I was invited to present on "making a compelling photograph" at a boaters gathering in St Augustine Florida this month. Speaking to a group of 50 cruisers, sailors and power boaters, I tried to answer a broad range of questions about the creative process.
The process of sharing to a small audience was exhilarating. During the day, I met and chatted with a number of folks who excitedly shared photos with me on their phones. Each of them was smiling and telling me a story, in an animated way. Do we get more joy out of sharing our pictures and telling their story than in capturing ?
Since childhood, in my family, I've been fortunate to have visual story tellers around me. They've told many compelling tales, especially about visual things. My grandfather was a commercial artist, painter and visual idea generator. He took me to the Art Institute of Chicago and the MCA in the 1970's to see the Impressionist works, and told me stories of Winslow Homer paintings and Calder sculptures. As a boy, Calder's huge red abstract sculptures in downtown Chicago made a lasting impression as I listened to my late grandpa Paul Austin. Today, after a visit with my father that joggled my memory, I searched online for "Calder sculpture outdoor Chicago", and a photo of "The Flamingo" came up. Although it's been 45 years since I saw Calder's flamingo and have not been back there, and over the year I've forgotten the Calder's concept during that time, and I remembered only the vague form and color, I was stunned. I immediately thought of a flamingo photograph I made in 2006. I think this speaks to the power of art as symbol, index and its lasting hold on the subconscious.
It also tells me that our travel experiences of sharing artworks can be a lifetime of fun, especially across the generations.
ONE: EXERCISE IN COLOR MOODS
Here's an exercise in color moods to motivate us to pack up the camera and go outside to photograph in colder weather
EXERCISE: Choose a single color you don't usually photograph. For instance, winter hues of brown, light pink, deep blue, soft grey, cranberry or dark green can be fun to try to see and frame.
Take a least a half hour to photograph the hue you've chosen. If you are up north, colors may be muted and more subtle. In the Caribbean or near the equator, you may have options for higher contrasts colors. If you see more than one color, try to use contrasting colors to balance the single color your chose first. Above, for this exercise in Nova Scotia, I chose soft orange gold hues in the sun to balance the dark green of the forest's edge.
TWO: LOW CONTRAST & BALANCE
Dial down the contrast and hold off on the saturation. Try to avoid the editing approach of maximizing the saturation slider. Ditch the "Max Slider." Posting overly-saturated color imagery can detract from the forms that underlie a compelling image. Over-saturating is the visual equivalent of screaming or writing in all caps. It's unnecessary.
Also, if possible, stay away from off-balance colors. Colors that are in balance, together, resonate with each other like two tuning forks. The joy of this color exercise comes from, in part, learning to think outside our color boxes. For example, in some cultures, light blue and dark blue are two different colors. Our color concepts limit and predict how we see. So, attending to just one color, and perhaps those few colors that are in harmony, helps our awareness of color moods.
Lastly, try to see texture within the object or form.
THREE: MOTIVATION in COLD WEATHER
It can be a challenge to get outdoors when it's cold. Jump start your picture outing by deciding, the night before, that your morning sunrise will be beautiful. Keep positive and dress for winter conditions. Get up and out in the morning, no matter what the weather, and pay close attention to light. Make sure you are comfortably warm enough so you can concentrate and observe.
Observing means moving. Look up, down and inside of things. Shift your perspective to get lower, higher or closer. Like yoga, photography takes energy. Our position has to change. We may be in different poses in order to get distinct camera positions. Ask yourself: "How would a 3-year-old see that dog, or "How could an eagle view that cliff", or "How might would a butterfly see that river?" To continually vary your camera height and position means that you counter the habit of making shots from an eye level standing position. This helps your imaginative seeing.
Now, go even deeper. Change the process of how you make images. If you habitually check your LCD screen, shut it off. If you often take 5-10 shots of a single thing, take only one. Give your workflow a little nudge. If you habitually make photographs that are sharp from corner to corner, experiment with softness and blur. If you spend just a few minutes with a subject, spend an hour looking at it, and come back to it in better light. The reason we shift our position is to push the limits of how we compose. This means investing time finding new vantage points and angles in search of interesting compositions.
FOUR: KEEP GEAR SIMPLE
I like to make solo trips with only one camera body and one lens. This helps keep me from overshooting, keeps me concentrating on light, timing and composition. For landscape and still subjects, instead of zooming or auto-focusing, I often simplify the camera settings to Manual mode. Taking the prime lens minimizes the time spent on focusing and exposure, which keeps my attention on the subject and not the screen or gear.
FIVE: READ TO INSPIRE
Reward your cold weather outing with a special hot drink and a great photo book.
