February 2nd: Meridian Printing

The week after our hectic New York field trip, we were rewarded with an entire week off, finally allowing time to start working on some of the homework for the class.  In addition to actively participating in every meeting, providing visual documentation and keeping this blog, we are also being asked to do the following:

-Register at least 25 images with the US Copyright Office

-Write a personal thank-you letter to each person we’ve met during this course and include a print of our own work, and provide photographic proof of each one

-Prepare three copies of our portfolio: Print, a website, and a book of either our whole portfolio of a designated body of work

-Prepare a mailing list of everyone we’d like to keep updated about our work

-Keep a log of all photography-related expenses and earnings for an entire year.

-Make 22 13″x19″ prints of a single image, to be distributed to every member of the class as class portfolios.  These portfolios will be archived at the RISD Museum, and even sent to the Smithsonian, according to Henry!  Better do a good job on that one…

So far, the most time-consuming have been the thank-you cards and the book, both of which had so much potential to be really excellent that I couldn’t bare to let the opportunities go to waste.  It was really a relief to have that free week to decompress a bit from our trip and let our experiences sink in again.  By the time the next week rolled around, we were refreshed and ready for one of our last meetings, at Meridian Printing in East Greenwich, Rhode Island.

Meridian focuses on traditional offset printing (i.e. not digital) and for the past 30 years has used only sheet-fed printing as opposed to roll paper.  Meridian prints anywhere between 12.5″x19″ to 28″x40″ sheets, and does almost everything for the production of books besides the actual binding.  As we were introduced to what Meridian does, some books were passed around the table for us to look at.  Nick Brandt’s book of African wildlife photography, “On This Earth, A Shadow Falls,” was probably one of the most heartbreakingly beautiful photography books I have ever seen.  I strongly advise anyone reading this to check it out, if they have not done so previously.  As we were led around Meridian’s printing rooms, Brandt’s book pages laid in stacks surrounding almost every single machine.

Meridian employs 55 people, most of whom have been there for 15 years or more.  Pete, who led us on our tour, had been there for 22 years – since before I was born, which was a slightly overwhelming thought.  Although the printing facilities were absolutely state-of-the-art, I couldn’t help but dwell on the lives of the workers as we passed through the loud, windowless rooms full of chemical fumes and the roar of machinery.  Who were these people who had worked in this same room every day for over 15 years?  What were their lives like?  What fulfillment did they get from operating printing machines all day?

In any case, we learned a lot about the printing process, perhaps the most important of which is consistent lighting, to make sure that wherever one views the product, it looks the same.  Pete led us to a 10-color-press, a series of machines that produce first the blacks of an image, then the cyans, magentas, yellows, then varnish… and then all the previous colors, with blacks included.  He also showed us a 7-stage pocket collator, responsible for  trimming and stitching sheets of paper, which he explains works from the middle of the book to the outside.  Of slightly morbid interest to us was the cutter, capable of making between 2 and 40 cuts per sheet with excessive programming, which lets down 6,000 pounds of pressure with its blade.  Pete explained that ever sheet of paper is dusted in a light coating of powder to keep the sheets from sticking together during this process.  Lastly, we had the chance to tour the ink kitchens, where specific shades of color are mixed when needed, as well as view the old, original printing machines Meridian used when they first started out.

All in all, it was great to have the opportunity to see the huge amount of work that goes into the making of a single book or printed publication.  As digital printing becomes the norm, I think it was really valuable to understand the steps behind the traditional printing process.

Back at RISD later that afternoon, we were visited by designer Ernesto Aparicio, but unfortunately only moments before I needed to leave for work!  I was only able to hear the very beginning of his life story before I was forced to leave, but managed to absorb the piece of advice that “you need to know your subject well to do a good job.”

January 22nd: Lorie Novak, Lance Rosenfield & Home to Providence!

At last, we awoke on Sunday to our final day in New York.  Exhausted to the core from non-stop visits with virtually no down time, we wearily prepared our bags for departure before boarding the metro for our last visit, with Lorie Novak.  Convinced we were unforgivably late, Abby and I were surprised when we were the first to arrive at Powerhouse Books, leaving plenty of time to get coffee and browse the beautiful bookstore before Henry arrived.

We were invited to take a seat in Lorie’s studio amidst couches, chairs, and a selection of bagels and orange juice.  In a corner of the room, a gigantic, sloping mass of newspapers stood picturesquely collected.  As Lorie began describing her life and her work, I realized that I knew her work from previous lectures at RISD.

A lot of Lorie’s work, she explained, deals with ideas of photography and memory – how pictures both illicit, and then become, memory. She often uses the family snapshot as a vehicle for this, and mentioned the danger of the family photograph as writing a whole different story than the truth. A lot of her work involves family snapshots projected into empty interior spaces, and onto trees at night, which I found especially beautiful.  She also showed us some projects she’s been doing with newspaper articles that she’s saved up throughout the years.

In terms of advice, Lorie strongly recommended artist’s residencies, which she has done a lot of.  She also advised us to develop a good storage system early on, as it can greatly simplify our lives later.

Shortly before Abby and I needed to leave to catch our bus back to Providence, we were visited in Lorie’s studio by Lance Rosenfield, an editorial photographer who currently lives in Austin, Texas.  Lance talked to us about Prime Collective, the photographer’s collective he currently works with.  He explained that working in a collective model makes it easier to keep relationships good, especially given the emotional, up-and-down nature of photographer personalities.  The photographers who work with Prime are currently located in Austin, New York, Sacramento, DC, Barcelona, and Mexico city; a design Lance believes keeps a respectful distance and balance between them.  He advised us, if we plan on working in groups, to only work in small groups that come together slowly.  “It’s easy to leave a group that comes together fast,” he told us.  “Egos get involved in groups.  Avoid alpha males.”  He also stressed the importance of having a meticulous website that is, above all else, easy to  navigate.  Unfortunately, right in the middle of his talk, it was time for Abby and I to leave to catch our bus back to Providence!

