my best to replicate the clean look within my budget.

Art fairs and those who like to give advice about them, are very interesting. First, you have to present your work seriously so that those looking at it understand that it IS serious. This is not a hobby. Second, you have to take all the advice, sift through it to find what works, and then experiment for yourself.

An example of this is what type rug to use (or no rug at all). My friends laugh at me for being so crazy about details, but it's the details that many get wrong and then look like they don't know what they're doing. On my limited budget, I didn't have the money to buy the nice, plain, outdoor rugs that would have streamlined the booth. What I did have were two 5x7 oriental type rugs that sorta matched. Hmm... grass and dirt for the floor or two rugs giving the booth a "furnished" look? I went with rugs.

If you're wondering why I'm getting crazy over rugs, it's because most professional art fair setter-uppers are against having rugs with pattern. It's because it can visually draw the eye away from the art work. I get that. What I tried to do, to compensate for that was to use light and light colors to draw the eye upward. 

Here's my booth before any photography is put on the walls:

Here is my booth on the 3rd day with a mighty fan (bright blue! gotta work on disguising that...), and my initial set up re-arranged:

For those reading this who have no clue about art shows and how to set up for them, you will look at this and think, "great job!"-- and I agree, ha!! I mean, with the money I had, the skills I had (and learned), and for a first time out, I think I accomplished a nice booth look. For those who are pros, well... I know... the trunk is something I had hidden but then got tired of having everything crammed away. The table was for a display that I took down and is serving as storage and a "check out" area... I know tables with table cloths (and a red one at that-- again, I had to "shop at home") are usually a no-no, and yeah, the two rugs.

BUT, I feel like I did one thing right: I didn't over-display images. Booths that are jammed with work are going to make most people feel anxious and overwhelmed. While I struggled with what images to show and what to have in the bins, I understand this intense desire to put it ALL out. I don't think it's wise. 

Here's another angle:

A water color artist came over to my booth and said, "Oh, you went with the gallery look!"-- which I guess is true. I don't make gigantic art, I make images that should draw one in to enjoy. It's easier on the brain to go from one image to the next without having to look up, down, all around. (it also helps that I could only afford this many frames!!).

Since this is a blog about Holga photography and my work with the medium, let me get to the part of this blog entry that I really wanted to write about:

Whatcha gonna do when you can't get film anymore?

Do you know how many times I hear that? Do you know how annoying it is to know the person isn't trying to rain on my parade, but is doing so anyway? What's worse is meeting those who like to tell me the "facts"... meaning, they heard a snippet or read a blurb on the internet and now they are all-knowing and want to tell me that the art form I love so dearly is about to crash and burn and take me with it.

NO. Kodak is NOT ending their production of film. They don't sell cameras anymore. Big whup. I have my cameras.

If Kodak no longer makes film, many other places do. I will adapt.

Unless film disappears from planet Earth next Tuesday, I'm not going to spend my mental energy flipping out about the Apocalypse of my art career. I've endured change before and I'll do it again. I'm very resilient.

One of my friends, a fine art photographer who gives me a lot of advice, suggested I look into the Diana camera lenses adapted for digital cameras. This seems like the perfect solution, but it wasn't sitting well for me and I had to think about why. I knew the answer but had never formed it into words.

The quirky look of what is produced from a plastic lens camera is unusual and distinct. I get that many shoot with certain equipment to achieve a look, and I am among them. The problem arises with HOW I shoot and how a digital version of "the look" is not going to cut it.

I shoot with a Holga because it's a visceral way of capturing images. I feel that what I'm seeing in front of me is going to be a great photo. It's hard to explain, but I'll try. I used to shoot with a film, SLR, 35mm camera and would always compose in the lens (meaning, I never went into the darkroom and cropped... cropping is a dirty word in my world). This need to compose so perfectly, watching the edges of my frame so carefully, was a certain style of photography. I enjoyed it, but it's different than what I do with my plastic camera.

With the Holga, there is no through-the-lens view finder. There's a crummy little plastic square on the top, left of the camera that is supposed to guide the shooter, but offers no real exactness. Of course, I've learned to see through this and interpret approximately what will be on the negative, but I can't scan the edges of my view to make sure everything I want and don't want are going to be in the image. This camera is not for carefully composed images, it's for recording a feel.

