Sunday, November 27, 2011

Head colds and Swiss abstract equalls fresh ideas

There is a common thread to these images besides their simplicity.
Alaska is creeping steadily toward that darkest day of the year as the snow piles up and the thermometer plummets down, I find this to be the toughest time of year to find inspiration to begin new projects. Weddings and senior photos are largely over with and family photos for this seasons Christmas cards are winding down. Typically this is the time of year that one relishes in not moving to much and enjoying some much earned downtime. Unfortunately (or not) inspiration has decided to not depart me in this dark season and demanded that I heed the call or forfeit sleep.

Marlboro Ultra Light
Being a visual artist I tend to tell stories that revolve around subjects that have a sense of visual dynamic. I have never attempted to communicate an abstract thought visually but lately have felt compelled to do exactly that. For the record I enjoy all forms of art, but I find it hard to really appreciate art that appears lazy or overly pretentious.  Maybe this is why I have avoided this as it is so easily done poorly.  Abstract work of Paul Klee has always fascinated me by its  apparent minimalism but visual power and presence of placement. Equally true is the work of Irving Penn and his still life's of every day objects observed in such a way as to inspire the viewer anew.

In no way am I comparing myself to these masters of minimalism, just simply stating where visual inspiration for a project based on very simple visual cues is heralding from. My idea started with a miserable head cold caught on returning from Germany, then purchasing of cold medicine and finally debating with my wife if my beloved Klee print would hang in the living room. The idea would not leave even when the cold departed, or the print was voted to stay. I simply had to get the idea out of my head.......this is the joy of being an artist and the pain. We also tend to get away with dramatic statements that a less creative person would be ridiculed for.


Ruger Sp 101 in .357 Magnum, my sidearm of choice


Well yes, winter has its advantages.
These are some outtakes from the sessions in my studio this past weekend. I will be posting the full project next month. The idea is now out of my head and into my hard drives, may sleep return or inspiration anew.

Thursday, November 17, 2011

Trial and Error with big cameras


10 Plates exposed, only one produced a usable image, my note book and scribbles about producing ferrotypes.
Unfettered optimism, I’ve been accused of a lot of things, but this is certainly not one of them. Why is it then that I’m surprised when I try something for the first time and fail? Where does this ungrounded confidence come from? I love trying new things and experimenting with different creative processes, and I’m surprised when I fail to achieve stellar results on the first attempt. Probably too many hours spent as being an armchair cowboy and not enough actually in the saddle.

This is why I love Analog photography and the whole process associated with it, it never stops being a challenge and requires far more dedication to achieve passable results versus digital. I love digital, when I need something now, and have to ensure it is the best I can produce quickly……it is digital. But, when I have the time and need to get away from our world of glowing rectangles….bring me analog. I have been learning the art of large format film photography over the last couple years and finally finished my first project “Titans of Industry”. After a couple months off, it was time to get the big cameras out again and go back to square one. This time I decided to learn dry plate Tintype or Ferrotype photography in the 4”x5” format which uses thin metal and special chemicals to produce a positive image directly from the camera. Why would I leap technologically backwards again, because the journey of discovery and trial and error is far more enjoyable to me than buying photoshop actions.

Supplies: Rockaloid Bulk Tintype kit, everything you need to get started (sans camera supplies)
The tin plates arrive pre coated black so all you need to do is trim it to fit in 4x5 film holders if you are using them.
Trimming Plates to fit 4x5 film holders
Prep: Next is the fun part, coating the plates in a darkroom with Ag Plus emulsion. Learning curve time. Put too much on them and they produce foggy, crystallized images, not enough and you don’t get no image. How much you ask? Just enough….12 frames later, I have only one passable image and nothing clear. Pour a spot in the middle and then roll it around quickly to cover the plate, but you don’t want any extra thick areas that show up “white”, you are aiming for a consistent thin covering turning the black metal a light gray. Not surprisingly, this is really difficult and I’m still working on figuring this part out.




Exposure: “Expose like photo paper, not film”—Jill Enfield offered me this advice. My first batch I exposed at ISO 20 and failed to get an image, so taking Jill’s advice I lowered my exposure to ISO 8. I use a Sekonic 358 light meter for exposure times and a little Kentucky windage as well.


