left

© kjm

On a trip to Alaska many years ago with Andy, we were preparing for a short jaunt into Denali National Park for some backcountry camping. At the visitor center, where you obtain the frighteningly deeply scratched bear-proof food containers, the park service requires you to watch a safety film. Andy and I snickered at the film's backpacker, who was dressed in a late 1970's outfit, and walked through the tundra yelling, "Hey, bear!" in order to warn of his presence. Funny thing is, once you're actually out there in bear territory, you find yourself shouting the same call (albeit in cooler clothes).

I'm in Ireland right now, and it struck me as I left the Shannon airport for points north, that I've been driving on the right side of the road for about, well, 25 years. Driving on the left is an odd sensation, and I've thought about the usefulness of that film in Alaska. So everytime I get into the car, and at odd intervals while driving, I'll shout to myself, "Left!" And because there can be sheep in the road, ocassionally, "Sheep!"

I'm here for an airline magazine, and when on assignment, I'll never post images here prior to their publication. But I'll still shoot pictures for myself, like this one, above, of a random piece of linoleum in the village of Roundstone. If it were a map of Ireland, I'd have started somewhere above the lowermost diamond, and am now out of sight above. Hopefully driving on the left.

i love this photo, #15

© derek stroup

I love this photo by the photographer Derek Stroup. His pictures from this series look a bit like paintings, and remind me of a flatter, photographic Wayne Thiebaud cake. They contain both nostalgic subject matter and an oddly futuristic presentation. Stroup works his mouse on photographs of candy bars and bags of potato chips that he buys at his local convenience store, and I love that. Don't we all have early memories of buying candy bars at some local drugstore counter? And, of course, the all-powerful and recognizable corporate logo is something that intrigues me and influences my own work.

Of the work, Stroup says, "I am curious about this moment of suspended recognition. With labels, we instantly assign these objects to their proper category in our mind. With labels removed, there is a moment when our categorical impulse is suspended. It is similar, but different from, the sensation of encountering a foreign language. These photographs seem like pictures of sculptures—perfect objects that don’t exist anywhere in the world. "

A small, limited edition book of the work is available through Printed Matter.

within reach: the color of cold

© kjm

We've had a great winter so far in Wisconsin, the kind I remember from childhood.

Ice crystals in the morning light, as seen through my window shade, above.

proving grounds

© michal czerwonka, via the website The Stumping Grounds

On our way back from Kansas City, Marilu and I stopped in the small Iowa town of Nevada to catch a campaign appearance by Barack Obama. In the week leading up to the caucuses, this was a classic candidate event - held in an elementary school cafeteria and filled with down jacket-clad locals, energetic volunteers, and earpiece-toting secret service men.

I have a soft spot for Iowa during election years. Back in 1988, I was a college student in Des Moines, and spent much of that year photographing candidates rather than attending class. On any given day, for months leading up to the caucuses, you could photograph candidates in living rooms and church halls, and rub elbows with photographers like Steve Liss and Ken Jarecke. This was before I had my first newspaper internship, and I learned a great deal from Dennis Garrels, the local UPI staff photographer. Dennis was kind and patient, and at the time there was a great underdog aspect (to say the least) about stringing for UPI. It was an inspiring time for me, setting in stone the idea that I wanted to make pictures for a living.

The woman seated next to me at the Obama event was serious and thoughtful about the candidates - she had seen all the Democrats in person, and was still undecided. Don't get me started on how flawed our electoral college process is, but I'll say this: If the rest of the country was as knowledgeable about presidential politics as Iowans are, we'd all be better off.

as seen: pink bathroom

dots of light from the window shade © kjm

merry/happy

The prettiest Christmas tree I've seen this season is the one above, made by my almost-five-year-old nephew, Kale.

Happy holidays and hopes for a more peaceful new year...

a sad Christmas tradition

© kjm

As a kid, I don't ever remember a fruitcake finding it's way into our house at Christmas. With a mom from Hawaii, early December brought a series of battered, brown paper-wrapped boxes from across the Pacific. They held wrapped presents (usually super cool, exotic surfing t-shirts for us kids) and a bounty of food items not easily found in the Heartland. Sheets of nori, sticky bags of crack seeds (li hing mui), jars of furikake, takuwan, and small blue cans of macadamia nuts. The most prized item in each of these boxes was the Hawaiian Host chocolate-covered macadamia nuts. Thirty years ago, these were exotic and tasty treats, only to been seen but once a year. Unfortunately, the candy took on a smiliar regifting role as fruitcake, and much to our dismay, the boxes went unopened. Maybe my parents would open one box, but the other five were usually taken to some holiday dinner party or office function. "They'd better enjoy those..." is what we always thought.