And so it was, with the utmost exhaustion, that we boarded our bus home.

January 21st: Chelsea Galleries, Barbara Nitke, & David Godlis

Saturday began with a rush into the city to meet Henry for breakfast at a diner in Chelsea.  Convinced that we would have only half an hour to eat if we met Henry at 10:00, Abby and I were flustered when construction drastically altered our train schedule, leaving us about 25 minutes late.  To our pleasant surprise, the overnight snow had caused our first appointment that morning to cancel, giving us about four hours before our first meeting.  With that, we sat down to a leisurely breakfast.

As we ate, we flipped through the gallery listings in Photograph magazine, scoping out the potentials for photography exhibits in nearby galleries. We spent the remainder of the morning wandering from gallery to gallery, checking out the wide variety of work on display. As usual, while I loved some of the work, there was a lot of it I truly didn’t care for, and thought it was interesting how everyone reacted differently to the works.  Below, some of the work that I liked:

A window in a gallery that I thought was more beautiful than the work in the gallery itself.

Next, we headed to the School of Visual Arts to meet with professor Barbara Nitke.  Having failed to research her work prior to our meeting, I must admit I was a little shocked when a fairly graphic porn scene stood projected as the backdrop to her lengthy introduction.  As she began talking, though, everything fell into place, and the larger-than-life sex act on the wall lost all awkwardness.

  Barbara explained that her ex-husband was a porn movie director, and she began shooting movie stills on porn sets in the 80s.  Since then, she has worked with porn photography, especially fetish porn and the S&M scene, for over 25 years – as that felt repetitive, she has recently decided to try fashion.  Barbara explained that she makes most of her living working on TV sets (something she doesn’t recommend doing, since they own the copyright) but that she is never happier than when taking pictures.  “That’s the most important thing – to do what you love,” she told us.  She briefly described the soundproof box needed to house a camera on set – cumbersome and heavy, giving her pictures an added value, in my mind.  I photographed a fair amount of her slideshow, but don’t think they’re quite appropriate to post on a public blog.

Barbara went into a fair amount of detail about the story behind her work.  My favorites were moments captured behind the scenes of porn movies, mostly in the eighties, where actors look bored, nap, or exhibit what Barbara called “the 1000-mile-stare… like combat soldiers.  They’re not there.”  A lot of these shots, she explained, were “artistic” enough not to be marketable, making it easier for her to get the rights to them.  She also showed a series of work she made of real S&M couples, attempting to portray the emotion, love, romance, and creativity involved in something that is far too often misunderstood.  She said she tries to get the “moment after a scene… where they are in a golden glow of delight with each other.”

  Barbara advised us students, for our futures’ sake, to make sure that we own our work – not to give up our copyrights or usage.  She also raved about the benefits of teaching, such as health insurance and access to school facilities such as printers.  Given my growing interest in teaching, I was encouraged by this; I had never even thought of those things before.

  Lastly, we made a visit to photographer David Godlis in what I believe may have been his apartment.  David is a street photographer famous for photographing punk bands at the nightclub CBGB’s in the eighties, fortunately timed right before those bands became wildly popular.  He described his style as inspired by Bressai’s night shots of Paris in the 30’s – grainy black-and-white, handheld long exposures, with no flash.  Personally, I am a fan of the contrasty, heavily pushed aesthetic he uses, and therefore appreciated his work.  He described the crazy lifestyle of his youth, working as a photographer’s assistant during the day and shooting at CBGB’s all night, every night.  “It wasn’t healthy,” he reminisced, “but I got the pictures, and was young enough to do it.”  I felt like that statement could also apply to our hectic lifestyles at RISD.

   A lot of what David talked about was how his photographs were not seen as legitimate in the beginning, either in their style or in their subject matter.  I really admired David’s perseverance to keep working with what he believed in, and was inspired by how it eventually paid off.  It tied in a lot with what Henry often tells us, that work always pays off, although often not quite how one would expect.  For example, one of the last things David showed us were t-shirts of his work marketed in Japan with largely nonsensical English phrases, which, hilarious as they seem to us, are apparently quite fashionable abroad.

Hungry and ready for dinner, the majority of our class headed to Williamsburg for dinner with RISD grads at a gigantic, bustling beer hall. Coincidentally, I was able to meet up with Mira, one of my friends from Norway, who had just moved to New York!

January 20th: The Gitterman Gallery, Allen Frame, American Photography & Trunk Archive

Friday began with yet another long, complex metro ride into the city. We met at the Gitterman Gallery, a beautiful exhibition space featuring hardwood floors, giant windows, and absolutely stunning light. Tom Gitterman, the owner, met with us to talk about his life, his work, and his advice for dealing with galleries in the future.

Tom began by stating that he is not, in fact, a photographer. Despite describing his teenage self as a “rebellious, messed-up kid who hated religion,” Tom told us how his entire worldview was altered by seeing a fresco of heaven painted on a vaulted ceiling during an art history trip in Italy. It caused him to look at art in different ways, more as an expression of self than propaganda. “Art enhances my life,” Tom told us. “It’s hope for where one wants to go; it reminds us that we are not alone; it connects us to something greater than ourselves. It can nearly be a spiritual experience for some. Also, it’s fun.”

After getting kicked out of high school, Tom was barely admitted to college into the art history department, where he became deeply interested in history of photography. He explained that he was especially inspired by the struggle by Stieglitz and Steichen to prove photography’s status as an art form, especially because he still found that many people didn’t view photography as art. It was around that time that he started hanging shows for friends, then for Ithaca College’s art gallery, and then for the historical society in town. After graduating, he began interning at, and then working for, galleries in New York. Slowly he worked his way up, but described the impact of 9/11 as a huge turning point. “It made me think, ‘what do you want in your life?’ CHOOSE. Do it. Don’t let life just happen to you. Life is fragile. Go for it.”

