home and awake

frames, Udaipur, India © kjm

Back home now and trying to catch up - with Marilu(!), on sleep (23 hours of travel to get home), and on lots of emails. I'm really excited about the Mary L. Nohl Fellowship show, which opens tonight (6-9pm, if you're in the area). There will be 27 pictures from the Camp Home project in a large grid, and I'm excited to see how the installation turned out. I hope to make it through the opening both awake and slightly charming.

Inova will host an opening and reception to honor the Nohl Fellows on Friday, October 10, from 6-9 pm. Inova curator Nicholas Frank will give a gallery talk at 6:30 pm. Address: Kenilworth, 2155 N. Prospect Ave., Milwaukee, WI

John Gresl, Mark Klassen and Dan Ollman (Established Artists); Annie Killelea, Faythe Levine, Colin Matthes and Kevin J. Miyazaki (Emerging Artists)

as seen: night and day

Jodhpur, India © kjm

buckle up

© kjm

Until yesterday, I thought my most interesting backseat experiences had been in Istanbul. Marilu and I were there together and shared one hair-raising drive in a taxi; she spent another alone, emerging from the cab looking like she'd seen a ghost (her own). The traffic here is intense, not for it's speed, but for density and variety of wheeled and hoofed participants. They are masters of the merge, with lots of chaotic traffic circles and scooters flying into traffic from side streets. Best not to look watch too closely.

ely to delhi (1 stop)

ride to the hotel in delhi tonight © kjm

I arrived in India tonight to start a travel assignment, after just a day at home following the week-long canoe trip in Minnesota. The 15-hour flight from Newark wasn't as bad as I'd thought - and I realized that it's not necessary to pre-order a vegetarian meal on a flight to India. But because I was able to sleep so much on the plane, I'm awake and it's after midnight here. I leave early tomorrow morning for the city of Jaipur.

Two great meditations on the topic of jetlag: the movie Lost In Translation, most specifically the scene where Bill Murray arrives in Tokyo and peers out the car window; and a wonderful essay by Pico Iyer titled, Nightwalking, from his book Sun After Dark.

i love this photo, #24

Road To Shasta © Erika Larsen

I love this photo by the photographer Erika Larsen. I've been a fan of Erika's work for a while, and really enjoy the gentle but serious nature of her portrait work. This particular picture, from her series One If By Land, embodies for me the emotion that comes from travel - from experiencing a new place for the first time, and for the unknown journey ahead.

About the picture, Erika says, "I was sent on assignment to photograph the spiritual community of Mount Shasta. Mt. Shasta is considered a sacred mountain. Numerous mysterious legends and psychic messages speak of the significance of Mt. Shasta as a place of powerful earth energies. This was the first view I had of the mountain as I was driving towards my hotel. It was like a beacon."

post kfc

N. 27th Street Location, #1 © kjm

This one is close to home - drove by it last week.

within reach: quack

unlucky ducky © kjm

[within reach is a series of photographs examining the environment of home in detail]

i love this photo, #23

© kurt tong

I love this photo by the photographer Kurt Tong. It's such a delicate and mesmerizing picture - I found myself straining to see every 72 dpi pixel I could on screen. It's taken from his project, People's Park, in which he documents the current state of public parks in China, once an important cultural and societal space in a country that has changed greatly. He describes making the picture this way:

"It was a 6 week trip to photograph fading parks in China and this image was taken right at the end of my trip. I guess I was working harder to look beyond the more obvious stuff, with me running out of film and everything. I first noticed the rows of birdcages (there was about 20 of them) and thought it would make a nice image. As I was 'looking' the shot, I noted the painted mural on the wall, in particular the painted birds. It was such a nice juxtaposition, the real trees with the caged birds against the fake bamboo and free birds. The colors were quite muted too except for the crazy plastic cages. It worked out really well, it just fit in with the theme of the project perfectly. The mural reminded me of the propaganda posters of the communist past and the plastic cages of the new industrial China with its people still caged and controlled."

not just a flyover

Highway 66 location, #1 © kjm

I'll be canoeing all this week in the beautiful Boundary Waters region between Minnesota and Canada, the home to more than one thousand (no lie) non-motorized lakes. I'm really looking forward to meeting up with the old buddies, particularly because our annual trips have been harder to keep on track, what with family and work.