I was inspired this winter by William Neill's book and some delightful moments looking at his photographs of patterns in nature.
I believe it helps our own work to see, not to copy, the work of master photographers.
As photographer Robert Adams said: "Your own photography is never enough. Every photographer who has lasted has depended on other people's pictures too‒photographs that may be public or private, serious or funny, but that carry with them a reminder of community."
Editing our work, we not only improve its appearance, sound, and presentation, we trim down the number of images to share. Curating is vital. All photographers much reduce the number of photos in a portfolio or series to achieve a coherent theme.
We chose the best of the best. Because printing images helps to curate, I first print at smaller sizes, at 4" x 6", or 5" x 7". Then, I hang these on the wall so I can I pass by them often. After a couple months, a few get less interesting, so I may add a few new ones to the series. Later, I choose the 2 or 3 that truly resonate. I print these at a larger size. If its been a good year, 5 or 7 coherent, well-printed images are enough.
“You don't take a photograph. You ask, selfieless, to borrow it.”
When we get our first camera and start making pictures, we may first learn about the machine in our hands, and gain tactile knowledge of what buttons to push. We learn, hopefully, ways to frame a picture. We learn to take better pictures.
Along the path, we let go of rules. But what makes us better photographer? And, is that enough...isn't it helpful to be better human beings along the way.
There is an unexpected solution. It has to do with how we think as we relate to other people. Pridelessness is a practice that is as essential as framing.
Listening to photographers talk about their own work, we often hear the word “Great.” We might hear: “I took some great stuff this morning . . . I haven't had time to process...” Then there is this: “Wow, what a great shot.”
I believe such pretentiousness can lead to entitlement. I've been guilty of this too. Now, I am working to become aware of changing this. Go down the path of "great" and the danger is that a sense of photographer superiority will appear. In the past, I've felt entitled to get a shot, and been so impatient to do so, that I created an angry encounter. Instead, I might have invested in and been curious about, the people in the event.
So what is this solution? Genuine humility, like the calm after a hurricane passes, can dispel a sense of superiority. If as photographers we spend most of our time in self-promotion, hype and being “great,” we may lose the ability to be humble. Now, I'm not talking about self-abasement. Here, humility is used in the sense of being un-selved, liberated from a sense of self, prideless.
Studying and listening to pro photographers, I've learned from some that they picked up a specific ability over their careers. Learning how to shoot famous people who are stars of web and screen, these pros mastered ways of letting go of their own stuff to get the results they wanted, and some deus ex machina images they could not have planned. Why? They knew how to collaborate. For example, Annie Liebovitz, a remarkable photographer, learned to work closely with the stars she photographed on film, when she worked for Vanity Fair.
Liebovitz's humility did not mean she lacked personality, in fact, she was able to take a humble approach to her subject and be personable. She grasped how to work with movie stars and those who, like Diane Keaton, truly disliked being photographed. To work with strong personalities, Annie Liebovitz learned to let go of controlling the situation.
Working with teams of support talent, many of her better images emerged in the context of this collaboration. Yes, it truly matters with whom you surround yourself.
All photographers can practice the subtle art of being prideless.
The photographer Dorothea Lange also understood the nature of collaboration. She wrote: “I never steal a photograph. Never. All photographs are made in collaboration, as part of their thinking as well as mine.” Now, was Dorothea Lange always perfect in her collaboration? No.
A persuasive case can be made that Lange, in one documented instance, was far less than collborative in Nipomo, California in 1936, when she took seven images in ten minutes on black and white film of Florence Owens Thompson. However, the encounter that led to “Migrant Mother” was not typical of the interactive, deeper ways that Lange typically portrayed her subjects.
We're all human, and we make mistakes.
I photograph daily. Each time I go out, I'm aware that I know only a little about photography. There is an infinite sky above, and photography is a vast ocean of knowledge. There are large areas of photograph to which I am unaware. So, there is a lot of room to grow.
Three Ideas for Prideless Photography:
“No matter that we may mount on stilts. We still must walk on our own legs. And on the highest throne in the world, we still sit only on our own bottom.” de Montaigne
More on humility in photography: https://www.apogeephoto.com/photographers-mind-curiosity-humility/
Woodstock & Beyond: A Conversation with Master Photographer Henry Moore on his work and his 2019 exhibit at The Provincetown Commons
Jim Austin Jimages (JAJ): Henry, I wanted to congratulate you on the show. How'd it go?
Henry Moore ( HM): I thought it went great. Showing photography up there at the Commons, the response was overwhelming.
JAJ: Which of your photographs sold from your exhibit?
