Matthew Betcher, Los Angeles River Orotones

Before flying back to the East Coast on Friday, I had the pleasure of meeting Los Angles photographer, Matthew Betcher, and seeing his exhibition of incredible large-scale orotones from his series el rio de nuestra señora la reina de los angeles de porciuncula. I just learned the show has been extended to the end of the year,  and is surely not to be missed.

Inspired by Edward Curtis's Orotones— a process involving ambrotypes backed with gold pigment in banana oil—Betcher printed on orthochromatic lith film that was slightly bleached, toned, then mounted on glass backed with gold leaf.

Along with the show of about ten 40x60-inch pieces, is a beautiful a 19x25-inch portfolio of all the photographs in the series. Again, they are hand-printed lith film, with gold painted rice paper, hand-bound and housed in a box that contains an orotone on the bottom. The book is a work of art in itself.

These three digital images may give one the idea of what the show is about, but nothing can replace the feeling of being in front of these in person. They are almost dream-like in the way details disappear in the three dimensional quality achieved by the interplay of light and the layering of image, glass, and gold leaf.

In Matthew's introduction he writes:

For the series, I have been exploring the LA River as a datum for the explorations and questions relating to a new sense of what is ‘nature.’ Knowing the River was originally named after the small field (’porciuncula’ is loosely defined as ‘a small portion of land’) where St. Francis of Assisi developed a monastic order based on a lack of worldly possessions and an admiration for the natural environment, the Los Angeles River becomes a paradox in its own right. The massive concrete structure intended to allow the massive expanse of the city now protects the Glendale Narrows - one of the few spaces in a concrete city choked by its own waste where, as a protected sight, ‘nature’ is left to fend for herself. For the work, I have been using a photographic technique used mainly in the teens that involve photographs on gold-backed glass. The idea is that the large scale gold-leafed plates adorning the jungle-like images from the Los Angeles River bring into question the schizophrenic ideals of what is or could be considered ‘natural.’

Here, there are no swimming pools, no movie stars, but a mutation of nature that continues to thrive in a place no typical Angelino would go. As a dedicated nature preserve, the Glendale Narrows represents the natural world Los Angels couldn't manicure or pave with concrete. The images are, for me, both a metaphor and the antitheses of the City.

Paris Photo Recap, part 1

So, guess who forgot the digital camera and European power adapter for the laptop? Because of the strikes, Paris was more of a crazy adventure than in the past. Nearly missed planes and trains, more walking than I've ever done in my life, long bus lines, shared cabs, and mountain biking with an 8x10 camera . . . this actually might be the most memorable year yet.

The fair, however, was something of a let down. I swear if I see another oversized color print I am going to puke. Luckily, I could take refuge in the few gallery booths showing some excellent 19th century work. One print, a gravure on silk , stood out the most, but there were several others worth posting in more detail when I have the chance.

Photo Review Benefit Auction

So the Photo Review Benefit Auction is tomorrow night (Sat. Nov., 10) at the University of the Arts in Philadelphia, and I have my "if-I-had-the-money with list." There isn't much I would really like to buy—mostly vintage—but just don't have the means. My ideal job would be consulting with collectors on their personal acquisitions. A few months ago, I actually told Kate Ware what to get from the Mike and Doug Starn show at the Print Center. Here is the short list from tomorrow's auction:

Vincent David Feldman: Hongkew, Shanghai, 2005/2006, carbon inkjet print, A/P, signed verso, framed, 16"x20" $350—$700

Eugène Atget: Senlis. Ruines se Saint-Frambourg, 1903, gold-toned albumen print, unmounted, 8.5"x6.875" $4,000—$8,000

Jay Dusard: Petrified Forest, Arizona, Blue Mesa, 1977, silver print, titled recto, framed, 8"x10" (courtesy of D. W. Mellor) $250—$500

Henry Horenstein: Texas Map Turtle, Graptemys, c. 2000/2007, digital chromogenic print, signed verso, 20"x16" $800—$1,600

