The Lost Statement

Click on image for larger view.

This quick Photoshop collage is not a part of my recent exhibitions. I put together this comp to compare the different looks of some daguerreotype textures provided by Caleb Kimbrough at Lost and Taken. Nevertheless, I think it proves to be a fitting accompaniment to the short artist statement I drafted for my current show at the Glenn & Viola Walters Cultural Arts Center in Hillsboro, OR.

It turns out that the Arts Center didn't have a designated location to post statements so this brief composition will find its only home here.

* * * * *

I spend a good deal of time longing to be outdoors.

This wasn’t always true. Much of my life played out in the suburbs and cities of Southern California where there are no true seasons— everything blooms and grows unchecked if you water it enough. Leaves don’t turn vibrant colors. Snow never blankets the ground. The sky is perpetually laden with heat and the particulate offerings of tailpipes. In such a place there was little incentive to be outdoors, and I had no real conception of the breadth and majesty of the natural world until I moved to the Willamette Valley.

That first year in Oregon I would drive around the farmlands outside of Salem, or up into the coastal range to the West, and I would witness a nature more magnificent than I’d ever imagined. Who knew the moon could be so large? How is it possible to have concentric rainbows? Isn’t it incongruous how the combines are so loud but create a dusty film that filters the setting sun into a splash of shadowy purple across the fields? In that year I discovered a sublime beauty and, quite by coincidence, I also discovered photography.

Well, I discovered pinhole photography anyway, which is a very primitive sort of way to take a picture; the camera being nothing more than a cardboard box with a hole to allow in some light like a lens would on a “real” camera. To be honest, the pinhole cameras I constructed did a poor job of capturing any of the sublime moments I witnessed, but in their indistinct and blurry compositions I discovered something equally beautiful. These crude images conveyed something about the underlying shape of nature; about nature in motion. A picture postcard of a vista doesn’t tend to do that, it just boasts about being somewhere. An image like that is about conquering a bit of landscape, whereas the pinhole image that takes minutes (or even hours) to expose is about experiencing a place.

Eventually, I began to supplement my collection of muzzy pinhole images with antique photos that had similar properties. I would hunt through flea markets and junk shops for damaged and discarded impressions of nature. Then I would transform both my images, and the found images, into drawings like the ones you see exhibited here. These drawings allow me to adjust the scale of the images and to perhaps even improve upon the original negative by adjusting the composition or contrast of the subject as I draw it.

I suppose I could outline that drawing process here, but it is complicated, and the only important thing to understand is that the process allows me to devote time to each image— more time than one person ever really devotes to a picture these days when imagery in ubiquitous and, quite frankly, exhausting.

The way we spend our time says a great deal about what we value. When I consider these landscapes that I’ve drawn, whether they are places I photographed or places some anonymous photographer felt compelled to record, I realize how important these moments that cause us to stop in wonder- to stop in awe- actually are, and I feel a great longing to step outside and discover everything all over.

August 2009, Portland, OR

Diffusion Magazine

April 19, 2005

Tomorrow we will return to imagery from 2005. Today let's turn our attention to the imagery of 2009. 

Fellow OCAC alum Blue Mitchell has spent the past year creating a magazine devoted to that unquantifiable realm known as unconventional photography. As stated in the recent press release for Diffusion:

Diffusion focuses on unconventional photographic processes and photo related artwork. We showcase artists working in alternative processes, experimental darkroom derived work, analog/low-fidelity, mixed-media photography, as well as unique digital processes. We believe the print market is saturated with traditional photography and conventional digital photographic practices, therefore Diffusion showcase’s artists working with unusual photographic methods.

I am one of a handful of artists profiled in the magazine. Apparently, spending weeks producing a drawn photograph (whatever that means) places me squarely in the unconventional photography camp. Now that Diffusion has created some sub-categories for the unconventional I find myself wondering if I'm more "alternative process" or "analog/low-fidelity." 

Last night, the Director shared his belief that the artwork I create is a physical re-creation of using Adjustment Layers in Photoshop to build an image. That might be the most pithy insight I've ever heard about my work, and I'm ashamed to admit that I'd never thought of it that way before.

However, plenty of what I have thought of before awaits you in Diffusion, along with some sage words from Blue Moon Camera's Zeb Andrews, and a phenomenal gallery of contemporary alt process photographs. Click on over to www.diffusionmag.com for a digital preview and purchasing information.

