Tunisia

Here is a snapshot of a neighbor who lived across the street from me in Tunis. He gave me rides on his moped. I spent four months there in 1983 as an intern for the government owned transportation department.

I knew before going I was in for culture shock but my first day in Tunisia went beyond that.. I had just come across the Mediterranean on what I would describe as steerage, or transit for livestock. The university student who collected me at the port of Tunis spoke French very fast, with a thick Arabic accent. I barely even recognized the language I had studied for four years.

For those first few weeks I felt my equilibrium was lost. Ramadan was just getting underway as I arrived and I stupidly pledged to my host family that I would be fasting for the whole month. I regained my balance, over time, as I got use to the language, climate and logistics of living there. I made friends with some students from the University of Tunis who engaged me in lively political discussions on the beach. Being the only American in the group I did more listening than talking. If you have traveled before to such places, as an American in the 80's, you know what I mean.

The conflict in Tunisia today is as inevitable as the struggle for independence from France was back in the 50's. Every struggle is a step toward reconciling faith and tradition with the forces of globalization, which are seen by many Tunisians as just another form of oppression. From what I observed from talks with people and the overall social climate, Tunisia has tried to preserve its Islamic roots while reaching for economic growth and gaining respect from the international community. But progress is precarious with Islam so misunderstood in the West. The distortions of Islam portrayed in non-Muslim countries are manipulative and often driven by political motives. To those who perpetuate these stereotypes, or perpetrate violence as a solution, the students I met in Tunis would likely respond with a quote from the Quaran; "The pen of the scholar is more sacred than the blood of a martyr."

Evolve

Wandering around with my camera, I am often struck by the eloquence of graffiti. With just a word or two, much can be said. There is a dynamic play of color and graphics in language painted onto a canvas of concrete. A power and wealth driven society has produced a counter-culture that defies boundaries and rules. A spray-painted word on a wall or a door has impact and is much more compelling than if you used the word in conversation.

I saw the word, "evolve", spray painted on a wall in Pismo Beach. I stopped in my tracks and aimed my camera. It was reflexive. Visual art forms, film and still-photography are powerful that way. They have a unique ability to bypass the intellect and reach right into our gut.

Graffiti is interesting because it's raw and territorial. In an urban environment it's so common that it blends into the surroundings. I love Graffiti as an artform but it can be aggressive; an unwelcome visual assault when brought into natural settings or places of solitude or reverence.

Water Locked

I found this urban "white on white" image in the Fremont District, one of Seattle's more interesting neighborhoods. I was drawn to the strong shapes and shadows and gave it the title "Water Locked"

Red Amaryllis

Here is an amaryllis that, from the package, I expected to be white (my intention and desire was to grow a white amaryllis) but turned out red. As it grew, at every stage I wondered, "Is this the right time, the auspicious moment to photograph this?" Yesterday I looked and everything told me, "Yes, this is it."

I set it under a spotlight and made this photograph. Within an hour of shooting, the two blossom heads began to separate and this progressed through the morning until there were two distinct flower buds.

From the perspective of duality, reality is the world of opposites; it has to be either/or, up/down, time/non-time, but unity is always there. It's like the sun hiding behind the clouds. In choosing that moment to photograph my amaryllis I was aware of the precarious balance between here and there; through my lens I witnessed the play between these two worlds of duality and unity consciousness, two very real worlds that live both as one and side by side. There is always an edge of truth between unity and duality, a fleeting, transient edge of truth. It's a calm place.

Colors of Tuscany

Years ago, I was traveling in Italy on my way to Tunisia and picked up a postcard of a watercolor scene from Siena. It was of a beautiful passage into the Via S. Agata, and the image has been a romanticized vision in my head ever since. I was so excited on my recent trip with my mom to spend some time in Siena, wandering the old, tuscan colored streets and finally appreciating (and photographing) the famous archway I had collected on a postcard some 28 years ago.

