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An experiment.

Unlike yesterday’s picture, this one is real. It was made on black and white film, printed and eventually scanned. Then, I tinkered with it.

Why this change from spring flowers? Simple. Until my back heals properly, I’m a little house bound. It’s not as bad as you might think. It is painful as it could be. But, it will heal. Eventually. Some day.

I have to bone spurs on my lower spine. Bone spurs are not a problem in and of themselves. They are just extra bone growth usually brought on by wear and tear. The problem occurs when they touch nerves,  muscles and other tissues. Doing the stretches that I do, is one way of preventing that. I haven’t felt like this in the seven years since the problem was originally diagnosed. Bouncing around on Super Sunday caused the issue.

But.

I didn’t realize it at the time, or even until a day or two ago while I was treating it as if it was hip related. It’s not. Now that I understand the problem, I’m using RICE, pain meds and not doing of much of anything. If it doesn’t start healing on its own in the next day or so, I’m off to my primary care doctor who will have to refer me to a orthopod who I don’t know. Their course of treatment is usually a local cortisone injection and muscle relaxers.

Except. I get bored doing nothing.

I thought I would scan and tinker with old pictures. It keeps my mind active and engaged. Sometimes, I even forget the pain. All good.

Of course, my studio chair is designed for someone who isn’t hurting. It’s a real live professional office work chair that I bought for $10 at a professional office re-sale store. It looks brand new and was once part of an office lease package. I’m fine when I’m sitting in it. But, getting up…

Ow, ow, ow.

The picture was made in Paris. France. A few years ago. The original print is actually okay. Based on how I’m feeling, I thought I’d make it a little moody. A little evil. Looking.

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Over the steps.
Taking a walk.

Direction changed. Slightly.

This work is opportunistic. I go to the picture. Or, where the dog leads me. For those of you who are a little new to Storyteller, I post something called, “What the dog saw.” The series has no schedule. I just add to it when she finds a picture. She found this one.

So.

Here’s what I didn’t do. I didn’t over saturate the color. I didn’t add much in post production. And, I didn’t use a camera. 

Once I was amazed by the process. Smart phone. Snapseed. WordPress. Now, I think the whole thing is overused. Snap a shot, mess with it and immediately post it on some social media. Usually Instagram. 

Sorry to say this, but that’s not a photograph. That’s a snapshot. I’m going old school on this one. A photograph, no matter what technology used, is printed on paper.

That’s it.

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Different by degrees.

“All art is autobiographical.” “All meaning is made by the viewer.”

This little project may come to a quicker end than I originally thought.

Because.

I have no idea what this means to me. I’m fairly certain that it’s not autobiographical. It’s a little peaceful. Neither my work or I, thrive on a steady diet of this. I’ll work toward building a little portfolio of this gentle style, but it’ll have to be dovetailed with other work. Personal or professional.

Even with this picture, I did a little tinkering. Not so much that you can tell. But, the first two images of the series just looked too muted to my eye. So, I brightened things up. Just a bit.

Oh yeah. I’m awake way too early.

 

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Blooming Lilies.

Unlike other regions of the country, we in Southeast Louisiana are into our second phase of new spring blooms. Some flowers have bloomed, flowered, died and now look like typical summer foliage. This has been going on since mid-January. We only had about four days of winter cold. We’ve already had many low 80 degree days.

I can hardly wait for summer.

We expect a fairly wet rainy season because already the gulf waters are freakishly hot. I remember the last time gulf waters were hot. I’m not going there.

 

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Softly in the spring.

Spring is about change. Rebirth. Change.

Maybe.

All I know is that I’m going to make some changes. Some to me. Some to my shooting style. At least for what I am loosely calling the spring series. As you know, my general style is bright, high color, contrasty and fairly graphic. When I photograph something like flowers, I usually frame them very tightly. Then I work them in post production. That’s what I started out doing with this first spring series. Something happened. The wind blew and I moved to keep up with the picture and I found this kind of strange crop. I don’t normally chimp, but I wanted to see if the picture I thought I made was really the picture I made. It was.

It is more about the space in between than the flower, itself.

Aha.

Something a little different for me.

I set out to TRY to make more of them. I failed way more than I succeeded, but so it goes.

I’m staying off the streets for physical reasons. But, if the truth be told, I really am tired of photographing events like second lines, Mardi Gras Indians and even Mardi Gras itself. I think I’ve done what I can with those subjects.

If I was really, really deep into the culture I would see the little changes and different years suits would be a big deal to me. If I could find different angles for Mardi Gras that might help. But, I don’t know enough people to say, “hey, let me up on your balcony or on your roof.” The other day I realized I don’t very many people in the city. At least very well. Just call me an iconoclast. That’s why I live in a “compound,” behind a fence.

I’ve been sort of casting about for a quiet project. This might be it. The light has to be right. The scene has to be right. And, I have to be right.