Upchuck

January 23, 2005

I wanted to share a real slice of Americana with some friends from France. Where would I take them? What was a defining cultural experience in the heart of LA county? I tried to ignore my inclinations toward irony— how about the tar pits, or that stretch of Long Beach that you couldn't swim in do to an elevated bacterial count, or the Costco in Azusa— but I couldn't help myself. I took them to Chuck E. Cheese.

Apart from the blaring games, screaming children, garish colors, petrie dish carpeting, animatronic abominations, and the sickly smell of burnt cheese I think they found it intriguing. They just kept thanking me in a most emphatic way and I, being somewhat humbled by all this gratitude, assured them that there were many other cool places I could show them. After all, "I grew up among this." This was home.

* * * * *

Inside the Chuck E. Cheese was a new-fangled photo booth that made "drawn portraits" in the style of the old masters Leonardo, Michelangelo, or Rembrandt. I could hardly contain my excitement and immediately insisted that my wife and I have our portrait done. You see, I have a history with this sort of portrait booth that can be traced back to my final year of art school when one such booth played an important role in my thesis.

Here is an excerpt that will explain:

Prior to my thesis year I’d heard rumors of a photo booth that produced a finished drawing of the subject rather than the traditional strip of small glossy photographs. . . My excitement to see this marvel was severely curbed however. . . when I came to realize that the Portrait Studio was little more than a booth that took your photograph, ran it through a filter or two in Photoshop, and signed the resulting inkjet print on bond paper with the name Rembrandt, Leonardo, or Michelangelo (depending of what artistic medium you wished to have your visage rendered in), I was both disappointed and amused enough to initiate a project entitled Self Portraits of the Masters.

Self Portraits of the Masters consists of three framed portraits created by the booth introduced by a computer-printed reproduction of the sign that advertises the booth on its exterior. This poster-like display invites mall denizens to “Step Inside my Studio” and receive “Your Portrait by a Famous Artist in Minutes,” as well as giving a heavily abbreviated list of steps that are required to obtain this masterpiece. Once inside the booth you realize that masterworks don’t come cheap, because a black and white “drawing” costs $3.00 and an original “oil painting or color pastel” work runs $5.00. Leonardo da Vinci works only in pencil, Michelangelo draws with color pastel, and Rembrandt is a virtuoso of both charcoal and oil paint. I was hardly surprised at the Portrait Studio designers choice of representative artists, wondering only about the absence of Van Gogh (I later decided he would prove a poor choice because even in his own day few people appreciated the portraits he painted), because these three giants of the art world are probably the most recognizable artists to the majority of people.

Unable to quell my penchant for irony I obtained large renderings of one of Rembrandt’s painted self portraits and a copy of da Vinci’s supposed late-in-life self portrait in red chalk. I then held these images up in front of the Portrait Studio’s camera, chose the appropriate artist settings, and waited for the booth to present me a portrait of the old master created by the old master (the printouts are even dated by the artist, so now I own a Rembrandt and a da Vinci from 2003). Since Michelangelo’s only known self portrait was as a flayed skin within the Last Judgment on the Sistine Chapel’s anterior wall I decided that the third artist depicted should be the booth itself. Placing a mirror in front of the camera I indicated that I’d like an oil painting in the style of Rembrandt. The resulting image shows a blurry, almost atmospheric, reproduction of the camera that photographs the subject, the screen where one watches their portrait being “drawn,” and the arrows indicating where to direct your gaze when capturing your pose.

After spending so much time and money obtaining these portraits I felt it only proper to protect and present them in a manner befitting their significance, so I purchased three plain, sale-priced wood frames from Aaron Brothers Art Mart and proceeded to pain-stakingly gild them in metal leaf. I cut two decorative mats for each image that complimented the antique luster of the frames. As for the informative sign that precedes the row of portraits, I printed it out on canvas paper, mounted it behind a scratched piece of plexiglass and set it in a bright red frame that was unceremoniously screwed to the wall. This presentation roughly approximated the way such signs are often presented on kiosks, carnival booths, and at bars.

Finally, each of the three portraits is underscored by the gallery tag placed beneath it on the wall. Each tag lists Leonardo, Rembrandt, or Portrait Studio as the artist, each title is Self Portrait except for the Portrait Studio printout which reads Self Portrait in the Style of Rembrandt, and all three list the supposed medium that they’re created with rather than ‘inkjet print.’ While this work obviously satirizes notions of artistic originality and authenticity in our culture, it also attempts to parody the display methods used to imbue art objects with preciousness, as well as to draw attention to some of the problematic notions or art engendered by Post-Modern and Conceptualist ideology.

