Life Update

"into each life some rain must fall"

a brief rain shower has begun falling upon Louie and i.  a few days before Thanksgiving we learned Louie has cancer.  the good news, it has not spread and is quite curable with radiation and chemotherapy treatments.  the not-so-good news, he must undergo daily treatment for 6 weeks.  we hope to start in the next week or two.

i will try to keep writing and photographing during this time, but i don't imagine i will be posting here with any regularity.  when the treatment is over, and Louie is on the road to recovery, i will be back.

this is a time of great anxiety, stress and fear.  it is also a time of intense joy, gratitude and love. the big life lessons have already begun.  actually, they were always there, i just was not paying attention to them.  i will try to accept them, and learn from them with each passing day.

i know each one of you reading this is sending us your love and good wishes.  thank you.  this means the world to us.  it is the love and strength and support of family and friends that will see us safely through this journey.

Self Contained~Online Gallery and Book

i received notification today that my work has been accepted for the exhibition Self Contained, curated by Philadelphia based photographer and writer Christopher Paquette.  Christopher is the creative force behind the excellent online magazine PHOTO/arts.

you can see the announcement here: www.photoartsmagazine.blogspot.com

Self Contained will open online in early November.  the exhibition is comprised of 68 images by 46 photographers from around the world.  the project will culminate in the publication of a photography book of the entire exhibition.

i am so honored and pleased to be a part of this exhibition.  more to come later...

Ekaterina Vasilyeva  Self Contained (2012)

Out Of My Comfort Zone

as you can tell, my post a day project bit the dust last week, but not for lack of trying.  last Friday, Lou and i headed to the shore, so he could officiate yet another wedding, and our wifi connection at the hotel was just awful, to say the least.  the weather was glorious, however, and i managed to spend two wonderful days photographing anything and everything that caught my eye.  absolute heaven.

then, i returned home Sunday to find my first ever artist/gallery talk at J&J staring me squarely in the face.  i went into complete panic mode.  i'm a terrible public speaker, consumed with anxiety, and i have never been very good at talking about myself or my art.  i'm a master at deflecting attention away from myself and on to others.  to have many sets of eyes staring at me, and lots of ears tuned to what i'm saying is one of my worst nightmares.

i'm happy to say my friends came out in force to support me... thank you all... and the talk went well, i think.  it's still a bit of a blur, not made any clearer by the stiff bourbon and ginger i popped once i arrived home from the talk.

as i told the folks who attended the talk, i'm glad i did it.  i learned so much about myself and my work by sitting quietly and analyzing what i do and why i do it.  i am usually so consumed with producing work... shooting, developing, printing, showing... that i  lose track of why i'm doing it all in the first place.  it felt good to take a deep breath, slow down and really look at my own images the way i look at the work of others.  it is good to honor your work in this way.  i discovered a lot, and i recommend that all you photographers out there take the time to do the same thing.  you'll be happy you did.

sacandaga light, 2012, oxidized gelatin silver print

A Good Night Picture

just have the time and the energy to post a picture before turning in for the night.  

sweet dreams.

watershed branch, 2012, oxidized gelatin silver print

Yesterday's Prints

busy, busy day today, so i just have time to post a couple images from yesterday's day in the darkroom, as promised.

these photographs were taken at a lovely watershed park off Saginaw Avenue in Lansing, MI.  i need to learn the official name of this park as i photograph there every chance i get.  a tiny oasis of natural beauty. 

i think the tree... surprise, surprise... is my favorite so far.

watershed tree, 2012, oxidized gelatin silver print

watershed Queen Anne's Lace, 2012, oxidized gelatin silver print

A Quick Update

i can't believe it!  the small image i had enlarged to 16"x20" looks fantastic.  i never thought i'd hear myself say i liked one of my images large.  i am such a devoted lover of small, intimate, hold-it-in-your-hands, get-up-close images.

in the modern world of contemporary art i think 16"x20" is still considered pretty small.  my amazing printer referred to it as "wallet size."  but it's gi-normous to me, and i love it.  i think i'll continue on with this project and try a few more sunflower images big.

sorry i can't show you here.  trust me, it looks sweet.

so... does this mean i now get to charge mega-bucks for my work?

on another front, the first few images i printed in the darkroom today from my old film developed in old developer turned out great.  as soon as they dry overnight i'll scan a couple and post them for you to see.

i'm so happy!  all and all, a smashing day of photographic play!