Tom described his initial fear at starting a gallery of his own, but realized that all he really had to lose was money. “You might lose a lot of money, but couldn’t you get another job?” That statement really stuck with me.

In terms of the work he chooses for his own gallery, Tom explained that he’s not interested in art that doesn’t look like it’s created by an individual. “It’s not a question of whether or not something grabs your attention,” he told us. “It’s a question of, ‘do I want to keep looking at this day after day?’”

After telling us his own story, Tom jumped right into advice for the young photographer. “Develop a reputation that you’re proud of,” he told us. “Before you contact a gallery, know what the gallery is about… do your homework about who you’re contacting.” He also told us to expect to pay for matting and framing ourselves when preparing gallery shows, and to keep an open mind. “The more finite you are about the way things have to be, the less exciting you will be to work with,” he said. Tom also recommended that we always get receipts when leaving work with people, to set up insurance, and to keep edition sizes small. “It is much better to sell out your edition and move on to the next project than to have huge editions,” he explained. “If the popular image is sold, people will move on to the larger body of work.”

Allen and Tom.

Next, we were visited by street photographer Allen Frame, who passed around his books of moody black-and-white work as he began his talk. Allen explained that he never went to art school, but had Henry as a photography teacher at a community center.  He said that Diane Arbus and Emmet Gowin’s “penetrating psychological perspectives on portraiture” strongly prompted his initial interest in photography.  Since 1977, he’s been working with the same subject matter: that open, ambiguous phase of life when people haven’t settled, and are still exploring.

Interestingly, Allen explained that he’s much more of a natural writer than a photographer, but is attracted to the challenge of visual arts.  As a writer myself, I was intrigued by how Allen managed to fuse the two together in his life – currently, he’s working on writing a play, while also working with photography.  When asked when he knows he’s “got something good,” he answered that a good photograph should present some psychological familiarity, trigger a sense of authentic impact, and even become an emotional experience for him personally.  “Pictures don’t mean as much when I don’t have a connection with the subject,” he explained.

My favorite comment of Allen’s, however, was about fame, something that I see so many people chasing, but that I have no desire for myself.  “Everyone wants to be known, be stars,” Allen said.  “But take a look at those big names.  Look at their pain… look at the dues they’ve paid for it, what it’s done to them.  Either they end up completely wrecked, or so armored, it’s frightening to be around them.”  He paused for a moment.  “It’s curious… but I like where I am.”  I couldn’t agree with him more.

Before we left, Allen gave us one piece of parting advice: “You are so lucky to be where you are. Stop whining. Grow up. NOW.”

Next on our list for the day was American Illustration/American Photography, where we met with director Mark Heflin.  Through a competition, American Photography publishes a hardcover annual of the best photography work produced within that year.  The books, which are meant to promote photography and photographers in general, serve as a resource for art directors, designers, etc.  The competition (open to anyone despite its name) is juried by people who hire photographers (and the jury changes every year).  “Even if you don’t get in the book, you’ll still get seen by the jury,” Mark told us.  “Be seen, be seen, be seen.  The world is definitely waiting for you.  Always keep that in mind.”

Mark gave us a detailed description of the book’s process, from the jurying process to the design and printing.  He explained that while there is a special category of the competition just for students, student work is printed in the book right alongside the professionals, with no indication of which is which.  I was really impressed by this straightforward respect of quality work, regardless of one’s professional standing.  Mark also explained that American Illustration/American Photography is beginning to develop more publishing besides their annuals, such as their newsletters Pro Photo Daily and DART, Design Arts Daily, which aim to get news from as many sources as possible.

In terms of advice, Mark said he would encourage us to do everything possible once we’re out of school.  “Take every opportunity to be seen,” he told us.  “The world’s always looking for a new image.  Also, go to parties – they’re a great place to meet people.  Remember that you never know what’s going to happen in your life.  You should have focus, but you never know what’s going to happen.”

Inspired by Mark’s encouraging, positive attitude and the beauty of the American Photography annuals he showed us, we set off to our last meeting of the day at Trunk Archive.  A beautiful office awaited us, featuring giant windows, shiny hardwood floors, and rows of people working away at computer screens -it’s hard to explain, but the atmosphere was very conducive to creativity.  We met with Claudia Lebenthal and Leslie Simitch, who began by describing Trunk Archive’s primary purpose: to find new ways to re-use images that have already been taken.  This, they explained, includes everything from fashion photography to celebrity portraits, decorative/nature photos, etc.

As they spoke, Claudia and Leslie projected a gorgeous selection of images from their website onto the wall, absolutely stunning images that, as they explained, truly did cover a wide variety of topics.  They explained that they don’t bother getting model releases for every image in the archive until someone actually wishes to use the image, and sometimes photoshop their images to make the models less recognizable if they’re on a budget.  They explained that they contact photographers they’re interested in working with – not the other way around – and that 50% of their sales go to the photographer.  I was truly impressed by the beautiful images they showed, and experienced one of those fleeting moments of desire to shoot commercially – a moment which never lasts long for me, but it’s inspiring when it does.

The evening ended with a delicious, photogenic Korean dinner with Abby.

January 19th: National Geographic, NPR, and the Library of Congress

It was a big day.

To start off with, our bus to Washington, DC left at 6:30 AM, requiring Abby and I to wake up at approximately 4:50 AM to get there in time. We arrived mere minutes before the bus’s departure, to our immense relief, and promptly fell back asleep to the rolling motion of the gigantic vehicle.

I had dreamed of photographing for National Geographic since I was a small child, and was beside myself with excitement for our first visit that day. Unfortunately, we arrived to National Geographic’s headquarters in sunny Washington over half an hour late, leaving only 40 minutes or so to meet with picture editor Elizabeth Krist, but I still found myself awestruck with the magic of simply being there.  Inspiring quotes about the neverending exploration of land and sea adorned the entryway; giant prints of some of NatGeo’s most iconic images hung on the walls.  I could have listened to Elizabeth talk all day, but the short time we had was inspiring, informative, and worth it in every sense.