My mom, excited about the colors, talked about the raw umbers and burnt sienas from her first set of paints as a young artist. They are antique colors, full of warmth and softer than I imagined in the fading, cool light of late Fall.

This photograph hangs next to my watercolor postcard in my mind, as a celebration of coming full circle; from past to present and from paint to pixels.

Horsepower

No Midlife Crisis here. He invested in horsepower.

Barbed-Wire Spiral

I got a link on Facebook recently from my cousin, a piece from a literary online art gallery on improvisational surrealism. Featured there was the work and ideas of Rodney Tuttle who says, "Grab a camera and walk out into the world; treat the world like a gigantic surrealistic sculpture and capture some surreal images." 

I love to do this.  This image of some tangled up barbed-wire draped across a chain link fence is an odd juxtaposition, my take on the "sculpturally surreal", and I like the improvisational feel of it.  I watched as many people walked right by without seeming to notice it, how out of place and strange it seemed there on a pedestrian walkway.  

Graphic Color

My eye naturally leans toward subjects where color or a strong graphic structure dominates. I think about balance and perspectice when working with an image and I have an aversion to visual clutter. I value brevity and simplicity, much like the form of poetry I'm drawn to most often is Haiku.

In the image shown here, I have used color as the predominant element of design. The bright red wall of the fish tank overtakes the strong, graphic lines and contrast of the composition. I think it's because of the basic, primal level that red seems to operate on. I couldn't get away from thinking about the fish, once lively and flashing through the waters of the Sea of Cortez; now on ice. One juror said it was "effective and strange with the red, black and white strength and the fish upside down with eyes wide open."

People Shadows

When it comes to photographing people I am somewhat of a coward. The direct opposite of paparazzi, I seem to always choose an oblique angle or shoot into the shadows people cast so as not to be too intrusive. It's partly to avoid the legal issues involved with photographing people and obtaining model releases, etc. But I think it's also to do with the way I see things; the way I tend to break an image down into negative space and the elements of design. This gives me a much less literal approach to my subjects. I look for the shapes and angles in the shadows that loosely define the human form. They seem to be both solid and ethereal; mysterious entities with lives of their own. I think of Carl Jung's treatise on the importance of integrating our shadow selves; or Balinese shadow puppetry where the spiritual is given theatrical expression and the shadowy shapes define the characters.

Window Shopping

Window Shopping is a series I've been working on, a collection of things in shop windows. They represent the transient, illusory nature of our material world and the desires that emerge from it.

Window Shopping is a metaphor for the never ending pursuit of fulfillment, of goals that change like seasonal window displays, catching our eye and feeding into a vague sense of longing. Objects of desire, seen in shop windows, are like moving targets. We can't seem to pin them down or make them last. We can possess them briefly, but once possessed they lose their magic.

In Sanskrit there is an ancient piece of wisdom, "Tat Tvam Asi", which translates in English to "Thou Art That". I describe it as a bridge that helps us reach the realization of unity. Whether molecules happen to be arranged this way or that way, a human being, a white dress, a piece of glass; we are all essentially the same stuff and very much connected.

There is a scene from a popular movie in which the main character has just arrived in Rome. The light is reflected on her face and as she takes in the beauty around her, she embodies peace in that moment. She seems to have slipped into a kind of daydream; a merging of what only moments ago seemed two separate realities.

Moments like these are gifts that reveal the illusion of 'this vs. that', of 'me vs. not me'. They point to new possibilities that lie just beyond our conditioned patterns of perception.

If I look into a shop window, I see many things behind and reflected in the window glass, including myself. Who's to say where one leaves off and the other begins? Maybe the universe is like a Venn Diagram, with three parts... a shaded portion that intersects with everything and falls within our perception, unshaded portions that are not always perceived but still have boundaries and an infinite portion that spills outside of the diagram itself.

