The horse I rode in on

Seems like the only photographs I take are ones from trips and almost never from Taos. And that over the last couple of years I’ve been shooting for the blog and not for the “art.” That’s neither good nor bad just is. And because I’ve been making images to support a weekly byline, ones that are more or less photojournalistic I’ve neglected the art for art’s sake. Certainly I want to believe that the odd photograph made in recent times could leap from journal to art but that hasn’t been the mission.
 

It’s been a long while since I’ve had to dig into my archives to find images to post. Today I did that and in the process of looking at the hundred or so photographs in my folder of potential victims I clicked on a couple of moldy oldies that feel, at least to me, like the stuff I used to do, ones that are freestanding artistic efforts whose grand moment would be as framed prints on a gallery wall somewhere.

And, speaking of prints, I don’t anymore.  Was a time when the artistic effort wasn’t complete until I held a fully massaged print on rag paper in my hot mitts.

In that spirit I have just printed these little numbers to prove to myself that I can still produce a so-called fine art print.  It’s liberating on some level, decidedly more personal and tells me that I should do more printing and I should photograph with printing in mind.

 

 

Both of these are from Ghost Ranch or just south of same. Thanks for asking.