Elizabeth explained that she edits content not only for National Geographic’s print magazine, but also for the image archive, books, CDs, apps, etc.  Now published in 33 different languages, each of those editions is slightly different.  “The job becomes very comprehensive,” she explained.  “We pitch story ideas, work with photographers… the best stories often come from photographer’s own passions.”  She also described how, although National Geographic is one of the few print magazines still experiencing notable success, changing times mean changes in medium.  Where wait times for printed material can range from one to two years, photographers are now being asked to blog and post about what they’re doing now, offering a more spontaneous, unfiltered experience.  In general, the photographer’s job is becoming much more demanding.  “They have to be thinking, all the time, how’s it going to fit together?  Video? Audio?  A slideshow for the web?”  Elizabeth explained that the construction of a visual narrative is the most important job for photographers, be it in science, adventure, history, wildlife, or landscape – although the occasional eye-candy shot doesn’t hurt either.

Next, Elizabeth talked about internship opportunities, the newest of which is National Geographic’s multi-media internship.  She strongly encouraged us to apply for any and all internships, no matter how competitive, but explained that when it comes to actual jobs, the photographers that are most successful have often been passionately working on one project for 6-8 years – and have the photographs to show for it.  These days, she explained, photographers should be excited about multimedia, particularly video – video and audio are huge credentials these days.  She also described National Geographic’s practices in terms of sending photographers into the field, which I really respect.  The magazine invests a lot of money to give photographers the time they need, she explained.  The very shortest trip would be four weeks… for wildlife photography, trips can last over 16 weeks as photographers often have to patiently wait for wildlife to present itself at the right time and place to trigger a camera trap.

She also talked about the photos used for printed stories, which generally need to be edited down to less than 25 out of approximately 40,000 images.  Each picture, she explained, needs to have some sort of information, or surprise, while still presenting absolutely incredible visuals.  The photos chosen for the story should show a variety in scale, color, subject, etc.  I enthusiastically absorbed everything she said, thinking about how to apply it to my own work.

While I had been looking forward to visiting National Geographic immensely, I had nevertheless been expecting to feel, after the visit, like it was still the impossible dream; that my photos would never be good enough for the magazine.  To my great surprise, our visit with Elizabeth left me feeling inspired, hopeful, and motivated, fairly confident about the wildlife work I’ve accomplished thus far, and ambitious for my work in the future.  All in all, it was an incredible visit.  We ended with a brief viewing of the “Ocean Soul” exhibit by Brian Skerry – amazing.

After a much-needed coffee break, our group of students hailed a series of taxis to the headquarters of National Public Radio, the nostalgic soundtrack to my childhood visits to my grandparents’ art studios.  We met with the energetic Claire O’Neill of the NPR Picture Show, the somewhat new photography blog and website.  She began by explaining that the goal of the blog, for now, is to have new content every day, often featuring stories about photographers’ personal projects – yet she doesn’t believe blogs will be around for long.  “Plan for careers these days to last between four and five years,” she told us.  “Then you might be doing something else.  Things are changing that fast.”  Claire was ready for us with tons of advice, such as to do internships, find something that you’re excited about, and pursue it.  “Get your work out there,” I remember her saying.  “Go to visits.  Get face time with editors… convince people that you’re worth looking at.”  She said that the ideal internship candidates exhibit more inexhaustible curiosity and effort than actual experience or qualifications – and that being willing to take a chance is also key.  Also, learning video and audio was highly recommended.  The entire office seemed to radiate with young, enthusiastic energy; probably one of the most positive and inspiring work environments I have ever experienced, purely from the types of people present.

Keith Jenkins, NPR’s supervising senior producer, wandered into the room.  When asked what advice he had for us, he paused, looked thoughtful for a few moments, then looked directly at us and said, “Read fiction and listen to jazz. Those are the only things that have made sense after 30 or 40 years.”  We all laughed, and he elaborated.  “Have other interests besides photography,” he told us.  “Let it influence your work.  Have a broad sense of the world, and be comfortable improvising.  Be prepared to do a lot of different things, and not be afraid.”  I thought that was some of the best advice we’d received all Wintersession.

Before we left, we were invited to one of NPR’s Tiny Desk concerts in the corner of one of their office rooms.  The band Milagres sat with their instruments amidst bookshelves and paperwork, and played a few beautiful songs before it was time for us to go.  Again, the energy present in the room was striking in its excited, positive energy and youthfulness; we left the building truly impressed with NPR.

To round out our experiences that day, we finished our trip to DC with a visit to the Library of Congress, a bleak and rather sterile building requiring extensive security screening to enter.  Once inside, we were greeted by Beverly Brannan and Carol Johnson, curators of photography, who began by showing us an impressive selection of historic photographic prints.  From Civil War tintypes and ambrotypes, to salted paper prints and cartes-de-visite, the selection they presented seemed right out of a Histories of Photography slideshow.  In addition, however, they also had more contemporary photos documenting recent world events, such as hurricane Katrina, turmoil in the Middle East, etc.  Beverly and Carol explained that they buy photos they think should be preserved, but that they don’t have to be from big-name photographers.  Photographs that document the changing world, changing landscape, education, and people’s relationship with land are all topics of interest, but they did note that the Library has more photos from parts of the world with good US relations – not so many from parts of the world like South America and Africa.  I wasn’t a huge fan of the Library’s bland, uninspiring atmosphere, but appreciated seeing that the government is invested in preserving so many photographs.

Finally, absolutely exhausted, we began the slow journey back to New York.  I thought about everything we had learned at National Geographic, and excitedly began working on a book I’m producing for this class (to be unveiled in a few weeks!)