Unfortunately, I'll be missing the opening Friday night of Photography MIDWEST: A Seven State Juried Competition, of which the photograph above is included. The show was juried by Lisa Hostetler, who's doing great things at the Milwaukee Art Museum, and also features work by my friend, Mel Trittin.

While sans electronics this week, I've scheduled a few auto-pilot blog posts...

art yard

© kjm

I love that scene from Hannah and Her Sisters when Max Von Sydow screams, "I don't sell my art by the yard!" There actually will be a yard-ish photograph in my near future (stay tuned), but for now, this is the largest batch, if not a single picture, I've ever produced. Twenty-seven pictures from the Camp Home series, fresh from the framer, for the upcoming Nohl Fellowship show. Today is Christmas early - I'll open them, examine each for any problems, and label the backs.

within reach: color

uneaten tomato © kjm

[within reach is a series of photographs examining the environment of home in detail]

as seen: resin

arcosanti, arizona © kjm

fishing/thinking

sky above where dad fished as a young man © kjm

My dad was a passionate fisherman for many years of his life. As kids, we would open his heavy, brown metal tackle box to look at its strange, colorful contents, and I have early memories of him cleaning Lake Michigan salmon in the kitchen sink. One of his oldest friends recently told me that he still has a fishing pole that my dad gave him 50 years ago. In middle age, due in part, I suppose, to the corporate nature of his work, he took up golf and stopped fishing.

After Marilu and I caught a few fish during the family reunion, I decided to take along some of my dad's old gear along on an upcoming canoe trip. His tackle box, at some point, had changed to a newer plastic one, but I found all the contents as I remembered them: daredevils, rattlers, bobbers and sinkers. I took the contents and 10 fishing rods out to Andy's house for advice. Most of the fishing I've done as a younger man has been with Andy, so this was a fun conversation to have over a beer. He pointed out which lures to take, examined the rods for the best choice, and wound new 8 lb. test onto an old reel. Andy will be on this trip, and I love the idea that we could catch some big lake trout for a shore dinner.

But this is a conversation that I would have loved to have with my dad. It's one that I can imagine quite clearly - with him peering into the tackle box and poking his finger around the lures. He'd know just what I should bring.

[Sky Above is a new small series]

with reach: perennial

wilting glads on the kitchen counter © kjm

When Marilu's here, she spends lots of time working with my mom in her garden. As a kid, our garden was mostly the same from year to year - smallish rectangular areas with tomatoes, peonies, and unruly bushes that my dad tried to tame. But in the past few years, it's taken on a whole new life and scale. We joke about who should be more grateful - my mom, for Marilu's guidance and help, or Marilu, for the access to Northern soil to sink her hands into.

In truth, it's probably me who's the winner. Though I've got a black thumb and am not much interested in gardening itself, it's a real treat to see the two so happy.

[within reach is a series of photographs examining the environment of home in detail]

within reach: read

(last) sunday magazine on the couch © kjm

[within reach is a series of photographs examining the environment of home in detail]

within reach: scurvy

© kjm

Marilu's the fruit eater in our house. I don't hate it, but my face doesn't light up the way her's does when confronted with fresh summer fruit. She left Monday for Phoenix after a lovely week here, and I found this today in the fridge.

