Tag Archives: Orphan

NAKED JUDGING: The 2012 Canteen Awards in Photography

Due date for this contest is December 30th!!

Canteen Magazine publisher, Stephen Pierson, contacted me recently about a ground breaking idea for a photography contest, NAKED JUDGING: The 2012 Canteen Awards in Photography.  Canteen is a highly respected magazine and Stephen has given this idea a lot of thought–the idea is to have a completely transparent contest, where judging is live, so that participants can experience the behind the scenes drama of how things are selected. All submissions will have some kinds of critique, and there will be a clear presentation of how all submission monies are spent.  I will be partnering with Canteen to provide the on-line exposure for the winners. This indeed, is a contest unlike any other…

Naked Judging: The 2012
Canteen Awards in Photography
Canteen magazine is holding our second photography contest
because of our general disdain for photography contests. They tend to be opaque
affairs that stifle dialogue—the winners are chosen, no one quite knows why,
and 99% of the participants are left without their entrance fee or an
explanation. The real winners are the organizations1 
that run and profit exorbitantly from them.

We are trying to do
something different. Namely, treat our participants as partners. We aim to be
fully transparent about the entire selection process, placing the judges’
criteria, biases, and disagreements on full, naked display. The result, we
hope, will be an honest and provocative conversation about photography.

To these ends, Naked
Judging: The 2012 Canteen Awards in Photography offers several novel features:
      
A live finale: The final
round of judging, featuring the top 25 submissions, will occur in front of a
live audience, and will be simultaneously streamed online. Prior to the winners
being selected, audience members (both in-person and online) can probe the
judges with questions.

      Every submission openly
critiqued:
Similar to our first photo contest, brief notes/critiques
from all judging rounds will be available on our website for every submission.
      
Longer-form critiques:
The winning submission and other select submissions will be the subject of
longer-form discussions and essays in the next print issue of Canteen magazine,
and through this contest’s official partner, Lenscratch.
In addition, select participants will be given the opportunity to publicly
respond to the judges’ comments.

     
Nonprofit model: We are
not only providing a low entry fee ($20 for 5 to 8 images, and $15 for
students), but we will document on our website how every dollar is spent. At
the contest’s conclusion, any profits will be refunded back to the entrants.

We hope not only that our
contest will produce a provocative dialogue about photography, but also that it
will nudge other organizations into adopting practices that are friendlier to
the community of photographers that they purport to represent.

For
questions and feedback email Stephen Pierson, Canteen’s Director.



Grant Gill interviews Sarah Moore

Introducing editorial assistant Grant Gil as he shares a recent interview he conducted with Sarah Moore….

For the past few months I have been very grateful not only for being able to help out with LENSCRATCH but also getting to know Aline as a colleague and friend.  This spring, I will be finishing my last semester at the Milwaukee Institute of Art & Design with a focus on photography.  This opportunity has been a great educational tool in submersing myself in the variety of different works posted everyday, and also has let me view the art making world from a different perspective.
I was first introduced to Sarah Moore’s work after she had been featured in Fraction Magazine, and since then we have constantly crossed paths without actually formally meeting.  I then begun following her journey across country, from Philadelphia to Santa Fe, able to watch her work change and adapt based on location. I find myself transfixed on her beautiful landscapes that make me yearn for travel, but even more so I am fascinated with her raw interactions with nature that translate emotional isolation and loneliness.  Because of her young age, emerging status, and her stamina to continuously work I am constantly inspired to do more, work harder.  Today I am showing images from two of her series: expanse and Scape.

Sarah Moore was born and raised in South Dakota, where she still finds much of her inspiration for her work. She received her BFA in Photography from the Rhode Island School of Design in 2009 and has since lived and traveled throughout the country. Much of Sarah’s work deals with the ideas of loneliness, escaping, and the ways landscapes inform and shape us. Her work has been shown throughout the country and online. She is currently living and working in Santa Fe, NM, where she is trying to understand the harsh light and delve into the book-making world.

expanse:
Throughout the years I have become increasingly interested in my home of South Dakota and how the people and place shaped me and continue to influence me. Even though I appreciate many aspects of the Midwest and still long for its landscape, it represents the pinnacle of loneliness in my life.