Yikes!

just about missed a day!

i've been in the darkroom developing old Tri-X film (circa 2002, but shot in 2012) with really old film developer (several half empty bottles of dark brown FG-7 combined into one, expiration dates circa 2006-2011).

i hate to throw anything away... especially now that i can no longer purchase FG-7.

early reports are fairly flat negatives with some strange anomalies and artifacts that i should be able to tease into interesting prints.

i'll get back to you with some samples from these negs in the near future.

i love a challenge!

Winter Weeds (1), 2010

didn't want another day to pass without posting a picture.

Firefly Letters

i can't post a picture today, so thought i'd tell you about a really interesting photography project now on display at the Lightroom Gallery in Philadelphia, PA, through Oct. 27th.

for over a year, in what is described as "a light and chemical correspondence," friends and photographers Scott McMahon and Ahmed Salvador have been mailing pieces of unexposed film or paper to each other in damaged packages to see what develops, so to speak.

you can view the correspondence on their website Firefly Letters.  There is a brief description of the project and a gallery for the film, the packaging and the prints.  the images are wonderful, and i absolutely love the serendipity of the work.

Kathan Kamps

this weekend Kathan Kamps, on Lake Sacandaga, closes for the season.  some lucky folks are right now enjoying a beautiful fall weekend before the cabins are put to bed for the winter. 

wish i was there. 

here's an image from my recent vacation on the lake.

Lake Sacandaga, 2012, gelatin silver contact print from paper negative

A Summer Day in October

Still (12), 2010

it is far too beautiful a day to be inside in front of a computer.  off to feel the sun on my face... and to take some pictures.

Egads!

i made it into the darkroom yesterday.  it took me awhile to get my groove on, but after an hour printing my work it began to feel right and natural once again.  i didn't wind up with anything i really loved, but i was happy and content.

this morning, when i went down to check if my prints were dry, i discovered the BRAND NEW box of 250 sheets of Ilford fiber paper ($256.50 + S&H) i had JUST OPENED was not what i had ordered.  the box was labelled correctly ~ Ilford Semi-Matte ~ but the paper inside was glossy, which i DO NOT WANT for my images.  and B&H, where i purchased the paper, is closed for the NEXT WEEK for Succoth.

OK, i'll stop with the capital and bold letters now.  this means i can't print my work, and that makes Patricia a very unhappy girl.  looks like i'll be forced to catch up on my contact sheets after all, which i print on RC.  so, maybe in the long run, this packaging mistake was a good thing.  but it doesn't feel that way right now.

Stairway to Heaven (2), 2011

Dancing in the Dark

today, at long last, i have a few hours to return to the darkroom.  events have conspired to keep me in the light for the past several months and i am craving a quick fix of fixer.

the cold water from my faucet is still not quite cool enough to start developing the 50+ rolls, and the 40+ sheets of 4x5 film i've accumulated over the summer.  just a few more crisp autumn nights and the cold water should finally drop below the 68 degree mark.  can't wait! 

the anticipation of what treasures, or trash await me in that undeveloped film is one of the great joys of analog photography.  it's like Christmas Eve all year long.  i could never give it up for the instant gratification of digital photography.

in the meantime, i'll have to scratch my darkroom itch by printing some older negatives.  i also have many, many, many contact sheets to develop, but i'm trying to ignore them.

will productive Patricia, or creative Patricia win out today?  either way, i'll be dancing in the dark with a big smile in my heart.

Ella, 2008

Going Big

this morning i took a couple images to master digital photographer and printer, Jim Roselli of Xact Studios in Hillsborough, NJ, to find out how they would look big... for me.  i normally print (in the darkroom) quite small ~ a 5"x7" image looks huge to me.  But this spring, my girls, the incredible les Femmes Photales, will be exhibiting at the newly renovated Reeves-Reed Arboretum in Summit, and the director and curator, Frank Juliano, would like to see big prints (16"x20") on the walls for the gala reopening.  i do not, let me repeat, do not, have to produce bigger work for this show ~ there is plenty of room for my small stuff ~ but i've always been curious about how my work would look large, so i've decided to find out.

here's one of the images i took to Jim...

