Making the Hard Choices

We’ve all had to make choices in life, make compromises, especially when it comes to work.  When I was a freelance photo editor I worked for a couple of publications I didn’t really respect early in my career.  But it was a paycheck and I was grateful for that.

The biggest difference between the freelance work I did and the freelance work of a photographer is that my work had an expiration date.  When the magazine was published, I was done and on to the next issue.  It’s different for a photographer in that the work lives on and can be used (and sold) again and again.  And that’s where you really make your money—being able to resell your photos.

The issues brought up by duckrabbitblog in relation to the work of Ron Haviv have been discussed and written about quite well, first here, and here, then here.  It's also been discussed both on Facebook and Twitter.  But the larger issue to me is this:  Should photographers set parameters for who can use their work and where it can appear?

Not being a photographer I don’t l know the feasibility or reality of what you can and can’t do.  When buying stocks people frequently let their broker know they don’t want particular stocks in their portfolio (alcohol, or tobacco, or military, etc.).  During the time I worked for magazines, photographers were often giving instructions about what could and could not be done to their images.  Sometimes it was no cropping, sometimes no text could be on the images, and sometimes there were other limitations.

So I wondered when looking at Ron Haviv’s work in question (above and below), did he make those same limits known to whoever sells his stock?  

In his response, Ron says: ”I draw a strict line between my photojournalism and commercial campaigns and feature examples of both on my website, where they are clearly labeled for what they are.  I support humanitarian intervention, detente and defense as I’ve seen what can happen when those things don’t exist. I am comfortable with where I set the boundaries. I also appreciate and respect that there are many different views about where those boundaries lie.”

So my question to you is this:  Have you decided not just what jobs to take, but whom you will resell your work to?

Taken at face value, it’s hard to criticize or take issue with Ron.  He’s about as respected a photojournalist as you will find.  He’s been around the globe, in dangerous situations, and he’s brought back illuminating work that has helped to give us better understanding of the world.  But that’s why I think it’s important to go deeper.

I know we all need to make money, and everyone is trying to figure out how to sustain his or her livelihood when everything seems to be imploding around us.  But shouldn’t we take control of what we are doing and what we have, setting rules for what we will and will not do?

And isn’t there a disconnect when we espouse certain beliefs, but then turn around and move the goalposts when money comes into the picture?  I am not claiming to be perfect, and I am not expecting people to have a greater set of standards than I have.  And I empathize with those who come up against the moral dilemmas again and again.  But shouldn’t clarity and transparency be a part of the dialogue?  We expect it with the media outlets, we are made more aware of it recently due to the Occupy movement, so at what point do we pose those uncomfortable questions to ourselves? 

The Reefing of the USS Radford

With his third solo show, “The Reefing of USS Radford,” opening tomorrow night at The Front Room Gallery, Stephen Mallon once again brings us photographs of something we don’t usually see. This time it’s a decommissioned Navy ship being dismantled and sunk for use as an underwater eco system for underwater life. As part of his ongoing series “American Reclamation” Mallon gives us a look at the incredible breadth of these former battleships, and what it takes to rip apart a ship 563 feet long.

What I love about Mallon's work is it's grandeur. It's little child in the big world sense of wonderment. You just know that he has as much fun shooting as I have looking at the photographs. So go tomorrow night and see these wonderful photographs of water and steel. You can almost hear the splash as the ship goes down.

Tim Hetherington at Yossi Milo

Tim Hetherington
Untitled, Liberia, 2003 Digital C-print
(c) Tim Hetherington, Courtesy Yossi Milo Gallery, New York

It is almost exactly a year since Tim Hetherington and Chris Hondros were killed in Misrata, Libya. The passage of time is always somewhat of a surprise, even as we are powerless to affect it. The first exhibit of Tim’s work at Yossi Milo has just opened, and it was definitely the place to be last week.

The show is divided into work from Liberia (in the front room) and Afghanistan in the back. The work is large, the prints sharp, and the overwhelming sense is of a photographer just reaching his stride. “When someone dies, they die midsentence,” said his mother, Judith. That is so evident when you look at Tim's work, and I don't mean just his photos, but his films as well. Both Restrepo and Sleeping Soldiers bring war and the men who fight it to us in a way that is so personal, so without pretense, that we are brought closer to the humanity we might have forgotten.

