Recently I picked up Annie Leibovitz’s A Photographer’s Life: 1990-2005 from the library. I flipped quickly through the images, slightly disappointed, and set it aside to go through more slowly. Unfortunately, my new addiction to Buffy the Vampire Slayer on dvd intervened at this point, and I only picked up the heavy book again the other day. Luckily, I soon figured out that reading it at the table would save me from the surefire carpal tunnel syndrome of trying to read it on the couch.

Anyways, the other day I read the text first and then looked at all the images, and I definitely got a lot more out of them. They say pictures are worth a thousand words, but over and over again we see that words and pictures can enhance each other. That there are things pictures can’t say as well as words, and things words can’t show as well as pictures. I think I’d like to spend more time exploring ways to put words and pictures together.

A few bits that stood out for me from the text:

“There are truly intelligent photographers who work in the studio, but it’s not for me. Richard Avedon’s genius was that he was a great communicator. He pulled things out of his subjects. But I observe. Avedon knew how to talk to people. What to talk to them about. As soon as you engage someone, their face changes. They become animated. They forget about being photographed. Their minds become occupied and they look more interesting. But I’m so busy looking, I can’t talk. I never developed that gift.”

“It wasn’t a single moment. It was a flow of images, which is more like life, so we designed the book using four images across two pages quite frequently to keep this effect.”

“It seemed like a return to the kind of work I had been doing in the beginning, but I wasn’t able to go back to reportage in a completely pure way. I knew too much by then. Too much about how a picture can be set up, how you can manipulate a picture, when it should be taken.

“I’m not a journalist. A journalist doesn’t take sides, and I don’t want to go through life like that. I have a more powerful voice as a photographer if I express a point of view.”

The text makes many of these images more harrowing – for me at least. This woman lost her partner and her father within six weeks of each other.

“That summer, I moved the material for this book to Rhinebeck and set up a workshop in the barn. Rosanne Cash had given me an advance copy of her new CD, Black Cadillac, which she wrote after both her parents and her stepmother died. I would go into the barn every morning and put it on very loud and cry for ten minutes or so and then start working, editing the pictures. I cried for a month. I didn’t realize until later how far the work on the book had taken me through the grieving process. It’s the closest thing to who I am that I’ve ever done.”

A month ago today, we moved house. There are aspects of our new house that I love, like the light, and aspects that are totally stressing me out. Regardless, I’ve been shooting quite a lot around the house. I’ve been meaning to share some work here, but I kept waiting for some kind of cohesiveness to emerge. I’m not sure if it has or not, but no more delaying.

I’ve also explored some self portraiture:

This is my interpretation of “Moving, Shaking” by the Great Lake Swimmers.

And finally, I’ve begun to explore the world of slideshows. Click on the image to see my first attempt.

The song is “Upon Encountering The Crippled Elephant” by Clap Your Hands Say Yeah.

My website is fixed! You should be able to see all the pictures in the galleries… please email me if you have any trouble at kate (at) peripheralvision (dot) ca.

Imagekind has a great new promotion until September 23, 2008: 20 percent off all custom frames. It also just so happens that all my images get free ground shipping in the US until the end of September, so now is a GREAT time for Americans to buy my stuff. Sadly, since my galleries still aren’t working here, you’ll have to browse my images over at my Imagekind gallery.

To take advantage, type promo code FALL2008 in the promotion box at checkout. This from Imagekind: “Promotion expires September 23, 2008 at 10pm PDT and cannot be combined with any other promotion code. Limit one order per person. Promotion code must be used at time of checkout to apply. Your order must be placed during the promotional period to qualify for this special pricing offer. Discount promo applies to custom frames only.”

Ugh. I just discovered that none of my galleries are working here. I have no idea how long it’s been a problem… The tech whiz in the house thinks it’s a problem with the server, so we’ll try to get it cleared up as soon as possible. In the meantime, you can see all the same pictures over at Imagekind. Sorry for any inconvenience!

One of the things I struggle most with is a sort of photographer’s guilt. It’s like I believe the old mythology that my camera steals some piece of my subjects’ souls. Ruth Kaplan even busted me for it at the portrait workshop I went to in July, when she saw how uncomfortable I was directing my workshop partner/subject. She was clearly looking to me for direction, but I didn’t want to intrude on her. I figure I have to options: either get over it or stop photographing people, and the latter just isn’t an option for me. So I’m working on getting over it. I’ve recently discovered quotes from other photographers that will help me.

* * *

I quite enjoyed the recent focus on African photographers over at conscientious. It started with a link to an article about Pieter Hugo, which stood out to me for his response to the charge that he is exploiting his subjects for their otherness:

‘I reject that view utterly,’ he says, suddenly angry. ‘There’s always an element of condescension in it, the notion that the people I photograph are somehow not capable of making their minds up about being photographed. And, you know, it always comes from white, liberal, European people, which suggests to me that there is something essentially colonial about the question itself.’

He takes a deep breath. ‘Look, there is always permission when I take a photograph, and there is always an exchange, emotional or financial. I paid these guys because I was taking up time when they could have been working or travelling.’

**********

Last week, I also came upon this interview with Nevada Wier. “‘I think the most important thing is feeling comfortable with the actual act of photographing people,’ she says. ‘I’ve found, in teaching, that often people feel shy or intrusive, or that it’s rude. — In order to photograph people, you can’t feel that way. I sincerely believe that photographing someone is a compliment. It’s a sign that you find someone interesting.’”

