Peeling The Onion

Peeling paint tells a story of seasons come and gone.  The tales of a dormant railroad car in North Conway and long demolished general store in nearby Bartlett are heavy with personal history. 

New England was my home for 30 years and these decade old photographs stir thoughts of crisp autumn air, wood smoke and long friendships.  It doesn’t mean these two photographs were necessarily taken in fall it’s just that those are the flavors of northern New Hampshire to me.  I know exactly where I stood when I pushed the shutter release in each of these images.  That kind of recall is probably part of every photographer’s memory bank but this is the first time I’ve appreciated the precision with which I could remember the moment.  It seems even more remarkable given the tens of thousands of images taken since.

Another Point Of View

Here you see both crosses from last week's entry and with a lots more context.  We're looking southwest from Taos Pueblo and you can see how large La Morada really is. Usually these lay chapels are quite tiny which may reflect the size of the Penitente community and its limited resources in 1830 or so but the Morada of Our Lady of Guadalupe is a substantial edifice..

We do know that this morada is the largest and least altered one in New Mexico. It may also have been the first and most important of all the moradas in northern New Mexico and southern Colorado. These lay chapels were built in response to the secularization of the Catholic church by the Franciscan Brotherhood which left "genizaros", those of mixed Spanish and Indian blood, on the outside looking in. The genizaros were usually former slaves who, even after becoming free, were not accorded the rights of truly free men.
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A Tale Of Two Crosses

 Cruz Negro

Cruz Blanca

La Morada de Nuestra Senora de Guadalupe is a lay chapel established in the early 1800s by an ultra conservative Catholic sect known as the Brotherhood of the Penitentes.  That's penitente as in penance and there was penance aplenty suffered by the brothers at their own hands. 

Abutting Taos Pueblo the morada has an epic view of Taos Mountain.  If you picked a site for your dream house this would be it.  In contrast to the severe iconography of the black cross the white cross seems pure and hopeful as it rises from the decaying adobe.

High Plains Drifter

Got a thing about the plains and high desert.  Truth be told I can't always tell which is which.  I'm guessing this is a swatch of plains since it's a tad grassier than true desert.  Both are pretty arid though when it's 100 degrees. Here just east of Springer, New Mexico a handsome mesa broke the flat sameness.

Below are shots of the Kiowa National Grasslands abutting the Texas and Oklahoma borders.  Near here the Dust Bowl visited its wrath on Clayton, New Mexico.  The Santa Fe Trail crosses four miles to the west.

Stateuesque

The composition, the shallow depth of field and the model's graceful hands make for a classic nude torso. Yet she is so bountiful that it's easy to miss the aesthetics entirely.  Gratuitous or artful?

Hands Have It

When we think of portraits most of us think in terms of the face.  But sometimes a portrait tells a story or depicts the person with no face at all.  Such is the case with these portraits of fellow photographers, Daryl Black and Lenny Foster.  Lenny, in fact, is a master of using hands to tell soulful tales from around the globe.  Daryl's hands and forearms speak to her casual athleticism and show how relaxed she was when I pulled the trigger.

Corrugated

Patchwork, above, joins last week's Sides by Sides series, while Corrugated Corner below is related by material. The first, it turns out, is from California's Randburg ghost town and the second is from I have no clue Colorado. Gotta take better notes or create better metadata.

Sides by Sides

For as long as I've been making photographs, I use "making" to reflect a measure of control that I attempt to apply,  I've been fascinated by the sides of things.  Mostly but not exclusively buildings.  If the subjects have been shot all squared up or can be made so all the better because the geometry of the images is part of the appeal. Reflected Sky above was an epiphany for the heavy, clouded sky in the window and the fact that the building was demolished shortly after the picture was taken but it began with a study of the geometrics of the window and the clapboards.  The shuttered store was in Bartlett, New Hampshire.

Somewhere in the barrens of southern Colorado I think.

The S in the word house in Randburg ghost town, California.

Auto repairs with emphasis on four wheeling in Penasco, New Mexico.