The Liberia work as shown doesn’t have the cohesion that the Afghanistan work has. There are some marvelous images, but it seems more unfocused. This is more due to the image choices, then the work itself. The selection of images are only linked by location, and so as wonderful as they are, their impact is lessened. We don't know why Tim was there, or what he covered. For those who don't know about the country and Tim's experience there it is hard to see a thread running through this part of the exhibit..

Tim Hetherington
Untitled, Liberia, 2005 Digital C-print
(c) Tim Hetherington, Courtesy Yossi Milo Gallery, New York

Tim Hetherington
Untitled, Liberia, 2004 Digital C-print
(c) Tim Hetherington, Courtesy Yossi Milo Gallery, New York

But it is obvious that in Afghanistan Tim found himself. His desire to get to the core of the men and the war is so evident, and the photos so alive, you can imagine Tim there taking the photos. There is such a tenderness in those photos, not just because they capture these young men at their most vulnerable, but because you can feel Tim’s heart. That’s how strongly the experience is imprinted.

Tim Hetherington
Untitled, Korengal Valley, Kunar Province, Afghanistan, 2008 Digital C-print (c) Tim Hetherington, Courtesy Yossi Milo Gallery, New York

Walking into the back room where the Afghanistan photos are I am stopped by the shocking intimacy of the Restrepo work, especially the sleeping soldiers. As I look at the photo of the men fooling around I can still see Tim—imagine him there. That’s how strongly the experience is imprinted.

Tim Hetherington
Alcantara, Korengal Valley, Kunar Province, Afghanistan, 2008 Digital C-print (c) Tim Hetherington, Courtesy Yossi Milo Gallery, New York

Tim Hetherington
Kelso, Korengal Valley, Kunar Province, Afghanistan, 2008 Digital C-print (c) Tim Hetherington, Courtesy Yossi Milo Gallery, New York

Hung as though we are looking at men in childhood bunk beds, the impact of the work is heightened. I am once again struck by how young they all seem, and by how close they are to each other. There is a physical intimacy between the soldiers that you don't usually see in photos. But that is part of Tim's gift: his ability to become one with his subjects, and so they let him into their world. Tim held the door opened and allowed us to enter a world we are not a part of. That was one of Tim's gifts.

Like all artists, Tim Hetherington's work outlives him. For that I am grateful, but the loss is even more keen because of the unique way in which he viewed the world, and because of his fierce desire to peel back the obvious to show us the base from which the actions and emotions sprang.

I miss Tim Hetherington for who he was and for the promise of what was still to come.

Between Despair and Determination Is…..?

It isn’t easy building and maintaining a creative career these days. The competition is fierce, the online noise deafening, and the energy it takes superhuman for many of us. When it all becomes too much to deal with, what do you do?

In navigating the choppy waters of livelihood, it’s important to grab whatever you can to work on. Taken piece by piece you can sometimes avoid the paralysis that comes with feeling overwhelmed. For me, that means sitting down and making a master list of what has to get done. I admit it, I LOVE lists. Or rather I love crossing things off lists. Gives me a great feeling of satisfaction.

Once I have the master list, I always see that there are different parts to it. It may be that there are immediate and long-range things, or it may be that there are business-related things and personal things. But once it’s down on paper (and yes, I still use paper and pen), the ball of confusion starts to break up, and I get the desire to do something.

The next thing I do is prioritize. I once read you should not have a list of more than three things to do each day, or you will get overwhelmed. I found that what works for me is making lists for each day of the week, so I don’t dread what I have to do, and each day I can move forward.

But sometimes an added problem is sitting in front of my computer for too long. It tires me out, muddles my thinking and doesn’t allow me to focus (there are FB posts! And email! And Twitter! And things to read! What to do, what to do?). If I could, I would attach an ejector button to my chair to force me out of the house. I find comfort in nature, and even in New York I am lucky to see trees outside my window. There are two little parks near me where the tulips are in bloom, the cherry blossoms full, and I try to just be in the moment.

When you work alone, it can make you crazy and longing for human interaction (I adore my cat, but she refuses to engage in conversation when I want it). That’s when it’s great that most people drink coffee, and I can make a date to meet with someone. Getting a different perspective on things is very helpful. Additionally, going to a gallery or museum, seeing a movie, even reading a book (the old fashioned way) can push me away from lethargy.

I’m writing this because this has been a problem for me recently. And maybe writing about it will shake me free.

This is AIPAD 2012

Everyone’s been to AIPAD now, so time for the reviews to come in. I went twice, and felt overwhelmed at some point each time, but did come out with some thoughts I wanted to share.