[within reach is a series of photographs examining the environment of home in detail]

within reach: wash

soap © kjm

[within reach is a series of photographs examining the environment of home in detail]

happy labor day

Foundry Pattern Maker's Office, Beaver Dam, Wisconsin © kjm

good/buy

© kjm

With all the interesting places to collect photographs online these days, here's one you might not have seen: A print sale has been organized to help Tim Janicke and his family pay for medical expenses related to his brain cancer, radiation and chemotherapy. It's been many years since I've seen Tim, but he was one of the fine folks at the Kansas City Star who were kind to me and who taught me much during an internship at the paper. Photographers like Bill Frakes, Bill Luster, Jim Richardson and Pete Souza have contributed to the sale, and pictures are still being added.

I have one matted 8x10 print of the image above that's part of the sale. It was shot in a West Maui rainforest this past January. If you're a reader of this blog and end up buying a print (mine or any others) to help Tim, let me know and I'll send you one of my booklet/print sets.

within reach: shock/awe

moldy onion © kjm

The strange mold on this onion even shocked me - and when it comes to housekeeping, that's not very easy to do.

[within reach is a series of photographs examining the environment of home in detail]

tinytinygroupshow, #6

Where were you at noon on Sunday, August 17th?

I, for one, was eating an omelette (Japanese style: onions, a little shoyu and sugar, cold rice on the side) in my mom's kitchen. I watched the clock on my phone turn to 12:00 Central Time and knew that at that moment, 11 photographers were working harder than me. Whether at home, on vacation, working in the field or watching their children - each was making a single picture to capture what they found before them.

[ tinytinygroupshow is a mini electroexhibit of photographs based around a basic theme. There are no gallery hours, price lists, commissions, lengthy wall texts or attractive gallery attendants. tinytinygroupshow is a place to have a brief look at some photography, by photographers known and unknown, in a manner that hopefully provokes a little thought. View past tinytinygroupshows here. ]

Note: you might need to click on your screen a second time to enlarge the show

within reach: window as muse

© kjm

377 days later and I still find it captivating.

[within reach is a series of photographs examining the environment of home in detail]

within reach: flightless

rusty metal flamingo in the afternoon light © kjm

[within reach is a series of photographs examining the environment of home in detail]

photolucida

5073A-19617 © kjm

On the second day of Photolucida Northwest, I overheard another photographer say, "I'm really sick of hearing myself talk about my work." At times, I felt the same way - I repeated the same description of my projects so many times - to reviewers, other photographers, and people attending the public portfolio walk. But that repetition helped me distill the story into a succinct nugget of information in a way I hadn't before. I think we photographers can spend so much time visualizing our projects - and the artist statements can sometimes take a back seat. We all need to be able to speak about our work intelligently, and I think this was an important step for me.

It was also exciting and liberating to talk about my artwork and not my editorial work. Unfortunately, I usually feel the need to validate myself when it comes to my magazine work, to talk about clients I've shot for, etc. Boring. So to have people judge my project photographs without that baggage was really terrific, and I feel really proud of my personal work, to a degree that I don't think the editorial work can compete with.

This being my first review, I asked friends for advice, and read carefully the Photolucida "how to" pdf and parts of Mary Virginia Swanson's book in preparation. All were spot on. I brought 16x20 prints of the Camp Home work and 8x10 prints from the Fast Food series, and most often, there was time to show people both. Merch-wise, I had with me a few iPhoto books, a bunch of the 38 booklets (minus the print) and postcards representing both projects. I loved being able to give a viewer one of these things, and people seemed pleased to have something to take away.

Twenty minutes goes really fast. I've never speed dated, but I think I now know what it's like. Some of the reviews were more engaging than others, but in general, I think the work was well-received. People were honestly interested in the ideas behind the Camp Home series. And there were a few really great meetings - two of which will hopefully lead to work being shown (cross fingers here).

Even though they were keeping all the boats afloat, the Photolucida folks were easygoing and kind. It was fun to finally meet Shawn Records and to have nice conversations with Laura Moya, Laura Valenti, Bryan Wolf, and Christopher Rauschenberg. And I had inspiring conversations with the photographer/reviewers Geoffrey Hiller and Raymond Meeks - both of whom I think make work with unique conviction, in completely different ways.