January 18th: Photograph Magazine, Mary Ellen Mark, Exposure NY, and SoHo Photo Gallery

The next morning, our whirlwind trip began.  After a memorable breakfast of a papaya from a fresh fruit stand, Abby and I traveled into the city to meet our group for a visit to Photograph Magazine.  Bill Mindlin, who began the publication in 1988 as a sort of guidebook to all the photography shows in New York, started by giving us an overview of the city’s gallery scene as it relates to photography, and explaining how the economy and trends have impacted how things operate today.  As his adorable dog wandered around the room, Bill explained that although many publications are going purely digital, he is not concerned for the future of Photograph because photography is the sort of medium that people want to touch and feel – that niche-market printing will continue to exist.  Plus, the magazine is dependent on its print model for revenue from advertising.

Bill’s coworker MaryAnn then explained her job for Photograph – contacting galleries all over New York City and the rest of the United States, constantly asking about their shows in the upcoming months.  As this sort of information is subject to change at any time and people can be hard to get in contact with, it sounded like an immensely time-consuming job.  Another coworker, Anthony, then talked about his job: the technical side of advertising, making sure the photo in the book matches the one on the wall, etc.  Uncut sheets of magazine pages were passed around the room, and lunch was delivered.   It was valuable to meet the people who make the magazine, and hear their reasons why or why not to publish certain shows.

Next, we were off to the gigantic, glamorous studio of Mary Ellen Mark, covered from top to bottom in framed pictures by every photographer imaginable.  She began by showing examples of her work – beautiful black-and-white prints taken inside mental hospitals, of Indian circus performers, and incredibly rich, glossy color photographs of prostitutes in India.  (The most astounding color photos, she explained, were either shot with chrome film or produced using a dye-transfer process). Incredible photographs of street kids in Seattle, initially shot for a story in Life Magazine, were also shown.  As her assistant displayed the pictures, Mary explained that the majority of her photographs were self-generated ideas that she simply went off and did because she wanted to.  “That’s what you should do,” she said, smiling.

She also explained that a lot of her income comes from work for film companies, but that this in some cases could lead to personal work.  She worked on the set of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest for free as a way to get to know mental hospitals, eventually convincing one to let her return to photograph on her own time.  She then showed photos from a recent body of work simply titled Prom, featuring black-and-white portraits of a wide variety of prom-going high school students both beautiful, hilarious, and painful in their awkwardness.  We also watched a film her husband had made, interviewing the same students about the prom, their dates, love, their futures, etc.  The result was a film almost everyone could relate to – we laughed, cried, and cringed at the pain of adolescence.

Mary Ellen advised us against believing that Photoshop is a reliable way to achieve the most beautiful photographs, and encouraged us to make our subjects beautiful with lighting above all else.  She described her frustration with the publication of overly altered images in magazines – images she knows have been altered, but which do not give any written indication of being so.  She also advised us to never try and shoot personal work while shooting for professional jobs.  “Both your personal work and the work for the client will come out half-assed,” she explained.  “The client is always demanding.  Always.”

Perhaps my favorite thing Mary Ellen said was that she shoots on the street all the time to “keep herself aware and alive.”  I realized that that’s often why I shoot, too, and liked the simplicity of that realization.

Next, we visited Exposure NY, a commercial photography agency founded by RISD alum Stacy Fischer.  Carrie Hunt, also a RISD graduate, spoke with us as well.  The commercial photographer’s job, they explained, is to “get in there and make it all fun.  Make it happen.”  They stressed the importance of everybody on set being kept happy, and of the client always feeling like everything is under control.  The photographer’s career, they explained, is like a snowball – it starts slowly, and slowly builds over time.

In terms of professional advice, Carrie and Stacy strongly recommended that our personal websites be kept as meticulous as possible, that we work as photographer’s assistants before working alone, and most importantly, to cultivate a unique style.  “Don’t copy the style of the moment,” they told us.  “You should be able to look at ten different pictures and know it’s all the same photographer.”  They also noted that “everyone” wants video now.  I really took the advice about the website to heart, as I know mine is in serious need of renovation, and was happy to hear their comment about video, as I often shoot random clips of video but for no real purpose (yet).

After a short dinner break, we headed to the SoHo Photo Gallery to see work presented by Jason Evans, Jules Allen, Abe Frajndlich, and Howard Schatz.  While we were waiting for the show to begin, I wandered around the gallery, and discovered the most amazing photographs by Chinese photographer Gao Yuan, featuring classically portrayed female nudes contrasted with semi-apocalyptic landscapes.

The first photographer to present, Jason Evans, lives in Rhode Island and primarily shoots sports.  While this initial declaration made me less than interested, I was soon blown away by the astounding shots of skiers that Evans shot working for the International Olympic Committee.  His photographs of surfers were also incredible.  “I’m trying to get to one country for every year I’ve been alive,” Evans said.

The next photographer was California-born Jules Allen, who attended the photography school founded by Ansel Adams.  Allen now works as a street photographer in NYC, where he also teaches.  He described his work as exploring the relationship between movement, gesture, and light, and showed bodies of work titled “Rhythmology”, “In Your Own Sweet Way,” “Marching Bands”, and “The Good Nudes.”  I especially liked the latter series, which he explained was a reaction to his dislike for how black women are often portrayed.  All the women photographed were normal people, not professional models.  I liked how Allen used the word “delicious” to describe photographs of any subject that were visually successful, and the honesty and energy with which he spoke.

Abe Frajndlich began his talk by reading a series of incredibly inspiring quotes, published in the beginning of his book “Penelope’s Hungry Eyes.”  My favorite, from Aaron Siskind, was “Photography is a way of feeling, of touching, of loving.  What you have caught on film is captured forever… it remembers little things, long after you’ve forgotten everything.” Others, for which I unfortunately didn’t catch the source, were “it is the photographer’s job to see things more intensely than most people do,”  and “If there’s a book you want to read that hasn’t been written yet, you must write it.”  “The time is always now,” Frajndlich said.  These quotes were really best part of his talk for me.

