The Business of Business or Not & American Photography 25

Sometimes I am forced to wear too many hats.  Whatever happened to taking pictures.  I struggle with this business of photography.  When I'm over extended and far from my reason for it all I feel like I am skating on thin ice.  Is it being a woman or being terribly codependent that I feel as if I must try to fix and try do everything. I can't do everything.  I can't remember everything.  I can't know what I don't know.  I can't squeeze blood out of a turnip.  I take pictures.  And the quality of those pictures depends largely on having time, money and team work.  And then sometimes it rains.  Well, a lot of times, it rains.  

On another note...while tic tic ticking through websites I came across the Selected images for American Photography 25.  The imagery this year seems amazingly fresh to me.  Take some time and enjoy.  You might be inspired.  Clemence de Limburg is who caught my eye and in particular her home page image of Gitty and her daughter Esther Miriam having tuna salad on toast.

Look3

Look3.  Limited time to blog, but must show.  If your looking for inspiration check out the Festival in Charlottesville.  Let's get a photg. group together for a road trip to support fellow photogs. and get much needed fun.

Hey Hot Shot

I know this is a bit late.  I meant to post this for those photographers who do drop by from time to time.  Hey Hot Shot is now accepting entries for an opportunity for emerging photographer artist to have their work reviewed by top curators, photo editors....have their work promoted online and  have an exhibition in a nyc gallery.  Good luck....it is an international competition and going on it's 5th year.

Bidding and Quoting and Communication

Being a home owner I am given a lot of opportunity to learn more about my business.  This week I have been getting quotes from gutter companies.  Each time it rains I cringe because I know the gutters I have now are lacking in the water distribution ability.  In the past I've gotten estimates/bids from driveway paving, exterior and interior painting, electrical rewiring, roofing. If it isn't one thing...  I've come to appreciate the position that Art Buyers are in when presented with an estimate.  Price is important  but what I've discovered was communication and personality make a huge difference to me.  I once hired a guy not only for the fact his price was good, his demeanor was comfortable,  he was respectful and he answered my questions with patience and thoroughness.  The money became secondary.  Most bids bounced around the same bottom line.  But the kicker was that as we were going over his approach to paving my drive a hawk flew just behind his head, low and slow.  That was my sign; a nod from my dad.  "Hire him, Sugar Face."   I suppose luck, timing and persistence could play a part too.  

Testing

Pure Funk Find (hopefully)

Chipmunk

For years my lawn has been over run by chipmunks and I was talking about the problem with my cousin.  He said his wife hated them because they ruined her garden.  He told me she'd "hold their little heads down in a cup of water."  I was shocked!  But then....bing, bing....I thought, you can catch those things.  So for the next few years I've been scheming.  

Now that I have a hen (coyotes got my roosters) I keep feed in my greenhouse.  One day as I am puttering around the patio I spy a munk in the house.  Stealthily I tip toe to the house, doing a body block at the door, I shut myself in and the race is on.  Luckily I was smart enough to get a jacket and gloves after accessing the situation because when I did finally run the chipmunk into the proverbial corner she was like a tasmanian devil.  First thing she did was bite me and then the next things she did was bite me.  When I tried to sweet talk her into calming down, she'd squint

her eyes in anger and bite down really hard.  It was amazing her bravery and anger.  Needless to say I didn't get my picture.  But the next chipmunk was much more agreeable.  

Notice my death grip.  

Mom

Yesterday I was with my mother at dinner time at WMP.  The staff have her with a couple of women now that are so enjoyably sweet, particularly one of them.  I learned yesterday that she is 93.  Her brother comes to visits her weekly who is 94.  He drives himself.  Now that might not be all true.  The minds of many of the residents aren't what they use to be.  Every once in a while during yesterday's meal this sweet lady would announce an observation about her surroundings.  If you stay open you can have quite a good time listening to what the residents say.  One woman was thinking that no one was bringing her meal and she was being ignored that she was "goin' to call the police."  It is hilarious once you get past the sadness of the place.  You have to keep your sense of humor.  Back to our dinner party.....So our 93 year old makes this observation "how wonderful it is to see all these young people helping these old people eat.  I never was that kind."  I said that she helped feed her children.  "Oh yea, sure I fed my own, but I never went around to restaurants and helped other people."  