Rolling the emulsion onto the plate for even coverage.
Drying emulsion covered plates




















Gear: Tin doesn’t fit in standard film holders, it is too thick. I picked my worst condition film holders and used a regular screw driver to expand the film rails on both sides giving me more clearance. I use needle nose pliers wrapped in electrical tape to extricate the plates….not pretty but it works.
Graflex Speed Graphic with 178mm Aero Ektar and JoLo custom add ons
Camera: Modified Graflex Speedgraphic with tilt and shift.
Lenses: Kodak Aero Ektar 178mm F2.5 also a 5” Brass Petzval f4 (can be modified to a meniscus)
Tripod: Huge bogen that nobody would dare steal
Light: Impact Fluorescent head with 30” Octobox –so far exposures need to be doubled or tripled versus what the meter says. This is probably due to the lack of blue spectrum that the emulsion is sensitized to.

Another 10 plates, this is my first keeper, black bear skull with notes. Everything dies, not everything becomes a trophy.

Friday, November 4, 2011

Hiking and Kayaking in Cassis

Sunset on the Med at the Port of Cassis
Port Miou
Our perception of the environment we travel through has much to do with our chosen mode of transportation. When leaving the Dordogne Valley we traveled by bus (since the rail station was unexpectedly closed we traveled more specifically by school bus) on a road that wound its way along the same stretch of river we had been paddling. From this view higher up the valley wall, the river appeared surrounded by houses and very much domestic and boring, but the river we knew from the kayak was just the opposite. We rarely saw houses from the river and when we did they were large, chateau’s built upon hilltops and ridgelines. The river we experienced was wild and appeared much the same as it has for eons, a clear waterway teaming with fish and very few people outside the villages. The two different perspectives are both correct, the river is at once remote and pristine and surrounded by farms, only the viewers perspective changed. I prefer the river we knew intimately, full of fish that alternated pebbled bottoms and limestone cliffs above and below the water line. All too often we rush from one place to the next and forget that the journey in between really grounds our perspective. My misfortune of getting pick pocketed in the Paris Metro threw our travels plans into chaos and caused us to miss the “highlights” of our journey, but we experienced many more different and equally important moments as a result.

Hiking the Calanques
 From the Perigord Region we traveled south to the Corte de Azure (blue coast) to get my passport
replaced at the Marseille consulate or suffer Paris again. We had originally planned on skipping the bustle of Marseille but now we had to spend a day in the town and far from expectations, it was quite enjoyable. We took in the fish markets on the docks, the citadel overlooking the harbor and even managed to convince my wife to buy some clothes. Truth be told, our closet is 75% mine and getting her to buy clothes is an accomplishment. Marseille is a large port city that has a reputation for being rough (and is deserved). After we left the consulate with my temporary passport, several hundred demonstrators were gathering down the street at a government building, which was being defended by riot police in batman like armor. Whatever was going to happen hadn’t begun but was heating up and the police brought in another 15 vehicles including armored personal carriers. We didn’t let curiosity get the better of us and headed out of town and back the sleepy village of Cassis. In the train station, police and military personnel with rifles were stationed everywhere and detaining young men. Several people exited trains to be only be detained by police soldiers, some were interrogated on the spot and others subdued and taken away. Heads down, cameras stowed, we found our commuter train and got out of Dodge while the getting was good.

Main beach in Cassis























Arriving back in Cassis felt like coming home, the crescent shaped village spread out below the train
station begins at the water line and crawls up the slopes where vineyards replace houses. Cassis is a
small port that has existed for millenia because of the limestone rich cliffs and Calanques (small fjiord) that make natural harbors. Limestone could be quarried and loaded directly to the ships in the protected waters cutting out the laborious overland transportation. Shipwrecks from before Christ litter the bottom of the Calanques with goods from all points of the Mediterranean trade routes, the local museum houses many of these treasures and maritime artifacts and is worth a visit. These white cliffs draw the tourist hordes in Cassis at 10am and they head strait for the waiting boats to take them on a calanque tour which is shorter than a French lunch date and they can check that off their list of places visited. We approached it with our usual zest for activity in warm weather, slow, human powered locomotion.

