An ending and a new beginning…
I returned from New York City last Saturday. I decided to wait a couple of days before writing an overview of the trip. I wanted everything I experienced, felt and saw to sink in before I attempted to write this piece. The perspective I had hoped those days of reflection would provide hasn't fully arrived. It was a very different visit.
I do know that the events just prior to my travel to NYC had an impact — our dog Conner being ill, the pain and concern generated by my aggravating my lower back issues both played a role in my arrival without the usual anticipation and enthusiasm. In the end, Conner recovered, and the prednisone prescribed by my physician did its job. Yet, somehow, Conner's recovery and my lower back pain easing did not seem to lift my spirits or change my perspective as much as I would have thought.
I struggled the first few days — the crowds seemed denser, the noise and clamor louder, and the resulting disorientation affected my image-making, well, at least that was what I thought. The passage of time has made me realize that I was just not seeing well; I could not find what it was I wanted to make images of. I struggled the entire trip. I was determined to work in color, but I struggled to find anything to shoot. I wrote a post on what I call the decolorization of the Western world (here). I just could not find the color I was hoping for and looking for.
I am not sure where I found this quote, so I am unable to properly provide attribution, but when I struggle with inspiration, I always remember this quote — "Painter and photographer Chuck Close offered what I believe is the most thoughtful answer to this question when he said, “The advice I like to give young artists, or really anybody who’ll listen to me, is not to wait around for inspiration. Inspiration is for amateurs; the rest of us just show up and get to work. If you wait around for the clouds to part and a bolt of lightning to strike you in the brain, you are not going to make an awful lot of work.”"
So, that is what I did: I showed up and went to work. For lack of the color I was looking for, I defaulted to making images of walls and sidewalk "furniture" — mailboxes, power boxes, police and fire boxes, etc. I shot the graffiti, the stickers and posters. Sometimes it was the colors, sometimes the juxtaposition of the various stickers and sometimes just the shape. It was easy to make images without much thought or effort, but it was enough. In the end, the images I am most pleased with are two black-and-white shots — the irony is not lost on me.
The gallery below will include some images I had not posted earlier, along with some of my favorites from earlier in the trip. Also included in the gallery will be just two images from a new project — the new beginning from the title of this post.
I have intended to start working on Polaroid emulsion lifts for longer than I care to admit. Basically, this involves cutting the frame around a Polaroid image off and immersing the image — the clear plastic cover, the emulsion layer, the developing chemicals and backing — into hot water. The water and heat soften each layer, ultimately allowing you to separate them. The cover, chemicals and backing are all discarded, leaving you with a very, very thin emulsion layer. The best metaphors I have found for the emulsion layer are jellyfish and a thin membrane. The real challenge is to shape that thin membrane back to a flat shape and affix it to a piece of paper, and all of this is done with the paper and emulsion layer submerged in water — it takes patience — not one of my strongest personality traits. It took several tries, but I was finally successful. I am looking forward to working on more of these creations. The distortion and flaws are part of the look, they are an exercise in what the Japanese call wabi-sabi (imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete), something I need to learn to accept — stay tuned.
P.S. Thank you to all of you who hung in there and read my various reports of my visit to NYC, and thank you for your comments.