Homestead Sunflowers (5), 2012

i'll let you know how it turns out...

Cleaning House... Really

i'm busy cleaning for house guests.  epic dislike... for the cleaning part, not the guests part.  this means i only have a second to put down my dust mop and post a quick image and quote.  bathrooms await...

Abandoned (9), 2010

"... if you do it with enough assurance and confidence, you're allowed to do whatever you like." ~ Neil Gaiman, in reference to writing, but it certainly applies to photography as well!

One Week

an image and a quote to celebrate one week of posting.

Lake Michigan, 2011





"Every silver image has to become a greater experience than what the eye saw."

~ Ruth Bernhard

Light

this morning i discovered the following quote on the facebook page of my new friend, British photographer Gary Ligget ~

"Amateurs worry about equipment, 

professionals worry about money, 

masters worry about light..."

sorry, no attribution was given, but i'll see if i can track down who wrote, or said these wise words.

the quote is a little snooty, i'll admit, but i still love it because photography really is all about the light.  for me, it is not so much a "worry" about the light as it is a deep and abiding fascination with the play and power of light.   i am drawn to the movement of light across surfaces, how it peeks from behind leaves, how it caresses a loved one's face, how it streams through the clouds and touches the distant mountains.  it is pure magic.  one of the greatest gifts we are given.

i am a slave to the light.

Bordentown Marsh (6), 2011



Showing My Work

today, my first ever "art handler" arrived at my home to pick up my images and transport them to the art gallery at Johnson & Johnson for my upcoming show.  it was quite a treat.  i felt so pampered, like a "real" artist for a change, not an impostor.

that is how i usually feel at shows, like a poseur, especially at openings.  i am terribly uncomfortable with all the hoopla surrounding an art opening and i find myself anxiously awaiting my first chance to bolt.   i've even been known to try to bribe my husband Louie to take my place at openings.  i hate milling around, making small talk, schmoozing, and networking with artists, clients, curators and gallerists.  perhaps because i'm just awful at it.

unlike many artists, i cannot stand to talk about my own work.  i have always felt the viewer brings meaning to the art.  this suggests to me that i should not be blathering on and on to you about what my art is trying to say.  i should be quiet and respectful and allow you to look and make your own discoveries.  if you have a question, i should try to answer it, if i can.  but i shouldn't corner you by my piece and bend your ear for over an hour about the deep, vital significance of my work.  this makes me a not very good artist i'm afraid, especially in the marketing department.

in my ideal world, i would go happily about making my images.   my work would eventually find its way to a small, intimate, simpatico gallery, where people would see it and fall absolutely in love with it on their own... without my input, or the advice of a gallery owner or art consultant. occasionally people would discover they just had to have one of my images... just often enough to keep me supplied with film, paper and chemicals...  and my work would wind up, hanging happily ever after, in the perfect place in their homes, hopefully, all across America and beyond its shores.

of course, an art handler would always come to pick up my work and deliver it to the gallery.  is that really too much to ask for?

Bordentown Marsh (2), 2011, on its way to J&J

Robert Adams, Part II

yesterday i had a good cry.  not a sobbing, chest heaving type of cry, but the kind of crying where tears well up in your eyes and there's a gentle ache in your chest.  that is the power of Robert Adams' photography for me. 

The Place We Live, an exhibition at the Yale University Art Gallery, is a massive career retrospective of the prolific writer and photographer's work over the past 40+ years.  definitely image overload.  there are two floors of small, exquisite black and white photographs, documenting man's changing, and challenging relationship with the land.

what stuns me about Adams' work is its magical ability to transport me to the places he has photographed.  i look at a tiny piece of paper hanging on the gallery wall and i am there.  i taste the air.  i feel the sun.  i touch the child.  i shiver in the breeze from the ocean.  i sit under the tree.  i don't understand why this happens with his work, and not with others, but it does. 

go see this exhibition, if you can.  you can bet your bottom dollar i will be writing about Mr. Adams again and again, once i have had the time to digest all that i saw and felt as i roamed the gallery yesterday.

Robert Adams

Robert Adams

*New Brunswick, NJ... New York, New York... New Haven, Connecticut*

artgallery.yale.edu/adams/landing.php

Robert Adams

today i find the time to be immersed in essential, inspirational landscape photography.