Urban Chickens

A couple, three weeks ago I obsessed on a prop for a test shoot and before I knew it I had driven a hour and a half to buy chickens. I thought I'd return them , but I didn't want to do that drive again.   I now have a use for the dog house my beloved, Murphy, wanted nothing to do with.  Three times I've moved that doghouse trying to make good use of a bad idea.  The chickens seem to be liking it just fine.  And here is where it will stay.   

I have always wanted chickens.  As a kid I had several chickens - pink ones, green ones, purple ones.  They just never made it past the stage where all the dye had grown out of their feathers.  Stories of doomed Easter animal are plentiful in my family.   One year we had a drowning in the toilet.  The chick was getting big enough to fly out of his box.  And I naively kept him in the bathroom.  I found him face down in green water.  One I literally loved to death.  I carried the chicken everywhere I went and finally rolled over on him while napping.  He lasted a day.   The only one that got nearly out of his Easter dye and into his big chicken feathers was gobbled up by my dog, Attila, in one stealth slurp.  

The chickens I have now are about 3 months old.  I have a red rooster, a black and white speckled rooster and a black hen with a necklace of brown tipped feathers.  I am keeping them in my defunct garden plot.  I brought them home to acclimate in my defunct greenhouse.  Next year those two things will be as they should be and my hen should be laying her eggs.

I have been getting my education on raising them from a host of internet sources.  I was amazed that there is even blogs on Urban Chickens.  One is here at Urban Chicken Underground .

Tweeting?

Well, I am a Twitter now.  And if you are interested you can go here to follow.  I've got much more to do now.  Am I creating more work for myself?

Omnicom"s New Payment Terms

For any of you Advertising Photographers you might want to take the time to read the latest in PDN here about the new payment terms with some of the biggest agencies.  This is yet another way the economy changes are playing out in our lives.  There is something we can do.  Act right and act appropriately.   ASMP statement here.

  

Competition

I like to think I am not competitive, but once when I shared that feeling with a friend she glanced over at her boyfriend with a smirk and smugly laughed.  Well anyway, I have embraced the identity and now I am methodically paying the dues for competitions this year.  My reps have been pushing me to do this for years.  One I recently entered is the PDN Faces Contest.  If you are a portrait photographer, go for it.  I have learned something that has taken this hard head to finally accept is you have to pay your dues for recognition.  What that dues is is up to you, but it is necessary.  Things rarely fall in your lap.  One must "dig their ditch".  Recognition and the need for or necessity of it will be a topic another day.

The Center-(formally known as the Santa Fe Center for Photography)

2009 Project Competition winners announced here. And singular image winners here. I am looking forward to seeing the artist statements and imagery of the Projects.  I hope to be a part of a review one day.  Alas, not this year.  Try, try again.  Congratulations to all the winners.

Cc at the Monkey Grass

The Seventh Seal-Ingmar Bergman

I can't remember why I queued this film but last night I watched Ingmar Bergman's "The Seventh Seal."  I guess it was to begin my study of Ingmar's artistic lighting and dramatic cuts.  Or it might have intrigued me because it is a film dealing with death.  Quote that has shaken me spoken by the distraught knight Antonius Block during his confession to death.... "We have made an idol of our fear and called it God."

Alice in Wonderland

Is Faith Possible?

What's it all for?  I listen to "Fresh Air" whenever I have the time, but I am a bit shaken by the last episode.  Terry Gross interviewed Bart Ehrman this week.  His new book "Jesus Interrupted" was discussed.  Without going into too much detail, Bart Ehrman is a bible scholar  who was once an evangelic Christian now turned agnostic.  All of this is discussed here.  I am not shaken by the contradictions of the bible or that we are not sure who is the true author of the books.  It is one of the books of the New Testament that has scared me.  It is in the book of St. Matthew where Jesus is mocked, in shock and frightened of death while hanging on the cross that has saddened me.  I like the books of St. Luke and the others where Jesus embraces death and doesn't question his belief.  It was also Bart Ehrman's summary in the interview that left me somewhat empty today.  "Is Faith Possible?"  