My photography is a depiction of this loneliness. The landscapes of the Midwest are beautiful but empty, simple but overwhelming. My relationship to my home is based on love, but also thwarted by distance. Since moving from South Dakota, I continue to find solace but also conflict in the land around me. I now see many moments in my life as a way to document or construct a personal narrative of isolation, both representative of my past and indicative of my present.

Expanses can be comforting but also stifling. Distances can fuel love but also misunderstanding. The vast space of the land is something I can’t quite embrace, break free from, or understand, but it provides infinite inspiration for me.

What is you personal statement as
an artist, or how exactly would you describe the work you make?
Most of my work comes from a very personal and emotional
place.  I photograph mostly
landscapes and self-portraits.  I
started doing both in 2007, when I went back home to South Dakota to
shoot.  Focusing on landscapes has
always allowed me to break free from the personal connections I have with
people.  Still though, I love
portraiture and what a person can show in a photograph, so self-portraiture is
a way for me to still use a person in my photography, while still keeping the
work mainly about me.
Is this personal place derived from
a specific event, or just a general emotional state?
It’s a little of both. 
My parents divorced when I was four because my dad is gay.  This is something I’ve more than come
to terms with now, but it was tough to deal with while growing up in the
conservative Midwest.  I think the
divorce and the subsequent silence my family kept about it instilled a sense of
“me versus the world.”  I grew up thinking it was best to keep quiet about big issues,
especially emotional ones.  Then I
eventually thought it was just best to keep quiet in general.  So I spent my years in South Dakota
sort of closing myself off from everyone, not knowing how or if I should share
the important parts of myself.
After leaving South Dakota, I learned that even if I have
some trust issues and some issues with the way my problems were handled, I can
still try to share a part of myself through my photography.  If loneliness was going to be such a
big part of my life then I wanted to at least make it part of my work.
I read so much visual poetry in to
your work, from the breath taking sights to the self-portraits that begin to
blend in with the surroundings.  I
see this action of back and forth between the photographs and the
photographer.  I wonder why you
choose to turn the camera inwards?
Photographing myself started about six years ago, when I
first went back to South Dakota.  I
wanted to put a person in the overwhelming landscape, and I was the most
accessible.  Throughout the years,
I’ve learned that one of the best ways to portray what a landscape and a moment
mean to me is to photograph myself. 
I think my self-portraiture is definitely part
narcissism.  But then again, isn’t
most photography rather narcissistic? 
As photographers, we capture what or whom we want to be seen and how we
want them seen.  It can be a very
selfish medium.  Yet by showing
others what or who we see, maybe we can also affect or help others. 
Another part of turning the camera towards myself deals with
my own issues of insecurity and loneliness.  I don’t like images of myself, and in real life, I’m not often
apt to open up to people.  I have
too many walls built up.  I guess
through photography I allow myself, my body, my face, and my emotions to take
center stage.  I get to act a
bit.  I get to be important.  And I hopefully get to communicate with
others through my images.
Do you have any specific
philosophies when it comes to humans and their interactions with nature?  What books, or even other work, do you look
to when making the images you do?
I’m still trying to figure out what and how I feel about the
human interaction with nature.  I
know my own relationship to nature is pretty complicated.  Though I grew up in a rural place, with
large expanses of land all around me, I still never felt really in tune with
nature.  And after living in cities
for seven years, I felt even more detached from nature.  Yet, I long for the land.  I think many people do.  I think there’s something in us that
wants to be closer to nature, but we’re not sure how to do that in this
increasingly electronic and cement culture.
People go camping or gazing at national parks, feeling for a
moment that they’re immersed in their primitive roots.  That’s about as close to nature as many
live.  People like to be able to
feel close to the land while at the same time in control of it.  I’m the same way, I admit.  I bring my camera to the land with me,
perhaps trying to harness my own little bit of control over the wild vastness.
Years ago, when I was starting my photography project in
South Dakota, I looked a lot at Todd Hido and Larry Sultan’s work.  I read a lot of theories about
photography and families at that time too.  For the past few years, I’ve been reading way too much David
Foster Wallace.  His work doesn’t
deal with nature explicitly, but it does talk about human society and our
alienation from each other, the landscape, and ourselves.  I think I’m more interested in reading
about the human psyche and weird outbursts in society than I am about humans
versus nature. 
Do you ever feel you are having a
visual conversation with other landscape and travel photographers, both
historically and in the contemporary?
It’s hard not to feel that way, honestly.  There are a lot of landscape and travel
photographers out there.  Sometimes
I’m constantly comparing my work to others’, but I try to maintain my own
vision and keep a peace with myself. 
I get overwhelmed really easily and intimidated even more easily.  It’s definitely important to be aware
of your peers, both contemporary and historically, but it’s also important to
forge ahead on your own.  I think
part of the reason I was in a rut while living in Philly was that I was just
too scared to make images.  I
thought everyone saw better places, had better ideas, and executed their ideas
better.  So I just stopped
creating. Obviously that’s not a good answer, so now I try to keep in tune with
other work (especially landscape and self-portraiture), but I also just try to