Make no mistake. I’m not staying with this forever. I’m not a nature guy. I’m really not a flower guy. I just like what I like. Remember, I’m the guy who, when you ask what kind of flower is in the picture, I reply “a yellow one.” I’m really just clearing my mind for the next personal project. Whatever that might be.

I’m going to dispense with the photo technique for a while, except to say that for this series, it’s all in how I saw the image. There is minimal post production. If anything, I tune pictures down a bit. I want them to be soft and gauzy. If I wasn’t such a wimp, I’d actually do that in the camera.

You know how that goes.

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Change. In the air. 

Spring came. Leaves fell. Seed pods fell. Pollen escaped from the pods. Allergies blew up. It’s bad. Real bad. Everybody is walking around sneezing, sniffling and coughing. Then the stuffy head stupids arrived. 

Nothing helps.

We hope for rain. It’s due later today. Maybe it will knock down the seed pods and clean the pollen out of the air. Or not.

The picture. It was made on a dog walk. Post production made it what you see. The color isn’t additive. It’s subtractive. 

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Wildman John.

It’s not that I’m out of pictures of Super Sunday. It’s because I’ve used my take for a week. I may be boring you. And, the culture is hard to understand. Especially if you don’t live in New Orleans. Even though it doesn’t look it, there is a lot of ritual. A lot of protocol. A lot of ceremony.

So.

I thought that I would conclude with a little portfolio of pictures about one man who I’ve been knowing (as they say around here) for about five years. Wildman John. His suits are always very, very good. But, I think he out did himself with this one. Whew. He understands his culture. He sings. He dances. He walks up and down the street, greeting people along the way. Then he walks the parade route. As big as his suit looks, it is smallish and more traditional. Some Indians make suits that are about twice this size and have massive three-dimensional  components to them.

The pictures. Follow him around a bit over the course of the late morning and try to find the moment. Or, at least try to piece together enough pictures to tell a little story.

Resting.
The man, himself.
Pretty, pretty.

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Wildman John takes a stage.

Art.

Let’s start with this. From Bob Dylan. A brand new interview about music, art and the nature of things. It’s here on his website  https://bobdylan.com/news/qa-with-bill-flanagan/  should you want to read the entire piece.

Here’s just a bit, as it applies to my thoughts for today.

“I’m sure it has, there’s always some precedent – most everything is a knockoff of something else. You could have some monstrous vision, or a perplexing idea that you can’t quite get down, can’t handle the theme. But then you’ll see a newspaper clipping or a billboard sign, or a paragraph from an old Dickens novel, or you’ll hear some line from another song, or something you might overhear somebody say just might be something in your mind that you didn’t know you remembered. That will give you the point of approach and specific details. It’s like you’re sleepwalking, not searching or seeking; things are transmitted to you. It’s as if you were looking at something far off and now you’re standing in the middle of it. Once you get the idea, everything you see, read, taste or smell becomes an allusion to it. It’s the art of transforming things. You don’t really serve art, art serves you and it’s only an expression of life anyway; it’s not real life. It’s tricky, you have to have the right touch and integrity or you could end up with something stupid. Michelangelo’s statue of David is not the real David. Some people never get this and they’re left outside in the dark. Try to create something original, you’re in for a surprise.”

From me, the key phrase in all of the is, “art… is only an expression of life, it’s not real life.” The second telling phrase is, “it’s tricky, you have to have the right touch and integrity or you could end up with something stupid.”

We’ve talked a bit about art and photography here, on Storyteller, and at other places. Mostly, we’ve talked about the components of a particular picture. Just using the pictures from Super Sunday, let’s ask the question, whose art is it anyway? Using just the top picture, of Wildman John, whose art is it? To be sure, that pretty suit is his work. It came out of his head after referencing what he knows of history. But, by framing the picture in the way that I did, the photograph is my art. Besides, where else can you buy two beers for three dollars?

Same.

With the other pictures. Most of them are just seeing. Locating the subject within a particular scene. And, being a little patient. Or, by moving quickly. The baby was made by being patient and waiting for mama to turn in a certain way. Turkey Neck was made by seeing this guy standing there working his smart phone (what else?) and rushing to a point where I could line him up against the sign. Of course, these days I don’t rush anywhere very quickly. That might prove to be a good thing.

The rest of the pictures were made by my own stumbling around. Keep moving and you’re bound to see something. Dylan talks about some monstrous vision. Sure. I kind have it too when it comes to street events. Only for me, it’s simple. I want the participants to located in their neighborhoods. I want you to see them on their streets.  Even though I often make very tight portraits, those are a kind of desperation picture knowing that I haven’t made the pictures of my vision.

That’ll happen a lot. It’s the nature of the things. The beast. The game.

To be clear. That’s my vision. I don’t question anybody else’s dream. I’m not the arbiter of anything, except my own work.

Color. All of it.
On the fence.
Baby of the scene.
Turkey Necks & Pig Feet
Her routine.