Mark Klett: Storm Clouds over Eastern Idaho: Near Craters of the Moon, 8/18/80, 1980, silver print, signed verso, 16"x20" (courtesy of Michael Mattis and Judith Hochberg) $900—$1,800

Stuart Rome: Presence, Bali, 1993/2007, archival pigment print, A/P, signed verso, 12"x15.5" $500—$750

Josef Sudek: Trees in Flower, 1950s/1976, silver print, unmounted, 11.25"x8.25" $750—$1,500 Unknown: Tea House Nogeyma at Yokohama, Japan, c. 1880s, hand-colored albumen print, 7.750"x9.875" $200—$400 Frank Yamrus: Tree in Nickerson State Park, Eastham, MA, from the series "Bared and Bended", 2004, archival pigment print, signed verso, 6.5"x6.5" $700—$1,400

Friends of Project Basho

This is from a recent email from Tsuyoshi Ito, owner of Philadelphia's Project Basho. I am proud to have two photographs in this inaugural show in their new gallery space.

Project Basho is hosting an opening reception for its inaugural show titled "Friends of Project Basho" on Thursday November 8, 6-9 pm at Project Basho Gallery. The opening reception is open to the public as a part of 2nd Thursday Openings in the area, and will be complemented by the musical styling of DJ Einstein. The show will run from November 8th through November 30th.

"Friends of Project Basho" will feature the works of students, instructors, monitors, darkroom users, and others who have been actively engaged in photographic activities at Project Basho. The walls will represent the community and the diversity of talent at Project Basho, as well as display a vibrant segment of the current photographic scene in Philadelphia.

If you have not visited the newly-renovated gallery space yet, this is a great opportunity to see the space. With a 14ft ceiling and unique architectural details, the gallery is spacious and intimate at the same time. Project Basho will be working with other art venues in the area to bring exciting shows with visually stimulating photographs to Philadelphia.

For more information about the show and reception, please feel free to contact Project Basho.

Project Basho 215-238-0928 1305 Germantown Ave. Philadelphia, PA 19122 (Click for Google Map) info@projectbasho.org “Re-introducing Photography to Philadelphia”

Photographic Whining?

I just read this about Lewis Baltz's San Quentin Point series at anotherphotoblog:

Some more Lewis Baltz photographs from his San Quentin point project. I like these pictures, much like all the other New Topographic ones. I think a major problem with them is that they protest all this pollution and development but pose no solution to what the percived [sic] problem is. They amount to photographic whining.

Is it the role of the photographer to solve or correct the problems and injustices they document? In most, if not all cases, ecologists, sociologists, economists, etc. have already identified the problem and purposed solutions. The photographer's role then is to bring the issue to the attention to the public with hope that the images will move those in power to act.

That was the case with Lewis Hine and child labor, Dorthea Lange and starving migrant workers, Subhanker Banerjee and ANWR.

In the case of Baltz and Adams, their photographs could not deter developers or put an end to illegal and irresponsible dumping. That is not the fault of their work, but the misplaced priorities of the general population. The photographs still serve as a document, even if they weren't able to affect change—much like Elliott Porter's photographs of Glen Canyon. It is sometimes difficult to not be a defeatist—and to simply give up while asking, "what is the point?" For me, however, it is the beauty of those documents that serves as inspiration to continue working.

POST: From the Studio IV

I have a couple of pictures in a show curated by Shelly Spector opening October 4 at the Center for Emerging Visual Artists. Also in the show are photographs by Talia Greene (courtesy of Philagrafika), Kara LaFleur, Eugene Martin, Paul Rider, Wendy Wolf, John Woodin, and Rick Wright.

Mike and Doug Starn at the Print Center

The Print Center's opening of Mike and Doug Starn's Black Pulse series of prints on of dried leaves was such a success that it was almost difficult to properly appreciate the work. As one person said, “There were so many people you couldn't stir them with a stick.” It was good to see some friend there that I missed at the garden party, and some I hadn't seen since March.