Abstract Shadows

My abstract studies in shadow, pattern and reflection come from a peculiar way of seeing, of always being drawn to the light and serendipity of a scene. Angles of light interfacing with solid shapes create a lot of interesting visual phenomena.
Abstracting from reality is a visual exercise; a probing into the dynamics of pattern, shadow and reflection. I look for repeating shapes, unusual points of view or a fortunate presentation of elements in a scene. I sometimes extract my subjects from their ordinary context to create ambiguity. I like the challenge it poses to our sensibilities, our need to make sense of the world.

Blue Buddha

There is a bonsai garden about 30 minutes away from our home in a small town with not much more to offer than a gas station, a gun shop and a strip club. I decided to go there one day, with my camera, hoping to find a fortunate location for photos.

I found the garden in the midst of a construction site. The first thing I noticed were stone Buddha statues, lined up like sentinels in front of the gift shop. They were beautiful. Then, I entered the garden, which appeared to be in need of maintenance. The paths were strewn with debris and the plants seemed to be struggling. The place had a neglected quality that left me feeling uneasy, especially when I leaned over a rain barrel and saw a dead rat floating in the water.

Then I turned the corner and there was a pond filled with water lilies. Again, beautiful. I thought of the lotus blossom and what it symbolizes in Buddhist culture; the soul's journey through the mud of materialism, through the waters of experience and into the bright sun of transcendence.

I got this shot, Blue Buddha, on my way out. According to Buddhist scripture, Blue Buddha is the Buddha of medicine and healing, the color blue symbolizing coolness, infinity and ascension.

Mexico, A Photographic Journey

This past week The Wall Street Journal featured an article illustrating the worsening problem of drug cartels in Mexico. It saddens me to see this happening in Mexico, a country that I love to explore and photograph. I think of the friendly people who have extended their hospitality to my family over the years.

Following is an excerpt from a book project I am working on entitled
Mexico, A Photographic Journey of Color and Light.

In Mexico, I’m inspired by the folk art and spirit of creativity in the people. The language of myth and magic animates the culture and breathes life into religion. I think of the “Day of the Dead” as a day when the veil separating the dead from the living is thin, a prism through which the pain of loss gathers life into sharper focus, as if death can spark an even greater passion for life. A dark satirical twist and humor often shows up in the art, music and literature of Mexico. Especially memorable for me are the Day of the Dead Figurines, carved out of wood and displayed with bottles of tequila and bouquets of crepe paper flowers.

Age of Aquarius

And finally, there was the girl playing her violin, pictured here, at the public market in Seattle. There was something Madonna-like in her face, in her serene expression; her melody was rendered all the more sweet in the midst of the bustling street... people passing without seeming to notice..

A Memory of Cherry Blossoms

I think of Soapbox Photo as a new medium for examining what it is I'm communicating through photography. Since this is a space I am devoting to the interconnection of images and ideas and stories, I thought I would begin by posting this photo of a ceramic figure captured after a snowfall along the Seattle Waterfront. The image had a Haiku feel to it so I looked through my Haiku books and found this poem by Den Sute-jo (1634-1698)

Yuki no asa / ni no ji ni no ji no / geta no ato,
or translated from Japanese by Hiroaki Sato:

Morning snow;
figure two figure two
wooden clog marks.

It seemed an interesting companion for this image. I saw an air of nostalgia in the woman's expression. I felt a Haiku of my own which I included in the photograph.

Just as every digital image file is embedded with metadata (invisible pieces of information that determine its visual content), every photograph is embedded with messages, emotions and the idiosyncratic leanings of the photographer. It's part of my creative process to look at an image and ask myself what I see in it. Photography sometimes feels like an act of rebellion in a hyper-mobile world, a vain attempt to seize it before it changes or disappears, to freeze it in time and give it space on my hard drive. But what makes a photograph most interesting for me is the emotion that comes through and the knowledge that the captured image embodies the impermanent nature of our world and our lives. The moment is here and then gone. The photograph becomes not only the tangible proof that it ever existed, but an unflinching reminder that life is a constant stream of letting go in order to be present.