I suppose if one were to name an on going theme for this blog o' mine, it would be "The Highs and Lows of a Tortured, Over-analytical, Occasionally Whiny Artist." I can't say that I'm proud of it...but its cathartic to just type it out here and then move on.
I've spent a great deal of time over the last six weeks thinking about how I would work now that I'm back on my own. No one is looking over my shoulder. No one sees the contact sheets. I am free to succeed or fail without answering to anyone but myself. One would think that I'd be pressing the shutter all day, every day. Ha. Not true. Now granted, I've had plenty to manage with my neglected home, family, unruly dogs, overdue appointments, overall...an overhaul.
It was beginning to feel like I was moving further and further away from photography and certainly far from a place of inspiration or courage.
And then.
A curator friend of mine here in Chapel Hill thought I should meet a local collector who had just recently finished construction on a home designed by his architect wife. Supposedly, this guy had an impressive photography collection which included the Sally Mann print, "Candy Cigarette." Enough said. I've never seen a Mann print in person. So no matter what F'd up state of mind I was hovering in...I was going.
Okay, where should I begin? Well, the house itself was magnificent. It was designed with the intention of showcasing the collection AND hosting an Artist in Residence program...with living space and a studio for whatever lucky S.O.B. they chose. (uh yeah, my head was spinning)
Now I wish I could have taken in the space. I wish I could have expanded my mind to draw in more information, appreciate it, file it, refer to it later as needed. But the second I walked in the door, my eyes went straight to the first print...tunnel vision, no sound, selective focus, feet moving me closer, can't talk now and then WHOA THEY WERE EVERYWHERE! This was the largest collection of photography I had ever seen outside of a museum. It was the passion of one man, with very specific taste (which I could utterly relate to), and it was gracefully presented by him in a tour that included countless stories of the artists, their processes, how he acquired the work, why he was drawn to it...it. was. fascinating.
I saw iconic images made by historic photographers. I saw stop-you-dead-in-your-track-images, made by unknown photographers. I prayed under Candy Cigarette. I asked for a notebook and pen so I could take notes. It was the field trip of a lifetime and I bathed in it for as long as I could. My host was generous, laid back, and welcomed me back anytime. Oh that could be dangerous. I need.
I came home fueled and fired. Because I saw the work of brave brave artists. I saw processes and techniques that I had never heard of or considered. I saw gut wrenching images that were simple compositions and subject matter. I saw the product of courage. Those artists figured out how to overcome whatever road blocks they faced (its universal)...and someone noticed and valued their efforts.
I am inspired.
Load.
Shoot.
Make Art.
