meat/meet

© kjm

Maybe it's because I'm focused visually when I'm working, but I find it comforting to be in places where the people around me are speaking another language. Overhearing Americans talk while traveling can also be comforting, but mostly it spoils the notion of solitary exploration. People usually assume I'm a Japanese tourist, so most of the time I can eavesdrop on conversations.

While in a butcher shop in the Chianti wine region (the shot above is actually from different butcher shop a few towns away), I heard two women talking. Not one to make small talk (and thereby ruin others' notion of solitary exploration), I couldn't get over the fact that they sounded like Milwaukeeans. And not the cartoonish Fargo movie version of a Midwestern accent, but a subtle intonation that I thought I recognized. "Are you from Wisconsin?," I asked. And sure enough, both women lived about 5 miles from my house.

no, grazie

statue, boboli gardens © kjm

pattini

© kjm

Three (of the many) differences between Italian and American men:
1. They have to cut their own pizza pies.
2. The shoes.
3. The shoes.

as seen: real/temporary

plazzo pitti © kjm

as seen: gaze

shop window, via guicciardini © kjm

as seen: shadow

david, numero due replica © kjm

The first and only other time I was in Florence, it was on a college graduation, sweatshirt-wearing European trip with cheap wine-seeking buddies. Of Florence, I only remember two things - enjoying some tasty bread and cheese while our group argued about something, and being exhausted while visiting the Uffizi. I was tired and a bit museumed out by this point in the trip, but then I rounded a corner and everything changed in front of Da Vinci's Annunciation.

home and away

mom on the front step last summer © kjm

Happily, I've just arrived in Florence, Italy. But it was a bit disappointing leaving home yesterday morning, as the whole family (minus Marilu) were in town. My brother, sister, their partners and my nephews all drove in to attend a golden anniversary party for our closest family friends. All the bedrooms were occupied, the refrigerator was stuffed, cards were played, and the favorite local pizza was ordered. If my dad were still alive, he would've done a much better job of parking all the cars in the driveway. Best of all, though, I think my mom was thrilled to have a full house again.

within reach: bug

big bug on the living room window © kjm

edit

© kjm

I'm working on editing the Camp Home pictures, which is proving to be a bit harder than expected. My intention is to make a first broad edit of about 50 pictures, which will eventually be further winnowed down. I pride myself on being a good editor of my own work, but I find this more difficult than sifting through an editorial assignment or smaller personal projects. The criteria for selection is multi-layered, and I'm trying to balance aesthetic qualities with content and the element of symbolism. And these are some of the most personal pictures I've ever made, so that makes it harder to be completely neutral. The "ownership" I feel with these pictures is strong, and I feel a kind of larger responsibility in releasing them.

All that said, it's an incredibly gratifying, if excruciating task, and I'm loving every minute of it.

i love this photo, #21

(Salman Rushdie, 1999) © chris buck

I love this photo by the photographer Chris Buck. On his website, Buck tells the backstory to some of his wonderful portraits. About this shot of Salman Rushdie, he writes:

"When I was given this assignment, I was asked not to tell anyone about it. When you're told something like that, the first thing you want to do is tell people. But I couldn't, and I thought about it as a sort of test to see if I could not tell anyone. My parents, girlfriend, office manager, nobody, I didn't tell anybody. I didn't know how seriously to take the fatwa. What if I told someone and they told someone and they told someone... and I have him posing, looking out a window and someone shot him in the face? It wouldn't look good."

within reach: thorny

© kjm

It's Sunday morning and Marilu is messing around with the dried remains of some purple thorny plants...

if, then: photographers

A few months ago, Marilu and I got a flat tire while driving from Winslow to Phoenix. After being a bit rattled by the blowout, we both thought, "Where's Amy Stein when you need her?" We were happy to be alive and would have gladly sat for a photo. Along that same train of thought...