create for myself.
There is a lot of reference to time
passing and travel within all of your work.  In Scape there is this feeling that nothing is
constant, like you are drifting from place to place.
I’ve never been good at photographing in my own backyard, so
to speak.  For one reason or
another, escaping has become increasingly important or my photography.  That has meant escaping back to where I
grew up, escaping all over the country, and escaping to large city parks outside
of the city.
My first large travel experience, photographically, was in
the fall of 2011, when I made my work in Scape.  I mostly went on that trip because it had been about two
years since I really photographed. Living in Philadelphia after college put me
in some sort of photographic and emotional rut, so the only way I thought to
get out of it was to travel and see again.  That trip was literally about escaping and reinventing.
I love traveling and seeing new places, especially
landscapes.  That will probably
never go away in me.  Yet, I also
really need to travel to be alone sometimes.  As I’ve mentioned, loneliness (or my illusion of it) is
partially ingrained in me, and I’ve found that traveling to different
landscapes helps me cope with my loneliness. 
I am aware that you just moved out
to Santa Fe, NM.  It seems like you
have lived in some very different places in America’s geography.  Does shifting
home this much affect your work?
Yes, it definitely does.  Each place I’ve lived has a different geography and
different social climate.  Even
though I’m not great at photographing where I live, I’m trying to get better at
that.  When I lived in Ohio, I had
a realization that I was going to be in this strange place for about a year, so
I had to make the most of it with my photography.  That’s when I started photographing the large parks in and
around Columbus.  I tried in some
way to make the Ohio land a part of me.
I’m still trying to grasp the New Mexico landscape and how
this is home for me now.  It seems
that once I get used to a place, especially geographically, I move.  It takes time for me to acclimate to a
landscape, and the New Mexico one is especially difficult.  I’m not used to intense sun or
mountains, not to mention adobe architecture and small pueblos.  It’s more of a “wild” land
than most places I’ve lived, which is hard for me to grasp photographically,
strangely enough.
Overall, shifting my homes helps reopen my eyes to the
constants and changes in my art and myself.  I’m starting to learn which terrains I appreciate and which
light I want to follow.  I also
really enjoy the challenge of trying to make a place my own, especially through
my photography.
Why exactly do you think it is so
hard photographing your direct surroundings?  Does the familiar become too mundane?
I think in some ways, I feel too close to my immediate
surroundings.  It’s not that I find
the familiar mundane–in fact, I’m constantly inspired by what I see.  I actually tend to post photos on Instagram
of every mundane moment I have or see. 
Yet, when it comes to my other photography–the work I think about more
and use my “real” cameras for–I always seem to need to go away to
make that work.
I try to delve into some part of my emotional past and
present when photographing portraits and landscapes.  And I think in order for me to do that, at least right now,
I need to go outside of my comfort zone, outside of my immediate space.  Unfamiliar landscapes–even if they’re
within mere miles of where I work, eat, and sleep–help me disconnect from my
everyday life and find a part of myself that I want to explore more.
Nothing is really mundane to me.  I just find different types of inspiration in different
places.
Because nature is quite vast, and
easily accessible, are there specific images that you strive for, that you go
out to shoot, or is there spontaneity to your photographs?
When photographing in South Dakota, I usually have specific
shots that I strive for.  I know
that landscape pretty well, and I know that it’s largely the same view
everywhere you look.  So I know
that I need to look for a certain type of field or certain color palette when
I’m there.  I try to use the
repetition of that landscape to my advantage, which sometimes takes a lot of
pre-visualization and some sketches.
When I’m traveling to different landscapes in shorter
periods of time, I tend to shoot more and shoot very spontaneously.  Unfamiliar landscapes force me to be
more spontaneous, and spontaneity forces me to try more things and make more
images.
I like both methods of shooting, if they’re methods at
all.  I love the slowness of my
South Dakota photography, and how it allows me to think about that one specific
landscape over the years.  Of
course, I also love seeing a wide variety of terrains within a short period of
time. The diversity of the land allows me to think about how to connect all
those terrains into my life.
You deal with many over arching
themes, so how do you declare a body of work finished?  Does it necessarily finish when you
move, such as when you left Ohio, or is there potential for it to continue?
I think there’s always some potential for most of my
projects to continue, especially my work in South Dakota.  I’d love to continue to photograph in
Ohio as well, and since my dad lives there, that will probably happen in the
future.  On some level, I do
declare a body of work finished once I move, since it’s easy to wrap up
projects at that point.  Yet, since
I go back to both South Dakota and Ohio so often, I’d like to keep both of
those projects open for a while.
My work in Scape is definitely finished though; at least I’m
finished making the images.  That
project, though I didn’t know it at the time, was about a specific journey at a
specific time in my life.  It
chronicles a road trip around the country during a time when I needed it
most.  Though I definitely plan on
going on more road trips in the future, they won’t fit into what Scape became, because
I’m not in the same personal space as I was then.
I also see many of my separate projects as part of a general
whole body of work.  All of my
photography deals with escapism, alienation, self-searching, and the land.  I don’t see an “end” to that whole
project anytime soon.  So for now,
everything is sort of left open.

