seeing with your eyes

© kjm

I just finished a backpacking trip in the Northern Cascades of Oregon with my friend Steve. It was fun to catch up with Steve on our somewhat annual trip, and the location and weather were spectacular. On trips like this, I usually don't bring my camera with me - it's a nice little vacation from taking pictures. There's lots of picturesque things, as you can imagine, but sometimes it's frustrating not having ALL your gear, in order to make a picture correctly. Without the whole kit, I'd just assume do without.

My brother-in-law Mark has a phrase for my nephew Kale when he's in china shop-type situations: "Look with your eyes." (A particularly good phrase for Kale, as Marilu and I think he's a bit of a Mini Zen Master.) So, channeling Kale, here's what I saw, and will hopefully remember: A pin-dropping quiet forest of enormous Hemlocks; an insane variety of mushrooms - from enormous, Grateful Dead hat size, to sponge-like, to creepy and slimy; tiny red salamanders swimming in a shallow lake; a plate of Trader Joe's Indian food and garlic naan; a snow-capped Mt. Hood; strange, unopened pinecones that were gnawed on by some little creature, leaving a pile that looked exactly like pencil shavings; a glassy mountain lake at sunset.

In full disclosure, I did take a few pictures of Steve, with his point & shoot, that I'd like to submit to the NY Times' Why We Travel column. Vacations have to be paid for somehow...

room at the inns

© kjm

Marilu and I took a break from the Phoenix heat (still!) to spend last night in Flagstaff, AZ. It's a great place - with laid back and friendly folk, a mountain town fashion aesthetic, no Starbucks in the town proper, and regular trains that can clear your sinuses with the volume of their whistles. It's thanks to the history of those trains that Flagstaff has a bundle of historic hotels - and the fact that the town sits right on Route 66 probably didn't hurt. We chose the charming room no. 42 in the Weatherford Hotel, above left (tip: avoid no. 59, which sits practically in the hotel bar).

i love this photo, #12

The Empty Plate, New York, 1947 © Irving Penn

I came across this wonderful Irving Penn picture recently, and I don't remember having seen it before. Which is a bit odd, because his book, Passage, is one of my all time favorites. This photo, to me, falls somewhere between his carefully crafted still life work and the richness of his portrait work. It also pleasantly reminds me of the work of Laura Letinsky and of this photo by Kelly Shimoda.

early places: searching for semi gloss

Corner Of The House On The Napholz Side © kjm

The house could really use a paint job, but our low-bidding-and-laid-back house painter is being a bit too laid back. The days are getting colder and shorter, and he's gone MIA. I'm not sure if it'll get done before the end of Fall. I helped my brother paint the house one summer, and Bruce Springsteen's album, The River, had just been released. As we painted (he up high, and me safely on the ground), we played the album on Kurt's Dual turntable (sweet!), and propped his big teenage boy speakers out the window.

my so called collection, #8

Herman's bed, Kenner, Louisiana 2002 © alec soth

Amy Stein posted recently about finding affordable photographs online from places like Aperture, Blind Spot, and SF Cameraworks. She has a great picture from her Stranded series available right now over at Humble Arts Foundation.

In 2004, I was able to get this Alec Soth picture from the Museum of Contemporary for about the cost of two months of winter heating. At the time, I had the money, and that's not always the case. But even if I didn't, it'd certainly be worth wearing my winter coat in the house for a while...

within reach

© kjm

One of the things I love about having a blog (besides the lucrative product endorsements), is that it's a place for certain pictures to have a home. A danger of doing assignment work is that you can put yourself in sleep mode until the phone rings. It's possible to be aware of interesting images around you, but what would I do with the picture once taken? Even the work I consider personal is defined somewhat rigidly by project. Easily brushed aside in some professional sense, the danger is losing the curiosity and spark that started me off in the first place. I tell young photographers to take lots of pictures - why should that be any different for me?