HM: My portrait of Mother Teresa and the cop in the phone booth.
JAJ: Well, I'm delighted. It was great to work with The Commons team, Jill Stouffer and Dave La France, and to be exhibting in that bright, clean space.
HM: Yeah, fantastic space, and your work looks great there too.
JAJ: I thought so too. Henry, I want to ask about the context of specific photographs of yours. As you know, today is August 17th, exactly the 50th anniversary of Woodstock. So I'd like to hear about your experience there, and about Woodstock photographs that you exhibited at The Provincetown Commons.
HM: Yeah. Well, the Woodstock photographs. I was 18 years old, just out of high school and I was getting excited about using a camera and getting into photography. No one, of course, knew what was going on. I had a friend, and we thought, hey, let's go up there. Just on a whim, we decided to get there a couple of days early. It unfolded in front of us. We knew we were a part of something pretty amazing. They did it . . .there had never been that many people in one event like that. There are still photographs from Woodstock I haven't shown in public. I think it was my first really serious attempt at type of editorial work and how I ot my start in editorial photography.
JAJ: So that was a good starting point, the experience of being there, and then having things develop the way they were supposed to, photographically.
HM:Yeah. It put a major imprint on my brain . . . what I wanted. Before (the Woodstock editorial work) I took pretty pictures of flowers and things, learning my way around in the camera. But then that (Woodstock) got me turned on to the whole thing of shooting people, which led me to doing work in street photography. I also started looking at other photographers, you know, their work. I really started researching other people. That was the turning point that made me finally realize that that's going to make a turn in my career.
JAJ: Since this was 1969, let me just follow that line of people. Who were you looking at in 1969, other photographers?
HM: Well, undoubtedly the first major influence was W. Gene Smith. I can't tell you how much his work has affected me. I think he is one of the greatest at the time. I first got turned on to his work from LIFE magazine, the country doctor portfolio, Albert Schweitzer. Minamato Japan, the woman and her daughter in the bathup is one of the greatest photographs ever taken.
I mean, just that changed my life. That changed the way I thought about photography. And . . .I decided to go to college, at the San Francisco Art Academy. 1970, I guess it was. I had a great instructor there to Peter Stackpole (LIFE MAGAZINE) who got me thinking about that type of work. From there, the next major influence was Robert Frank and his book, the Americans. I started putting things together about how I would like to work in more of a straight documentary, social documentary way. I was also influenced, tremendously, by the work of the great photographers in the sixties and seventies like Bruce Davidson. Fantastic photographer. His work of the teenage gang in the projects...he also did a beautiful series on Central Park. I sort of fashion myself a bit around, Bruce Davidson and a mix of that beautiful, elegant, spare, beautiful crop.
Gary Winogrand was a major influence. Andre Kertesz, beautiful stuff. Also people like Arnold Newman for environmental portraiture. I love doing portraits. I tend to go into environmental portraiture. ALso, for years I studied the Zone System, exposure and development . What Ansel Adams taught me was what black looked like. My exposure to his (Adams) work back in the 70s really formulated how to see in black and white.
I think the discipline of the Zone System was important. It led to how I look at things such as composition and toning . . what black and white really means. Those were the early influences on the early part of my career. I was a black and white printer (in the darkroom) and that's how I typically started in the business, professionally. For six years I worked in a black and white custom lab in San Francisco, California.
JAJ: And during this time, Henry, were you also out on the streets in the city, in San Francisco, documenting.
HM: Yes. Before I got the paying gigs, I would give myself self assignments. I'd read the newspaper every day, and know this thing is gonna happen, and say to myself I should be there for that event. I'd been investigating parts of the city I didn't know. After a decade of working in a (photo processing) lab and going out and shooting whatever I could on the streets, there were a body, a whole lot of self- assignments. I looked at what was going on in town, reading the newspapers and listening to the radio.
JAJ: What changed since you were doing that approach on the street? You know, you were very independently researching, and looking for the event . . . what changed in how you approached people with the camera during that time as you were learning to do portraiture with film on the street? I mean, did you change your, your demeanor? Did you change your photographer subject relationship during that time ?
HM: Yes, I spent time practicing how to be an effective street shooter. What I I learned when I taught myself was to be as inconspicuous as possible. I generally fit in with the crowd. I was pretty much a long hair kind. No one taught me this, I learned to be in conspicuous on my own. I think the secret to successful street shooting is anticipation. And one of the things that came out of my studying the Zone System of Ansel Adams was pre-visualization, which is so important and what I would like to teach people today. He (Adams) knew exactly what that print was going to look like on the wall before he fired the shutter.