Scape
These photographs document a journey through America. They are images of wonder and excitement,pain and loneliness, and my personal ideas of self. Additionally, they are portraits of America’s land.

I often can’t relate to America as it’s depicted through the media’s eyes. I find it difficult live up to cultural standards and societal expectations. I have trouble getting close to those closest to me. Yet, when I see America—the America of such diverse, beautiful, and nuanced terrain—I find that even if I can’t understand what America has become, what people around me have become, or what I’ve become, I can feel comfort in the landscapes.

This collection is vast. Not every photo is perfect. Immense meaning won’t be found at every turn. Rather, the photos are a way for me to both explore and escape where I live and who I am.
































Ewa Zebrowski: Finding Wyeth

Ewa Zebrowski‘s new book project takes a look at the quiet world of a master painter, revealing a sense of place, light, and New England sensibilities. Ewa’s wonderful limited edition artist’s book titled, Finding Wyeth, captures images of the Olson House located on the Cushing Peninsula in Maine, where for 30 years Andrew Wyeth created over 300 paintings, including his famous painting, Christina’s World.  The book comes in an edition of 20 and is available through Ewa: [email protected]


 I walked in, went upstairs, and suddenly I was startled.
There was another figure standing there.
It was me in a dusty mirror…
The reason I did it was that I wanted a portrait
of the dryness of the place,
that special sort of dryness of dead flies
that are left in a room that’s been closed for years.
                                                      Andrew Wyeth
                                           on painting The Revenant, 1949
The Olson House
 Andrew Wyeth spent a lot of
time 
some three  decades (1939-1968), at the Olson House (which belongs to the Farnsworth Art Museum)on the Cushing Peninsula in Maine, talking, sketching, painting, finding inspiration.


