This photo is so candid and at first seems like a quick glimpse, but then you realize that this scene is something that is routine and regular - an image that is familiar to you. The viewer gets a peek at the intimacy of someone's life, yet is also aware that they are not a part of that personal space.
You'd be surprised at how un-candid it can be when your camera is the size of a breadbox, and it's on a four foot tall wooden tripod.
But, you're right, I'd been watching him shave for years, and wanting to capture the commonplace magic of that. I love how he's so used to me and my big camera that he's not even sucking in his stomach.
When he saw this, he smacked his head and said, "When are you going to stop showing this one?"
These are my photographs. My process is very slow, very deliberate. I use a turn of the century wooden camera, and expose my prints in the sun. The process, the presence of my hand in every part of it, is important to me.
It is a technique that would seem at odds with the internet.
But my subject has always been humanity in its beauty and frailty, its dreams and its glorious need to connect.
This is the next path to that. So, I put my pictures here.
Beneath each entry is a link to a journal entry with a less considered photograph, and some thoughts on the work.
2 comments:
This photo is so candid and at first seems like a quick glimpse, but then you realize that this scene is something that is routine and regular - an image that is familiar to you. The viewer gets a peek at the intimacy of someone's life, yet is also aware that they are not a part of that personal space.
You'd be surprised at how un-candid it can be when your camera is the size of a breadbox, and it's on a four foot tall wooden tripod.
But, you're right, I'd been watching him shave for years, and wanting to capture the commonplace magic of that. I love how he's so used to me and my big camera that he's not even sucking in his stomach.
When he saw this, he smacked his head and said, "When are you going to stop showing this one?"
I smiled sweetly and said, "Never."
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