His form of pre- visualization was more about exposure and development then the printing side. With street photography, you go into it with some of that, but its mainly anticipation, when you're talking about the decisive moment. Before you fire the shutter, a lot of thinking goes into it. When I saw things happening in the streets, I had to think about where it (events of the scene) were going to go. I see someone doing something, but where was he going to be in five seconds and 10 seconds? So you have to anticipate that moment. That's what I tried to work on for a number of years. Anticipating.
JAJ: Right, right. So, in a sense, cognitively and perceptually anticipating. Unlike, you know, Yosemite or in the West where the subject is still, you're on the street and everything's moving. So you're anticipating cognitively and moving. You're in a dance prior to getting that moment.
HM: Exactly. Unlike Gary Winogrand. When you look at the amount of work that that guy was doing , he had thousands of shots of undeveloped film. He would shoot just randomly. I don't know,his work is incredible, but, um, I think that just the sheer volume of that... there's just a different kind of way of looking. I think you almost see he was more of a filmmaker.
JAJ: Henry, that's a very telling comment about Winograns, you know, almost as a filmmaker. You're the first person who's shared that about his approach. Now, getting back to you on the street, I want to turn to some specific photos. I'd like to hear the context for the policeman in the phone booth. I've seen firefighters and police as some themes in your work in The Provincetown Commons and on your website. I'd love to hear about "Rookie San Francisco, 1982."
HM: I knew a lot of cops and firemen. When I worked at the San Francisco print lab, the owner of the business had cops drop by. So, I met a lot of these folks and after awhile, I was able to show up to things and I pretty much knew who was running the show, either the sergeant in charge or a fireman. They were familiar with me. I was allowed to get into places and do things then that you can't do today. Like, tthey were going into a burning building. So, the Rookie (photograph) is one of my favorite shots. . . .what I love about that photograph is she's a recently graduated officer, she's standing next to a highly experienced sergeant. Then, there's a moment where they're looking at each other and she's totally looking at him with admiration and he's sort of looking at her and like 'OK, well let's see what happened.'
JAJ: Well, let me, let me follow up on "The Rookie" for a minute. Not to put themes into your work, but let me ask you, in addition to subject-photographer relationship, is one of your continuing themes the relationship in the scene? Is that an important theme, the looks, the gestures between people?
HM: If I can pull it off, of course. It's very hard to do, you know, and that's where some of the theory of anticipation and pre-visualization comes.
JAJ: So that's the holy grail. The other photograph I wanted to know about was your immigration officer in Central Valley, given the current state of immigration.
HM: OK. That photograph happened on assignment for a documentary (in 1984). I rode with a border patrol raid, and we drove by a field in Central Valley, in California. And when we pulled up, there were maybe ten workers out in the field. As soon as they saw the vehicles, they disappeared under the plants to avoided search as much as possible. They would check their papers and they didn't have the papers in order. If they were deported they were put into the patty wagon and they were deported. So I don't see where much has changed. Yeah, that photograph is of this border patrol agent searching the fields, looking for people.
JAJ: Can you tell me about the dancing Deadhead photograph?
HM: Yeah, that's funny. Sure. I'm not at all, never really was a fan of the Grateful Dead. This (photograph) was on a self assignment too. They (Grateful Dead rock group) were playing in Golden Gate Park. I had to go because I always heard stories and I'd never been to a Dead concert ever, so that time was my first experience. I was fascinated by the swirling, whirling dervishes of the deadhead women, like hippie chicks, and they wore that look and dress. I just thought that photograph was the epitome of the cult of the Dead.
JAJ: Well, it's a wonderful photograph and it's one of my personal favorites. Henry, I want to hear more about " In the arms of an Angel,Alameda, 1986.
HM: I was sent there to shoot a story on The Blue Angels when each year the Blue Angels would come to San Francisco every year for fleet week. So, that one was an NBC assignment. I don't know if I mentioned to you those years that I worked for NBC. I haven't always been a fan of aviation, but it's always fascinating and that was an opportunity to get right on the runway and get right in there with them. I liked the formal composition, the square format the symmetry. Symmetry is a big thing with me. I also like the formal composition, very formal and very symmetrical. That's what I liked about it. It's a different way of looking at The Blue Angels. I mean, usually it's all about the gorgeous planes and the pilots.