Alvaro and Christina Olson, the bother and sister who lived there, became his friends.  He used an upstairs room as his studio, where he painted over 300 paintings.  It was the view from a third story window that inspired his well known/iconic painting, Christina’s World.


I visited the empty house during the summer of 2010, a house filled with tangible emotion and light.  A house pregnant with stories and secrets.

       A bouquet of tangled wildflowers,
       tiny seashells in a bird’s
nest,
       empty glass canning jars,
peeling wallpaper
and silence,
the residue of so much emotion
in this old weathered wooden house
on a hill,
filled with light
and vanished dreams,
the black horse wandering lost,
the apples ripe on the ground.
                                                        
EMZ

Filter Photo Festival: Jessica Tampas

This week, I am sharing a few of photographers that I met at the Filter Photo Festival in Chicago….


Born in Vermont, Jessica Tampas creates engaging work, mined from time with family and with possessions that define play. I met her last year, at the Filter Festival Portfolio walk and this year was so glad to discover her new work and get to revisit the older projects. I am featuring two series, Dolls and Michigan. Jessica earned a BFA from Simmons College in Boston and an MFA in Photography at the Massachusetts College of Art. After teaching photography in Holland for Emerson College, she relocated to Chicago where she works as a family, candid, and fine art photographer.

Dolls 

People often want to know
the history behind these dolls. Who were their previous owners? How did they
come to look the way they do? Do I collect them, alter them? My approach to
creating this series is far more subjective. I never set out to become a
collector, per se (though by now I’ve amassed more than 100 early- and
mid-century dolls), and I don’t alter them in any way. Frankly, I’m not so concerned
with these dolls’ history, even if I play an important role in it, giving them
a longevity they probably never expected to have. For me these little beings
are simply heartbreaking creatures, typologies of survival and loss, and, I
suppose, ultimately, psychological portraits of something inside myself that I
might not otherwise be able to express as an adult. We have all weathered
emotional traumas in the transition from childhood to now. By not altering the
dolls, I let their faces tell their own story — one that I feel is ultimately
about what it means to be both fragile and a survivor, and…human. 
A year ago when I began this project, I purchased a number of dolls made between 1902 and 1950, mass-produced, life size (20″ long), made of ‘composite,’ a material that pre-dates plastic. Some had human hair, others synthetic; some had detailed features like painted on eyelashes, teeth, tongues — others not. Many had limbs missing and stained clothing; one was even repaired with slathered cement. Living, as we do, in a Society saturated with images of perfect youth, these babies seemed to want to offer me an object lesson in honest aging. 

Michigan 
I have
been taking photographs since I was 14 years old.  My favorite subjects were my immediate family.  I went on to get an MFA in 1987 and
then spent the next 20 years as a portrait and wedding photographer.  The birth of my son in 2006 was a major
turning point in my life and my career. 
Instead of documenting other people’s lives, I began to focus on my son
and his world, inspired by the work of both Diane Arbus and Sally Mann.  I am grateful that, once again, I can
create images that are meaningful and personal, yet hopefully universal. 

Robert Rutoed: Right Time Right Place

The photographs of Robert Rutoed appeared on my visual radar
several years ago when I was introduced to his project, Less is More. The images made an impression that kept his name and photographs
in the forefront of my mental Rolodex – not an easy feat, as I look at a lot of
images on a daily basis. 
Robert is part of that wonderful European street shooter legacy that is so important in a world where technology keeps our heads down, where cell phones remove us from truly being engaged with each other.  And it’s this heads-down mentality that disassociates our connections with a world rich with small dramas. We need Robert’s photographs to make us realize what we are missing, and allow the levity of his work to not only see ourselves with amusement, but to simply, see ourselves.