I don't know him, but I'm a fan of Channing Johnson's blog. The pictures he posts are small and heartfelt, and it seems like his camera is always in his hands. In my case, I've started to shoot more of what I used to pass by, and some of those subjects are in the space I occupy. It probably helps that I let things sit untouched, but I swear that's not on purpose.

as seen: the world as flat

Nightstand, Ox-Bow © kjm

I'm in Michigan today, on an assignment to photograph at Ox-Bow, an art school and artists' residency. It's a wonderful place, and though it sounds like brochure-speak, I felt more relaxed the moment I arrived yesterday. I met a local artist named Stephen, who told me about having had a brain aneurysm two years ago, and how he was still working to reconnect and realign his thoughts. He told me how, after the aneurysm, he lost the ability to see in three dimensions. He had regained the ability, but it still was causing problems for him artistically. Isn't the act of photographing is a bit like the opposite - seeing things in three dimensions, and then capturing them in the best way in which they'll be seen in two...?

as seen: a man in uniform

©kjm

I had an assignment last week to photograph an 85-year-old WWII veteran named Keith. We had a lively conversation about his time in the war, about the manner in which he was shot by a German soldier (remember: never throw a third grenade from the same spot), and about my Japanese American relatives and family friends who had served bravely during the war. Truth be told, probably 75 of my 90 minutes with Keith were spent talking. As his lovely wife Carol put it, "He can talk all day about the war - and he does."

But this was one of those great assignments where you get a free pass into someone else's life and stories - and it made me miss newspapering, where these moments happened more often. Over the phone, I had asked Keith if he had any mementos from the war, which might look good in a photo. When I arrived, his old dress uniform was there, and when he put it on, it still fit him like a glove. Carol, who'd been married to him for 56 years, smiled and told me she'd never seen him in it.

tinytinygroupshow, #3

I had intended to open this show pre-Labor Day, considering the theme. But since it's still in the 80's here in Milwaukee, and I haven't yet put my white shoes and belts away, there's still time to Go Outside And Play.

Note: you might need to click on your screen once more to enlarge the show)

[ 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 assistants. There will be no openings, so please don't ask for free wine and cheese. tinytinygroupshow is merely a place to have a brief look at some photography, by photographers known and unknown, in a manner that hopefully provokes thought. ]

lights on, nobody home

N. Milwaukee Avenue Location © kjm

Thanks to photographer Michelle Nolan, who pointed me toward a closed-down Burger King in Chicago recently. This one was pretty fascinating, in that there was serious graffiti on the outside of the building, and from the sidewalk, it seemed like it had been closed for a while. But inside, there were random lights on, the floors were mopped, and everything was orderly...

happy labor day

©kjm

now playing: the lures!

I found this illustration in an old book titled, Esquire's Book Of Fishing. It was a cheap antique store find, and I figured it'd be a nice addition to a friend's cottage. Aside from the fun illustrations (don't you just want to hug Deep Runner #2?), it struck me that all the lure names would make great band names. I'd totally pay $10 to hear Subsurface open for Darter...

as seen: something new

© kjm

At an early newspaper internship, I worked with a photographer who'd occasionally let me ride with him as he looked for feature art. On a slow news day, a photo of a someone painting a picket fence, or kids playing in a sprinkler could make the front page. Whenever he saw someone doing something - anything, really - he'd turn the car around and say, "What the Hell was that guy doing?," in this excited, amazed tone. The funny part was, it was usually some very small visual happening, but he was both surprised and excited at the possibility.

Yesterday morning, while sitting at my desk in the usual Adobe-inspired haze, I saw this photo, above, and said, "What the Hell is that?" It's also a very small visual happening - shadows on my office wall, but for as many days as I've sat at my desk, shadows have never appeared that way. It's a combination of a sun through trees, a window shade, old plastic window insulation (the lines), and who knows what else. Anyway, very long story short, I love how much depth there is in the image, and it reminds me of some kind of Japanese print.

Mostly, I'm happy at the thought of being unexpectedly surprised.

my so called collection, #7

Another flea market postcard, but isn't it gorgeous? It's so graphic and textural, and I love the broad ink strokes, which covers up some mysterious handwriting beneath.

it's not just a stick, uncle kevin

Zenya's Slingshot ©kjm

I had a great visit with my brother Kurt, his partner Ruth, + my SuperNephew Zenya in Yellow Springs this weekend. Here's a picture, inspired by Timothy Archibald's recent pictures of his son's world, posted on his blog. I've always been a fan of Archibald's editorial work, and his blog seems like a fun diversion to more personal work.

as seen: wall, indianapolis

©kjm

more early places

The Light In Mrs. Johnson's Room ©kjm

I've been photographing my childhood home for years now, in an attempt to capture places that remain unchanged from my youth. At some point, I began calling the series, Early Places, because I knew that there were other pictures to be made, outside of the house.

Last week, I spent a quiet afternoon inside my former grade school, wandering and looking, and feeling like everything had become smaller. The school is two connected buildings - one from the early 1900's, with terrazzo floors and dark, varnished wooden doors - and the other is from the early 1960's, which now seems very mid-century modern cool. Both buildings have been lovingly cared for, and I was surprised to see how little had changed in all this time.