I found myself responding to the inkjet prints on gampi with albumen and encaustic much more than I did to the extremely-large digital c-prints. That was mostly due to media being more suitable for the nature of the subject—the fragility of the dried leaves, of life. In part though, and maybe most importantly, it was the sheer beauty of the pieces on gampi that made them stand out against the larger, cleaner, almost-cold c-prints.

The video instillation, a computer generated piece on the decomposition of leaves, was incredibly beautiful, and evoked some of the same feelings and internal imagery as Marquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude.

On Rexer on Szarkowski

In the September/October issue of Art On Paper, Lyle Rexer begins his column that focuses on the late John Szarkowski with, “Why is it that photographers are writers at heart, that they need to supplement their image making with words?” While I agree that many of the formidable photographers throughout this medium's relatively short history have also written about the medium, I will disagree that it is because there is some inherent "incompleteness" on the part of the photograph itself. It possible that they felt compelled to write about this new medium because it was exactly that, new. There is undoubtedly more written about painting than there is photography, but is that any indication of painting's incompleteness? In actuality, all mediums are incomplete. But, in their unique ways, these mediums when used in art, all point to that one inexplicable quality in life—be it beauty or truth or god.

The further the column (re)progresses, it makes me think Rexer had some kind of bone to pick with the former MoMA curator. He accuses Szarkowski of, “Using language (and the MoMA pulpit) to justify photography as ‘art.’” and his “tricky evasions and slights of hand, reverting to anecdote, biography, description, [etc.] . . . but rarely confronting the paradox of photography's artlessness.” Firstly, I am not sure what the argument actually is here; why would a curator of photography at an art museum not lobby for that medium's acceptance as an equally valid means of expression? Secondly, specifically to Rexer's reference to The Work of Atget, Szarkowski is using valid critical methods for examining the artist and their work, drawing his own conclusions about what he has found. I agree that even though not all photography can—or should—be considered art, reevaluating photographs in a critical way can reveal a photographer's deep connection to the world, and how that connection influenced their creations, regardless of their original intentions.

Rexer then evaluates Szarkowski as a photographer, and claims he, “trains his lens on that which can not really be shown but that can only be captured in words.” He also says of Szarkowski's last photographs of apple trees that, “They are delicate, but incomplete meditations on mortality that beg for a writers voice.” and says they, “could have been illustrations for Frost's ‘After Apple Picking.’” These two statements exemplify what I believe is Rexer's possible misunderstanding—and certainly his differing view—of how artists touch or point to the sublime in life—something I believe is the actual purpose of art, and why it can not be “captured in words,” (or pictures), but only alluded to. In the capturing and dissecting, which I think happens when art is looked at through purely intellectual eyes, one inevitably kills the life the art is trying to touch.

As a photographer, I am more inclined to first read or place more value on the writings of an artist—whatever the medium—ahead of the writings of someone who is purely a theoretician. Based on the work, I can more-easily know the artist's capacity to feel, and know how what the feel will affect how they think. Rather than blindly trusting the theorist, who may simply know how to think.

Back from the West

Just back from ten days on the West Coast, and already hitting the ground running. First, saying goodbye to Summer, and a big hello to a busy Autumn is the Photo Review Garden Party—being held this year in Downingtown, PA. Next weekend is the Mike and Doug Starn opening at the Print Center in Philadelphia, Amy Stevens opening at CfEVA, and later are all the Fall submission deadlines, PhotoPlus Expo, POST, Paris Photo, another trip out West to continue photographing the Lower Owens River Project, and AIPAD Miami in December.

Come Fly Away

I saw the Edward Weston: Enduring Vision show at the Getty Center today before heading back to the East Coast tonight. The show was good, with a few pictures that I don't believe I have seen before. More about that later.

