It's a happy enchilada and you think you're gonna drown.

The title of this post is an inside joke to Hannah and Harry, if they ever read this. Hopefully they get it, random childhood memory. . .

Yesterday Eva and Dustin and I explored the Gold Hill area, and found this awesome location. Thanks to Eva for suggesting this photo expedition and Dustin for having so many great ideas in mind and driving us there. . .

Coming up to this location was a great concrete bridge. Here I am looking dead again.

Almost the entire floor of this building was covered with a half of an inch of water, creating beautiful reflections.

Creepy portrait, but I really like how the light is treating my face here. The lace-like grid on the door of the old electric room is amazing.

Can you see my face in the water?

Naturally I had to hide in the corner at least once.

Thanks Eva and Dustin!

There's more from this day, a roll I haven't finished plus some other places we explored, although this was by far the best location that day. I will probably post some more plus a couple outtakes in another entry. . . Eva of course took some pictures as well so I will post a link to her blog when she posts them (although you can always access her blog, Eye Wonder, from my sidebar, "Other Photo Blogs")

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.

Annihilating with light.

Photos from my last location/critique. One of my classmates is renting the house of our regular photo prof, who is on sabatical this year. She invited me to come photograph in this crazy storage shack. The fact that I am photographing on my photo professor's property without her knowing it is just kind of funny to me. Erika, if you read this someday, I hope you don't mind!


This got totally flipped the wrong way but it sort of looks cool and I'm too lazy to fix it right now.

During this critique my photo professor made a comment that I am not using light in its more traditional sense, to reveal, but rather to conceal or annihilate.

So I had made multiple plans this past weekend to photograph in different locations, but unfortunately due to circumstances uncontrollable by everyone, these all fell through. Hopefully tomorrow I'm going to go out and make it to some strong locations, the environments I photograph in seem to be the key to making the strongest photographs. There is more to work with, less to work around, and the more excited and intrigued by the environment the more energy I have, or the more "creative" I get. "Creative" in quotes because my art history professor hates that word. . .

This last shot is probably the only one I will end up using from this series, if any. I will definitley crop it tighter around the figure, though. It's hard to see this small but the light coming in from the right on the shoulder is quite lovely.

Contact Sheet

Only in her worst nightmares. . .

Reaching up.

Proof of the existence. . .

The artist at home.

Black and white certainly is romantic. I love it, it makes me excited to look at it, to do it, to make it come from my own hands. I just don't know if it's what I'm doing right now. . .

photoshop madness

These are what I was messing around doing while waiting for my film to dry. . . they are all scans of prints from color negatives edited in photoshop.

Today I developed black and white film for the first time in. . . over a year. Yeah, over a year. I've never been good at the putting film on to the reel part, so naturally I was nervous about my year hiatus, but it went a lot better than I thought it would. Also the instructions for developing black and white have changed (like they wanted me to rinse with water instead of using stop bath. wtf?) so I had to sort of. . . go from memory on parts of it. And getting the water to the right temperature has always been a problem in that lab. And none of the thermometers are calibrated correctly.

However, despite all those slight caveats, I think my film turned out really well. I made it all the way back over thanksgiving weekend, you can see the series I did in color of that location here. The ones of the bathroom look like they turned out cool. And I also took some of me sitting in my apartment, with some pretty dramatic light coming in through the slats in my blinds. So those might turn out well. I really wanted to wait for them to dry and develop them right away, but started sneezing really badly and otherwise feeling sick so I had to go. Oh well. Anyway I am excited for it.

Artist Statement

This is a draft of the statement I'm planning on using for my BFA exhibition. I thought it might be good to put up since I don't really talk seriously about the conceptual aspects of my work in this blog. I rattle off a few thoughts but don't really take the time to do anything but joke about it, partially because it's hard work to think and write concisely about it, but mostly because I am afraid to let people know my true thoughts. So maybe this will give you a snippet of an idea of what I'm thinking about, where I'm trying to let this work take me.





Living in abandoned houses (ideas of home)

These images are about the idea of houses and home. Houses are structures. They get built. They fall down. Home is something different. House is identifiable but home is unreachable. I can photograph the house I grew up in but I can never go home again.

In a place of transition in my own life I find that I am fascinated with the idea of houses and home. I choose to photograph in spaces that could be considered dwellings but in which I could not realistically exist. These houses are in all different stages. Construction, disuse or disrepair, perhaps ultimate demolition or absence. These houses indicate my fears, of destruction, fragility, impermanence, loss. I attribute a sense of rejection or abandonment by the house, the structure, this purely transitory place. Much like this place in my life where I find I can no longer be completely who I once was, the house displaces me. I do not belong there. Yet although I do not completely belong there, in the house, I seek to connect to it. I make for myself a temporary home.

A house is a structure. A physical structure, static, perishable. A home is an idea. Ever-changing, fluid, damageable but indestructible. While living in abandoned houses I realize ideas of home.