While in the school, I felt the way I do when I'm making pictures in the house: lucky - to have this chance to closely examine something, some place, from many years past.

old milwaukee, #3

©kjm

Barber shop, E. Capital Drive.

i love this photo, #11

© steve peixotto

I love this photo by the photographer Steve Peixotto. It was published in Wired magazine (for a story titled, "The Church of the Non Believers"), but I saw it for the first time in the August 2007 Communication Arts Photography Annual. It's a wonderful photo illustration - the image is direct and clean, but it's message is revealed after a few seconds of viewing it. There's the implicit action of someone removing the cross that creates further visuals, at least for me. Lastly, it just feels like a magazine picture that most readers would enjoy, regardless of their take on the story.

as seen: wisconsin dells

©kjm

I spent yesterday shooting in the Wisconsin Dells, a popular vacation spot for upper Midwesterners. It's an interesting mix of really beautiful geography (a result of slowly retreating glaciers) and modern tourist capitalism (a result of rapidly increasing water park technology). Our family never went to "The Dells" when we were kids, so this was my first real visit to the area. The Star Motel Resort, above, is just one of many old school motels along the town's main strip.

a picture and some words, #2

Left: Untitled (building, Richmond, Indiana) ©kjm
Right: Line from the 1988 film, Another Woman

wish i were still there, #6

©kjm

Well, maybe not yesterday. I spoke with my Auntie Lyn in Hilo, Hawaii (above), yesterday, and she said they were hunkering down for Hurricane Flossie. So I was happy to hear that Flossie veared north last night, sparing the Big Island of much bad weather.

on polarity

©kjm

I was thinking today about balance and events and polarity. And how strange it is that one person's best day ever can be another's worst.

a little sunday worship

On Sunday mornings, Marilu reaches first for Frank Rich's column, and I reach (sadly yet confidently) for the Sunday Styles section. I will always be fascinated with Bill Cunningham's work, but I especially like to start the Sunday Times with the wedding section. Here, for your enjoyment (keep score at home!), are Eight Shallow, Yet Entertaining Categories For Subjects Of The NY Times Wedding Section:

• Couple Who Looks A Bit Too Much Like Father and Daughter (The Fred & Jeri Thompson Award)
• Couple Who You'd Actually Enjoy Having Over For Dinner
• Couple Who Probably Should Have Gone The "Bride Only Photo" Route
• Heterosexual Couple Who Look Kinda Like a Gay Couple
• Couple Who Snuck By Without Employment By Morgan Stanley (The Bootstraps Award)
  
• Gay Couple Who Look Kinda Like a Heterosexual Couple
• Couple Whose Mouths Are Exactly The Same (really)
• Second-Tier Pedigree, But Friends With A Copy Editor Couple

a picture and some words, #1

Left: Untitled (Paris), from the Flea Market series ©kjm
Right: Lyric from Wedding Song by the band McCarthy Trenching

as seen: ready-to-work

©kjm

I had an assignment to shoot in a foundry recently, and it made me feel as soft as a baby's bottom. Everywhere you turned, there were huge guys pouring molten pots of iron into molds, hammering metal castings, and just generally working extremely hard. It was a place that makes you question the origin of all the things you consume daily.

Even the workers' footwear (as seen on a posted safety manual, above) is more hardworking than mine. Truth be told, I've been wearing rubber photoboy flip flops for most of the summer.

i love this photo, #10

© kirby pilcher

I love this photo by the photographer Kirby Pilcher. I found his work through the latest Hey, Hot Shot! show, and I'm drawn to the undisturbed stillness of his work. The pictures in his Room Temperature series were shot in his apartment over a nine month period. Of the work, Kirby says, "I am interested in the extraordinary compositions that can be found in the ordinary spaces that I inhabit..."

old milwaukee, #2

©kjm
West Greenfield Avenue.

tinytinygroupshow, #2

Since the first tinytinygroupshow was a success (no damaged artwork, no sales, no lawsuits), here's the second show, just in time for your weekend. The theme: Room Rate

Note: you might need to click on your screen once more to enlarge the show)


[ 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 assistants. There will be no openings, so please don't ask for free wine and cheese. tinytinygroupshow is merely a place to have a brief look at some photography, by photographers known and unknown, in a manner that hopefully provokes thought. ]

bad housekeeping as art

©kjm

Title: "My Half-Filled Coffee Maker After Being Away For More Than A Week." I'm sure it's been done before, but I could make a project out of the grim macro details in my refrigerator...