My Aunty Lyn still sends a box of Hawaiian goodies each year, and mine arrived today - just in the nick of time. Rivaling the chocolates these days is the homemade jaboticaba jelly, still truly a treat in my Midwestern refrigerator. And in keeping with family tradition, the box of (untouched) chocolates will be heading to Kansas City with me, to be given to Marilu's family. They'd better enjoy them...

bookishness

© kjm

Christmas came early today, as my letter carrier dropped off a big heavy box (sorry, Jerry), with copies of the American Photography 23 book. It's beautifully designed, with a die cut cover and 300+ pages of pictures.

The book is laid out in alphabetical order, so my fast food pictures are in ridiculously close proximity to work by Annie Leibovitz, Mary Ellen Mark, Robert Maxwell and Simon Norfolk.

in pocket

© kjm

I'll continue to champion the visual benefits of bad housekeeping. This stone-like ball of compressed paper was found in the nylon pocket of my 20-year-old Patagonia pile jacket today. It only gets occasional wear, so there's no telling how long the paper was turning in the washing machine like a stone on an ocean beach. Likely, it's a pristine white mass of important business receipts.

lucky number?

© kjm

It seems there's a slightly chainletterish game of tag going on in the photographerblogworld. The first I read of it was at Liz Kuball's blog and, slow runner that I am, I was recently tagged by Susana Raab. Not to worry, no Nigerian banks are involved.

I'll skip posting the actual rules, but basically, the tagette is supposed to list 7 strange/interesting life facts, and then tag 7 other bloggers to do the same. No pressure, but if you pass it along without breaking the chain, our President turns into a lump of coal. (OK, I just made that part up.)

So here goes:

1. A career test in high school told me I should be a park ranger. A guy in college once asked me to be a drug dealer. I chose instead the lucrative world of freelance editorial photography.

2. I was born with the name Jason, but my parents changed their minds, and I left the hospital as Kevin.

3. I was a member of a fictitious German disco tambourine band (but who wasn't?). It was reported in the press, so it must be true.

4. My nickname in high school, Gooch, came from a reoccuring bully character on Different Strokes. Some of the oldest peeps still use it and yes, it was meant to be (highly) ironic.

5. Acting on bad peer advice, the first album I ever bought was Foghat Live. Having evolved somewhat, the last album I bought was Rilo Kiley's Under the Backlight.

6. I have a slightly greater than normal fear of dog poop in the grass of public parks.

7. I am not related to Hayao Miyazaki. Or Kevin Bacon.

I won't take it personally if no one wants to play, but I hereby tag Mel Tritten, John Loomis, Thomas Broening, Claire and Jeremy Weiss, Timothy Briner, Kevin German, and Christian Patterson.

as seen: partial cover

Cemetery, Fish Creek, Wisconsin. © kjm

from water to ice

© kjm

A brief Art Basel Miami recap from a much colder location in northern Wisconsin. The photo above is of Mike Brenner's scrappy Hotcakes Gallery setup at the Aqua Hotel, room no. 122.

There are ridiculous amounts of art to be seen at these fairs, and the density can be a bit overwhelming. You get an over-served, post-Thanksgiving dinner feeling, with no Lazy-Boy recliner to come to your rescue. In the 5th hour of looking, another (too large) Thomas Struth picture is like another (too large) spoonful of mashed potatoes that you don't need.

That said, I should never complain about seeing lots of artwork. I took in most of the main fair, and also see the satellite fairs Aqua, Pulse, Red Dot, Bridge, Geisai, APAD, and Photo Miami. And I did get to see some real life photographers as well (wow, someone actually makes this stuff!), including Sonja Thomsen, Amy Stein, and Jeffery Salter. And a treat was meeting up with John Loomis and his fiance for lunch.