Probably going to be the postcard for my show. The dates are April 27 to May 22, opening reception Thursday April 30. If you want me to send you a show announcement postcard, send me your address. . . I'm going to try to get them out in the beginning of March.

In other news, Barack Obama is President!!

"With hope and virtue, let us brave once more the icy currents, and endure what storms may come. Let it be said by our children's children that when we were tested we refused to let this journey end, that we did not turn back nor did we falter; and with eyes fixed on the horizon and God's grace upon us, we carried forth that great gift of freedom and delivered it safely to future generations."

Revisiting Eagle Mill Road

So Amanda's pissed. So much so that she just can't talk about herself except in the third person. Whatev.

So since Advanced Photo Imaging closed at 3pm Saturday I couldn't get there in time, and Sunday they are always closed. . . and I wasn't sure about the holiday. And for some odd reason I miscalculated and thought my critique was on tuesday instead of wednesday. So I thought I had to take them to Rite Aid to get them back in time. Big. Mistake.

The prints I got back look terrible. I think they simply scanned the negatives and made digital prints from that, so surprisingly enough the scans look better than the prints I have. . . they are just disgusting and grainy. Although even the scans are still pretty blown out light wise, and some of the color is really crappy. So hopefully I will be able to take the negatives to API and get better prints. Let this be a lesson to you all. . . Rite Aid sucks. . . don't trust them with your art. . .

But despite that unfortunate bit of news this is one of the best locations I have ever been to.

Driving home from Portland after Christmas break we took the Ashland exit, and got on to Eagle Mill Rd. Mysha pointed out a house you could see from the road up a little drive. I decided I needed to go photograph there, and two weeks later it happened.

My friend Jared volunteered to drive me out to this location, so he and I, along with Maia and Chesaer, made the trek out. Pictured below: Jared.

Maia and Chesaer waited in the car while Jared and I walked up to the house. Just walking up the drive I got excited, it was all dirt with grass growing between tire tracks. Love it! We bypassed some signage warning us away and came upon this:

Even better yet it was surrounded by a sort of creek/ditch, it quite literally looked like a moat. We had to cross an old rickety bridge to get to the other side. On the side closest to the house some blackberry brambles grew up creating a sort of archway we had to duck under to get past. It was very story-book-esque, I almost lost a kerchief and my sweater got stuck.

View from the house from the bridge you have to cross to get to it.



I started out in a little room facing out towards the little creek. If the light from the windows wasn't blown out you'd be able to see trees in the distance, maybe even the mountains. Look I was decapitated! I don't particularly care for the pic above but the one below is nice. . .

I like the light on my hand.

I had also noticed this crazy shack outside, once the sun started to set I realized I better get out there to check it out. . .

I crawled under it. . . (wicked witch of the east, anyone?)

. . .and into it. . .

. . .and all around inside.


Only frame like this. . . camera was on just a few inches off of the ground. I wish I didn't look so awkward because otherwise it's a super cool image.

One of my favs. I could see my own breath so I would time my breathing so that I would exhale when the shutter clicked. . . it didn't show up in any of them. Oh well.




You can barely see me. Just the way I like it.

Towards the end I was trying to just snap off context frames so I could finish my roll of film, but I kept noticing frames that looked so cool I couldn't pass them up! So this is one of those.

All in all this was a most excellent location, a wonderful photographic event for me! I can't help feeling like these are getting better, although I guess the real test will be when I print them in 16 x 20 myself. . . which will hopefully only lead to better print quality, more control over color, etc. Which reminds me I need to research what kind of filters hoper needs.

Thanks again to Mysha for pointing this location out, Jared for driving me out there, and Maia and Chesaer for waiting patiently in the car. And remember, when you're driving by that old abandoned building. . . think of me. . .

Digital Media

Capturing some digital images on my cell phone camera today, this photograph struck me. Today in photography we were discussing articles dealing with photography since the advent of digital media, how it has challenged the idea of the "real", the photograph as an original object, even the need for further image making (we are so image saturated that you can literally produce any scene you like using found photographs). What is the difference between virtual and real? Can I "catch up" with old friends on facebook, have a "conversation" over text message, if I post a picture of myself today (as above), are you seeing me? Why is my face important? If you can see it, does it mean that I am there?

Maybe, someday, this is what all self portraits will look like?

Old family photos.

Old family photos from my dad's side. . . darn those Brits.

Grandma Marge & Grandpa Albie.

My dad with his mother.

Yes, the lovely bird is my father in drag.

Yeah I really couldn't tell ya. What the heck is that green thing?

My Grandmother.

My dad, my uncle, German Shepard, my grandma Margie. That's what I'm going to look like someday, by the way. (Like my grandma, not the Shepard.) I adore this picture, it's so lovely.

I love going back to old photographs. These are just scans my Uncle sent me, but there is nothing like the look of them. Don't get me wrong, I'm not anti-technology. . . but sometimes I don't understand how people can take a digital picture and be satisfied. I want something I can feel and touch. I want to reach back.