The fact that I'm limited technically with this camera is exactly what makes it so freeing. I simply "know" when something is good. My eyes are my light meter. I know approximately how far back to stand from a subject to use the "portrait" setting and when I need to put it on "mountain". I like it when something is in sharp focus, but if it's not, then it's not the end of the world (as it was when shooting 35mm).

Like a good memory, the edges are blurred. The feeling is captured, not the perfectly composed photograph.

And so, with a digital camera, Diana lens attached, I lose the looseness of shooting - the very action that produces the real look of my images. It really isn't about the vignetting or soft focus. With a digital camera modified to shoot with a plastic lens, I'd simply be using a different medium that supposedly offers the same effect. But that's just it: it is a different medium. Not the same. It's hard to understand when you're on the outside looking in at the finished image. Seemingly it's the look that I'm after, but that's not the full story. The process is 80% of it. Going digital means the process is lost, and though the physical look may be somewhat achieved, the feeling behind the image would not.

If anyone is reading this, I have to stop and laugh... really? You've hung on this far? This blog entry is for my own scrapbook of sorts. I can go back to it next year and see what all the fuss was about.

Of note:
There's a guy working on a digital Holga, and here's where my interest is piqued a little:
http://www.saikatbiswas.com/web/Projects/Holga_D.htm

Of course, this still loses the beauty of how images on film can show the edges of "Tmax 400" or "Kodak" or the number of the frame... something I love about printing full frame, but other than that, he's getting a lot right.

He doesn't have a through-the-lens viewfinder and what you shoot is only made available when you go back to the computer and look at the images. It's free-shooting like a film Holga. (I do wish he'd add that fuzzy little window, though, I like it!).

Now if he can just make it happen! This is a design of his imagination.

And so I keep dreaming... and enjoying that film is still around.

Getting ready

I'm setting up for my first arts and crafts festival with my photography next week. I'm scared and excited and tired of all my neurotic planning! Not only did I have to print like a maniac, I still have matting and framing to do and a whole display to finish. But despite my panic, it will all get done-- as it always does.

I was reading an article on one of my favorite blogs today (Made in Slant) about a young Argentinean artist who makes gigantic sculptures, mainly with clay. Here's the article, with an alarming photo: http://www.madeinslant.com/2012/05/a-dead-whale-in-the-forests-of-argentina-by-adrian-villar-rojas/

I followed a link in the article to a NY Times article where the artist is describing his artwork and how artists relate to their medium. He says, “It’s the gift the material gives us.” 


I love that. It's how I feel about the Holga and 120 film. 


Many people experiment and use all sorts of equipment and vary their styles. I admire this adventurous nature and yet I don't share it. Not with my photography, at least. I stick with the materials that feel like the best extension of me... the best way to express what I see and experience. 


While printing for the Kerrville show, The Texas Arts and Crafts Festival, I was trying to stick to more, uh, conservative shots. Not that there won't be people there who like the creepy clown head in the middle of a park, but it is the Texas hill country and I'm betting most will be drawn to my more traditionally "pretty" pictures. 


On my last day of printing I had a mischievous spurt of energy come over me and printed my weird teddy bear in the window photo and an old image of a mannequin in Mexico. On a solo trip to the Yucatan one summer, I was in the beautiful city of Mérida walking the streets with my Holga. I shot a bunch of photos of a shop selling formal wear. Mexico style. The mannequin is chained to the outside of the building, the tuxedo is pinned open so you can see all the fancy embellishments, the mannequin has a slightly askew, 7o's style, shag wig on, a mustache (of course!), and one hand is put on the wrong way, making the whole thing just look... off. And awesome.


My friend, who was finishing up in the darkroom while I collected my dry prints, took one look at it and said, "People will stop and look, but no one is going to buy that picture". 


ha! 


Maybe not, but what I love about photography is that it makes people stop and look. If I can create images that make people stop for one second and not think about their lives, their facebook page, their cell phone, what's for dinner, what unpaid bill is due, that their jobs suck, or whatever, then I've done my job. 

The decisive moment

Or maybe that should be "missing the decisive moment".