Our fist venture out was to hike the first two calanques, and get a bird’s eye view of Cassis. The first
calanque is Port Miou which has served as a natural harbor for at least 2000 years and is still home to
many small craft. Port Pin is next and does not have any permanent anchorages but many boats lie to in designated spaces for transient craft. These calanque walls range from 100 to about 300 feet tall and are the Mediterranean as I always envision it. White cliffs dotted with ancient pines twisted by the constant winds that combine the scent of pine and ocean to produce a scent that causes one to instantly become content and unhurried. We did our best to honor this region’s lethargy with lunch picnics and regional red and white wines to accompany our outings.

Launching the Super Lynx at Port Miou
Our swimming hole and favorite picnic spot.



Side street bakery in Cassis
Dinner in Cassis



 To gain further appreciation we put our kayak together and ventured out from Port Miou to explore
the region by sea. The Aire Super lynx was lightly loaded and performed like a champ even in heavy
wake from the cursed floating cattle cars full of tourists. Our perspective of the calanques was of quiet beauty, with clear waters containing clouds of sardines and limestone cliffs that disappeared into azure waters. Caves dot the waterline and coves provided our kayak with perfect spots for resting our arms and straining our necks. The only difficulty was trying not to get vertigo looking straight up from the kayak to the top of the cliffs more than 500 feet above us. We lunched on the beach at En Vau followed by a swim and resting before heading back to Cassis at a leisurely pace in the sun. We landed on the main beach near the port to rinse the salt water off everything and enjoy a cold beer while drying everything out in the sun.

Our days in Cassis followed much the same pattern, early morning breakfast at an open air café, picnic lunch on the beach or cliffs then afternoon naps on the beach. Can you explore Cassis in a day….yes, if you have too. But, to rush a sleepy village that has rebuilt itself time and again through the ages is to commit heresy. What would your perspective be: tour bus, packed boat, visit a shop or two along the water front and finally hustle out of town. Yes, we live in a busy world where you can take around the world tours on private jets and “see” the worlds wonders in a week, but what does that add to your life other than to say “I’ve been there”. That is it, you’ve been there, check it off the list. Travel should be about the experience and being apart of a place, not just a check list.
Typical French Breakfast
Cassis streets leading down to the Port

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Castles, history and hounds (Epic honeymoon part 3)




La Roque Gageac upstream of Domme
Troglodyte village in cliffs above La Roque Gageac
Growing up on Midwest plains did much for my work ethic but little for my sense of geography and history past the mid 19th century. My family came west in the late 1800’s from Northern Europe and the oldest relic I can point to is an aged tintype and what is left of the family homestead that was built at the turn of the twentieth century. Most Americans have little since of history and who can blame us; we tear down the “old” and build new whenever we get the chance. Blocks of disposable subdivisions all set in the neatest grid one can imagine. Upon announcing that we were headed to walled villages and ancient fortresses, the response was “With those funny narrow streets.” Yes, we were in search of narrow streets where Americans can barely waddle through let alone drive our behemoth automobiles. Even so they were much wider than places in Morocco’s ancient medinas where houses come so close to that young lovers can kiss without leaving home. History in textbooks is valuable but no replacement for the 3-D experience of breathing it in, hiking the hills and setting foot where kings and troglodytes once stood side by side (although centuries apart). Even the famous English King Richard “The Lionheart” roamed this landscape (he didn’t speak English and only spent 6 months in Britain) and now it was our turn to stride through history. 

La Roque Gageac has been inhabited for 30 centuries in the limestone cliffs and along the Dordogne River
Entrance to Domme that once held the Knights Templers and still bares their cryptic inscriptions.