What Robert brings to the contemporary photographic dialogue
is that intangible ability to see the world with a skewed lens – a lens that is
compassionate and at the same time, unkind. It is a lens that is the stuff of
operas and nightmares, comedies and slapstick. Robert finds that split second
of humor or truth telling and that instant of social documentation or absurdity
that makes us not only laugh at ourselves, but also laugh and feel embarrassed
all at the same time.  Or should I
say, at The Right Time.
Robert has a new book, Right Time Right Place, that releases this week, and I have the privilege of writing the foreword to this publication.
Robert  was born in Vienna and is a photographer and filmmaker. He created numerous
short feature films with screenings worldwide and his photographic work has been exhibited throughout Europe, the United States and Asia. Robert was recently the winner of the
New York Photo Award 2012 in the category Fine Art. His books included: Less Is More
(2009), grayscales, early b&w photographs (2010), Right Time Right
Place
(2012).
Right Time Right Place
Being at the right place at the right time is usually associated with
happiness and success. But what happens when we are at the right place
at the wrong time? Do we even know that this is the right place? And
what if it turns out that it is the wrong place after all? But the right
time!” – Whoever loses his orientation over this thought will get a
feeling for Robert Rutöd’s latest pictures. The Vienna-born photographer
wandered for five years through Europe and has proven to be a keen
observer with an often tragicomic view: The blind man who finds
orientation by putting his stick in a tram track, the helpless swan that
finds itself frozen to the vast stretch of ice, or the amputee operator
of a shooting range set up in a ruined building. It gets macabre with
the portraits of the Pope, Hitler and Mussolini decorating the labels of
wine bottles.


Kerry Skarbakka

Last year, Center awarded Kerry Skarbakka the 2011 Excellence in Teaching Award for his passion in the classroom. After experiencing his photographs and teaching philosophy, it appears that everyone would benefit from a semester with Kerry.  His high spirited photographs, thoughtful approach to his own image making, and profound understanding what it takes to give students an informed visual language in an “image-prolific” society, make him a force to be reckoned with. He was recently celebrated for his teaching in PDNedu.

We are a visual culture wherein photography has become an
exceedingly powerful form of communication. Moreover, the development of
digital technologies in the past ten years has wiped traditional artistic
boundaries away. As a result, it is now vital to educate students to have a
broader vision. As an artist, it is imperative to be aware of the language of
photography and to understand the responsibility image making has within our
culture. To be a successful communicator, it is necessary to learn the tools
and skills inherent within this practice. More importantly, is the
understanding of how to control the medium and apply its principles with
thought and sophistication.


He is a self processed  performance-based photographer, using his own body and physical prowess to create his images and video. He received his B.A. in Studio Art with an emphasis in Sculpture  from the University of Washington School of Art and his MFA in Photography from Columbia College in Chicago. Kerry’s work has been exhibited internationally in museums, galleries and art fairs. He has had solo exhibitions at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago, Fifty-One Fine Art Photography in Antwerp, Belgium, Irvine Contemporary in Washington DC, and Lawrimore Project in Seattle. His work has been exhibited at the North Carolina Museum of Art, the Taubman Museum of Art in Roanoke, Virginia, Ahlen Art Museum, Ahlen Germany and the Warhol Museum. Publications include Aperture Magazine Afterimage, Art and America and ArtReview International Additionally, Skarbakka has received funding and support from the Creative Capital Foundation, the 1% for the Arts (City of Seattle), the Chicago Center for Cultural Affairs and the Illinois Arts Council. He is represented by Fifty One Fine Art Photography in Antwerp, Belgium and Contemporary Wing in Washington DC. Currently Kerry is faculty of Digital Media and Photographic Studies at Prescott College.