A couple weeks ago I went to the Texas Livestock Show and Rodeo where I basically spent all my time in the petting zoo laughing while a herd of goats, sheep, and a couple of llamas terrorized children and adults. The lighting wasn't great for Holga photography (it was inside), but I took photos anyway (all underexposed). I went back with my flash a few days later, but the animals weren't up to the same antics! When I was first there, the biggest llama was stalking people and the reactions of the adults, having a llama suddenly appear over their shoulder with an eager and slightly aggressive stare-down, was hysterical. When I went back, there were too many people and the llama wasn't as concentrated on swiftly moving in on each and every person who entered. Also, the giant, pregnant goat wasn't as pushy because she must have been getting enough food. The two younger, male goats weren't rearing up and butting heads like they were on my first visit. I really missed all the action with my flash!

But I did get this, and I'm very happy.

I took one photo and then waited, knowing I might see a better shot unfold. When that turkey ducked down and looked at me with its black eye, I was thrilled.

That was a decisive moment, for sure.

The shot I missed was the cow resting its head on the body of the cow next to it. I saw it, timidly walked up and snapped a photo, only to realize I didn't have my flash on. The cowboy who owned the cows came over to get them up to go to wherever they needed to be and I swallowed my shyness and asked, "Can I take a picture of your cows?" He said, "Sure. I don't care." ha ha! So I went up, right as the cow started to lift its head, and snapped the following picture.

I still kind of like it, but it's hard knowing I missed the real moment I was going for.

I have something I'd like to grump about.
I'm so tired of people saying, "Oh! I love the Holga because you never really know what you're taking a picture of!" As if it's all just chance. Over and over and over and over, I'm just getting lucky with my shooting! Of course, there are issues like unwanted light leaks (I'm in the no-light leaks camp, even though they still get me sometimes), and technical issues, but as far as composition, it's really not a mystery or surprise.

When I shot with a SLR 35mm, I was always extremely aware of the entire frame, what was in it, what was out of it. I was rigidly anti-cropping. Cropping is done at the time of shooting, not in the darkroom. Obviously I had to drop some of that exactness with the Holga, but it doesn't mean that I have no clue what's going to be in my frame. Often, if there's opportunity, I shoot several frames knowing that my desired image will be within the 2 or 3 shots.

I wonder if I'll ever shoot 35mm again? hmmm... for now I'm happy with my Holga. Just out there gettin' lucky!

Buried treasure

When I put down my Holga years ago and quit the darkroom coop, I had 8 rolls of undeveloped film that I just stuck in a kitchen drawer and left to be dealt with later (I'm not sure what my plan was, but waiting 7 or so years to process them probably wasn't the plan). Even though they sat there for years I kind of knew what some of them were-- other rolls were totally a mystery.

Over the past few weeks I've processed the film and found that I have a few images I really like! They're from the rolls I had a vague memory of shooting... a night out in East Austin celebrating Dia de los Muertos.

Here are two I like so far:

I've looked at these two images over and over and figured out (in my opinion, that is), that the first one is graphically more interesting but the second one is a better photo. I tend to like images that tell a story, or suggest that something is going on even if it's a mystery. The Mariachis are just standing there looking cool. The guy with the flowing ribbon staff is looking creepy and there's the figure in the background adding a layer to it. Plus, there's motion in the ribbon that evokes a certain kind of response that the straight up portrait of the Mariachis doesn't offer.

Between the time that I was shooting "for art" and my current situation of wanting to do art but also wanting to make images that will sell (to support my art), I'm finding that I quickly see the distinction in my work, and where it may have bothered me before, it doesn't now. I hope that's not a bad thing. Maybe I should create a label for my blog posts titled "selling out". ha ha! What I'm saying is, a shot of 3 guys dressed up like Mariachi players is nothing all that special, but it's an image most people are going to be attracted to (or is it just me and my special love of Mariachi men?). Now to put this to the test... I'm setting up a booth next week for SXSW and will see what happens (squirm). 

Important question: why didn't the friends of the Mariachi guy in the middle tell him that his make up is really more The Joker than Dia de los Muertos? ha ha ha!!! I love it. 

The other rolls of film had some images I took at a party that I have ZERO recollection of (no, not because of any sort of substance... I just have a selectively bad memory!). People were wearing wigs and though I recognized a few, others looked like strangers! What the heck was going on?