Stone streets of Domme
Our fist encounter was the walled fortress of Domme, which resides high on the hill above the Dordogne Valley. When I say American’s have no sense of history, it is because we have no physical reminders of how young our country is in a broader sense of the world. Domme’s main fortified entrance was once a prison for the Knight’s Templar after King Phillip IV reneged on his debt and used the fall back accusation of blasphemy against the order. This was 1307 and the walls still bear the inscriptions and secret codes that the Templers scribed into their cell while awaiting torture and trial for lending to the wrong guy. Eventually the pope excommunicated the whole order, and then pardoned those still alive once the debt was erased, and the remaining Templers were inducted in the Sovereign Military Hospilatier Order of St. John of Jerusalem of Rhodes and of Malta. Fascinating story and only one of many that shares the tiny streets that make up Domme’s thoroughfares. Shortly after the Knights Templar episode the Dordogne became the front line for the 100 Years War 1337-1445 between France and England, hence the castles on every strategic outcropping or river crossing. North shore was French territory and the south was held by England. Beynac was one such stronghold and was directly opposed by Castlenaud (they could see each other). Eventually the wily French bought the commander off and took the castle by financial storm. Beynac should be a bucket list item for anyone that loves history or just a good castle.  
View of the Dordogne Valley from Domme looking toward Beynac
Symmetry in Domme
Castle Beynac's ramparts above the village
Beynac lies just downstream from the former English castle of Castlenaud and is one of the most awe inspiring locations I’ve had the good fortune to visit. The main town lies directly on the Dordogne River and is only wide enough for one street and a row of houses before the village climbs the cliff toward the fortress of Castle Beynac. Stretch your calves out, the climb up is steep, but you will only stop at every turn to admire the stone houses, walls, streets, ramparts (everything including the roofs is stone here) in addition to the Dordogne Valley itself. Arriving at the castle is epic, as you know I don’t get excited about much, but I was running around and smiling like a six year old at Christmas morning. The interior is sparse, cold, and dark and feels like the lord of the manor has just stepped out on vacation. Tapestries dominate the walls and authentic furniture line the living quarters making the experience that of walking into the wrong century. For all of its grandeur and authentic plague ridden fortifications, it was a dog that dominated our visit. Unlike America, France loves its pets. From cafes to 4 star restaurants to castles, hounds abound. 

Approach to the Castle through Beynac
Village Beynac at night sans tourists hoards



























Castle Beynac with ramparts and archers emplacements
This particular hound was perfectly proportioned for a meeting in a 12th century castle it was a Leonburger that stood almost a meter at the shoulder. Bred to resemble the lion of the Leonburg crest in Germany it is the finest looking castle dog I’ve ever met. The owner’s friend spoke perfect English and we were allowed to meet the regal hound in the main hall of the castle and get a brief history of the breed. Unfortunately, the dog discovered we carried no snacks and the castle, fireplaces, kitchen wares, also contained no snacks and he lost interest in Beynac. I now want a castle just to justify owning one of these gigantic hounds, the wife agrees that we need a castle and more hounds. Hey, every winery needs a mascot. That night after a luxurious dinner where my apple pie was served on a piece of raw slate (yes it is a tough life) we journeyed back up the alleys and through the centuries of the now deserted village. We did most of our exploring after dark, when things quiet down and the lighting presents a much more vivid experience in these fabled places. Alleyways became hiding places for conspirators, assassins crept in obscured doorways, archers watched Castlenaud for invaders, history lurked in the shadows, enjoy the narrow alleyways and let your imagination fill the time between you and their builders.

Ancient lanterns hang in the caste with dim light now provided by electricity, swords are at the ready by the table.
Castle Beynac a bucket list must for travelers and history buffs. 

16th century canon at Castlenaud

Trebuchet at Castlenaud
The following morning we walked three kilometers to the opposing fortress of Castlenaud. After the lived in authentic feel of Beynac, Castlenaud felt very modern and unmoving. I recommend a visit to Castlenaud first as it is more of a museum of weaponry and siege fighting than how castle would feel like to visit in the 1300’s. Rare and unique weapons, including full size trebuchets and siege mortars make it a grand experience, but the lived in feel of Beynac was much more. There was even another leonburger at this castle, but plastered walls and no tapestries made it more of a recreation experience. Follow the rivers advice and visit downstream from Domme to Castlenaud and finally Beynac. After traveling a rather short distance by kayak we had followed the Dordogne and it eons of humanity from limestone cliffs and caves to medieval fortifications and now it was time to move on. 
Artillery sized crossbow with hand held models in the case













Siege mortar and full sized trebuchets complete with siege coverings. Standing where the siege machines are really put into perspective how close combat was then and how effective archers would be on the battlefield.