I don't know if we really talked about this, but for over a decade, I was working for NBC in San Francisco as a still shooter, documentaries. They used me because they liked what I did. They would send me out with a documentary film crew, whatever the story was. So they may actually be shooting for a day or maybe two days or maybe three days. It was a chance to really do a photojournalistic, documentary approach. But in the end, you had to know that they were only gonna use one photo. It is not like when Eugene Smith shot a story and they (LIFE) used 20 or 30 or 40 of his shots. So (using one shot) was a different way of thinking because the photos were used in the Sunday paper to advertise the second coming documentary and there was only room for one (photograph). You might shoot three, four hundred shots but distill the concept down to one (image) and you had to tell a story with only one photograph. Do you want to hear an interesting story on how I got started? [inaudible]
JAJ: I wish everybody had that... that kind of a coherent and distilling curating training in photoh school, you know, that'll be great training.
HM: I want to add that I'm freelancing and finally got a call, one afternoon. I don't know if you remember Jessica Savage, but she was the first, first female anchor. She's doing a stand up in front of the Russian consulate and she only has 30 minutes. The client told me I had to come now. Well, I lived in south of Sonata just across the southern border of San Francisco, and I so I had to somehow get myself all the way to Pacific Heights, which was all the way through the city in less than a half hour. I got all my stuff in a bag. I knew all the back roads. I pulled up just as she (Jessica Savage) was getting up to do her stand up. I shot two rolls.
The producer just came up to me after she was done and said to me "OK, give me the film." I said "What? No, that's not how I work." He said " No, I need, I need these shots. They have to broadcast tomorrow in New York. This was before digital. So, I hand over the film and never saw it. Jessica was subsequently killed in a car crash. From that moment on, I got nonstop work from NBC. The NBC contact wrote about me in a book about how to break into the television business and she used me as an example of 'yes, I'll get it done no matter what' kind of thing. NBC used me from then on and had tremendous confidence in me and my ability to pull it off. So then led to at least 10 years of work right then and that one, that one assignment .
JAJ: So one of the keys was your own confidence and your ability to say "Yes, I can do this. I can make this happen."
HM: Yeah. Well I was scared shitless.
JAJ: One of my other questions, Henry, was how you go about pushing beyond the boundaries and photographic ideas that you've already done. One key you are saying is be scared, but make it happen and push beyond the boundaries even when we're shaking and scared.
HM: Right, exactly. I had to react to whatever kind of work came my way. I was not only a practiced with 35 millimeter cameras, but also with medium format, portraiture, large format, whatever. I was doing advertising jobs as well, whatever I could do. I was doing studio, product, advertising, many different types of things. I think one (kind of photographic skill) helped the other.
JAJ: Yes, yes. They synchronized with each other. I think you answered the question, but I wonder if the over-specialization now in art schools . .do you think people sort of lose openness to life expanding experiences if they are so specialized?
HM: I do, for sure. I don't think they have a choice. With the whole world of social media, how do you market yourself? You know, it's a little different today. I think now it is incumbent upon you to become an expert in one area. But thirty years ago, I was in photography as a generalist, so to speak, because there were a whole lot more different kinds of assignments that I got. That was important. My training was large format, my understanding of darkroom development and previsualizing what (the final image) would look like. We trained in the street and then all it all worked out in the end. I still shoot film now and I do architectural photography. I loved architecture and I love working with large format.
JAJ: Henry, there is this beautiful photograph on your website, in the architecture section and the header image it looks like an architectural form with different tones. I'd love to know what is the context of that photograph?
HM: Yeah, that's a real favorite of mine. That's all about form. . .that's all it is. There was a guy who was doing amazing things in Los Angeles (John Longdon) with a concrete and, doing entire homes and interiors with concrete. I made a photograph in one of these homes. So that's where that came. It's just about architectural form and shape in a Hollywood home up in the hills, surrounded by glass and overlooking Hollywood, it was one of his original homes. Fascinating.
JAJ: What an energizing photographic experience to just to be in the home, you know in that place, and get to create your work.
HM: Yeah, there's the house, one of the homes I'm talking about has a concrete roof that has hundreds of wine bottles in the ceiling and the room interior looks like a dappled forest with the light coming through, its just amazing. Near the swimming pool in the master bedroom, the bed was made out of concrete as well.
JAJ: We talked about symmetry. Tell me more about your thinking about balance and symmetry in your landscape work?
HM: You know, I, I don't consider myself to be a landscape photographer The project that I have put up on my website, The North Coast, this beautiful coastline. And, there is this old barn, perfectly symmetrical. It goes back to the organic, formal presentation I like a lot, compositionally. The composition also gets to how we crop. You and I had a discussion of being in the darkroom in the late seventies, and learning how to print when we were taught to shave the negative carrier, leaving a black border around the picture, to prove you had not cropped the photograph.