The other recent thing I brought back was a painted portrait for the Dia de los Muertos show I was part of in the mid 1990s at the Mexic-Arte Museum. I had to take apart the metal frame (shrine) I had made to go around the image, and in doing so had to put the photo through some man handling. Fortunately Photoshop can help in such situations. Here's the image-- it's a creepy one!

Other than printing and pouring over negatives both past and present, I've been doing a lot of online research about how to show at art fairs. I'm overwhelmed. Basically, I'm having to do what I did in my purse business and start from the bottom, be brave, and allow time for learning and growing. This is hard for someone who wants everything to be perfect right NOW.

Reviewing the past

The other night I had a total heart attack when I realized my negatives... ALL my negatives... were not where I thought they were. I knew I had a couple notebooks full of Holga negatives from 1990- 2003, but they were nowhere to be found. I turned the house upside down and finally found them buried in a closet where I keep a lot of my fabric for sewing. whew!!

I've been going through the negatives, pulling out the ones that are worthy of re-printing and finding some lost gems. I use the word "gem" lightly-- as in, images that are appealing enough to print and try to sell.

For example:

It's not a wildly unique image, but it has its appeal. I will forever love old stores, buildings, and things that are remnants of the past, and I know many others feel the same way.

Another negative I whipped out to print is this one:

This may be a photo I only print via my inkjet printer because it was hard to print in the darkroom. The top part of the negative is bullet proof and the bottom is super thin. I had to use a contrast filter to pull out any details in the bottom but by doing so had to sacrifice a little detail in the top (like the windshield!). Dodging, burning, etc... too much work for a so-so image. But I do like it for the sheer fact that I know it'll make some people smile (like it does for me!).

I have a lot of work I'd like to post but my scanner broke down today. A new one is on order. I can't wait! I'm sure it'll be so much better than my 13 year old Epson.

Art shows, markets, selling art

I feel fortunate to have years and years of selling experience through my purse business because it's helping me broaden my thinking when it comes to photography.

When I started as a photographer, there wasn't an easy way to make reproductions. You just printed your work and that was it. Time consuming and expensive. Now, with fancy computers, scanners, printers, the internet... it's wide open. This is good and this is bad. While it expands the possibilities for those of us who need affordable outlets to produce art, it also means that anyone can do it.

My friend was talking to me the other day about how photography is a hard area to be in because now everyone has a sophisticated phone that takes photos that "look just like Holga photos". I choose to believe that there IS a difference. Maybe I'm delusional. I think there's more to the art form than snapping a photo and having a cool, computer generated border. As I type this, I'm fully aware that I've seen many iPhone photos with the Hipster-whatever-app applied and thought they were really cool.

Why bother with a plastic camera that you have to load with film ($), take images you won't see until the film is processed ($), then have to print ($) when you can whip out your phone and shoot a photo of, oh I don't know... a crack in the street, and have it look all arty and cool? For free!

But can the images be printed on archival, fiber based paper with rich tones that make you want to stare at the photos and absorb the depth of the images? (or, who cares... add it to Facebook and be done with it). Who's grumpy?

I think I have an overly romantic idea of photography that will always keep me in the darkroom with film and chemicals.

::::

I just applied to my first art show. It was the only one I could enter because I have yet to have a booth shot! This application didn't require one. It's a show in Texas, in July. Outside.

Suffer for art.

I'm working on making displays to show my photography and it's pretty fun. What I have for my purse displays doesn't work for art. It's too utilitarian, too heavy, and not what art shows are looking for. What I'm rigging up, for now, is made with galvanized steel flashing and screen doors. When I'm finished, I'll show you! So far, so good.

Here's an image from the vault:

near Bustamante, Mexico

Live life to the Holga-est

I'm learning, quickly, that my new found love for photography is changing my life in ways I hadn't thought about before. Mainly, it's getting me out of my cave.

To find interesting photos, I have to leave my house. It gives me a purpose for ambling around town and I'm loving it!

So far, so good. In the past few weeks I've had the scary thought of "Have I lost it?" when it comes to shooting new work and knowing my way around the darkroom. I now feel confident that I'm not in trouble. While it will take a little while for me to really start to flex my artistic muscles in this area, I don't feel like it's new, it's just rusty.