A few things that stayed with me were David Almeida's plant photos at Geisai, Mariana Cook's sweet Close to Home series at Lee Marks and some solarized silver prints by a photographer named Anthony Pearson.

don't miss it: darren hauck

© darren hauck

My local coffeetalk pal Darren Hauck has new work, in the form of a multimedia podcast, over at Daylight Magazine. Darren's work couldn't be more different than mine - he's brave and dives right in (he: molotov cocktails; me: just cocktails), and this work is a good example of that. The photographs are from two recent trips covering the elections in Guatemala, and he shares the podcast page with notable photographers Danny Wilcox Frazier and the late Alexandra Boulat.

as seen: fresh snow

If Harry Callahan Was, For Some Reason, Helping Me Shovel This Morning © kjm

Did I mention I'm heading to Miami?

heading south

© kjm

I'm thrilled to have some work later this week at Aqua, an art fair that's part of the larger Art Basel Miami, the four-day contemporary art epicenter for galleries, collectors and art makers. Mike Brenner, a heavy hitter and heavy lifter on the Milwaukee art scene, will bring his Hotcakes Gallery to warmer climes and the Aqua Hotel. Each gallery at the fair commandeers a single room in the boutique hotel, with art stuffed under beds and a hipster crowd factor of 11.

The work I'll be showing is from the Fast Food series, and this is the first time I've printed or framed any of the work. Each image will be part of an edition of 15, and I chose to make c-prints for the first time, as opposed to inkjet. There are certainly pros and cons each way, but I think c-prints are still more uniform and broadly understood in the art world. Terrance Reimer, a longtime acquaintance and great photographer, who works as a master printer at West Coast Imaging, made the mighty fine prints. I'll speak more about the thought pattern behind the size and presentation of the pictures soon.

within reach: this morning

41 Small Observations, 9:34-10:09am © kjm

i heart the dmv

© robert bechtle

Note: this post contains no irony.

I was at an office of the Department of Motor Vehicles today, and I left happier than I was when I arrived. First off, technology has been a friend to the system. There are big boards with LED numbers, so you actually can calculate how long your wait will be. Very civilized - read your magazine, keep an eye on the big number, head to counter #4 when called. Second, it was refreshing to see a jovial (and obviously brave) driving test administrator, greeting young drivers-to-be. Third, those same teenagers were seated waiting with their parents, and there was a nice nervous, excited energy in the air.

Mostly, though, I had a great time watching the drivers license photos being taken. Another good-natured DMV employee (I swear) manned the camera, which instantly sent a digital file to her monitor. She was so pleasant and made her subjects feel relaxed, in what most would consider a horrible way to spend 4 seconds. But here's the icing on the vehicular cake - she only called my first name when it was my time to be photographed, and when I arrived at her counter, she asked quietly how I pronounce my last name. When my license was ready, a few (minutes!) later, she called out my full name confidently, pronouncing it perfectly.

Due to the low tech lighting of the camera, and to my lack of recent physical exercise, I'll politely decline to show you my new portrait. Instead, here's a painting, above, by Robert Bechtle. Were all station wagons green back then?

around here

© mark brautigam

I had a nice talk recently with the photographer Mark Brautigam. Mark also lives in Milwaukee, but I first saw his work on Andy Adams' Flak Photo site. The project On Wisconsin has Mark traveling the state with his 8x10 camera, and making what I find to be quiet, honest pictures.

We talked about projects, day jobs, web presence, big prints, photography sales in galleries, and the virtues of the c-print vs. inkjet. Mark has a new project on the horizon, but the two photos above are new images (seen here first!) from Wisconsin. The woman on the right is sitting in the fire museum in Pestigo, and I love how the details cue you in to how many hours she spends in that spot - the flyswatter, paperback, and space heater all within easy reach.

Trust me, I live here - Mark's photographs feel like Wisconsin.

i love this photo, #14

© Amy Toensing

I love this photo by the photographer Amy Toensing. It was made while she was working on a story about Monhegan Island, Maine, and shows Harry and Doug Odom, with their dog, Taxi. The two brothers, who never married, were icons on the small island - having been lobstermen, merchants and benefactors. They are shown preparing for bed in the room they shared - hanging above each brother's bed is a portrait of the other. (You can see more pictures, video clips and text from the story here.)