Saturday, October 15, 2011

Epic Journey Part Deux


I have had the good opportunity to travel over a good portion of this earth and have done most of it on a whim, a lets see what is over there approach. It was impossible to be late or to miss anything on the agenda and therefore a worry free approach. But, time has become ever so precious and my wanderings have become restricted as I’ve become part of the American dream. So this time I spent months researching and reading, pouring over maps and travel guides to make sure we wouldn’t miss a thing and know the last 30,000 years of history we were to trek through. But like life, travel is largely dictated by the unpredictable and even the best plans can be laid to waste in an instant. It is at that moment that you must decide what is more important, the plan or the experience?


Early Departure Colmar

On our way from Colmar to Brive La Gaillarde we had to change trains in Paris (a town I despised before this trip), which required us to drag our 120lbs of gear through the metro system. This is where our trip itinerary begins to derail and shows us how good of team we truly are. I manage to violate every travel rule I have and place all my money, ID and credit cards in the same wallet and then make a lovely target for some nice professional thief. Halfway between Paris Est and Paris Austerlitz, a pick-pocket gets me and now I’m broke and can’t prove whom I am, or that I’m in the country legally. We talk with police (who are polite enough not to laugh) and they say we can make our next train and file the report when we get to Brive, so we get lunch and continue on. We could have fought, or argued, or let it ruin our trip, but we didn’t. Instead of marriage counseling, I think each couple contemplating marriage should have to travel together in a foreign land to test compatibility. Trust me, you will know if you are going to deal with life’s up and downs together after missing few meals while running to catch trains. Arriving in Brive we check in to the first hotel we come across and quietly relax on the street side terrace and enjoy the peaceful sounds of funny French police sirens as they conduct a high-speed car chase around the city that ends just up the street from us. It is one of those surreal moments of why travel is so grand, even when things don’t go your way. 



Stone barn typical of the region near Veyrac
Our tiny tent in Veyrac, first night near the river
Planning travel has two sides, what is stated in guidebooks and forums and then what people state on the ground behind bulletproof glass. Our plan was to transfer to the remote Cele River from Brive, but the kind station attendant informed us this is impossible without a very expensive taxi ride or renting a car. We looked at the map and simply shifted our destination to the Upper Dordogne River and a village called Veyrac that we were originally going to skip and sent our travel plan up in smoke. Again, what is important, to have fun and see new things or fret over what didn’t happen? Holly (my wife) is much better at the latter than I am, and I finally took a page out of her book and accepted that we weren’t going to have the trip we planed, but would have the trip we were on. If there was ever a moment my wife had a reason to curse me, it was when we stepped off the train in Veyrac and were greeted by nothing but a closed rail station now occupied by an old woman and her laundry. So there we are with 120lbs of gear, in the beating sun and nothing around but an unmarked road, she loves me, she loves me not. I voted that we turn right and started down that road a couple hundred meters until Holly vetoed the direction and we turned around and finally came to a sign saying my wife was correct. We only had 2 kilometers to go until the campground, but the sign didn’t state the campground was closed for the season. So we trekked down to the closed campground utterly exhausted from hauling the gear in the sun, but saints be praised there is a taxi number and another open campground 4 kilometers down the same road. Our taxi dropped us off at our campground that happened to be located right on the Dordogne and even had a pool. We finally made it to the river, just not where we thought we’d be. Unfortunately there was nowhere to get dinner; even walking a couple miles looking for a place didn’t help. Well, we were truly off the beaten track and like most Americans could stand to miss a couple meals. Fortunately the campground had a fresh bread delivery in the morning so we could start our journey in proper French fashion with a croissant. 