Postcard: Yosemite, or Why I am Scared of Bears—

The first time I drove into Yosemite, they handed me a flier about a not leaving food in your car while in the Park. Bears will smell it, and proceed to tear the doors off your car trying to get to the food. So, you could imagine my fear as I sit with my arms stuck in a film changing tent with a stack of 10 holders to change, and thinking about the remnants of a burrito on the front seat. I am not sure if I could effectively scare away a black bear by waving around a funny looking tent. Fortunately, there were no bears, and I continued photographing until the lightning started. For some reason, I am also scared to be photographing with a big metal camera in a lighting storm . . .

Calisphere

I found this photograph from this website some time ago when I was doing research for my Lower Owens River project. In addition to having an incredible archive of photographs, one could also do a great deal of research on so many issues that have created California as we know it today.

It is interesting to see the difference in attitudes toward the environment, and how they have changed over the last century—although most of those changes have probably been in the last 15-25 years.

Jazz Photographers

Listening to the radio this afternoon, I heard that jazz drummer Max Roach passed away. In finding a portrait of him, I am reminded of all the great jazz photographs by people such as Francis Wolff, Herman Leonard, Roy DeCarava, Gordon Parks, and even Larry Fink, and Lee Friedlander (I am sure there are countless others, but those come to mind first).

When I was growing up as a jazz musician, before I fell into photographing, I would look at photographs of the jazz giants—aspiring to be like them in some way. Here are some that are still inspiring.

Watkins Revisited

In preparation for another trip to California to photograph, I was reading certain sections of Robert Dawson's Farewell Promised Land, in which, I found these pictures by Carlton Watkins. They are not exactly new to me, but they made me realize that he might have been ahead of his time in regards to his concern about for-profit destruction of the landscape. It is also interesting the he is photographing the negative result of his, and other 19th century survey photographers', publicity of the Western Landscape. It is well recognized that, in the 20th century, photographers such as Robert Adams were working with what was the reality of the Western landscape, not the romanticized West that Ansel Adams was promoting (even if in the name of conservation), but I wonder if anyone ever considered Carlton Watkins the "Original New Topographic."

Carleton E. Watkins No. B 180, Hydraulic Mining Piping, Nevada County California n.d.

Image courtesy of The Society of California Pioneers Barcode number — C009369

Re-introducing my blog . . . again . . .

Since I started this blog, I have been wondering what I should title it. Not wanting to give it a pretentious, misleading, inaccurate or clichéd title, I simply called it "Richard Boutwell- Blog." I'm changing all that now. And yes, it might just seem to contradict everything above. Who really cares.

During some recent reading, and even more thinking about what I am really doing with my work, I came across this quote by the painter, John Marin: "Art is just a series of natural gestures." It really sums up how I work and what it is I find myself responding to— in people, in life, and in art.

To start off with a new theme, "I LIKE THIS," here is a picture by Robert Adams from his series on the L.A. Basin. Devoid of irony or cynicism (unlike so much photography of late), this is evocative, visually complex, and is an example of something integral to art making and viewing— that being sensitivity.

Robert Adams Edge of the San Timoteo Canyon, San Bernardino County, California 1978 © Robert Adams

Trees and Originality

After just finishing some printing and scanning of more photographs from my last trip to California, I was talking with someone about photographing the Lower Owens River Project. I mentioned that part of what I am doing documenting the changes in the landscape. But along with that, I want to make personal records of what I feel makes this place so special. That thought was reaffirmed earlier this evening as I was reading an essay that, on the surface, was a defense of straight photography which draws its inspiration from the natural world.

Some people believe, because that specific "genre" has been so thoroughly explored, there is no possibility for originality by working in such" traditional" ways. The essay I was reading earlier tonight was born from that very argument. Originally written in 1976 by a graduate student at RISD, and to substantiate his point of view, he included ideas about the nature of art, originality, and expression—some of which are the best I have ever read. There are several other articles and essays here that I should to have enough time this week on which to read and reflect. But, in the mean time, I will simply post a statement by the Modernist painter, Paul Klee. This was originally published 1924 in Modern Artists on Art, and, I think, it is still as relevant as ever.

For the Artist, communication with nature remains the essential condition. The artist is human; himself nature; a part of nature within natural space."