I took a number of design courses early on in my career and I tend to like just plain, straightforward product shots or people. Shooting in the street, I used to stay with the 35 millimeter focal length. But the 85 lets me be farther away, like with the photograph of Mother Teresa, and I can still crop that 85 millimeter photograph. I makes sense. the 85 brings me in a little bit closer. That's where the cropping comes from with the composition and the symmetry.
If you look at my photograph Mohawk couples? It was a peace march in San Francisco with a Black man with a small white child. It was a longer focal length. I can get that crop in camera. I also utilize selective focus with the longer focal length. I think some of my stuff is an affordable approach that works a little better than a Winogrand. I like to come in a little bit closer, drop out with the background with selective focus.
JAJ: I wanted to ask what qualities of mind have helped you in your lifelong learning as a photographer?
HM: Qualities of mind...well... I read a tremendous amount. I study history. I'm fascinated by the 20th century. I'm always looking for history when I'm in the street, whether it's a demonstration or whatever it is, I'm always cognizant of what's coming. Another thing would be my appreciation of art. I always recommend that young photographers look at paintings, study art, and see the different movements and learn from that. It is probably in my genes . . . my grandfather was a photographer and painter and musician, he was a hero to me. I was a musician and played music and danced for years.
I think there's, there's a parallel between being a fine artist and musician and photographing. You'll find that a lot of photographers play music and then vice versa. So I would say that my appreciation of art, whether it's painting or sculpture, or music. With music, I love everything from classical to modern architecture.
JAJ: Tell me a few more details, given all of those tributaries of art and music and your family history, a few more details about (your book) In Retrospect. How did your book come about?
HM: I had been working running large studios. I could not shoot on the street at much, because at the time i had a family and four kids. I worked as a studio manager in San Francisco, back in 1989. That got me into different things, like learning about lighting from other photographers. I thought I knew everything about lighting and the artificial lighting until I started running the studio. I was learned from amazing professionals. So that experience opened my eyes to how it really was t think in visual ways in the studio.
It was a managerial thing, I was busy, so I wasn't able to shoot as much. To make a long story short, up to five years ago, I was working managing studios. The biggest one was in Detroit. I ran a studio of a hundred thousand square feet and I managed all the photographers and decisions, all the styling. The production department did Kmart studio products, illustration. I worked in Atlanta doing Home Depot advertising. I got away from the street shooting as much because I wasn't making a living at it. I was making a living in the studio.
Then I looked at thousands and thousands and thousands of negatives that I had. I came up with the idea that I could do a book of a hundred pictures. The book project was an effort to pull off. You've got the editing to do, and also going through 40 years worth of work. So, that's the impetus for the book. It took about five years to edit and then to scan everything because it's all shot on film. Everything had to be scanned, adjusted in Photoshop. No manipulation, it is all straight and just file preparation. So yeah, it was a five year project. I said "OK, I can go back and find what I did and come up with about a hundred favorites." That's where the book came from.
JAJ: Anyone can acquire In Retrospect through Blurb directly. I'd like to ask you about work on the website: "All That Remains" and "The Survivors."
HM: Yeah. All that remains is a Santa Rosa fire in 2017 (October 2017). This is still an ongoing project, I'm still working on it. I'm close to this because my daughter was almost burned out from her home. There was a fire that consumed thousands of acres of northern California and wiped out an entire section of a city in Santa Rosa. It spared no one. It went over the hills and destroyed the homes of the millionaires. Then the fire jumped the freeway and destroyed the homes of a blue collar working class neighborhood. I wasn't there for the actual fire, but I was there about a month after the event.
It was astounding. I've seen a lot of things, but I've never seen anything like the total destruction. I felt that I was at ground zero with Hiroshima or Nagasaki.
Everything was destroyed. So, "All that Remains" is one of a series of the shots . I shot film. I shot digital. I even shot point and shoot cameras. I was basically trying to document what was left. "Survivors" shows when an entire home is completely wiped out, and nothing left except a couple of garden ornaments, the gnomes (in the front yard of a burned home). They were the only survivors. There's going to be more work of that location, I am still working at it.
Jim, you mentioned another thing about what keeps you going. Here in Orleans (on Cape Cod, Massachusetts) Bob Korn is a local printer (Bob Korn Imaging, Orleans, Massachusetts). We host a salon, and once a month we all get together. A group of photographers get together and we're not the postcard photographers that you see so much on the Cape. Our group is people that are doing some really interesting work. It's an informal group of about 10, 15 and changes every month. We just come in and say 'here's what we're working on.' We put about three prints up on the wall, we critique them.