Lastly, photographer Howard Schatz presented his work.  Particularly memorable was a film of Schatz presenting the actress Allison Janney with different acting prompts, and photographing her responses.  I also really liked his series of people smashing their faces on a plate of glass, and his “body shots” of athletes for ESPN magazine.

Exhausted from an action-packed day of meetings, Abby and I headed straight home to Queens the moment the show was finished.  The next day was the one we had been looking forward to the most:  a trip to Washington D.C. to visit National Geographic and NPR!

January 17th: Off to New York

On Tuesday afternoon, after hurriedly packing my bags and double-checking my tickets, I met Abby in downtown Providence to catch our bus to New York City.  Although we’d been talking about it for over a month, the event itself snuck up on us, and it was with a sort of bewilderment that we departed Providence in the pouring rain.  The world rushed by the windows in a blur of grey and blue.  The adventure had begun.

Henry would later cringe to discover that Abby and I, by far the most “small-town girls” of the entire student group, were traveling together, despite knowing classmates quite familiar with New York.  Convinced that figuring it out ourselves would likely make for a much bigger adventure, we were nothing less than enthusiastic to set foot onto the nighttime city streets amidst crowds of people and sparkling city lights.  We struggled with our belongings onto the metro, and following directions provided us by our ever-helpful iPhones, began the laborious process of traveling across town to where Abby’s cousin Kelsey was babysitting, picking up her extra set of keys, and traveling to Queens to Kelsey’s apartment.  As we were already exhausted, hauling luggage, and each trip required several different train trips and extensive amounts of walking, we were delighted to finally arrive at Kelsey’s door.  We ended up at a nearby restaurant called Salt & Fat for dinner, which began with us laughing at the name but took a turn when we realized the menu (southern with a Korean twist?) looked delicious and inexpensive.  It was a great first night in New York.

January 13th: Singer Editions, Henry Horenstein, Mary Sherman, and Arno Minkkinen

Our second visit to Boston began bright and early Friday morning with a visit to Jonathan Singer’s beautiful fine-art digital printing studio, Singer Editions.  Jonathan began his talk by stating, as if a theme to his entire story, that “things always lead to other things.  You may think you know what you want, but you may not really know.”  He then began telling us the story of how he graduated into a bad economy and took off traveling, and ended up taking a Photoshop course in Maine.  Coincidentally, while in Maine, he visited the Center for Creative Images, then founded by Kodak, where he first laid eyes on a photographic print made with an Iris printer.  Taken with the beauty of the print, he decided that that was what he wanted to work with, and moved to New York to learn how to make these prints.  Although he had trouble finding work, his knowledge of Iris printers slowly accumulated, something that proved incredibly rare as the printers are incredibly labor-intensive, with no graphic interface, and require CYMK color coding.  Eventually, he was able to start his own business in Boston, where banks were eager to help him out because of the digital nature of his work in a time when digital was just beginning to appear on the market.

Now, Jonathan runs Singer Editions, a fine-art digital printing studio that collaborates with artists to produce prints over a long period of time.  He prints on fine art paper (such as watercolor, rice paper, etc) with the Iris printer as well as Epson printers.  The prints that he showed us were absolutely stunning.  Jonathan talked about the initial revulsion many photographers had to digital printing because of permanency issues – galleries wouldn’t touch it, for example – which all changed when David Hockney famously stated “I would rather have something beautiful that will change with time than something ugly that will last forever.”  Suddenly, Jonathan said, everyone wanted digital, and his business has been able to thrive.  “We’re here for that obsessive, crazy artist personality,” he said.  “We work with that.”

After a much-needed lunch break, our group headed to Henry’s studio in Boston, which consisted mostly of shelf upon shelf of books and boxes of prints.  Henry’s assistant, Allison, talked with us a bit about what she does (mostly organization), and Henry continued giving us advice on surviving in the real world.  “Go where your life takes you, and let your work follow,” he told us.  He also recommended that when working with designers, don’t send everything you have to be edited – send only what you like, “because people will choose the wrong one. Every time.”  He talked a little bit about publishing, recommending places like Nazarelli, Powerhouse, Aperture, etc, and told us to keep in mind that they expect financial contributions from photographers themselves.

Next, Mary Sherman, of Transcultural Exchange, stopped by for a visit to Henry’s studio.  Now working as an art critic, Mary has been an art student, studied abroad, worked for newspapers, been a teacher and also shown her own artwork.  She talked a bit about being an art critic; how 80% of art critics have no background in art, and those who do often use their positions to further their own artwork.  She therefore firmly believes in avoiding “conflict of interest” by never mentioning her own work while writing reviews, which I thought was impressively ethical.  I also liked what she mentioned about always replying immediately to emails, phone calls, letters, etc, every single time, to build a good reputation and network – this is something I’ve always valued in others, but not been very good at previously.  Something to work on.

Mary also talked about Transcultural Exchange, an organization she founded that focuses on international exchange-style art exhibitions.  Starting with a Chicago-Vienna exhibition many years ago, she began the actual organization in Boston and began working with artists in Korea, and participating in the London Biennial.  In 2002, she wrote letters to every artist featured in Art Diary Magazine, asking them to participate in a project designing coaster-sized artwork.  Over a period of two years, over 100 artists from around the world created coasters exhibited in over 200 locations on all 7 continents, over 10,000 of which were freely given away.  Having participated in a similar transcultural art exhibition myself, I thought it was amazing that Mary had been able to achieve such a huge range of participation simply by initiating it.

Another big topic Mary covered were Artist-in-Residence programs, something I’ve always wanted to do.  She told us a lot about what makes a good candidate for those programs, how to write a successful application, and how to present your work.  Above all, she stressed the importance of being nice, to everyone, always.  “No one’s work is good enough to put up with nonsense,” she told us.  “Honesty is key.”