For those of you who are visually inclined take a look below:

Leonardo da Vinci, Self Portrait, 2003

Portrait Studio, Self Portrait (in the style of Rembrandt), 2003

Jeffrey Baker, Self Portraits of the Masters, 2003

Lipstick on a Pig

January 13, 2005

At a certain point I realized that the fidelity of my Photo Phazer images were a bit sub-par compared to other pixel based imagery I was viewing on the net. I found myself second guessing the naive profundity of the low-tech photograph and turned to Photoshop to elevate my washed out bits and bytes to sublime documentation. 

What these movie stills really needed, I decided, was some more saturation and a liberal dose of "film grain" to wash away the mushy tones and geometric pixilization.* After some cheap employment of filters and sliders to a few images I realized that you can't just put lipstick on a pig. So I put aside all insecurities and consoled myself with the thought that when the entire project would be exhibited quantity would more than compensate for any lack of image quality.

Little did I know that only Blogger would be exhibiting this project. Welcome back dear insecurities!

*Is pixilization a word? It seems to be used freely by people griping online about LCD picture quality, but I would hardly deem that authoritative proof.

Recap

You'd think that two weeks of inclement weather would have compelled me to blog more; after all, my car was under 26" of snow and my winter vacation was extended by four days, but alas I found myself with far too many seasonal commitments to take time to type. Furthermore, as the days progressed my back log of topics to blog about ballooned into a frustratingly insurmountable number. Paralysis set in. As did the mulled wine, and two weeks drifted past.

As I value you very much, dear reader, I will summarize some of the major tidbits of recent experience:

1. With thirty pounds of clipped cedar branches and four unexpected days off I refined my seasonal garland creation skills. Every lintel in the public area of the house was treated to fresh cut evergreen boughs, prickly holly, and many strands of white lights. They cast amazing shadows on the ceiling at night when the white lights were left on to cheer the hearts of pedestrians who might be peeping through our windows on their cold journey through the snow.

2. During numerous bouts of insomnia I uncovered a slew of websites devoted to free Photoshop tutorials, free PS brushes, and free vector art. These searches were driven by a recent need to create very specific vector art for a holiday gift project. More on vector art and its inherent awesomeness in some later post.

3. The aforementioned insomnia might have been slightly aided by a blossoming interest in hot spiced wine which, mysteriously, disappears at a far faster rate than the same wine served straight from the bottle. Now that I have a basic Gluhwein recipe under my belt I may devote next year to devising a mathematical equation that explains the rate of wine disappearance in relation to the temperature at which it is served.

4. This Christmas brought an abundance of photography related swag to your truly, perhaps indicating that I have been a better behaved person this year than in others. My excitement knows no bounds, and as soon as I've geeked out on camera-specs I will be heading out for a day or two of experimental shooting in the PDX area. 

5. I can't seem to shake Blonde Redhead from my, um. . . head. If you aren't familiar with this band then today is your lucky day because you can both discover their music, and do so for free, by downloading a number of jaw-droppingly good tracks off CNET.

I hope the holiday has been a happy one for you and yours. Let's all turn our thoughts now to the year ahead and how, at this moment, it holds nothing but promise and glory. 

20 Minute Layers

The three most important things I took away from my Photoshop classes at PNCA:

1. Blending modes (found in the layers palette) may follow some set of arcane parameters, but you don't need to bother knowing anything about them so long as you're building your image in a reactive manner— that is, you're not aiming for a specific outcome but are embracing chaos as integral to your design.

2. You need fodder. Alot of it. 

And you can't rely on the low-res offerings of a Google image search to provide said fodder for you (for both practical, and ethical, reasons). The fodder you need should contain high-res images of all manner of subjects, textures, and colors. Even more importantly, rich fodder really needs an array of hand-made paint textures, tea stains, ink splotches, and scratched negatives that have been scanned into the computer.

Now, as I've been both photographer and painter for years, compiling such a library of source material was simple. After a few hours of scanning I had enough potential layers to last me a decade. Perhaps even more exciting was the realization that the aesthetic quality of this fodder was of little importance. Mediocre images of rocks and lichen could be blurry, poorly composed and underexposed; it wouldn't matter one bit when these images were applied as a blended adjustment layer to another image. 

3. Know thyself. Infinite possibilities can lead to endless tasks, so without a solid sense of your aesthetic leanings you could end up working on one image for months.

If I'm working toward a deadline I'll start a project with a vague sense of what I'd like to convey and some imagery that might work together toward that end. 