It's a group of people for the young people in their twenties all the way up to the people in their seventies. All of us are actively shooting, still working on ideas of projects. We gently critique each other's work. It's fantastic. You know, a lot of the young ones learn from the old ones. And I'll tell you what, I'm one of the old ones and I learned from the younger photographers. I look at some of the work that they're doing and it's totally inspiring to see what young people can.
That's part of what keeps you involved and keeps you thinking about where you're going.
JAJ: What a broad range of minds and ideas. Does the salon have an informal name?
HM: Nope. . .(laughing) Third Thursday.
JAJ: So casual, Third Thursday, so relaxed and good to have a coffee or a beer, glass of wine or whatever. . . very relaxed.
HM: It's great. It's a place where people can come and get inspired. Bob's a great printer. He runs Bob Korn Imaging and makes his money doing printing for other photographers. He is tremendous at it. It's a great place for people to show their work. We can say "Hey, this can be printed better or this is a great idea. You need to work more on this. Wow, that's fantastic. I want to do something like that." That's what it's all about.
JAJ: I have two more quick ones Henry. My film group is going to ask me. . . "Henry told you he shooting film for his current project, why didn't you ask him about film?" So what kind of film is in the four by five, the two and a quarter and the 35 these days?
HM: Yes, it depends on the format. I shoot a lot of Ilford FP 4. I've experimented with Fuji. So, its either Fuji or Kodak Film and Tri-X of course. I collect the cameras from the sixties and seventies and eighties. I have a Mamiya SRT I'm shooting now, one of the first cameras I ever used. I rehabbed it and still shoot with it.
JAJ: Beautiful machine...
HM: Nikons and Pentax and whatever, you know, whatever I can get working. Four by five and large format. It's getting more difficult to lug all that, the Zone Six and the Arca Swiss field camera.
JAJ: Before we wrap up, what's ahead for Henry Moore, future projects or anything about you that you want to celebrate?
HM: I'm considering a new book project. It's about photographing Proctor, a small town in Vermont, where my family came from. My grandfather was a photographer in this town. I have all these amazing photographs from the turn of the century, and the 20s and 30s. It's a town that discovered marble in Vermont. They needed people to get it out of the ground. So that's how the Italian side of my family was basically imported over here to America. They were all stone cutters from stone cutters from Carrara, Italy.
This town was only there because of this company (Vermont Marble Company). The company owned the land. The company owned the store, the company owns your house. Its a fascinating little piece of America that actually thrived. The marble went into the monuments in Washington DC and the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Arlington (National Cemetery in Virginia. That was history in this place. Now it's all gone.
So I've been going back and toying with the idea of doing a book on the subject. I relate to the history. In the town, now, there's no work. The town has a lot of poverty. Once a year I try to get back and see how much more I can do with this long term project.
JAJ: Will you be starting the historical photographs of the town later this year, 2019 or will that be starting next year?
HM: That's the intention. I have another project that's just out of the blue. I'm going to travel to Ireland for the first time and that's it. That's a, a trip that, you know, that we want to do with just stuff. So my wife could paint and I can photograph, so I don't know how that's going to turn out, but I would like to see what I can do in the streets of Shannon and Dublin.
JAJ: Well, Henry, thank you very much for this chance to get to know you, and to see your ongoing projects and work.
Awa Kenzo (1880-1939) was a master archer, who created a singular approach to the bow and arrow that highlighted spiritual dimensions of living. His teachings on the 'great way of shooting' empowered students to mindfulness and spiritual enlightenment through the practice of archery. Eugen Herrigel (1884-1955), who wrote Zen in the Art of Archery, was a student of Kenzo.
ONE "In nature there are correspondences which cannot be understood, and yet are so real that we have grown accustomed to them, just as if they could not be any different. The SPIDER dances her web without knowing that there are flies who will get caught in it. The fly, dancing nonchalantly on a sunbeam, gets caught in the net without knowing what lies in store. But through both of them 'It' dances, and inside and outside are united in this dance."
Awa Kenzo, quoted in Eugen Herrigel, Zen in the Art of Archery.
TWO “Bow, arrow, goal and ego, all melt into one another, so that I can no longer separate them. And even the need to separate has gone. For as soon as I take the bow and shoot, everything becomes so clear and straight forward and so ridiculously simple.”
Eugen Herrigel, Zen in the Art of Archery
THREE "You know already that you should not grieve over bad shots; learn now not to rejoice over the good ones. You must free yourself from the buffetings of pleasure and pain, and learn to rise above them in easy equanimity, to rejoice as though not you but another had shot well. This, too, you must practice unceasingly—you cannot conceive how important it is.”