There was a lot more contemporary work this year, and while I appreciated seeing such wonderful work (and it was mostly wonderful), when I think back, it can’t have the gravitas of the vintage work that I love seeing. I pretty much hated the contemporary work last year. This year there were a number of standouts.

Entering the exhibition, you stare directly at large format C-prints of Tim Hetherington’s “Sleeping Soldiers,” and 2 other prints of his soldier projects. To the right is an exceptional print of a man in a small Liberian boat, drifting past a rusted hunk of large ship. So amazing seeing it as a large print. Hetherington’s images all had an almost Rembrandt color palette that was very strong and emotional.
Yossi Milo represents his estate and will be opening a show on April 12. I’m really looking forward to it.

To the left when you enter is a wall full of Accra Shepp’s “Occupy Wall Street" portraits. There were 36 of them in a grid. And they were perfectly juxtaposed with Ernest Wither’s photo of the Memphis sanitation workers “I AM A Man” march in 1968. Steven Kasher made a very strong statement there.

Playing the “What would I buy if I had the money?” game, here are my choices:

Tim Hetherington—the Liberia image or one of the sleeping soldiers.
Ernest Withers
Anything by Bill Eppridge at the Monroe Gallery, maybe the anguished Medgar Evers family after his murder.
One of Katherine Wolkoff’s bird silhouettes "Found"(I loved everything at Sasha Wolf’s booth)

One of Michael Wolf’s voyeuristic Japan subway photos.

I also loved Emily Roysdon's “David Wojnarowicz Project" at Higher Learning. It was fresh, clever and well executed. The small B&W images really spoke to me.

I was pleasantly surprised to see work by so many photographers I knew, including Nina Berman, Laurie Lambrecht, Sandi Fifield, Martine Fougeron, and Justine Reyes. John Cyr’s developing tray project was there as well, and looked really good on the walls.

Now in the end I don’t know how successful this year’s AIPAD was for the galleries, but I saw many people, and enjoyed myself. It seemed fresher than last year, but I'm a real sucker for the vintage work, and that seemed to take a back seat. I'm on the fence about that. AIPAD is exhausting, and when it’s over, I find I need a break from photography.

If money was no object, what would YOU buy?

Photos by Jason Florio.

Cindy Sherman Doesn't Thrill Me

Cindy Sherman. Untitled #425. 2004. Chromogenic color print, 70 3/4″ x 7′ 5 3/4″ (179.7 x 228 cm). Courtesy the artist and Metro Pictures, New York © 2012 Cindy Sherman

Clowns? Really? You’ve got to be kidding.

I’ll say it right here, right now: I don’t like Cindy Sherman’s work.

Wait, let me say that more clearly: I don’t like MOST of Cindy Sherman’s work. And I definitely don’t see her as some kind of brilliant artist. Maybe she was once, when she was just starting out.

The Museum of Modern Art in New York just opened a retrospective of Cindy Sherman that will run until June 11. It’s a chance to see her beginning and development into one of the most successful photographers alive. Not only is her work eminently collectible, she is now holds the record as the photographer whose work has sold for the most money.

I walked through the exhibit twice in order to really get a feeling for the work and to clarify my feelings about it all. Here goes...

The show is hung chronologically, which allows you to see how revolutionary Sherman’s work was when it first showed in the mid to late 1970s. That was a time of all sorts of new art, including punk music. In that way she fits in perfectly with the energy of the times. Her explorations of identity (in black & white) really resonate and seem so fresh and smart even now.
Cindy Sherman. Untitled Film Still #6. 1977. Gelatin silver print, 9 7/16 x 6 1/2_ (24 x 16.5 cm). The Museum of Modern Art, New York. Acquired through the generosity of Jo Carole and Ronald S. Lauder in memory of Eugene M. Schwartz © 2012 Cindy Sherman

Identity is the subject of so much art, including every college students’ work. So even though I have seen it repeated over and over, there are few photographers I feel really nail something deep. Cindy Sherman’s work from 1975-1981, which includes her “Untitled Film Stills,” does exactly that: it throws all the stereotypical views of women in our society right back into our faces. And she was one of the only photographers doing it in those days.

From damsels in distress to secretaries to sexpots, it’s all there and I was honestly blown away. I didn’t think I would like anything I saw. I was wrong.