If the overgrown mess that is my "backyard" catches fire this summer, I'd call Larry Schwarm before I call 911. The next time I go backpacking, I'd like to have Jill Greenberg along. If she's photographing the bears, they can't eat me. But if I'm on a tamer hike in Arizona, maybe Mark Klett will come along to photograph some saguaro cactus. If I were a rock star, I'd hope that Jim Herrington would meet up with me on the road somewhere between gigs. I don't usually set a formal table, but if I did, I'd let Laura Letinsky in after a meal to do her thing. On an epic cross country road trip, I'd save room in my car for Stephen Shore and Timothy Briner. If there was no car involved, I'd want Mike Brodie to watch my back. If I were a hipster L.A. actor, I'd tell my publicist that only Amanda Friedman could photograph me. Lastly, God forbid, if my freelance work ever dried up, I'd want Phillip Toledano to photograph my deserted office.

pretty/dirty

unwashed plate, 6:38 pm © kjm

within reach: saturation

© kjm

When we get lots of rain, like we have for the past few days, a part of my living room wall leaks. What's nice about living in an industrial space, though, is that water finds itself quickly to a big central floor drain. But some things lie in its path, like the ever-present stacks of magazines I tend to hoard. Above, a detail from the water-soaked November 2007 issue of PDN.

within reach: fur

© kjm

It's my blog, and I can post cute cat pictures if I please. (But don't worry, this won't become a trend.)

This is my mom's cat Caramel, basking in some beautiful light while giving me the look that Marilu describes as, "You've got two hands - why aren't you petting me?" Caramel occasionally vacations at my house and will, without a doubt, go down in the feline history books as a giant among companions.

quickbooks

© kjm

I'm excited that I'll be attending the summer portfolio review at Photolucida in July. The reviewers for this particular event are all from the Northwest and West, and I'm eager to show my Camp Home series, which has its roots in the story of west coast Japanese American communities. During the war, the Tule Lake internment camp became home to residents of Washington, Oregon and California.

This will be my first review, and I'm seeking the advice of friends and beginning to prepare. Among other things, I'm printing some small books - to be able to show work more informally than the prints I'll also be bringing. This is my first attempt at books like this, and I have to say, they've been fun to design. For the most part, I'm pleased by the quality of the iPhoto books from Apple (above), but I'm thinking of trying out Blurb as well - any suggestions?

little witness

© associated press/chris carlson

Even though he was sleeping through most of the fanfare, I'm thrilled to know that my 5-year-old nephew was present to witness some history last night in St. Paul. When he entered the arena with my sister and brother-in-law, the Obama button under his little coat set off the metal detector. He had picked it out himself, and it read, "Let's Get To Work." Amen to that.

room for cream

© kjm

I've been logging my daily personal spending for the past few months. It's humbling, to say the least. Guess where most of my money goes?

new portraits

© kjm

I've started a new portrait series for a book project that Redux is organizing. The subjects are young adult members of the Oneida Nation, one of 11 Native American tribes with reservations in Wisconsin (the most of any state east of the Mississippi). On Tuesday, I met and photographed Sunshine, left, and Jerrel, right.

i love this photo, #20

Sandy's Deli (towers) © hee jin kang

I love this photo by the photographer Hee Jin Kang. It's a small part of a larger series, in which she photographs small details and vignettes in her parents' business, a deli in New York City.

“Through this photographic investigation of a place, I created a portrait of my parents without pointing the camera directly at them. Working with a 4x5 camera, I saw layers of accumulation, and objects that, in their disarray, made rhythmic juxtapositions. This accrual of stuff can be peeled away to reveal something simple, poetic and intensely personal, even within a public space like a Korean deli."