The Struggle to Right Oneself 

Philosopher Martin Heidegger described human existence as a process of perpetual falling, and it is the responsibility of each individual to catch ourselves from our own uncertainty. This unsettling prognosis of life informs my present body of work. I continually return to questions regarding the nature of control and its effects on this perceived responsibility, since beyond the basic laws that govern and maintain our equilibrium, we live in a world that constantly tests our stability in various other forms. War and rumors of war, issues of security, effects of globalization, and the politics of identity are external gravities turned inward, serving to further threaten the precarious balance of self, exaggerating negative feelings of control. 

This photographic work is in response to this delicate state. It comprises a culmination of thought and emotion, a tying together of the threads of everything I perceive life has come to represent. It is my understanding and my perspective, which relies on the shifting human conditions of the world that we inhabit. It’s exploration resides in the sublime metaphorical space from where balance has been disrupted to the definitive point of no return. It asks the question of what it means to resist the struggle, to simply let go. Or what are the consequences of holding on? 

Using myself as model and with the aid of climbing gear and other rigging, I photograph the body as it dangles from dangerous precipices or tumbles down flights of stairs. The captured gesture of the body is designed for plausiblity of action, which grounds the image in reality. However, it is the ambiguiy of the body’s position in space that allows and requires the viewer to resolve the full meaning of the photograph. Do we fall? Can we fly? If we fly then loss of control facilitates supreme control. 

It is necessary to point out that I do not consider myself a glorified stuntman; nor do I wish to become a sacrifice to art. Therefore, safety is an important factor, however the work does carry with it a potential risk of personal injury as I engage the moment. This is unavoidable as much of the strength of the images lie in the fact that they are all recorded on location. The images are layered with references to an experienced background in sculpture and painting, and the cinematic quality of the work suggests the influence of commercial film. The dimensions are important to establish a direct relationship between the image and viewer. 

The images stand as ominous messages and reminders that we are all vulnerable to losing our footing and grasp. Moreover, they convey the primal qualities of the human condition as a precarious balancing act between the struggle against our desire to survive and our fantasy to transcend our humanness.

Upcoming Activities

Lots of teaching, reviewing, and traveling coming up and I hope to meet you somewhere along the way…here’s what’s up next:



Presenting the Fine Art Portfolio: Taking Your Work to the Next Level at the Center for Fine Art Photography


Date: Sunday, November 4th, 2012 9-12pm
Center for Fine Art Photography, Fort Collins, CO
as part of the SPE Southwest Regional Conference
This workshop will help photographers understand what it takes to produce a professional fine art photography portfolio. Participants will explore the elements that go into creating a strong body of work including: the importance of editing, sequencing, the artist’s statement, and producing a portfolio that can be used for reviews, gallery presentations, and more.
This intimate hands-on workshop will be limited to twelve students. Participants should bring portfolios to the workshop. The class will review work collectively and Aline will offer individual feedback and advice tailored to each person’s project
Enrollment Limit: 12
Workshop fee: $75
_________________________________________________________________________________



The Broad View: Fine Art
Portfolios from Context, to Creation, to Completion at FotoWeekDC
Dates: Sunday, November
11th, 2012 10a-2p
at
Goethe Insitut

The most important tool that a photographer can bring to their work
is knowledge and insight.  Many photographers spend much of their
education on learning the bells and whistles of cameras and changing
technology, and don’t consider what is equally as important: Creating a
voice, having ideas, producing stellar prints, and knowing where the
work they create fits into the contemporary art market.  Ultimately,
what is most rewarding and most important is The Work.