Immediately following Mary, we were visited by the Finnish fine-art photographer Arno Rafael Minkkinen, whose work I really admire.  Our meeting with the contemplative, soft-spoken artist would turn out to be my favorite meeting of our entire course.  Arno shoots only nude self-portraits in nature, something which sounds a lot stranger than the surreal, almost ethereal beauty and humor of his photographs.  He began teaching after being a TA while attending RISD, and has since taught in Finland, Switzerland, Massachusetts, Italy, China and France (basically, living my dream).  He explained to us that he shoots self-portraits largely due to shyness – his pictures are often dangerous, difficult, and uncomfortable, and he prefers not to put someone else in danger to achieve a photograph.  In addition, he said he likes the intrigue of not knowing the result until the film is developed; it’s always a surprise.  “I don’t really take the pictures,” he quietly explained. “Nine seconds takes the picture.  A passing cloud, maybe, takes the picture.” He also said that he sees nudity as surreal, timeless, and involved with nature, something which he says is often better received abroad than in the US.  He says he started to travel, and photographed wherever he went, a statement that I felt tied in nicely with Henry’s reminders to live the life you want, and make your work follow.

 

 

Arno also talked a bit about “authentic disclosure,” the honesty and authenticity of a fleeting moment that can only be captured in photographs.  I had never heard that photographic quality given a name before, but really related to it, as it’s one of the main reasons why I take pictures of people.  As Arno talked more about his life, his background and his work, he gave us a few pieces of advice that I thought were really valuable:

“Remain a mystery, even to yourself.  Don’t try to figure it out.  Certainly don’t tell everyone about it.”

“Everyone’s pain is unique.  If we don’t allow it to overpower us, the pain makes the picture.  I never wanted to be cured, fully, of my pain.”

“Thank the forces that brought you to existence by leaving behind your work, your reflections – why you were here.”

Of particular interest to me were the experiences Arno talked about working with photography internationally, particularly in Scandinavia, where I’ve always wanted to return to since studying abroad in Norway in high school.  Arno had very positive things to say about support for artists in Scandinavia, and encouraged me to look into the “Nordic Light” festival in Kristiansund, which I’m now really excited about.  He also talked a bit about the “Spirit Level” photography workshops he founded, bringing students from around the world together to travel and take pictures, which sounded absolutely incredible.

 

January 12th: Paul Sproll and Henry Horenstein

Our class in Providence on January 12th began with a visit from Paul Sproll, Department Head of RISD’s Teaching + Learning in Art + Design graduate program.  A bright-eyed, energetic speaker, Paul began by telling the story of how he got to RISD in the first place.  After growing up in England and studying painting and printmaking in Bath, he received a Fullbright teaching exchange to the United States – little did he know, it would land him in Orono, Maine, far from the stereotypical America he had envisioned.  However, the experience was life-changing.  He said it was an incredibly valuable experience to step outside his boundaries.  “If you don’t take risks, you will never know!”

He then told us the amazing story of how he was given a full-ride scholarship to graduate school in the US simply by writing a bold letter asking for it.  He offered a variety of advice, which went as follows:

“Go into things with eyes wide open.  Is this something you really want to do?  If it is, you will make it happen.”

“Write bold letters, be truthful, be candid!”

“A) Travel.  B) Take risks.  C) Be honest.  D) Think about your aspirations!”

Paul then proceeded to tell us about the two graduate programs he directs: the one-year, K-12 practice-based Master of Arts in Teaching, and the Master of Art and Design Education.  A good candidate for the former, he explained, would have a good studio portfolio with original work, have a strength in their major but also successful in liberal arts, have made a clear decision to be a teacher, and illustrate a strength in the process, development, and ideation of their work.  To teach in college, Paul explained that it is nearly necessary to get an MFA – to be a practicing, exhibiting photographer first.  Many college professors, apparently, have no teaching education whatsoever.

As teaching grows increasingly attractive to me, I was very interested in everything Paul had to say.  From his input, I think I would be happiest as a K-12 teacher, as I think high school is the most important time in a person’s life to be exposed to a variety of art forms.  In any case, it was a great meeting, and very informative.

Next, another photography class joined ours to hear our own professor Henry Horenstein speak about his life and work.  Born in New Bedford, Massachusetts, Henry initially studied history in Chicago, but ended up leaving college and got into photography by working with Arthur Siegel.  He talked about taking a class with the eccentric Minor White in 1969, which in addition to photography included meditation and chanting.  This was not for Henry, who attempted to drop the course, but Minor insisted that he stay, telling him that, “First, you won’t get your money back.  Second, take only what you want from this. Thirdly, you don’t have to be everything to everybody.  You just have to be something.” This is something Henry frequently tells us about dealing with other people’s opinions on how something should be done – just take what you want from it.  “Everything changes and everyone sees the world differently.  You’re going to get turned down 80%-90% of the time.  Don’t let things bug you.”

From there, Henry went to RISD to study under Harry Callahan and Aaron Siskind, and began producing the work he is known for today.  He photographed his family and friends because they were available, resulting in the book Close Relations.  He described his series of photos as histories – little documentaries – exploring topics like horse racing, Route 6, Cuba, Guatemala City, Cajun Louisiana, country music, etc. “Pictures, when they get old, get different,” he said.  “Never delete a picture.”

Henry showed us a variety of work, from his Animalia series of animals, to his Honky Tonk work about country musicians, and the Show series about Burlesque dancers.  The successful author of many instructional photography books and a selection of art photography books as well, he talked a bit about the process of getting books published.  He compared the artist’s relationship to galleries and publishers to romantic relationships – where both sides are equally valid and both parties have to take care of the relationship to make it work.  “You always want to be with people you respect,” he told us.

A few quotes from Henry’s talk:

“Do what you do, and do a good job.  Work hard!”

“Your life is your life, your work is your work.”

“Work pays off.  Maybe not in the way you think it will, but it pays off.”