It was early in the 1980s when Sherman began her move to color film. And it was also when she began to create the personas we have all come to know. First she photographed herself in costume against projected landscapes. Then she was commissioned to “re-create” images from men’s “erotic” magazines. This is where she began to lose me. The images are nothing like what they are “supposed” to be, and I find them mundane. Yet as a former photo editor I can see the allure in having this new photographer explore the topic. For me it falls very flat, as if Sherman couldn’t really stretch herself to turn the idea on its head.
Cindy Sherman. Untitled #96. 1981. Chromogenic color print, 24 x 47 15/16″ (61 x 121.9 cm). The Museum of Modern Art, New York. Gift of Carl D. Lobell © 2012 Cindy Sherman

In the mid-1980s into the early 1990s Sherman turned her attentions and productions to fairy tales, the Masters, sex and deconstruction. Who cares? This is when she really began to alter her own appearance to create vaguely recognizable people in large format. I mean what can I say about a room full of large color portraits of people who might be seen in a Rembrandt painting? For me it is crass and looks really cheap.
Cindy Sherman. Untitled #213. 1989. Chromogenic color print, 41 1/2 x 33″ (105.4 x 83.8 cm). Courtesy the artist and Metro Pictures, New York © 2012 Cindy Sherman

I do find it interesting that the museum alludes to her work with sex toys, yet barely shows any of them.

It was also during this time that Sherman created a series of ‘fashion” photos, and as stated by the museum, “challenge(d) the industry’s conventions of beauty and grace.”

Sherman photographs herself as a burn victim, as what looks like a crazy woman all the time wearing very expensive designer clothing. But I ask you, isn’t there another level to turning conventions on their head than too skinny models at one end of the spectrum and Sherman’s overly ugly women? It seems to me as if she is taking each chance to do something new, and just shoe horning her work into it. Why is this so different than shooting a fashion spread in a slum area? Both characterizations hover on the surface without diving deeper into why it matters at all.

And how is a stereotype turned on its head by making herself, and consequently the women she looks to portray, as ugly as she can. I’m not talking about standardized beauty, but it seems she goes out of her way to make herself uglier and uglier for some purpose that eludes me.

So Sherman moves on into the 2000s and that is where the clowns first appear. Holy hell. Am I supposed to take this seriously? It makes me think of Jeff Koons and his porno sculptures with his then wife, Ilona Staller. Or Damien Hirst and his suspended dead cow. Is the point just to show that you can make people fall for anything and spend big bucks in the process? Wow, banality rules. What a surprise.

If it wasn’t bad enough that I felt I was seeing an artist becoming more and more irrelevant as her work progressed and she became more successful, I can’t understand why the photographs are so very large. The bigger they get, the more irrelevant they seem to me. It’s as if you print large just because you can (and of course you can charge more at that size), not because it’s warranted.

And so her most recent work, gigantic portraits of rich women not only do nothing for me, they hardly “presage(d) the financial collapse,” as the museum states. I just see more ugly women in photographs that are printed way too large. The colors are so saturated that they render them garish.
Cindy Sherman. Untitled #466. 2008. Chromogenic color print, 8′ 6″ x 70″ (259.1 x 177.8 cm). The Museum of Modern Art, New York. Acquired through the generosity of Robert B. Menschel in honor of Jerry I. Speyer. © 2012 Cindy Sherman
I couldn’t help thinking as I wandered through this exhibit about people who adore Madonna, thinking she somehow empowers women by changing her persona thus challenging stereotypes. That’s what this exhibit wants you to believe about Sherman as well. I don’t buy it. While Madonna always wants to be beautiful, Sherman strives for ugliness. Yet both performers (yes, I said performers) choose an easily identifiable way of portraying women.

I’m interested in women who look for the middle ground between what is offered to women by our male-dominated society, that being either being beautiful or being dismissed as ugly. I’m looking for women who turn convention on its head. Why can’t we set our own ideas of what women are, and why aren’t our artists leading the way?

Sherman reminds me of a band that releases one brilliant album with a dozen or so songs and then falls into endless mediocrity, doing basically the same thing over and over again because they can make a lot of money at it.

Stop!

You must be rich enough by now.

PhotoNOLA 2011 Wrap Up

Now that I’ve settled back in at home I want to write about PhotoNOLA, one of the best photo festivals out there. It’s only a 3 hour flight from New York, so consider attending next year. You won’t be sorry.

I was there for the first time in 2008, and this year was so much better for me. I felt much more engaged, and by now, many of the other reviewers, and some of the photographers are friends, so I had a wonderfully social time.

