DRIVING, AND SHOOTING, IN A JOURNEY OF 4 HOURS.
SPONTANEITY AND IMAGERY.
I SPEND A LOT OF TIME LOOKING AT PHOTOGRAPHY — AND I WRITE ABOUT IT, DESIGN AROUND IT, SHOOT IT. AND I PACKAGE AND DESIGN OTHER PHOTOGRAPHER’S WORK.
DOING THAT, GIVES ONE A RESPECT FOR THE REAL ASPIRATIONS OF PHOTOGRAPHERS. What are they really shooting for, what’s being documented, why — the effort? What’s the point of it?
I BELIEVE THAT PHOTO-GRAPHY — THE MARKINGS OF LIGHT — EVINCE:
• light impressions — what shadow falls here?
• knowing the dark, the light, and the grey — in all things?
• emotional moments — seeing that, it reminds me of?
• recollections of things that have been scene — exploring the power, place?
• seen that, been there — moment, memorialized meaning?
• experiences — heartbreaking beauty?
• experiencers — emotional garlands of moments, unforgettable?
And surely the idea of emotion is about being moved — “I was so struck by that imagery that I couldn’t look away — seeing that photograph, I’ll never forget it.” I know that I have photographs that I’ve purchased, that have just this measure. I know them, I know who shot them, I know when, and I know what they mean to me. But I could hardly expect to know more of the work of those that made them — that’s their call, and visioning alone.
Let me offer these meditations. Shot, while moving, car-bound, across the state:
At the beginning, the West Queen Anne Condo, mist bound.
A lighthouse, quieted.
What lies beyond light, that range?
Climbing there, still I wonder, return?
With clap and whirling curl, clouds cusped from the Cascades’ lips — light spit.
Could that be — sight, site unseen — limited?
That barn — out there, within one mile, there is no other.
Talking with my Father, about listening for trains —
and walking from the farm out to the tracks —
a line appeared on the horizon.
As I was thinking about Pendleton blankets, I found that store, driving by.
In Sprague, for gasoline, this array of trucks, waiting.
Down the alley, heading back to the high way, I pass the farmer’s co-op, grain elevator.
The detailing of the metal seam — driving by — sanded by hand or storm?
The staggering of the type, on brick, endlessly repainted.
Tom Moore, a slightly softened san serif, bolstered by a sharp-cut cigar.
Better low, than high.
Galvanized granary, sitting alone.
Whorled wheat — as installation.
A sheet metal hermitage.
These, along with 35 others — too repetitive in their light and conceptual bracketing to be willing to bother you with. To the brand, and the image — I struggle with the gathering of the “why” of imagery and brand — how to push that deeper, so that as I consider the concept of the brand, the story, isn’t it possible that this telling could be emotionally rendered in an image of breath-taking beauty and arresting content, that just might fall out of the typical basket of “stock” and load imagery of the digital catalogues. I’m thinking so.
It’s possible that in driving by — something might be captured in the sheer haphazard nature of the draw, to bring you a new understanding. Kindly prep yourself — as you see something emerging, set your camera at the ready, calculate your shooting angle, and fire away — knowing that of the one or three or five snaps that might be grabbed, there will be one that speaks the loudest.
Use your leg as a brace on the steering wheel.
Exploring drive by shooting. Try it.
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