Private chateau along the Dordogne
Over the summer at home in Alaska we had taken our Aire Super Lynx inflatable kayak out on numerous excursions, but hadn’t run any swift rivers with it yet. The Dordogne is a fairly lazy river but is punctuated by class II sections on the upper portion and the low water levels meant we had to thread many a tight spot just so we didn’t get stuck. Hats off to Aire on this design, we took a couple whitewater sections sideways and never came close to capsizing. Stress, trains, thieves, agendas, all started to melt away into the lush limestone valley. Large fish swam along us in gin clear water as sheer white cliffs sprang up vertically on every bank. We stopped at a roadside café for lunch as were treated ourselves to a massive traditional three course Perigoird region lunch, fresh salad, fruit, foix grois, then roasted duck leg and potatoes roasted in duck fat, followed by goat cheese and bread. Rural France (most of France for that matter) operates without serve safe rules, so if you are squeamish about people handling your food with latex gloves—look away. Also, their hours of operation are 9is till noonish, then around 2 till maybe 6 or 7. Unlike us, I believe the French rule the clock; the clock doesn’t seem to dictate their life and what a life it is. Enjoy, relax, talk with everyone, and don’t worry about the cat in the dining room or the dogs lying under every table. We happily adapted to the French countryside and since our schedule was shot anyway, we resolved to paddle as much as we wanted, and carry our own picnic pack (ham, cheese, baguettes, Bordeaux, chocolate, etc) so that we could observe the strict code of not carrying what time it was and enjoy the countryside.
Our Aire Super Lynx and all our gear we carried from Alaska



A gift left for a friend in St. Sozy.
We arrived in St. Sozy in the early afternoon to find the campground all but deserted as mid September is closing time for most tourist locations along the Dordogne, but any inconvenience was easily out weighed by the absence of the crowds. We had the river to ourselves most days, and become perturbed if we had to share our section with another canoe and interrupt our daydreams. St. Sozy is an idyllic sleepy village nestled in the foothills along the Dordogne River. It’s not a town in guidebooks, and doesn’t have castles and grand cathedrals, but was one of the most charming villages we visited. Unlike the tourist traps, it was lived in; all the 400-year-old stone homes had stone and tile roofs along with the trappings of modern life. We awoke to a cold morning and a heavy fog on the river that added to the feeling of being in a timeless land that has seen people wander for the last 40,000 years. Quiet, unhurried, this was the France that we had come for, also the campground hosts had fresh bread and coffee ready for us, as we were the only guests for breakfast staff outnumbered us by 2 to 1, not bad for $30(campsite and breakfast for two). 


Cathedral in St. Sozy

It felt like reaching back in time on the upper Dordogne River.

Limestone cliffs shine during twilight down river from St. Sozy

Doing laundry on the paddles at Soleil Plage Campground
Exploring caves
  We let the fog clear and continued on with our picnic pack full and our itinerary wide open. The river was wide and clear with fish and more shear limestone walls riddled with caves rising on both banks. This was the Dordogne of legend the place that inspired some of the first artwork man has ever created. We lunched on large limestone outcropping in the river polished smooth by the eons of water rushing over it. This day was worth it, all the stress and headaches, this was why we came to France, to bask in the sun and explore a land that has 30 centuries of history hiding around each luscious bend in the river. We made it to Soulliac and enjoyed a nice night out in the historic city center, and replenished our picnic pack for another day. Our next leg on the river was more reminiscent of paddling through Minnesota than prehistoric canyons. The sheer limestone cliffs gave way to gentle rolling hills and farmland.  Our swift Dordogne was replaced by almost still water for long stretches. 
Boats being built above the Dordogne in caves just as they have been done for thousands of years.
Due to lack of signage we missed our intended stop of Lacave so we paddled on until coming to an oasis in the backcountry. Soleil Plage campground is a 4 star campground complete with water-park and fine dining. It’s a tough life but somebody has to do it. From now on we were in the land of Castles on the Dordogne, during the 100 years war between England and France this was the front line. Each river crossing was battled for and subsequently had a castle defending it on each side of the river. 

Chateau de Montfort is a private residence built in 1214 but has been destroyed and rebuilt at least 4 times since then.



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