May I use the simile of a tree? The artist has studied this world of variety,, and has, we may suppose, unobtrusively found his way in it. His sense of direction has brought order into the passing stream of image and experience. This sense of direction in nature and life, this branching and spreading array, I shall compare with the root of the tree.

From the root the sap flows to the artist, flows through him, flows to his eyes.

Thus he stands as the truck of the tree.

As in full view of the world, the crown of the tree unfolds and spreads in time and in space, so with his work.

Nobody would affirm that the tree grows its crown in the image of its roots. Between above and below can be no mirrored reflection.

And yet, standing at his appointed place he does nothing more that gather and pass on what come to him from the depths. He neither serves nor rules—he transmits.

His position is humble. And the beauty at the crown is not his own. He is merely a channel.

--Paul Klee

Project Basho

I have been printing in the darkroom at Philadelphia's Project Basho for the last few weeks. Maybe the best advantages of using a communal darkroom are the people you meet, and the variety of things you are exposed to. There is an informal critique this Sunday (August 5th), and in addition to holding small classes and workshops, there will soon be a space for exhibitions, film screenings, and rental studio space. Earlier this week, Tsuyoshi was showing two short videos of James Nachtwey and Edward Burtynsky giving their TED Prize acceptance speeches, which until then, I had not seen. Seeing Burtynsky's talk reminded me that I still need to see the film, Manufactured Landscapes, by Jennifer Baichwal . Maybe I can make time for it next week . . .

Projects, Projects and More Projects

As I was cleaning up my bookmarks folder on my computer, I came across this and this. I clipped these when I was researching places I was preparing (or planning) to travel and photographing. There are so many projects I'd like to work on. Not just continuing my project in the Owens Valley, but photographing in mangroves all over the world; the Tar Sands of Alberta, Canada; throughout Baja California and where I grew up in the Mojave Desert—the question is, how am I going to find the time to do it all?

Here is a Polaroid I made when I was in Miami for the SPE National Conference last March. I don't know when I will be able to get back to photograph again—maybe I can tie it in with my trip to Atlanta for ACP (but that is right before Paris Photo). Like I said, when is there going to be time for it all . . .

Spotlight in B&W Magazine

I just received my copy of B&W Issue 53— in which I have a Spotlight article that begins on page 72. I am grateful and honored that the editor, Henry Rasmussen, chose my work to be included in this issue. There are eight photographs in article from the various series I have worked on in the last five years.

For some reason, corrections I made regarding factual errors and misquotes were not applied in the final version of the article.

Below is the article as it should have been printed.

Some of Richard Boutwell's fondest childhood memories are of the numerous fishing trips he took with his paternal grandfather to California's Owens Valley. This retired Park Ranger shared his favorite fishing spots with his young grandchild, and instilled in him a sense of respect and awe for the rugged, stunning landscape.

Boutwell's other grandfather was an amateur photographer who learned his skills in the Army in the late 1940's. When he died in 2000, Boutwell inherited a cache of camera equipment, and started playing around with his interesting new hobby. Little did he know that the passion he found in photography would eventually allow him to travel around the world.

"In the beginning I was simply intrigued by all this photography equipment," Boutwell recalls. "But I was a musician at the time, playing upright bass with my own jazz group, and I was planning to make a career of it. I had actually been playing gigs since I was 15— I didn't even have a driver's license yet. When I was 18, I was told by a musician from New Orleans that if I moved there I could find work as a bass player seven nights of a week.

"In order to learn how to use this new photography equipment, I enrolled in a darkroom course after graduating from high school. I continued to study music and was preparing to move to New Orleans, but I immediately fell in love with photography and darkroom work. I think it was only two weeks after beginning Photography 101 that I dropped 90% of my music courses, and began living in the dark room five days a week.