 

January 6th: Dana Mueller and Elsa Dorfman

Our first field trip to Boston began early the morning of Thursday, January 6th. The majority of us students took the train from Providence to meet Henry in Boston, where we walked through the sunny, unseasonably warm city to the Art Institute of Boston.  I was impressed by the part of the city we walked through; the streets were clean and relatively quiet, with a lot of parks and trees.

We arrived at the Art Institute of Boston for our first visit with photographer Dana Mueller. Dana grew up in what she described as an idyllic, peaceful town in former East Germany before moving to the US in 1993, where she has been ever since. The division between East and West Germany during her childhood was mentioned a lot during her talk, as it was a huge part of her life growing up.  First, she showed us a series of black-and-white photographs she made of areas surrounding Nazi concentration camps that were designated as entertainment, such as a bear zoo and an abandoned swimming pool.  The old recreational areas, beautifully portrayed in her photographs, took on a morbid tone as she explained the background of their locations.

Next, she showed pictures from an ongoing series titled The Devil’s Den, featuring photographs of German prisoner-of-war camps in the United States.  The first series, shot in 2006-2007, included pinhole photographs, diptychs and triptychs of areas where German prisoners were put to work in the American landscape, assuming nurturing agricultural jobs taking care of US soil.  The stillness and romantic atmosphere of these places Dana photographed invoke a quiet contemplation of the irony of the situation.

The second part of Dana’s series The Devil’s Den continued the theme of German prisoner-of-war camps, this time featuring vivid large-format color images of locations in the American South.  The lush, surreal detail of these photos appealed to me the most, as did the redemptive quality of thriving vegetation completely overgrowing these old sites, invoking ideas of rebirth and the cyclical nature of life.  Dana described a desire to return to innocence and purity after a time of corruption through these photos – how else to engage with history?

Dana’s most recent work, again in rich, large-format color, captures contemporary life at the edge of a German forest, which she described as a previous “no man’s land between East and West Germany”.  In the thriving landscapes, her subjects talk on cell phones, play soccer, and plant gardens.  I thought this work was particularly strong because of its closeness to home for the photographer herself.

After looking over Dana’s work, conversation then turned to the focus of our class, professional practice in photography. Dana is one of many photographers who teaches photography as a way to earn an income in her field while still having the time for personal work, and it seemed to be working well for her. The advice she gave us was to continuously maintain an engagement with the outside world – not just one’s work and one’s website. She suggested submitting work to competitions and galleries, sending out work and cards to people, and most importantly, to keep it up. 

Things picked up at the Art Institute of Boston.

With that, we left the Art Institute and walked through the crisp afternoon air to Cambridge, following the riverside for most of the walk.  We dispersed for a while to eat lunch and warm up a bit, then continued to Elsa Dorfman’s studio in Cambridge.  Elsa, now 75, is famous for her giant polaroid portraits, which measure 20×24 inches (the camera used to take them is one of 6 in the world).  Rows of postcards lined the walls, all identical full-body portraits on white backgrounds.  Her subjects were characterized both by a slight awkwardness and incredible realness – a far cry from the glamorous, photoshopped portraiture that has become standard today, with the “what you see is what you get” nature of instant Polaroids. The variety was both charming and hilarious – a beaming couple stood cradling armfuls of cats, an old man sat smiling in his socks while his grandsons removed their shoes, and a proud mother stood between her grown sons, wearing only their boxers, in a photograph titled “Mom, Realtor of The Year.” Elsa herself was an incredibly vivacious, energetic, youthful woman for being 75. “I don’t know how I got so old!” she exclaimed. She instantly charmed the class with her humor, outgoing manner and charisma, and began to tell us about her life in photography.

Rows of postcards covering the walls of Elsa’s studio.

Elsa listening intently to a student’s questions, proudly wearing a t-shirt she got from involvement with a Kickstarter project.

Rob showing the scale of Elsa’s giant camera.  

  I thought Elsa was fascinating in that she never studied photography, and actually worked first as an elementary school teacher, but made photographs in her own time, and kept a darkroom in her house.  With joyous nostalgia, she reminisced about times when she would go onto the street with her prints in a shopping cart, selling her pieces first for $2.50 each, and over a period of 10 years, eventually for $20 each.  She described the bitter cold in the winter, all the times when she got kicked out of areas or sent home by the police, but with utmost happiness, the fun of it all, and of coming home and counting out the little money she’d made.  That particular anecdote, of following one’s passion despite hardship, really stuck with me – it was clear that Elsa’s optimism, enthusiasm and friendliness are largely responsible for her success as a photographer.

Elsa then showed us a series of photographs from her book Elsa’s Housebook, featuring fairly candid black-and-white photos of her life between the ages of approximately 20 and 37.  She talked a lot about how times were different then; how people would just drop in to say hi or to stay awhile, and how her personality attracted a lot of spontaneous visitors.  Most of her photos were taken in her house, featuring her boyfriend (who became her husband), her friends, herself (she said she has always loved, and still loves, photographing herself for something to do), and poets and writers who stayed with her, most notably Allen Ginsberg.  These photos were really inspiring to me in how candid moments from a young woman’s everyday life could later become this marvelous collective portrait of a period of time.

A photograph of a poet that visited Elsa in her youth, from Elsa’s Housebook.

Henry and Elsa laughing and reminiscing. 

  When asked how she comes up with work, Elsa explained that she doesn’t often think before making projects; instead, she just “gets that she has something about 3/4 of the way through.”  She definitely had a lot of advice for us – first and foremost, never to do a project with a friend without a clear agreement about what it is. She also emphasized the importance of getting model releases and copyrights, and to be organized early (as her own organization, she put it, is hysteria).  “Imagine, all the time, that people will be your enemies,” she told us.  As we left, she generously gave us whichever postcards we desired, as well as a small artist’s book each.  We left her studio in great spirits from her quirky, fun-loving energy and original work, and headed back to Providence.