O'er near exit 19

My lovely driver Tia took me out to a roofless house near exit 19. It was a sunny day. She read in the grass while I performed/made photographs in the space. The melodic beep of my camera's self timer lulled her off to sleep.

The space I found was excellent. I interacted with it. This is what came of it.

Doors and windows. . .

Always hiding from the light. . .

Performing in space. . .

I am beginning to think of billing myself as a "performance artist." The longer I spend as an art student the more I become accustomed to the fact that an artist is as much the persona he or she projects as the work he/she does. I don't want to go as far as Warhol, but I recognize how I market my working methods are at least as important as the work created. That is, if I ever want to depend on my art for my income, which I don't necesarily want to do. That being said, I do perform in these spaces. The more I am asked about my working methods the more I find that it is true. I find so much inspiration from the space, it is literally an elated feeling, because I know the most intriguing spaces yield the most compelling results, the most compelling photographs. I find myself drawn to perform in the space, yet only in the most ambiguous of ways, and sometimes hinting at a narrative, walking through the frame or gazing into the distance. Other times I perform strange or banal actions, seemingly meaningless, perhaps symbolic but not determinably so. I am often hiding, sometimes I seem dead.

So what am I doing? Making photographs? Or documenting a series of mini-performances, enacted alone, no witness but myself and the camera. No proof but the photograph.

I suppose I could think of it that way, but unless it was always me composing the documentation, I would not accept it. And the performance is enacted specifically for the purposes of documentation. And I insist on using color film, not digital. Certainly not the most convenient method to record a performance. So I suppose I hold on to my photographic roots yet.

But when I ask myself, if someone took my camera away, what kind of art would I make, and then I ask myself, if someone took my body away, then what kind of art would I make, well. . . I think I have more trouble answering the second.

Part Deux

As previously stated, I photographed in my friends' garage. I had seen these stairs before and been captivated. But for a little while I had forgotten, but then somehow saw them again. . .

First I photographed myself looking through the stairs. Turned out sort of too dark, not that much interest.

Then of course the series where I am standing, again fragmented by the stairs but either looking up or into the camera, as pictured in previous blog. Color is alot nicer.

(This is the one I decided to print larger.)

Then I started playing with hiding my face, and the position of my hands.

Then I was just playing.

Sadness, exploration, escape and sanctuary. This is what I am playing with in these. I like some of the qualities that are starting to come out, something that I haven't had since I initially started this type of work in black and white. I like the dead-on confrontation of the camera, but I also like it when fragments of the character reveal more than the gaze can.

So I have my mid-program review on Wednesday. Wish me luck!

Hangin' at 100 & 1/2

Photographing with a broken-down staircase in my friends' garage.

This poor shot was terribly under-exposed. That's what happens when you switch your lens and don't double check the aperture! I was shooting at about f/11, should have been f/4. Didn't turn out too bad though, considering. . .

Photographing through the stairs. . .
Amongst these, I just can't decide which I like best. I think maybe either the one where I am looking up but not holding my dress, or looking into the camera with my hand stretched out in front of me.

Unfortunately I'm too frustrated by technonolgy at the moment to finish this post. Enjoy these, more coming later.