Amy was an intern at National Geographic in 1999 when she started working on the story. To me, the picture and the story behind it are in the classic tradition of the magazine. Amy spent lots of time on the tiny (700 acres) island, getting to know the community in an honest way. In the case of this particular image, she had made regular visits to the brothers' home, chatting with them as they played cribbage. One day, in order to show her an old photograph, Doug brought Amy into the bedroom. She knew she'd be back to make a picture of the brothers as they prepared for bed.

But it was only after she had spent honest time with her subjects that she was able to make this gem of a photo. It makes me wonder: as photographers, what simple, yet amazing things don't we see? What incredible and important picture is just down the hall?

as seen: after the fall

while walking with marilu on thanksgiving day © kjm

At my last job, I had a clear view of a ginkgo tree from my desk. One Fall day, the tree lost all of it's vibrant leaves in one dramatic session, which lasted through the afternoon. Of course, the beauty of this annual act is lost if you're not in the right place at the right time. But the trees also leave a concise and soft bed of yellow leaves after the fall.

found: thanksgiving

In a rush this morning to see family in Ohio for Thanksgiving, I only had time for this: a five minute Google Image search on "thanksgiving dinner." Hope your's is full of family or friends, dogs on the couch, and a not-so-burned turkey...

old milwaukee, #4

© kjm

Closed-down grocery, Fond du Lac Avenue.

within reach: two days

© kjm

On Wednesday, there were still vibrant, late fall leaves on the trees in my yard. Today, they're falling fast.

emerging and grateful

Shade Pull In Abandoned Apartment, from the series Camp Home
© kjm

I was thrilled to find out recently that I was a recipient of a Mary L. Nohl Fund Fellowship, a grant for individual artists living in the Milwaukee area. It's a generous amount of money, which is intended for new or ongoing projects. Some of the funds will be used to travel back to Tule Lake, likely in February, for more work on the Camp Home series. And I'm also planning to do more research and travel for the Fast Food series.

A friend asked why I received a fellowship in the "emerging" artist category (there is also an "established" category), since I had been making pictures for quite a long time. In truth, I've only fairly recently become serious about my personal photography - what I consider my artwork, as opposed to my editorial magazine work. So this news is incredibly encouraging, and comes in a year when I feel like I'm really making some creative progress.

as seen: dtw

© kjm

Isn't it interesting how airplanes in flight are such loaded visual images these days? No reason to fear for this one, which was taking off over the Detroit airport on a recent cloudy day. The dot pattern is from the terminal window, covered with some sort of shade-producing dot pattern.

as seen: some time off in gotham

© kjm

This trip to New York was a real, if brief vacation - especially in that I didn't bring the camera backpack or laptop. I'm a bit embarrassed to admit that, but I'm rarely sansCanon, and it was liberating to only sling the new point+shoot around my neck.

Some highlights: hanging out with friends Kitty+Charles, Craig+Kim, Phaedra, Mike, and Josh; chatting up top snappers Andrew, Amy, and Q.; drinks with Josiah, Bruce+Amy, and Christine at the swanky Maritime Hotel; some mighty fine hangover food at Cafeteria; good shoptalk with friends at Redux; a sweet show of Kertész polaroids at Silverstein; a serious slice (or three); and lastly, a delightful surprise finding a show by former bandmate Mark Fox at Larissa Goldston.

We're already plotting our next visit...

out to lunch - back in 5 (days)

Highway 94 Location, 2006, from the series Fast Food © kjm

It'll be quiet here for a bit, as Marilu and I meet up in New York for a few days. We'll be attending the American Photography 23 book launch (the photo above will be included) and have a full dance card of seeing art and meeting up with new and old friends.

Don't stray too far, though - I'll be back with some good news early next week.

within reach: passerine mold

© kjm

The aforementioned trip (plus a few days, I suspect) is the reason for the mold floating in this jam jar/juice glass, seated on a songbird coaster.

up north

© kjm

I just returned from a few days in Northern Wisconsin at my friend Andy's family cottage. I've been going there since we were both in high school, and the place has always been special to me. In the past few years, the look of the cottage has changed a bit - toddler games and toys appear where there previously were none - evidence of Andy's extended family becoming larger. A new generation, including his daughter Eli, is learning to love the place as well.

On Saturday, while Andy scouted out his hunting land, I spent the day with his dog Nali and a copy of The Nature Of Photographs, sipping Alterra coffee and making some pictures (birch tree and pinecone, above) in crisp, refreshing quiet.

as seen: mend

Central Avenue, Phoenix © kjm