Sunday, May 4, 2008
A hotel I wasn't staying at
Friday night, Jennifer, a photographer from Bryan who takes conceptual photographs about lots of stuff, including having C-sections (which she graphically describes by baking and photographing cakes with zippers and other stuff in them), came to town with her husband and daughter for a workshop with Scully and Osterman, the two people who may know more about antique photographic processes than anyone else in the world. HCP had a workshop for those with the cash to learn the process of making ambrotypes. Friday, I went to Jennifer's hotel to meet with her and her clan. Here's the lobby while I waited. Jenni's daughter, Zella, is about as cute as a kid gets.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Prematurely Named Blog
Welcome. This is a first for me, which is à propos, given that I'm about to embark on an adventure. My first day towards a Master of Fine Arts - Studio at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago will be August 28th. At the conclusion of two years time, I will be [drumroll] Licensed to Practice Art!
The trip to this point has been quite eventful, but the transition between now and August 28 will be complicated too. And the course between then and two years hence is almost impossible to imagine. I'll chronicle some of it here.
My friend Kristy and I have been collaborating on installations, and they have become completely non-photographic. Our first installation was at a local community college (involving the printing of photographs on rocks and helium filled ballons). It was called Salted Away, and it was all about epistemology, and curatorial practices. We think. Here's an installation shot.

I like referencing non-photographic art and I like using photography for the things that require photography. But I want more tools than photography alone, though I can't imagine abandoning photography. SAIC seems like the kind of place I can do installation, performance, painting, video, sculpture, and photography as long as it makes sense. Sounds good to me.
So I began thinking of working on a personal documentary of the area, particularly the rural area my family lives in. There is much more there than I could ever photograph: the plants, the people, the racial tension, the stark economics, the crooked judges and sherrifs, the citrus groves, the onion fields, the beaches, the loners who went as far south as they could go, the drug dealers' mansions at the end of dirt roads, the remote Polish farmers in little hamlets who only listen to polkas and have 24 hour weddings, the brutally hot weather, the river, the stunning growth, the diseases that don't exist anywhere else in the country -- I don't know of a place quite like it. There are stories that people swear are true, like encountering Chupacabres (goat suckers) and the night the devil danced at Boccacio 2000, a disco in McAllen, before spinning so fast he melted into a pool of blood on the dance floor, leaving only a black cape behind. I have met people who swear they've seen the Chupacabre and others who swear they were at Boccacio 2000 that night. Anyway, there's no shortage of material there.