Pastel Spring

It has turned sunny and bright and finally resembles a northern New Mexico spring.  So when skimming through through my library for the week's blog entry this photograph of the Great Sand Dunes spoke to me and I hope to you.

Stormy Weather

The socialist republic of Vermont has been very, very good to me.  The above referenced show opens June 21 at the Photo Place Gallery in picture perfect Middlebury and runs till July 16. 

Middlebury and I go back to 1966 when my buddies and I were on work release from our minimum security kid’s camp on Schroon Lake. You can’t make this stuff up.  We took the car carrying ferry from Fort Ticonderoga across Lake Champlain, had some beers in Stowe and dinner at the duly famous Dog Team Tavern.  The restaurant was known for its relish wheel, sticky buns and prime rib.  Sadly, it burned to the ground in 2006 after 70 years in business.  Camp Cayuga on Schroon Lake is where I received my Honorable Discharge from this man's Army.

One of two images selected for the show is “Ground Fog” which is our backyard socked in by warm air and frozen earth. 

  

Seems to me that this minimalist photograph is the low key cousin of my high key Sketches of Winter images.

Elegy

Martin's had served El Rito for decades offering everything  from groceries to hardware and tires.  But like so many family operated general mercantile stores in small towns it had to close its doors as it was outpriced and outstocked by big box stores and the internet.  The facade shown here from the back is a monument of sorts to what had been and will not be again..

And another thing

Out of a commissioned portrait session come shots that are right down my arty black and white alley.

Money Shot

When I got the call to photograph congressional candidate Janice Arnold-Jones I was a bit surprised.  Certainly I am not known as a editorial portrait photographer so I asked Janice’s emissary why she had called me.   Suzanne Brock who made the call simply said that she knew me socially, knew I was a photographer and wondered if I did such work.  My somewhat indirect answer was that “I’d be delighted to do it.”

When I arrived at the Brock’s magnificent hacienda on the rim of the Rio Pueblo gorge I scouted for locations with soft light and open shade, no mean task at 1:30 on a spring afternoon.  The entry courtyard proved ideal though later we took some chances in gusty winds and midday sun.

I sat with the candidate for a few minutes to learn what she wanted the images to project.  She said she wanted to be engaging and friendly while maintaining a sense of command and confidence.  She wanted to appear natural and to really connect with her eyes, to jump off the paper or screen.

As we walked to the courtyard I remembered the portrait photographer’s mantra, “Get the money shot first.”  I told Janice that we’d get that one in the can then get more adventurous as we got to know each other.

Above is the third in 312 images and is a money shot in my view.  

 In shot two Janice becomes more relaxed and animated and below she’s downright playful. 

Elder

The Pow Wow at Taos Pueblo is a photographic feast imbued with ambivalence.  You are invited to attend and photograph (for a additional fee) but resented on some deep level.  Still the dances and native regalia are captivating.  Regalia, not costume, is the term used to describe the elaborate, painstakingly stitched attire that's all around you.  I found the duct tape repair to this old gentleman's trousers particularly poignant.

Hard Twist

Being an old f.64 maximum depth of field guy I too often neglect the virtues of shallow depth of field.  This old chestnut reminds me to get a little soft focus into the picture. I'd argue that the fuzzy cattle chute in the background enhances the image by concentrating attention on about eight inches of wiry sharpness.  This, by the way, is f5.0 the biggest aperture the slowish lens could muster.

Day into night

Traveling northwest through the South Plains of West Texas we traversed a hundred mile dust storm.  50 miles per hour gusts scoured brown Texas fields and turned day into an earthen night.  A graveyard of forgotten farm machinery posed before an apocalyptic sky recalling images of the dust bowl where whole towns were obscured by blowing dirt and parched by years of drought.

Spot Color

This junker looks rather monumental when shot from down low.  Got a thing for grills and chrome and fading paint.

Luminous Mizahn

As I was driving to the post office a couple of days ago I contemplated just what triggers my interest in a particular image for my weekly post.  I decided there's no fixed process. Sometimes, as recently, it's work I've just done and other times an image in my portfolio of possibles jumps out.  Such is the case with the extraordinary Mizahn whose radiance captivates.  Simple set up, a single soft box just to the left behind me.  Bright sun behind her on a balcony at the old hospital in downtown Santa Fe.