I arrived Thursday for the fundraising gala, a party with fantastic food, music and great bargains on prints during the auction. It was my chance to hang out and meet new people while wishing I could own a lot of what was being sold.

On Friday I was able to go to the Insectarium, something I wasn’t able to do last time. I love insects, so it was a blast—I even got to eat some, which is something I wanted to do. The rest of the day was spent hanging out and eating, exactly what you expect to do in New Orleans.

Saturday and Sunday were all-day portfolio reviews. I saw some fascinating work and had a chance to meet other professionals I hadn’t met before. I know there is a lot of debate as to the value of portfolio reviews. I think they can be wonderful: a chance for photographers to get fresh eyes on their work, a chance to get face-to-face sit downs with high quality professionals, and a chance to meet and talk with other photographers. Yes, it will cost money. But aren’t you and your career worth it?

There are those who feel that reviews are a “pay for play” type situation, and you shouldn’t have to pay people to show them your work. I think it’s important to understand where that money goes. It goes to the organization that puts on the event (and putting together PhotoNOLA isn’t easy, and it isn’t cheap), and it goes to bringing the professionals to New Orleans. The reviewers are not paid, but their airfare and hotel are comped. I think that’s a pretty good deal all the way around.

Now if a photographer isn’t ready to be reviewed (their work is not far enough along), or they are not prepared with good work that is well presented, and don’t have both the ability to talk about their work and to hear what the reviewer says to then, then yes, maybe the reviews are not a good idea. But since most photographers work alone, in a sort of creative vacuum (especially if they are not in big cities), there is so much to be gained that I can’t support the review process enough.

Some of the work I saw that really stood out:

Patty Carroll’s study on domesticity:"Anonymous Women."

Christopher Chadbourne’s "State Fair"

Stephen Chalmers’s landscapes of serial killer murder sites

Alex Leme’s small town America project
Robert Llewellyn’s gorgeous "Seeing Flowers"
Calli McCaw’s boys jumping off the Coney Island pier

Sunday evening I was honored to be asked to moderate a panel called: “Picturing War,” which focused on the work of Sebastiano Tomada Piccolomini, Ashley Gilbertson and Jungeun Lee—three photographers showing alternate ways of depicting conflict. It was quite an emotional and engaging panel for all of us—panelists and audience. For my part, it was an unexpected and intensely emotional experience.

Ashley showed his work and featured the “Bedrooms of the Fallen,” a deep and moving portrait of the rooms of soldiers in the US and Europe who were killed in Iraq and Afghanistan. By projecting the work on a large screen you couldn’t help but feel as if you were in the rooms, and that made it all the more poignant. And Ashley’s fierce passion for his work and to the soldiers who struggle with returning to civilian life with PTSD, or who commit suicide brought us all to tears. You had to ask yourself: What am I doing to help these people?

Jungeun Lee’s "Silenced Suffering" about the Korean women who were kidnapped and forced to be sex slaves to the Japanese soldiers during WWII was extraordinary in its detail and execution. Jungeun had grown up in Korea never hearing about this—only when 200 of the estimated 200,000 women who suffered began to testify in public did she learn about it. Her anger was so intense, it took her a year to begin to figure out how to express it visually. Jungeun’s attention to detail, and talk about what she chose to focus on and how she came to it was incredible. I am in awe of her creative process and wish I could have seen the complete installation (I saw a portion of it on display in a gallery in town).

For the closing dinner we were invited to the studio of Josephine Sacabo, a gifted fine art photographer who specializes in the photogravure process. It was such a treat to see an artist studio while in town and it was the perfect end to the festival. I found myself sitting at a table across from Jessica Lange—not what I had expected.

So I have to thank everyone who put this wonderful festival together: especially the great Jennifer Shaw, whose book, "Hurricane Story" is one of my favorites. I had such a great time meeting and talking with, among others, David Bram, Brian Clamp, Jennifer Schwartz, Andy Adams, Bill Schwab, Holly Hughes, Bevin Bering Dubrowski, Kyohei Abe, Roy Flukinger, Charles Guice, Neil Harris, Maggie Kennedy, Alexandra Le Faou, Claire O’Neill, Gordon Watkinson, Ann Pallesen, Mary Virginia Swanson, Sasha Wolf and Gordon Stettinius. I wish I could have spent time with everyone.

So mark this on your calendar for next year, and I hope to see you there!

all photographs copyrighted by the individual photographers