I have been incredibly frustrated with photography lately and as a result, have been struggling with my own creativity. The weather in LA has been absolutely perfect for trekking around, exploring and making images. There’s a Nike missile site still lingering in the hills that I’ve been itching to checkout. However, my shiny new 5D and Zeiss lens is still tucked away in my camera bag – an unfitting slumber for such a great tool.
The way that we produce and consume images has really dug into my nerves. It seems that every single image is a call for a tumblr blog. As soon as one gets an idea it must be turned into a blog of similar images. These images are then firmed up into an “official” photo essay. Shortly after, the photo essay is magically reborn as a self-published book.
It all feels so disposable and lacking in spontaneity and chance – two things that photography has always been able to capture and play with. An image rarely gets to be an image and, if you’re an artist that uses photography in a less-than-serial way (such as I do), it seems pointless to keep working.
When commerce is removed from the equation (and the possibility of fleeting “fame”), very few rules seem to hold up.
There is no way I could possibly agree more with this statement.
Via A Lesser Photographer
I apologize for my recent relapse into laziness and not posting. I have been actively working as a guest blogger over at the wonderful and eclectic MIEL. I will be writing under the topic of “Localities” and will focus my attention on concepts like heterotopias in the everyday landscape.
You can find my latest post among many other noteworthy bits over here: http://miel.ohbara.com/wordpress/
Not so long ago (almost a decade) I was in Italy studying color reduction woodcut printmaking with one of my professors from the University of Nebraska. At the time, I was under the impression that I was some sort of gifted, up and coming printmaker. (It is truly remarkable what a perfect storm of ego the mixture of anti-depressants, alcohol, and youth can produce). It seems like an eternity and, by all current accounts it was. I mean, look at this photo… it was taken with an honest-to-gawd film camera because there was no alternative that could do a suitable job. The shock, the horror… the disappointment! I remember returning from this trip (I was 20 and this was my first time leaving the US), dropping off my numerous rolls of film at what I thought was a reputable lab and then waiting. And waiting. And eventually getting some of the worst prints of my life.
Perhaps it is the overcast skies of Southern California that are making me miss Minneapolis so much. Then again, maybe it is just the displacement that naturally follows moving to a new city, one where I have no roots, no paths to calmly wander, and no climate to fight angrily against. Above: a happy mishap with film loading and my old Mamiya 7.