4.26.2008
Naturally, after a full day of presenting, souping, drinking and visiting those of us left at the end went across to road for ice cream. Monique, Jason, Mary, Albert, Alan "Ginga Din" Purves and I had Ijs. Well, everybody except for Mary, who was "Full of Soup" which may or may not be a Dutch phrase translated. I too was full of soup, given that I had had, like, 15 bowlsfull, but it was very good.
Albert, Monique and Jason had the BoerJoungers.
Alan had the Walnut and, on my recommendation, Aardbei (in a cup).
I had a Chocolade/Walnut, because I thought everybody was getting doubles. That and I wanted to get this business over with and have something that wasn't Strawberry. It was ok. The Walnut is intense, with a bit of a licqueur cast to it. The Chocolade is fairly mellow and didn't stand up to the Walnut as well as I had hoped. Perhaps the Hazelnoot might have, but I think that would have been too intense. As it was I was worried I had gone over the top with the double to begin with, and Alan's story about drinking the three very strong Ekus in Belgium and (well the story has a long and visceral part in the middle, which was quite funny but a little gross and while it had a happy ending it was a bit much on a full stomach) perhaps I should have had the strawberry. Or a coffee, which I still want but she still doesn't have.
From now on I am just going to have the Strawberry and be done with it.
Albert, Monique and Jason had the BoerJoungers.
Alan had the Walnut and, on my recommendation, Aardbei (in a cup).
I had a Chocolade/Walnut, because I thought everybody was getting doubles. That and I wanted to get this business over with and have something that wasn't Strawberry. It was ok. The Walnut is intense, with a bit of a licqueur cast to it. The Chocolade is fairly mellow and didn't stand up to the Walnut as well as I had hoped. Perhaps the Hazelnoot might have, but I think that would have been too intense. As it was I was worried I had gone over the top with the double to begin with, and Alan's story about drinking the three very strong Ekus in Belgium and (well the story has a long and visceral part in the middle, which was quite funny but a little gross and while it had a happy ending it was a bit much on a full stomach) perhaps I should have had the strawberry. Or a coffee, which I still want but she still doesn't have.
From now on I am just going to have the Strawberry and be done with it.
Albert arrived with the film. He also brought Alan "Gunga" Purvis, the Scottish percussionist extraordinaire who along with Albert and Jody Gilbert will be performing improvised musical works as part of today's program of happenings.
Much as I suspected, the light in the Cheese Hall is lackluster, and, worse, many of the images have the quality of being an exercise, rarely breaking through from the idea into...
This is the thing. I came here to engage with this place and to see if I could make artworks worth the effort. I also, given my own interest in still life as an approach, was interested in the whole Dutch tradition of Still Life in painting, and thought that by taking this on as a form I could both explore and learn while trying to create here. Of course, formal exercise is not in itself enough: I didn't come all the way here to practice scales. Given the work I did at Elsewhere (trying to use objects to "enact" narrative passages through a performative modality), and the ideas behind the earlier Bottle photographs (that they stood for people and how they expressed light as a spiritual metaphor), an artistic tradition that embraced an ethic of "in the words of St Thomas Aquinas ‘a corporeal metaphor of things spiritual’"
promised to be right up my alley.
I like the idea of talking about the things that interest me, as well as the people I meet and the experiences I have, through photographs of objects arranged out on a table. So far so good. I also like inviting people to bring me things they think are interesting for me to add to the mix. It echoes nicely Monique's soup piece, where people contribute and then the final result is shared (even while it remains Monique who is doing the cooking). Still in order for it to really work it's going to take time, and practice before it becomes a fully fledged way of working.
For example: Still Lifes often have immediately recognizable "returns" (by this I mean a trope that can serve as an identifying characteristic) such as a skull or a scale or a butterfly that symbolizes rebirth, etc. Do I go out and get a pewter water beaker because that says "Still Life" like nobody's business? Of course not, that would be cliche, even cheesy in a not good way (unless I got a nice glass one, ummm). What's more, part of what makes still lifes compelling is their technical difficulty. It is easier to take a photo of a pear than to paint one well. Not to privilege painting however, because in some ways it is easier to paint a pear than it is to photograph one well. But I digress.
What is it that makes a still life come alive? Resonate with significance? Knock you out?
Love. And I can spot it's absence a mile away.
Much as I suspected, the light in the Cheese Hall is lackluster, and, worse, many of the images have the quality of being an exercise, rarely breaking through from the idea into...