However, if I've just got a few minutes that I want to put toward playing with an image, I'll simply start layering textures and tones at various levels of opacity until I see a direction emerge. This is more an exercise in intuition than Photoshop technique, and while not all of the images are destined for any life beyond the hard drive, they are a good way to jump start the right side of the brain.

The photograph below was the starting point for the image above. I played around with it for about twenty minutes before moving on to other things. Other things like typing this. 

I don't believe this image is finished yet. The left eye seems oppressively heavy, and there's not enough visual noise to disguise the string. But a starting point has been established and the direction found. All I need now is another twenty minutes.

Absence

After feebly attempting to coerce comments out of you and coming up with so little response you may have believed you’d been party to my leaving the blogosphere for good. No such luck! I have been absent, to be sure, but for many a good reason which I will present in brief:

1. I had to produce nine painted paper-mache Commedia dell’Arte masks.*

2. I was uncovering the mysteries of “layer styles” in Photoshop in order to finish my assignments for the dubiously named Photoshop Expert class I was taking. To date, I would characterize myself as more of a Photoshop user than expert.

3. I was planning a graduation ceremony.

4. For nine days I was part of a class road trip in which I guided eight adolescents down the state of Oregon and into the Bay Area.

5. I only just returned from a three-day teacher retreat on the Salmon River.

6. I was finishing a web site for a client that had to go live before any other computer-related activities could take place (such as writing this for you to read).

My hope is that these will all serve as adequate excuses for my absence. I wouldn’t want to set a bad example and have you decide to disappear for the next few months. After all, this summer has big things in store for me and mine— it would be a shame for you to miss out.

* With the help of family and friends who were guilted into service by a desperate and sniveling moi.

Venetian Spectre

If there’s an introductory course to Photoshop you better believe that there are going to be at least a few watered-down Dave McKean homages to emerge during the semester. It can’t be helped.

When asked to create a Photoshop collage this week for homework I found myself floundering. After all, I’m an accidental photographer and a scavenger of images; I don’t create them from scratch! Not since art school have I been required to generate something from nothing! Then, to my horror, I realized: I am in art school again.

Because the possibilities within Photoshop are limitless I decided to set some parameters. Firstly, I would only use imagery from my recent trip to Italy and secondly I’d create something “in the style of” the aforementioned Dave McKean. This seemed fitting considering that for many who came of age in the 90s McKean’s covers for Sandman where the first indication of the imaging power promised by Photoshop.

Furthermore, I’ve been slowly building up a repository of sketches for larger drawings inspired by the artworks and heritage of Italy. Venice left the deepest impression. It exuded an odd allure coupled with a mysterious foreboding. This underlying sense of dread was cemented by a startling nightmare I had during one night of our stay. While the image above isn’t a part of these initial sketches it does manage to capture some of the same unsettling qualities. Here is my footman for that opulent epicenter of decay. He seems a fitting guide for the quiet narrow streets and crooked, shuttered, homes.

www.stain-drop.com

It’s open! My wife’s online store of handmade plush creations and unique fashion accessories has entered the electronic ether and I was quite pleased to use this auspicious event to guide the aesthetics of my final project in Photoshop Essentials at the Pacific Northwest College of Art (PNCA).

What’s that? You ponder how I might also be taking classes at PNCA while working full time as both artist and educator? That makes two of us. Or three of us, if I count the entire readership of this blog and myself. But it happens to be true. I’m enrolled as a Certificate Student in PNCA’s Graphic Design program (which is apparently going to be renamed the “Communication Arts” program this fall when PNCA decides to add some direction and objectives to this cash cow).

I’ve had a mixed experience with the Certificate Program thus far, having joined it (as is often my fate) in the midst of a major overhaul in structure and cost. Having had both inspiring classes and profoundly frustrating experiences I would say that the jury is still out on whether I will ever recommend it to anyone. Had I not been the product of an exceedingly rigorous and well-considered art program I might be less critical but the truth remains that OCAC will be a hard act to ever beat.

The final assignment for Photoshop Essentials required that I fashion a multi-layer image composite from a variety of images. Clean selections and believable integration into a single image seemed to be the primary criteria for the instructor. I went so far as to add a criterion of my own: the resulting image had to accurately portray the inherent charm and charisma of my wife’s creations. After all, I wanted to please this most important of clients. Isn’t that what a degree in graphic design should really emphasize— customer satisfaction.

Maybe I should let PNCA know that.