"During those first years photographing I was still living in Joshua Tree, California—only five miles from the entrance to the National Park. Partly because it was what I was surrounded by and what I grew up with, I was mostly interested in photographing the 'Traditional West Coast Landscape' and making very abstract pictures. I was mostly looking at the Early Modernist Photographers, and especially the work of Edward Weston. I began reading his Daybooks, and connected with the simplicity of his process but even more so with the way in which he lived his life. That is what made me decide to start using an 8x10-inch view camera, and only make contact prints—something I still do to this day.

"In 2002 I began reading B+W Magazine and noticed the pictures from Michael A. Smith and Paula Chamlee that run in the beginning of every issue. I wanted to know why the photographs were so beautiful—even in reproductions. So I went to their website and learned about how they live and work. I said, 'That is how I like going about things, and that is how I want my life to be.' Of course I can now see that I was simply young and romantic.

“I read that later in 2002 Michael and Paula were giving a lecture in Albuquerque for View Camera Magazine's large format conference. I took a week off my job and drove to Albuquerque in order to meet them. When I showed Michael one of my large prints, which other people had been telling me was great, he said, ‘The corner is out of focus. It’s muddy here. This is unacceptable.’ I showed him some other prints and got the same response. But he saw that I was serious, and interested, and after talking together with Paula, he offered me a job as their assistant. Just like that. I said I’d think about it, but really in my head I was already making plans to move from California to the East Coast. We spoke again soon after and decided that I would start working for them in the spring of 2003. It was maybe a few months later, in the Fall of 2002, that Michael called me and said that he needed someone right away, and asked how soon I could start. Two weeks later I was driving to Pennsylvania to begin working as their assistant. It has been a great job and an incredible learning experience. In addition to working around the studio, I have been able to travel with them to Baja California for three weeks, Iceland for seven weeks and to France for Paris Photo for the last three years

"I recently moved from Bucks County to Philadelphia. And while I still work for Michael and Paula, it is only a few days a week, which allows me to concentrate more on my own work.

"Where early in my photographic development I was concerned with the purely natural landscape, I am now more interested in the social and ecological issues that effect the landscape. This recent change has caused me to think and work more in terms of series of photographs, and I don't make as many singular landscape or abstract photographs as I did in the past.

"Among the various projects I am working on is the 'Lower Owens River Project.' I fly out to California every two to three months to photograph along the 62-miles of the Lower Owens River and delta area that is undergoing an unprecedented ecosystem revitalization and habitat management project. This wetland ecosystem was devastated after the completion of the second Los Angeles Aqueduct in 1913 which transported Owens Valley water more than 200 miles to the Los Angeles Basin. But now, after twenty-five years of litigation, the river is flowing at its original rate and I am documenting the changes in the area. So I am going back to many of the same places my grandfather took me camping as child, and in the summer I bring along a couple of fishing poles just in case the wind blowing down off the Eastern Sierras is too much for my big old 8x10." --David Best

Depth Charge by Carol McCusker

For the past few months I have been thinking and writing about why I photograph and what I am attempting to accomplish through my work. I wont attempt to go into that now, but mentioning it seems appropriate because, as I was going through some magazines this morning, I came across this article by Carol McCusker in the Communication Arts 2006 Photography Annual. Below is an excerpt that helped start my thinking about the big questions, WHAT and WHY. You can read the full article here.

Depth Charge Carol McCusker

Originally published in Communication Arts August Photography Annual 2006

Photography is art’s most democratic medium. It would seem that anyone can be labeled a good if not great photographer worthy of a show and publication once they master the mechanics of the camera, take enough trips to exotic places or attend a reputable photography graduate program. The fact is, by virtue of seeming to be a democratic, accessible art form, photography is deluged with mediocrity, imitation and instant art stars with no track record. Before embracing these art stars, I want to know, as curator of a photography museum, what else they’ve done or are capable of doing, and if they have staying power. They usually hail from university graduate programs, and open their first show in a highly visible New York gallery complete with a publication and a $12,000 price tag on each image. As with music and sports, the market hypes their imagery, furthering what I see as photography’s trend toward the big, the colorful and the disaffected. This may appropriately (and sadly) reflect our culture’s state-of-mind, but given the current state of the world, I need something more.