documenting common threads

Those of you with whom I have spoken in the last six months or so know that I am on a mission of sorts, to reintroduce writing - not Tweeting, not texting, not emailing - but writing, of the pen or pencil to paper sort.  Before you think of me as a Luddite, let me explain my thoughts on the subject.

Many in the government, media, and industry (as shown during the three weeks since Malaysian Airlines Flight 370 went missing) would like to convince us that technology can solve every problem.  Technology and the pace thereof is nothing short of stunning, but when a satellite image shows a white blob in the middle of the Indian Ocean, rather than McGee utilizing satellite imagery to practically zoom into someone's living room during an NCIS episode, the science is not quite exact as they would have us think.  I realize this is a gross simplification, and that my understanding of the science is very close to being nil, but it demonstrates one of my concerns.  Our trillions of emails, texts, and Tweets are somewhere in the computer mix, perhaps hovering in the Cloud, but the spring wind may blow them into the ether, never to return.

We are in great danger of losing our history, as individuals, families, a country, and Planet Earth.  The history we have was written by our ancestors - sketched, sculpted, painted, photographed, journaled.  Very few of us are doing that now.  We have a wonderful friend who seems to have every single email she has written or people have written her in her computer, but how many people retain electronic communication for any length of time?  Where is it?  We are told that various security agencies and the government can find them, but would they, if asked, go into the bowels of the machine, to get a particularly poignant email from a friend or lover?  Everyone has a story.  Many have incredible stories that need to be told or they will be lost.  Our collective memories are not that acute, and they are prone to alteration.  You and I need to be documenting.

Human beings document using a number of different media, of which cave paintings are some of the earliest.  But I will begin with books.  In the not-to-distant past, books were made of cotton rag paper, signatures bound with needle and thread, and brought together with a leather binding.  Publishers had stables of illustrators whose drawings and paintings accentuated the writing.  Pages even had gold leaf, as did this 1883 edition of Robert Burns poetry.

This page is from a leather bound "autograph album" - beautifully printed simply for autographs from school mates.  What blows me away is the fact I can hold in my hand a book with family members' writing from the 1880s!

Now we begin to add photographs to the mix.  They were much less expensive to have made than a painting.  Everyone wanted to and could document themselves and their families in this manner.

Click on the images to look deeper into the words and photographs.

Thanks to our friends Lucia, Earle, and Cristina, and to Fred for their documentation.  I hope the rest of you will consider documenting your lives, past and present.  Write it, sketch it, photograph it, print it.

until next Monday,

DB

a passion for the image   

water, comma, water everywhere, comma

At some point during my teenage years (far too long ago for me to recall a precise date), I was required to memorize a poem, with all the punctuation, for an English class assignment.  My choice was the Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge.  Why?  That is still a mystery, but probably because the rhythm made sense and, most of all, it was easy to memorize.  Straight forward does just fine.  And I can tell you right now that there was no way I memorized it in its entirety!

The only reason I bring this up is my own (and many in the western United States) current obsession with water - truly, the lack thereof.  Except for the lucky ones (or the unlucky effected by mudslides) in Washington State, the drought continues on a huge scale, and relief has yet to come.  Comparing notes, it is making many yearn for water - still or flowing.  Here are some shots to quench our thirst for it.  The first is of Half Moon Tank, Cochise Stronghold, Dragoon Mountains, Arizona.

Here is the Rio Grande under the Gorge Bridge.  After looking at this image for some time, I discovered all sorts of stuff in the foreground on the left, including a road repair sign.  Oh, the stories this river could tell!

A reflection of the Grand Tetons in Jenny Lake.

until next Monday,

DB

a passion for the image

focus

Last week's blog featured the results of low light and moving the camera to achieve a sense of motion in the dance of Guillermo Cerneaz and Marina Kenny, tango dancers from Buenos Aires.  They were in Taos for two weeks at Taos Tango, giving private lessons, presenting workshops, and performing.  These photographs are of the couple at Old Martina's Hall in Ranchos de Taos, showing an intense but easy focus which allows their dance to be acute yet lush and supple at once.

Marina is the queen of contra-body, a position wherein the upper torso is facing Guillermo (the lead) while her lower body is twisting into a back step.

until next Monday,

DB

a passion for the image

ghosts of the dance

An immensely talented, delightful young Argentine couple have been in Taos for the last two weeks, dancing mind-boggling performances, and presenting workshops.  The core of every single participant feels like it has been given a world-class workout!  Although they are now headed to San Miguel de Allende, Mexico for a tango festival, Marina Kenny and Guillermo Cerneaz left our community with wonderful memories.

During a milonga (tango dance) at Old Martina's Hall in Ranchos de Taos on Saturday evening, Guillermo and Marina were like hovercraft, flowing over the floor with astonishing cleanness and ease.  Using my smaller Nikon, I was playing around with flash and without flash.  These "ghost images" are obviously made without the assistance of flash, which produced some interesting blurs and day-glo colors from the assorted types of lights in the room.

Thanks to Carrie Field and Mike Malixi of Taos Tango for bringing them here and cultivating the tango community in Taos.

until next Monday,

DB

a passion for the images

Rio Grande abstractions

Fellow photographer Steve Immel and I spent a morning photographing in and around the Rio Grande Gorge this week.  The sky was a little murky, as if smoke had drifted into New Mexico from a wildfire somewhere.  Rather than attempt to tweak out good photographs under those conditions, we photographed the river itself.  And the good old Rio, although not full, has a lot of runoff in it, enough to make it very cantankerous and noisy.  It was, in a word, mesmerizing.  I could have stood photographing it in detail all day.  Here are some abstracts.  Clicking on each image makes it slightly larger and reveals more detail.

The thrashing and foaming of the water as it crashes into volcanic boulders is wondrous, and emphasizes the sheer power of water.  The pattern of bubbles on the center rock is like a delicate suit of armor, each bubble neatly linked to the next but ready to self-destruct at any moment.

When I look at this photograph, I can almost hear and smell El Rio Grande, New Mexico's life line.

until next Monday,

DB

a passion for the image