A Quick Bit of Staistics

Sept 10, 2009
Johnson, VT

I am slightly obsessive about certain things and I have quietly hid these little obsessions over the years. I have decided to embrace them as I approach the end of my 30 years.

30 gigs of data / digital images were created on this last trip
63 rolls of film shot which equals 1032 frames of images. 451 frames made it through the first edit and have been scanned. 43.7% of film shot made it through the initial edit to move on to the second round. Not a bad shooting average at all.

Chichicastenago Surprise

Sept 9, 2009
Johnson, Vermont

As some of you know, the market at Chichicastenago in Guatemala was slightly underwhelming for me. Yet sometimes the places that you didn't think much of can surprise you with an amazing shot that make the early morning worth while and rewrite your impression of that day, that market, that moment forever. This is part of the magic of photography. This is part of the wonder of film.

One of my favorite thing about shooting film is that you don't get to see it right away. You have wait. By the time you get your proof sheets back, its been days and days and days since you shot that roll, since you been to that place. It is familiar to look at each shot as you remember most of them and also a surprise too cause there are ones that are long forgotten.

I would say that I had the best market experience in Central America at San Juan Chamula. But I am not sure that I have a GREAT shot from that day. Chichicastenago might have been slightly disappointing as far as the market was concerned, but look what I brought home with me, look at this moment that I caught on film.

A Delicate Balance

Sept 9, 2009
Johnson, Vermont

It is day 10 here at the artist residency and I am still having trouble finding that perfect balance. I have so much work that I need to get through before I am back on the road again. Editing, scanning, cleaning and dealing with the images from the last trip is a month's worth of work and I am trying to get it completed in 2 weeks. I want to do a little bit more research on the next project and maybe get that started. I would like to get some writing done. There are lots and lots of ideas kicking around up there, the hamsters have been working over time and there is an avalanche that needs to come out. In short, there is a lot of work to do.

Yet, I am in Johnson Vermont, a small town, surrounded by some wonderful artists, writers, beautiful beautiful people who have a uniquely different perspective on life, art and what not. I would like to get to know them. I would like to know their stories and what they dream about. I am being offered a community of like minded people and I want to take advantage of that.

Its a struggle every day between locking myself away in the studio and work until I can't keep my eyes open anymore or go out and socialize with the other artists. A delicate balance of work and play that I seem to have trouble finding. I know I am not the only one. This very same conversation of balance comes up during meals (I know that its ridiculous that I think it takes too much time out of my day to share 3 meals a day with the other artists) and I am comforted to know that I am not the only workaholic present.

Is it weird to feel that life was a lot easier on the road? I shoot in the morning when its not a day spent in transit. I walk around the rest of the day and photograph whatever else that captures my imagination. The hours in between the nitty gritty of survival (food, laundry and lodging) is for me to read, to wonder, to sight see, to day dream, to write, to hunt down coffee and Oreos. The residency is supposed to take away all the distractions of daily life yet I find myself even more perplexed and stressed than I would be otherwise.

Life is a constant push and pull of opposites and you just hope that you can make it to the end without being torn apart by the force fields.

*Photograph courtsey of Frank Jackson, a dear dear friend and a fantastic photographer.

A Life Open to the World

Nov 25, 2008
Los Angeles, Ca

The recent issue of The New Yorker has an article about Jeffery Alford and Naomi Duguid. They are cookbook authors but a more accurate description would be culinary anthropologists or culinary geographers. They have published 6 cookbooks since 1995 and I currently own "Hot, Sour, Salty, Sweet" while the rest are logged into my 28 page wish list on Amazon.

The thing that really caught my attention in the profile piece about Alford and Duguid is not just the partnership that they have and how they essentially raised two child on the road but their attitude towards traveling..."they travel light, on anything headed in the right direction - a riverboat, a mountain bus...when nothing shows up, they hitchhike or rent a bike or walk....[Duguid] call this 'staying vulnerable' to the people, the place, and the possibility of a new taste where ever they get dropped off...they talk about arriving in a place and having no idea of what they'll find there. The awe that comes with that - it's always present."

This idea of staying vulnerable to possibilities is I think one of my favorite things about traveling and why I think I am always itching to get back on the road. Yet something happens once the plane hits the tarmac at LAX - somehow the mind shifts and I becomes less vulnerable. Why do we feel less safe at "home" than we do in a strange land? Is it because when we are here, we feel that we are measured by our accomplishments and if we don't have enough then we must fake it? Especially in a place like Los Angeles?

How do we stay vulnerable to possibilities and yet still protect ourselves?

Where to next is a frequent question that I get at my Q&A sections and I have been thinking of South / Central America and Africa. Yet I have had Central Asia and Mongolia stuck in my teeth for over a year now - and Burma since this summer. The article ends with Alford and Durguid writing a cookbook that is focused on Burma. Burma again - is the Universe trying to tell me something? Meanwhile, I am tentatively slated to go down to Mexico / Cuba next spring and Chile next winter. But all of this could change depending on my grant status.

As I try to define and refine the "partnership" I wish to have, I can't help but look at the Alford/Durguid model to be a measuring stick of sorts. The profile describes them to be opposites yet symbiotic. They were able to agree on all the big important life questions within days after they meet in the low oxygen city of Lhasa at 3600km.

Irrespective of what the final definition is, what I do know is that I would like a life that is open to the world, where I am vulnerable to possibilities, adventures, regardless whether I am in LA, New York or a nameless town in middle of no where.

Nov 24, 2008, The New Yorker, The Hungry Travellers by Jane Kramer