This three-hour workshop is geared to beginning and emerging
photographers.  During the session, we will explore how to develop ideas
for projects by examining the fine art market and by exploring the
context of award winning or meaningful portfolios.  Portfolios will be
presented to also help explain contemporary genres of photography,
touching on categories that are often offered in competitions or
magazines, and we will look at what kinds of work fits into what kind of
market.
In the workshop, we will also not only discuss how to create a
portfolio but in addition, how to present a body of work to the fine art
market, focusing on your ability to articulate your work and produce
quality photographs.  The details that surround the work you make are
important to establishing yourself as a professional.
Workshop fee: $165 (includes PDN’s 30: Strategies for Young Working Photographers – Moderated by Holly Stuart Hughes, PDN Editor in the afternoon)
To enroll register here.
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Creating the Fine Art Portfolio: Taking Your Work to the Next Level 
Dates: Thursday, November 29, 2012
9am-Noon
International House Hotel
Creating the Fine Art Portfolio will help photographers understand what it takes to produce a professional fine art photography portfolio. Participants will explore the elements that go into creating a strong body of work including: the importance of editing, sequencing, the artist’s statement, and producing a portfolio that can be used for reviews, gallery presentations, and more.
This intimate hands-on workshop will be limited to twelve students. Participants should bring portfolios to the workshop. The class will review work collectively and Aline will offer individual feedback and advice tailored to each person’s project.
Enrollment limit: 12 students
Workshop fee: $75
To enroll register here.
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Refining Your Portfolio Workshop at the Southwest Photo Summit
Dates: Thursday, Dec 6 – Friday, Dec 7, 2012
The most essential qualities a photographer can bring to their work are commitment and self-knowledge. Building a photographic portfolio can be a long journey: from developing a consistent visual voice to articulating a point of view and perspective about the work; and then knowing where best that work fits into the marketplace. Presenting and preparing a portfolio for the public eye is a final important step that is key to success. Your photographic portfolio needs to be as clear and dynamic as possible, as without a powerful, refined portfolio presentation your work will not reach the desired audience.
Aline Smithson shares her knowledge of how to create and/or refine a personal portfolio and offers her insights into the contemporary photographic marketplace as it relates to opportunities for all photographers – fine art, documentary, commercial, and editorial. As photographer and a reviewer herself, she brings the perspective of someone who sits on both sides of the reviewing table.
This two-day workshop starts with an in-depth look at the key elements of a powerful portfolio, with Aline showing examples of successful ones. Aline then works with each participant, in a group setting, to refine their personal portfolio through editing and sequencing as she makes suggestions where the work fits into the broader marketplace. Additional topics covered over the course of the workshop include professional portfolio presentation, the written photographic statement, leave-behinds, creative presentation and exhibition ideas, and how to customize your portfolio for a target audience.
Whether you are preparing for a portfolio review, getting ready to send your images to a new client, showing your prints to a gallery, or simply wanting to get some feedback and expert advice on your personal portfolio—this workshop can make a huge difference in your pursuit of connecting to an audience.
Enrollment limit: 15 students
Workshop fee: $475
To enroll please contact the Santa Fe Photo Workshops at 505-983-1400 or register here.

Medium Festival: Catherin Colaw

Featuring photographers seen at the Medium Photography Festival in San Diego….


I have to admit, I’m not always a fan of the nude, but when the nudes are self-portraits, and the photographer is working alone in a variety of exposed environments that create an incredible venerability for her safety and sanity, it’s hard not to appreciate the results. Catherin Colaw considers her self-portraiture an exploration of women and their bodies and an individual performance done in the environment–and I think she has successfully achieved the conversation between body and place.

Catherin received her BFA from Arizona State University. Her work has been exhibited in galleries on both coasts and the desert in between. She has lived and worked in Arizona, New York City,
and now San Diego.

 

Original Sin

These images are an exploration of sexuality and nakedness, vulnerability and separateness. A women’s identity is sacred and yet it is often stripped down and defined by her bare body. In this series, nudity is no longer about sexuality, but about vulnerability. Each image is a self-portrait and a meditative practice. They are performances that require a challenging stillness and trust. The dismemberment of the nude women’s body becomes a simultaneously beautiful and oppressive dialogue between the landscape and the female form.