And of this particular picture, she says, "It's only recently that I've begun to realize the significance of September 11th to this series. I've lived in New York for most of my life, having grown up here. Two weeks after 9/11, I had to leave New York to go back to London and finish graduate school. When I returned a couple years later, I felt a strong need to spend time with my parents though I didn't really know why at the time. I started photographing at their store, Sandy's Deli, partially as a way to feel closer to them."

like 10,220 mornings ago

© kjm

Waking up each morning while at the B&B in Tulelake had me flashing back to 1979 - this is the same clock radio I had when I was 13.

project next?

mt. shasta from county road 104 © kjm

I have an interesting idea for a project involving Mt. Shasta, which I had hoped to begin this week. But in the end, I couldn't pull myself away from making pictures for Camp Home, and never made the drive over to get started. It'll have to wait until my next trip.

camp home: leaving

© kjm

I'm leaving Tulelake today, heading to Seattle for an assignment. What a great week this has been. With each visit, I feel more informed about the area and it's people, and hopefully that's reflected in the pictures I'm making. I was able to fully immerse myself in the project, and that's been a real treat.

I had wonderful conversations all week - about the internment camp history, about the homesteaders' history, about farming and weather, about ancestors and grandkids. Thanks to Beverly, Kenny & Evelyn, Wendell & Lela Mae, John & Aline, Jacqui & David, Thorton, Fe & Bob, Elona, Joe, David, Louie, Jessie, Carol, Brodie, Otto & Judy, Tim, Helen, Marty, Jerry & Mary Ann, Brandon, Jerry & Elizabeth, Dave, and Bobby.

I'll be back again soon, I hope.

camp home: play

© kjm

The aspect of youth and play can be found here, though most of the kids who grew up on these farms are now parents and even grandparents themselves. But their presence remains in the form of old basketball hoops, a grandchild's toy soccer ball, 4H awards hanging in barns, a game of tic tac toe scrawled onto a barn wall.

camp home: color

© kjm

In many of the barracks-turned barns and storage sheds, there's a familiar color palette to the elements found. Often, the contents have sat for many years, and there's a layer of neutralizing dust, which desaturates the color of cool metal tractor parts and the warm brown Ponderosa pine. These pictures, above, were made yesterday in three different buildings.

camp home: growth

© kjm

When making pictures for this project, I'm focusing on capturing the human element that exists within the structures - often the small physical details that show a life that's been lived in these former barracks buildings.

But the natural world can also say a lot about human presence and about the passing of time. In the past sixty years, trees and lawns have been planted and cared for around the houses and foliage has grown wild around some of the outbuildings and barns.

camp home: stopping and talking

© kjm

I pulled the car over yesterday to talk with Herman, who was in his nineties, and was filling the gas tank of his atv. It turns out his house wasn't an internment camp building, but we chatted a bit, and he suggested I see his neighbors a bit farther down the road. John and Aline were really friendly and there was a lot to see, including three outbuildings and their their home (details above), all former internment camp buildings. Further down the road, I stopped to see David and Jacqui, who both grew up on homestead farms, and who now run an organic horseradish company. Jacqui has produced a video about the homesteaders, and both were a great source for local information. My last stop was to photograph Jacqui's childhood home, where I had a nice, long visit with her mother, Helen.

Today: more stops, more talks, more pictures. I'm having a ball.

camp home: meetings

© kjm

Two pictures made yesterday: Wendell and Lela Mae's parents (both sets), left, and a rake in Marty's storage shed, right.

I'm meeting some really terrific people this week, and my depth of knowledge of the area and people's experiences here is growing. I've heard lots of stories about the early homesteading years, and about converting the camp barracks buildings into houses where children were raised or important equipment was stored. I continue to be impressed that a strange knock on the door can lead to hours of conversation, shared meals, and the retelling of family histories.

camp home: findings

© kjm

Two pictures made yesterday: history books, left, and a hunting cabin, right.

camp home: part two

© kjm

I arrived back in Tulelake yesterday, and settled right in. I started driving and looking, and after my first ever unpleasant conversation with a building owner, things returned to normal. I met Beverly, who was welcoming and informative, and who had two buildings on her property. They had long ago been made into small apartments, used to house migrant workers during the potato harvest. One building had chalkboards and served as a small school for the children of the workers. Cows now grazed around the buildings, but they all moved off a bit too quickly to be photographed properly. Instead, a few details, above.

I do, in fact, have internet access here, so will hopefully continue to post work this week.