Congruent

Some words just repeat themselves in my head over and over until I just have to say them out loud.  This morning "congruent" is the one.  My mind is so weird.  It does things without my consent, one of which is the mantra of a word.  I also find myself reading things, anything, along the highway while driving, standing in the checkout lane, riding the elevator.  The thing can be as simple as "the license for the operation of the elevator is in the Management Office."  What the kicker is, I'll read it over and over.  Anyway I am having one of those mornings and "congruent" is spinning around in my head like a pair of jeans in a clothes dryer. 

I don't know what set this off this morning but the word "congruent" is quite fitting.  For the past few years, 2 or 3, I have been working on becoming more congruent in all aspects of my life.  Easier said than done.  Contradiction is a word I'd use to describe myself in the past.  Even though some may say I contradict myself, I like to think now I am just changing my mind or having a bad day. 

 

So what is more congruent in my life, specifically?  I truly believe in myself now.  I don't just say it.  I feel it now.  Yes I know I have blogged about how I have lost sight of my worthiness in the world.  Today and just today,  I see it really as a behavioral relapse.  Deep down and without false modesty, I truly believe in myself.  

On Turning 50 (not me yet)

What is age?  It meant so much when I was young, but with each year I am surprised with the idea of time being relative.  I am thankful of growing older.  I am embracing what aging means.  Who gives a s--t what the outer appearances are and who decided what beauty is anyway?   

 I am guilty of appreciating youth.  It is fun and easy as a photographer to photograph the smooth, dewy complexion of the young.  What is it about our society that is driven by youth, pop, new?  Oh, how I do know now that my youth was wasted on my youth.  My life becomes more deeply meaningful with each passing year.  And here it is, that worn out saying, "oh if I only knew then what I know now."  I didn't want to say it , but there it is, I did.  I want to start a movement for growing older and being beautiful.  Remember "Black is Beautiful."  Well, I want all to join in on an alliance for "Aging is Awesome."  (and please ignore how I titled this post.  I was setting my age back at 5.)  

Ash Wednesday

I'm back in the boat.  Even though I need routine, I resist.  I've returned from the Alps and slowed down enough from a miraculous deluge of work that came in after my return from Europe.  So I am here to blog once again.  

It is Ash Wednesday and for those who aren't Catholic or unfamiliar with the meaning, it is the first day of Lent.  You won't know what that is either, I guess.  Well anyway, lets just say it signifies the anticipation of spring for me and the observance of Jesus's final days on earth. I think the 40 days of Lent is a symbol of Jesus's 40 days in the desert too.  Many good Catholics repent, fast, contemplate their existence and offer themselves in humble service during this period.  There will be a Mass or prayer service for those observing Catholics and Ashes will be distributed upon the forehead.  "From ashes we come to ashes we return."  Kind of a scary thing for a young girl growing up Catholic.  It just dawned on me how much the Catholic faith drives home the death thing.  No wonder I am so preoccupied with dying.  I was exposed to the grotesque, mangled and bloody way too early.  I remember being mesmerized by the religious paintings of Caravaggio.  In particular, the crucifixion of  Christ.  If you've never seen this painting look here.  I'd torture myself with these images. My mother had these art books laying around the house and I'd spend hours testing my courage.  I'd jump over the pages with the scary paintings and then slowly, like I was sneaking up on it, I'd turn back to them peeking over the edge of the page into the dark, shadowy mangled body of Christ hanging on the cross.  I guess this is where I might have developed my morbid sense of humor too.

Today I will participate.  I want to shoot the observants and the ceremony for my show and maybe I need a little touch of humility myself.  One can never have enough.

Greg Miller, a fellow Nashvillian and a Guggenheim Fellow has a series on Ash Wednesday here.  I had forgotten how big the Catholic population of NYC was.