Lake Valley RIP

Meandering north from Hatch, New Mexico's chile capitol, to Hillsboro, a resurgent ghost town flirting with artiness, we discovered the remains of Lake Valley. The former silver mining town enjoyed its heyday from 1881 to 1893, had a brief affair with manganese and lost its last resident in 1994.  The town is partly privately owned and partly owned by the US Bureau of Land Management whose stewardship is evident.  Lake Valley is in good repair and a worthwhile side trip when you're in Sierra County.  The images are of the old general store and a tiny church.

Single Wides Redux

Saturday night I was doubly blessed.  The opening of my Sketches of Winter show in Taos was boffo and I was awarded first prize in photography for the image Single Wides in the spring juried exhibition at the Museum of the Southwest in Midland, Texas. The museum is a real gem and a must see on your way across the great state of Texas.  Among its many surprizes is a room devoted to the Taos masters. Check it out.

Warm thanks to the Midland Arts Association for including my work the last couple of years and especially for the handsome awards.

Cotton Fields Back Home

The fertile Mesilla Valley grows more than pecans.  Reputedly cabbage is another major crop but since I don't know how to glorify that rude vegetable you're getting cotton.  Specifically Acala cotton from the Four Points gin.   

Cotton and I go way back. I was a cotton inspector for the state of Arizona in maybe '64.  So my buddy Cal Miller and I inspected fields for boll weevils in Gila Bend in the middle of the freakin' summer.  Average high 110 or so. Fry an egg on the hood of your car hot.  In the fields by 6 out by noon.  Lifts weights and take a dip.  Take a nap and have steak and a couple of long neck Buds.  Back to Phoenix for the weekend. Repeat.

Nut Job

New Mexico produces 47 million pounds of pecans in New Mexico, 70% of it in the Mesilla Valley. The vertical image here shows a section being irrigated by Rio Grande river water, something that seems highly unlikely since the river is barely a trickle down here. 

The second shot tries to capture the rhythm of these creatures in some kind of primordial dance.

Pecan Capitol

Mesilla, New Mexico is pecan central in the state that produces more pecans than any other.  Georgia is a poor second, y'all.  This factoid would have escaped me had we not spent a couple of night in Mesilla and chanced upon this majestic stand of pecan trees.  They seem like orchards to me but apparently are called farms.

Double Header

I have two shows opening on Saturday, March 12.  First in importance, no offense to the Museum of the Southwest, is a one person exhibition of my Sketches of Winter portfolio at Wilder Nightingale Fine Art in Taos.  An opening reception will be held from 5-7pm on the 12th.  If you're anywhere near Taos that evening I'd love to see you.

Above is one of the two photographs included in the spring juried show at the Museum of the Southwest in Midland, Texas that also opens March 12.  The other is Single Wides that was last week's post.  The images are from my "At the edge of what's left" series that depicts objects lying at the edge of places that barely skirt oblivion.

Single Wides

Twice on November 11 I was lured off the highway in Navajo country of northeastern Arizona; first by cattle and horses gathered around a stock tank near Cow Springs and second by a row of abandoned trailers with the vast desert beyond. Thinking I was having car trouble a guy on a beater of a bicycle rode out to see if I was okay.  It was truly kind.

Cross Traffic Does Not Stop Here

Snow flurries grew in intensity at the junction of Highways 64 and 285.  The red traffic light glowed against a murky sky.  Across the intersection sat the remains of the gas station, convenience store and a diner that served a mighty fine green chile cheese burger. Welcome to Tres Piedras.  Good bye.

Simplicity

 The Sketches of Winter photographs are inherently sparse and dominated by pristine white fields.  In no example is that aesthetic more evident than in the image dubbed "Simplicity."  Here just the tips of the fence posts pierce the newly fallen snow in Valles Caldera high above Los Alamos.

Puppy Love

Just in case there's any doubt about the affection the daddy and the puppy feel for Cuba, here's a a couple of pics to dispel the notion.  Maybe two pics.  Mucho amor. No?