Printing came back immediately. It was like I had never left this dark little room full of chemical smells and equipment from over 20 years ago. Home.

(the enlarger in the darkroom coop where I hole away in blissful hours of work)

Last Saturday it was rainy and stormy in Austin, so I grabbed my camera and set off for random adventure. First I drove down a road that I wasn't familiar with but I knew to be that strange part of the outskirts of Austin where the roads are busy but it looks like you're in the country. I took a few photos of cows. Yeah, I know.

I got lost, started heading towards a familiar highway and found myself in my neighborhood again. Being extremely hungry at this point, I decided to pass my house and keep driving towards the little neighborhood deli. On my way I saw something odd flying in the air. In my rear view mirror I saw a guy swinging on a rope swing in his front yard. He wasn't just casually swinging, he was parallel to the ground. This was my first moment of "don't think, park." and I did. I pulled around the corner and walked over to the house. No one was in the front yard anymore so I had to knock!! I do not like doing this.

Judging by the window covering which was a huge tapestry of Bob Marley, I decided these guys probably wouldn't mind an unannounced visit. Two young guys opened the door, smiling. I introduced myself and asked if the one guy would be willing to get on the swing again and let me take photos. He said sure! Of course he did.

This is the only photo I got which is interesting (I chose not to risk my life by getting too close, he was only going about 60 miles an hour on that thing):

After that I went and ordered lunch. While waiting I walked around the little complex that's been in the neighborhood for decades. I saw the barber sitting in his chair reading a magazine so I popped in. He let me take photos of him and then mentioned the beauty parlor next door. Had I been? No. Oh....

He kind of escorted me over and we peeked through the window to see if anyone was there. What I saw was this:

A dimly lit beauty parlor that has not been updated in its decor since the 1950s. The women there all looked like they had been going there for their Saturday appointment since the 1950s.

I went in and the barber mentioned to the owner that I was interested in seeing old photos of the place that she had on the wall. Honestly, I didn't even focus on those. I was too blown away by the elderly women sitting under the big hair dryers and the pink and green decor of the fabulous place.

This is where it's tricky. Do I ask if it's okay to take photos and possibly get shot down/offend/scare/anger or do I chicken out and miss it? I asked. One woman swatted at me with her rolled up magazine!!! HA HA HA!!!!!! But I could tell this was sort of her "bit", you know, "I'm the cranky one!" She muttered something about "your way or the highway" which didn't make a lick of sense but I decided maybe I shouldn't point the camera her direction to be safe.

The woman next to her was curious about my flash so we talked. I took one photo. I hate taking one photo. I like taking a ton. But sometimes you gotta roll with it and not push a situation that's going precariously well. The woman next to her was also awesome. She told me about teaching oil painting classes and talked to me about art. Her name is Waldene. Can you believe it?

This is Waldene, the Mona Lisa smile Waldene.

(in scanning this fiber print, I noticed I had the negative too low, showing too much of the edge on the top and nothing on the bottom. How did I miss that when printing? Back to the drawing board!)

So that's what can happen on a Saturday afternoon if I try. Cows on the side of the highway, a guy risking his life to be a daredevil, a nice barber, a time capsule beauty parlor, and Waldene. It forces me to be brave for the love of art.

Today, another Saturday, I took off around town with my Holga again. My main goal was to find Tmax 400 (which is oddly out all over town). I went to the new Lomography store on Congress and they were out. I looked around, though, and found myself starting to drool over the new Diana cameras. I'm really out of it, I didn't know the Diana was back and had been re-issued (that's not the word, but you know what I mean) in 2008. That's on my wish list for sure! The original Diana was the holy grail when I was in college, this being before, ahem, the joys of finding things on the internet. Finding the Holga in 1990 was definitely the next best thing. And here I am now, with my trusty Holga, still pining for the Diana! And to think, I can walk into a store and buy a new one!

After the Lomography store on 9th and Congress, I was so close to the capital there was no good reason to not walk over to it and enjoy the sun and the tourists. Of course I took photos! So cheesy, but I don't care. There's something a little thrilling about doing the same cheesy thing everyone else is doing all around you. No one judges. 

When I process the film, I'll report. You never know, I may have gotten The Best Capital Photo evah!