Sunflowers

The Sunflowers

~ Mary Oliver

Come with me

    into the field of sunflowers.

        Their faces are burnished disks,

           their dry spines

creak like ship masts,

    their green leaves,

       so heavy and many,

           fill all day with the sticky

sugars of the sun.

     Come with me

         to visit the sunflowers,

             they are shy

but want to be friends;

   they have wonderful stories

       of when they were young --

           the important weather,

the wandering crows.

Don't be afraid

to ask them questions!

Their bright faces,

which follow the sun,

will listen, and all

those rows of seeds --

each one a new life! --

hope for a deeper acquaintance;

each of them, though it stands

in a crowd of many,

like a separate universe,

is lonely, the long work

of turning their lives

into a celebration

is not easy.  Come

and let us talk with those modest faces,

the simple garments of leaves,

the coarse roots in the earth

so uprightly burning.



Homestead Sunflowers, 2011

This poem was read at my mother's memorial service by her dear friend Shirley Beckman.

It holds a special place in my heart... as do sunflowers.

A Post A Day

i am going to endeavor to post every day for a month.  the post may only be an image, a quote, a poem or a link to something i love, but i will try to post something every single day. 

i undertook this type of project several years ago with my photography.  i'm sure those of you who are photographers are familiar with the roll a day assignment ~ you shoot a roll of film every day for a given length of time.  i did it, successfully, for a month and learned a great deal about the way i see, about what my eye is subconsciously attracted to.  i also learned to push myself outside of my comfort zone in order to avoid creating repetitive images.  i learned discipline and dedication, forcing myself to shoot even when the weather was awful or i was tired or the hour was late.  i learned that one keeper image on a roll of film qualifies as a successful shoot.  and, i amassed a large number of new and exciting images.  this self-assignment also forced me to develop and print religiously in order to keep up with the work produced. 

i don't know if doing the same thing with the blog will be as beneficial, but i've decided to give it a try.  i think the hardest part may be coming up with post titles every day.  something tells me they may go by the wayside.

Great Lake Sacandaga, 2012

p.s. on days when i have no access to Lou's computer (the only computer we own that i can post pictures from) i will try to make up the missed day with an extra post, or an extra long post.  here goes nothing... or, fingers crossed, maybe something.

A Quiet Sunday

just a quiet picture for a quiet Sunday

Stopping Time

one of the things i love so much about making photographs ~ and there are many, many things i love ~ is how the process slows down time.  when you explore your world with your camera in hand, you gradually begin to expand and focus your vision.   as your sight intensifies, all your senses are heightened to an acute level, and you enter the tranquil cocoon of now.  the past and the future vanish in the power of the present.  you become so locked in the moment, time ceases to exist.  it is a sublime, and addictive experience.

as summer passes into fall, and we find ourselves another season older, stop for a minute, with or without your camera, and really look at the world around you.  take the time to stop time. enter the moment and leave your life behind.

The Last Day of Summer

to thank Bill for his two cents...

In The Sweet Grass Hills ~ Requiem

For the time being, earth and sky.
For the time being, body.

For the time being, nights of magpie blue,
mornings of salt white clouds winging over.

For the time being, eagle.
Eye to eye with the sun at noon,

I enter these hills of sweet grass,
sage, wild rose, and rock ---
bringing nothing with me,
       a wild solitude in the smoke
                              I please to call my soul.

- Margaret Gibson

to blog or not to blog

i think i'm going to give this blogging thing a go for purely selfish reasons.  here's why...

i first began studying photography in 2001.  before that i never took pictures, i wrote.  i wrote for a weekly newspaper.  i wrote poetry.  i tried to write several novels and failed abysmally.  i think 30 pages was as far as i ever got.  i wrote daily in many, many journals.  i usually had at least two or three going at one time because i am a sucker for beautiful notebooks.  i can't stop myself from buying them.  in short, i was drowning in words.

then photography came along.  no words.  no thoughts.  just vision, sensation, reaction, liberation.  i was freed from the confines of my brain and i expanded into the universe.  i was instantly hooked on this wordless world, and i have followed photography's quiet path with great joy for the past 10+ years.