This is the thing. I came here to engage with this place and to see if I could make artworks worth the effort. I also, given my own interest in still life as an approach, was interested in the whole Dutch tradition of Still Life in painting, and thought that by taking this on as a form I could both explore and learn while trying to create here. Of course, formal exercise is not in itself enough: I didn't come all the way here to practice scales. Given the work I did at Elsewhere (trying to use objects to "enact" narrative passages through a performative modality), and the ideas behind the earlier Bottle photographs (that they stood for people and how they expressed light as a spiritual metaphor), an artistic tradition that embraced an ethic of "in the words of St Thomas Aquinas ‘a corporeal metaphor of things spiritual’"
promised to be right up my alley.
I like the idea of talking about the things that interest me, as well as the people I meet and the experiences I have, through photographs of objects arranged out on a table. So far so good. I also like inviting people to bring me things they think are interesting for me to add to the mix. It echoes nicely Monique's soup piece, where people contribute and then the final result is shared (even while it remains Monique who is doing the cooking). Still in order for it to really work it's going to take time, and practice before it becomes a fully fledged way of working.
For example: Still Lifes often have immediately recognizable "returns" (by this I mean a trope that can serve as an identifying characteristic) such as a skull or a scale or a butterfly that symbolizes rebirth, etc. Do I go out and get a pewter water beaker because that says "Still Life" like nobody's business? Of course not, that would be cliche, even cheesy in a not good way (unless I got a nice glass one, ummm). What's more, part of what makes still lifes compelling is their technical difficulty. It is easier to take a photo of a pear than to paint one well. Not to privilege painting however, because in some ways it is easier to paint a pear than it is to photograph one well. But I digress.
What is it that makes a still life come alive? Resonate with significance? Knock you out?
Love. And I can spot it's absence a mile away.
"Things to do while Monique is in Meppel"
-- clean the livingroom
--- clean the bathroom
--- clean the kitchen
--- take all belongings up to the skyroom
---tidy up skyroom
----set up drinks in the kasshall
---make sign for streetside
--- make dinner preperations (lists, food. etc)
--- move images to monique
-----sweep the kasshall
----bathe
--- clean the bathroom
--- clean the kitchen
--- take all belongings up to the skyroom
---tidy up skyroom
----set up drinks in the kasshall
---make sign for streetside
--- make dinner preperations (lists, food. etc)
--- move images to monique
-----sweep the kasshall
----bathe
Mary's instructions for making tea
"First you have to tilt the Honey jar, that's very important. Then you put about as much honey as can fit on a small spoon into the cup and pour the tea in. Then you have to stir it."
4.25.2008
Longwinded confessional
I am interested in Still Lifes because I find myself taking them, making them. It wasn't always this way. For a long time I fell into that category of Photographers who only captured what was in front of them. I felt, as I suspect many photographers do, that my job was to see, observe, witness, without "doing" anything. That kind of distance, that seemingly rigorous discipline not to interfere, not to move a single thing – that line in the sand that had the taste of an "ethic" – well it made sense at the time. I don't condemn it, but my sense of things is somewhat different now. Even when I spent years taking pictures of bottles, arranging them in front of my lens, quickly because the Sun was rapidly dropping to the horizon over Queen Anne Hill, I imagined that I was on Safari, hunting nimble game. Somehow it was important for me to not be in total control of the process, as if that made a difference. Perhaps I wouldn't call that an "ethic", more likely "a metaphysic", again as if that made any difference. I don't think I could ever be completely in control of the process; whether because of inability or lack of necessity is incidental. But what I know now is that it is impossible to be completely objective. To be here is to be complicit, to witness something is to take responsibility for it's coming into being.
At some point I realized that I had been brought up with the notion that being a Photographer and being an Artist were two separate categories. I have spent ten years and change trying to be the other instead of the one. Ironically I find that I'd like to be both, and it's a matter of finding the assumption switch. Lately I have realized that I had another given when it comes to Still Lifes. I'm not a painter and I can't draw. In many ways I have known that I got into photography because I wanted to create, and that photography was a compensation for the belief that you weren't an artist if you couldn't draw. Along with this came the perverse bias against representational art. Not knowing how difficult it is to try and record what you see by hand, I am suspect of people who try. This of course is non-sense, but it is connected with something deeper. I am suspect of people for whom the craft dominates the work. When someone only cares about technique, or slavishly recreates a tradition, or advances to a point where they can "pass" without going deeper into difficult territory, then I find myself dismissive. It's funny because while I know enough about photography to hold high standards, I apply my bias liberally. We all do, I suspect, and it's a matter not of being a Saint, but of sinning less. The fact is we are generally the ones who suffer most from our blind spots...
This is a lead in to tell you that I have found myself looking down on still lifes, and representational art in general, only to face the fact that I can't tell the difference anymore between abstract and representational, between still life and moving life. I'm not trying to be cute, here, it's just the way it is.