Awa Kenzo, Master Archer, 1880-1939
'Listen my child, said the old pine
tree, to the little one nestling near,
For the storm clouds troop together to-night,
and the wind of the north I hear
And perchance there may come some echo of
the music of long ago...
William Henry Drummond (1854-1907 ) The Old Pine Tree.
Drummond was one of Canadas mosr widely read and loved poets, and
also a telegraph operator, physician, and professor of hygiene and medical jurisprudence.
When looking at a photograph, what vital questions must we ask of the photographer?
"How did you make it? Can you tell me the story behind it ? "
If we ask "Where" was it taken, that question takes us away from the photograph itself.
Asking "When did you take it" also ignore the photographic craft. Questioning when and where puts the discussion into categories. The questioner often shifts quickly to their own associations and their own life experience.
When I ask "What aperture, what shutter, what camera, how long it took" the photograph itself is again ignored. These are meta qualities. They have nothing to do with what the photograph might mean.
So, to tap into meaning, a vital interactive question we viewers can pose is: "Can you tell me the story about this photograph?" We could also just keep silent, and look, and look longer, and again, at the photograph itself.
How do gestures make a portrait more compelling? It has to do with time and motion.
Gestures are fleeting. We use them, and then move on when in conversation, unaware of our own gestures or those of others. I think many of us see a person's facial expression more than their gestures, and miss the story that the body and hands are telling.
Gestures add "moment" to a photograph. Along with voice tone, head position, and the way someone stands, they send meaningful messages of love, fear, and a range of other feelings. As photographers, we must notice what is specific about that person's gesture and how their hands can caress the unseen.
A hand gesture, for instance, increases a feeling of motion in the frame. When just a person's head is in a picture, the portrait may appear a bit stiff, but with their hands signing in the air, a sense of movement comes into their portrait. Capturing subtle gestures in the frame adds nuance and expression.
I think interesting portraits emerge when two people share a bond, and their gestures sing clearly in that moment.
In Maritime Canada, on the southwest shore of Nova Scotia, Lunenburg's harbor waters reflect a town of wooden ships, hardy residents and a myriad of vibrant red buildings.
Seen through thick fog from across Lunenburg's harbor, these red structures stand out. Their color is a safety precaution. Painting harborside buildings red is a tradition traceable back to 1753 when Lunenburg was founded. Then, before global positioning systems, navigating your ship into port was accomplished with dead reckoning and experience, so to avoid accidents, the high contrast red color ashore alerted homecoming captains that land was imminent.
While I'm not a ship's captain, when we drop anchor in Lunenburg harbor, it is still easy to find the shore, so I immerse myself in the town's culture. Strolling along the harbor, questions come to mind about some of the other aspects of red, beyond how Lunenburg's story. For instance, why do we see color the way we do?
This puzzling led me to explore color culture and color psychology. How does color influence our moods, symbols and perceptions?
We know that color comes from light reflected from an object. Yet, a mystery remains. Objects do not reflect a color of light that is not present. There are holes in a every color spectrum; some colors simply are not there. Each light source has a different mix of colors. Even in light bulbs of the same type and company, there are variations in the spectrum and colors that do not exist.
So, while Lunenburg's red buildings seem to have just one shade of red, there were difference in shade and some missing reds as well. Wandering its harbor streets, I found shades of wine, apply, berry, currant, scarlet and crimson, but no blood red. And when I thought I was seeing a single color, looking from afar, up close the shades of red were nuanced. Red hues changed with the light intensity and the surrounding hues. Lunenberg's reds were not those of just one kind of wine, but a whole variety of vintages and blends.
Seeing a flag waving near the harbor, I also puzzled over the symbolism and uses of the many reds we see. Color symbolism is woven into our beliefs. Take the Canadian flag. It is is red and white. The red is symbolic of England. In Western cultures, red is perceived as energetic. It is an action-oriented hue: Spiderman and Superman wear red.
Red branding also means we should buy this product. It is often the main logo color in top promotional products like Coke. Red is the hue of danger, war, and power. The uniforms of some Western colonial powers sport red clothing. In Eastern cultures, red is seen differently. Red is a preferred color for a bridal dress in India. There, the Hindu festival of colors called Holi covers its participants with powders of many colors, and the festival's reds symbolize fertility.
Elsewhere, red has other meanings. In South Africa, red is sometimes the color of mourning.
It was time to go. Fatigued, as I walked wistfully downhill back to my rowboat, I passed by the Lunenburg Fisheries Museum building. A red car was parked between a red motorcycle and the Museum. I waited until a red vehicle came into the middle of the scene. What clicked was red itself!
So, why all that red? It keeps me awake, even as I dream about returning to Lunenburg.