over those years i have continued to write, but in short, quickly jotted sentences... ideas, thoughts, observations, quotes...  no long, analytical pages of  developed reasoning.  i think, perhaps, this absence of words, of deep thought, has prevented my photography from growing and evolving as i would like it to.  i think it may be time for me to bring words into my photography practice.  and this from a woman who abhors artist statements.

i believe words and images can work together to the benefit of both.  that's why i've chosen this image, Intersecting Paths.  this blog will afford me the opportunity to test this hypothesis.  stay tuned.  things could get interesting around here.

in the dark

i was in the darkroom yesterday, after a couple of days of producing satisfying, but basically ho hum work, when this image appeared in the developer.  i wasn't really expecting much from the image since it was a tad overexposed on my contact sheet and didn't appear too exciting.  i certainly wasn't expecting my heart to stop with excitement.  but it did.  i couldn't stop looking at this simple tree in the sunlight.  it was perfect.  i quickly developed three more prints and then went on working.
this morning, based on past experience, i anticipated a huge letdown when i went into the darkroom to look at the print again, now curled and dry on the rack.  i never like my work the day after printing.  it always looks drab and boring and trite and why am i wasting my time creating this rubbish.  trees died for this, you know?
for some inexplicable reason, i still loved this image.  even without the wonderful water sheen that coats an image when you pull it from the wash.  it still made me happy and proud and eager to take another picture and develop another print.
this got me to wondering... why?  why this image?  what is it in this tiny black and white print that makes my heart sing?
first, i think, it's the simplicity.  it's just a tree in the sunlight.  nothing more, but that's all it needs to be.  it's also the textures.  the way the bark of the tree echos the grittiness of the wall.  it's the dance of the leaves and the dappled light.  it's the wonder of this little tree growing from the concrete of a busy Manhattan cross street.  finally, it's the fact that these miraculous moments are occurring right now, all around us, and all we have to do is venture out, slow down and take a look.

a misty morning between the trees

my new friend Bill (and sole follower) recently suggested that i begin posting some of my work here on my nascent blog.  i will begin by posting just this one image.  i took it in my backyard early on a foggy morning.  i think i was still in my pajamas.  i saw the fog.  i saw the sun beginning to break through the mist.  i pulled on shoes, grabbed my camera and raced out the back door.  i was lost in the fog for several hours and three rolls of black and white film.  i would have stayed forever, but i ran out of film.

in the ten years that i have been seriously practicing photography, i have discovered that most of my best images come from places i return to over and over again... like my simple backyard.  because it is comfortable, familiar territory, i look deeper, and i find i go beyond the surface of things with greater ease.  i am relaxed.  i feel safe.   and i can move rather smoothly into the photographer's zone.  what my friend Bill calls the state of "listening with your eyes."  i think that's a perfect description.  your senses are heightened and you are attuned to all that is around you.  you see new things.  you feel new sensations.  everything almost tingles and glows. 

that is why i love photographing my world so very much... it always takes me to a new place, even when i'm just standing in my old, humdrum backyard.  that's magical.

a couple years later...

read a thought-provoking blog today, Paul Romaniuk's The Bertie Project, about photography in the digital age. i felt compelled to respond to his blog, and my response led me back to this blog, created several years ago and promptly forgotten. since i have no idea how to delete posts, thought i'd post a quick update...

--have changed the title of the blog.

--have no expectations that anyone will ever read this.

--love the fact that i'm returning to this blog just as everyone is predicting the death of blogs.

--cannot figure out whether all this internet stuff is beneficial or just dust in the wind.

--have created a web site. have created a facebook profile and page.

--no twitter. no google+. just a name on linked-in.

--too many passwords for this tired brain.

--no pinterest... thank god.

--it's overwhelming.

--how do i simplify?

--do i even want to indulge?

where i belong is behind the camera, or in the darkroom. not sitting in front of a computer wasting time and talking to the vast empty void of cyberspace.

so i remain totally confused and conflicted.

--do i go with my private journals or the potentially not-so-private blog?

--do i continue to create and manage my cyber identity, or just try to be content with my actual self in the flesh and blood world?

it's hard enough being me. do i really want to be a cyber me?

i'll get back to you in a couple years. i'm heading out now to crouch behind a few trees and take some photographs.