And how fun is it to just be surrounded by a bunch of photographers? The 'portfolio walk' was a nice way to see work of all shapes and sizes by the other photographers. A few I had the pleasure to meet: Stephen Chalmers, Chris Dunker, Alex Emmons, William Gardner, Wendy Given, Harrison Higgs, Mark Jaremko, Nate Larson, Tara McDermott, Motoya Nakamura, Alexis Pike, Mike Rebholz, Daniel Schmeichler, Sika Stanton, Lori Triburgo.

as seen: repair

© kjm

At our family reunion, my cousin Millie, a retired teacher, brought out a box of old books and comics for my young nephews to read. I'm told we used to read these same books many years ago.

For the record, I caught two (small) Northern pikes from the deck of a pontoon boat.

venue

© kevin german

I have to confess to not having seen more than a minute or two of the Olympics. Between vacation and lots of catching up, there hasn't been time. No medal stands, lip-synching children or tandem-anything. The photographer Kevin German is in Beijing without credentials to cover the games. But maybe thankfully, since he's creating lovely photos of the city and it's people from behind the fence - and posting them on his blog, Wandering Light.

i love this photo, #22

A Teton—St. Anthony Idaho (2005) © Alexis Pike

I love this photo by the photographer Alexis Pike. Here's a description of her Human Nature series, and of this particular picture:

As a sixth generation Idahoan the landscape of the Intermountain West is an influence on my work, it’s a part of my personal history; the landscape is part of my family. I grew up in two very distinct areas of Idaho: the scenic area of Stanley Basin—which sits at the base of the Sawtooth Mountain Range—and the town of Idaho Falls—a common community that revolves around agriculture, religion and nuclear power. Growing up in these two regions gave me the perspective to understand the tourist’s attraction to the West and my own self-absorbed pride in being from the West.

The murals are often found in working class areas in route to tourist destinations. With a surge of wealthy outsiders buying the West, access is being denied to the locals but they stake their claim to the picturesque land by depicting it within their communities and I’m staking my claim as a native Idahoan by making these photographs.

A Teton was one of the first images I took in the series. St. Anthony was a natural point to begin the work, it is the town my mother grew up in and the town is close to the area four generations of my family ranched, land that is now settled with million dollar cabins. St. Anthony sits as a gateway to Yellowstone National Park, Island Park, Grand Teton National Park and Jackson Hole Wyoming, however the town of St. Anthony is depressed with empty store fronts, abandoned buildings, and a median income of roughly $26,000.

hope

© kjm

I recently spent an afternoon photographing kids and their families at Children's Hospital in Milwaukee for the project Flashes of Hope. The non-profit organizes photo shoots of children with cancer and other life-threatening illnesses. It was a fun and rewarding experience, to say the least, and I hope to do another shoot soon. There are 28 local chapters (and growing) in cities across the country, so please consider donating your time or a little money for a great cause.

picture maker

© corey arnold, left, richard avedon, right

In applying for a new health insurance plan, I was presented with this list of "ineligible occupations." I'm so glad I chose not to go the route of professional basketball player.

Adult entertainer/dancer
Air traffic controller
Armed Forces personnel
Asbestos/toxic chemical worker
Boxer/prize fighter
Circus, carnival and amusement park performer/worker
Commercial fisherman/crew on overnight excursions
Diver (professional skin or scuba and ocean rescue/recovery)
Explosive worker
Oil and natural gas worker (on and off-shore)
Professional motor vehicle racer
Professional athlete including but not limited to: ballet, baseball, basketball, football and wrestling.
Structural steel worker
Stunt flyer/stunt person
Underground miner

gone fishin'

© kjm

Off to a family reunion in Northern Minnesota, filled with cousins, nephews, lakes and old stories. Marilu and I will have a selection of tasty Wisconsin microbrews and artisan cheeses in tow to impress the East Coast cousins.

I have a few entries which will post automatically while I'm gone - otherwise, direct all inquires to the bearded guy in the flannel shirt.