A few weeks ago, I found myself in the book store at the photography section. I have to give the store credit, every time I look at the photography section, it always has new material. Two books tempted me; I narrowed it down to one: A Camera, Two Kids and a Camel: My Journey in Photographs by Annie Griffiths Belt. I was really excited to discover a mother who made a career in travel photography work, and I wanted to know how she did it. That the book was text-heavy was a selling point for me: I wanted to hear all about her experiences as a mother and photographer, how she balanced it all. When I saw the opening quote from fellow Canadian Leonard Cohen, I was in:

“Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.”

I finished it the other night, and I have to say it was a bit of a disappointment. Now, it could very well be that my expectations were unrealistic. Perhaps I should have known from the coffee-table-book presentation (hard cover, large size) that it probably wasn’t going to give me what I was looking for.

The photos were great, although they did have a sort of National Geographic-ness about them that I didn’t quite care for, a datedness I guess. Many of them made me feel 10 years old again, looking through my brother’s stacks of National Geographic magazines, and not in a good way. It’s probably not fair of me to hold this against the photos, since the woman has enjoyed a very long career that began around the time I was 10, but oh well. I very much enjoyed her later work, especially her photos for Habitat for Humanity.

The text is where it was really disappointing though. I feel like this book couldn’t quite decide what it wanted to be. Is it a coffee table book? A memoir? A travelogue? While I’m all for fusion and postmodern blurring of boundaries, I think it was a bit of a failure in this case.

Where I was hoping for a sustained discussion of her experiences, perhaps bound by the theme of motherhood or feminism, I got merely a series of chronological anecdotes. None of them delved deep enough for my satisfaction. It was like taking a survey course, where just as you begin to grasp a subject or theme, you’re forced onto the next one.

My disappointment may also stem from the fact that within the first few pages, I very quickly realized that I will never make a good travel photographer. I’m far too risk averse for that. And my sense of smell is too keen.

According to Myers-Briggs, I am an NF, an idealist. I am an abstract thinker who prefers to deal with information that comes from my intuition, with underlying patterns rather than concrete facts. I suspect Griffiths Belt is an SP, an artisan, who prefers to deal in concrete facts and information that comes through her five senses rather than intuition. And I suspect that fundamental difference is at the heart of my disappointment. I want to see how her experience fits into the big picture, and she’s really not so interested in the big picture.

Disappointment aside, there were a few moments in her writing that really spoke to me:

“As a photographer I have learned that women really do hold up half the sky; that languge isn’t always necessary, but touch usually is; that all people are not alike, but they do mostly have the same hopes and fears; that judging others does great harm but listening to them enriches; that it is impossible to hate a group of people once you get to know one of them as an individual.”

And:

“The most touching aspect of my work has always been how quickly people open up to me and my camera. I do try to appear as non-threatening as possible. I travel light, never wear a photo vest or camera bag, and work very simply. I believe that it’s far better to look like somebody’s mother than like a photographer. But despite my efforts to connect with people of other cultures, I know that I remain an aberration in their world. I arrive in my jeans and T-shirt, a middle-age white woman in a baseball cap, speaking a strange language and wielding a big fat camera. And yet the openness and generosity of the people I encounter always takes my breath away.

“Whenever possible I try to communicate without an interpreter, because it’s so easy for an interpreter to actually become an unwitting wall between me and the people I’m trying to photograph. I’d rather make an idiot out of myself pantomiming and using whatever few words of the local language I possess than to rely on an interpreter. And I have learned that even without a shared language, it’s easy to let people know that their children are beautiful, their homes are lovely, their tea is delicious, and their stories are worth sharing with the world.”

My photo was selected from a photo challenge at JPG Magazine for street performers:

Cool! The chosen images are all great, and I’m totally chuffed to be included among them. There’s even a downloadable pdf.

One of my photos made the top 10 cut in a contest over at Imagekind with the theme of unity. Now it’s open to voters, and anyone can vote – not just Imagekind members. So if you think my photo represents unity the best, please feel free to vote for it.

How I believe it fits the theme: Visually, this photo shows four boys unified by their focus on a single book. As well, mosaics are made of disparate fragments unified by art. The photo was made in the courtyard of the Gugu S’thebe Arts and Culture Centre in South Africa, 13 years after the end of apartheid. These boys are younger than the country’s new democracy, the product of years of united, hard work.

And while I’m on the subject, Imagekind just announced a 25% discount on all framing until 10 pm (Pacific time) on August 18, 2008. To take advantage, just enter the promo code PLUNGE25 when you check out.

Wednesday was the start of something that I hope will be a long-term project. For six months, I’ve been volunteering at our local drop-in centre, which provides a safe, warm or cool (depending on the season) place to eat two hot meals a day, drink cheap coffee, and gain access to housing, mental health, and other resources. On Wednesday, I had the day off and it was overcast, so I decided to go for a visit and take my camera with me. A couple of people have agreed in principle to let me photograph them, but we’ve been stuck on logistics. I figured it was more than time to just take the plunge.

So I spent a couple of hours in the smoking area, and talked and listened and occasionally shot pictures. Here are a few of my early favourites:

I like that the images don’t scream HERE IS A POOR PERSON. They say Here is a Person. I also see the trust they have in me and the respect I have for them, and that makes me so proud of these images. They were a true exchange, exactly like I wanted them to be.

It’s obvious I have no emotional distance from these images. They’re so entwined with the conversations we had that I can’t really judge them properly. But I think (and hope!) they’re the start of something wonderful and exciting. If you want to see a slide show of all the images so far, click here.