At some point I realized that I had been brought up with the notion that being a Photographer and being an Artist were two separate categories. I have spent ten years and change trying to be the other instead of the one. Ironically I find that I'd like to be both, and it's a matter of finding the assumption switch. Lately I have realized that I had another given when it comes to Still Lifes. I'm not a painter and I can't draw. In many ways I have known that I got into photography because I wanted to create, and that photography was a compensation for the belief that you weren't an artist if you couldn't draw. Along with this came the perverse bias against representational art. Not knowing how difficult it is to try and record what you see by hand, I am suspect of people who try. This of course is non-sense, but it is connected with something deeper. I am suspect of people for whom the craft dominates the work. When someone only cares about technique, or slavishly recreates a tradition, or advances to a point where they can "pass" without going deeper into difficult territory, then I find myself dismissive. It's funny because while I know enough about photography to hold high standards, I apply my bias liberally. We all do, I suspect, and it's a matter not of being a Saint, but of sinning less. The fact is we are generally the ones who suffer most from our blind spots...
This is a lead in to tell you that I have found myself looking down on still lifes, and representational art in general, only to face the fact that I can't tell the difference anymore between abstract and representational, between still life and moving life. I'm not trying to be cute, here, it's just the way it is.
Compromise
I think we all saw it coming...
Today we all went for ice cream.
Monique got the Hazelnoot (I tried some. It was good. Like Nutella except, Ijsier...)
Mary got the Snikker Milkshake
Jason also got the Hazelnoot.
And I got....
Ok, so I compromised. I really wanted Coffee, but she still hasn't made any, and to be honest I knew there wouldn't be any. The thing is, I really don't want this to be a shaggy dog story where every day I pretend I am going to branch out and every day I get strawberry because it's a cute schtick. I decided to break the streak. I got Chocolate/Strawberry. It was very good. I wish she would make Peach. Haagen Daaz used to have an Elberta Peach that was for years my absolute favorite. I was in heaven every time I came across one of those chunks of slightly tart peach that would cut through the cream. I haven't seen it in years. I assume they make it as a regional specialty some places, or maybe it's too expensive to use actual peaches anymore. I am also partial to a good Green Tea ice cream, but that wasn't on the board today...
Today we all went for ice cream.
Monique got the Hazelnoot (I tried some. It was good. Like Nutella except, Ijsier...)
Mary got the Snikker Milkshake
Jason also got the Hazelnoot.
And I got....
Ok, so I compromised. I really wanted Coffee, but she still hasn't made any, and to be honest I knew there wouldn't be any. The thing is, I really don't want this to be a shaggy dog story where every day I pretend I am going to branch out and every day I get strawberry because it's a cute schtick. I decided to break the streak. I got Chocolate/Strawberry. It was very good. I wish she would make Peach. Haagen Daaz used to have an Elberta Peach that was for years my absolute favorite. I was in heaven every time I came across one of those chunks of slightly tart peach that would cut through the cream. I haven't seen it in years. I assume they make it as a regional specialty some places, or maybe it's too expensive to use actual peaches anymore. I am also partial to a good Green Tea ice cream, but that wasn't on the board today...
And you thought I was kidding
Apparently the Dutch really do have 28 letters. Seriously, I thought they were kidding myself.
The horses are on the track.
The film is on its way to the lab – in Amsterdam – thanks to Albert (Thanks Albert) who is driving it there. I shot 12 rolls, which is roughly 120 shots, most of which are bracketed exposures. Hopefully there will be one or two usable images in there for display next week. Albert will bring back the film and a percussionist tomorrow and we'll see. Two lightboxes have been ordered, and prints will get made (again in Amsterdam) and everything should be here by Tuesday. Wednesday is "Queen's Day" which is a very popular holiday. It sounds like Amsterdam becomes one big flea market and by mid-afternoon is choked to a standstill by drunk people, or so I am told. It seems a little like Mardis Gras, with the locals heading to the hills while everyone else comes in to celebrate. I'd love to go wander around and see the stuff but I have neither the money nor the means to take home anything I might get, oh and I probably don't need anything anyway, so we'll see what happens.
Meanwhile people slowly bring things by for me to photograph, at the rate of one a day. Maybe tomorrow, with the Naoberschap Soup and the performances will up the ante some. Otherwise it's a lazy day. Maybe a good day to get Ijs...
Meanwhile people slowly bring things by for me to photograph, at the rate of one a day. Maybe tomorrow, with the Naoberschap Soup and the performances will up the ante some. Otherwise it's a lazy day. Maybe a good day to get Ijs...
Mary, new typewriter
I call this one "Mary's Got a New Typewriter".
She's got plenty at home but this yellow one is a beauty. Plus it comes with 3.8% more letters, being Dutch and all.
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