Personal Artistic Motivations

Over the course of my time spent in the photography MFA program, I have been exposed to hundreds of photographers. Reviewing the beliefs and inspirations helped me to consciously and subconsciously frame and improve my own notions around art. Early within my studies, the main focus included proper technique, composition, formal elements, and narrative. The following questions were pertinent to my studies:

·      How was the photograph created?

·      What equipment and techniques were used?

·      How did the photographer use compositional elements to strengthen the image’s aesthetic qualities and narrative meanings?

As I advanced through the MFA program, I was asked to answer these next questions:

·      Why was the photograph made?

·      Did the photographer apply a unique personal vision to the work?

·      Do I feel the photograph is effective given the intended audience and application?

As I’m rounding the bases and heading home (aka: graduation), I’m learning that it’s necessary to examine both the photograph and the drive behind the photographers who create them. Now, it is time to consider the following:

·      Who is the photographer, and what is his or her background?

·      What is the photographer’s motivation and inspiration as an artist?

·      What defines the photographer’s signature style over multiple bodies of work?

·      Would I identify the photographer from seeing the work?

·      What is the underlying message that I feel the photographer is conveying through his or her greater body of work?

"The study of photographs at an advanced level is not just about looking; it is about paying attention to what lies beneath the surface of the photograph. By examining the interests, motivations, and intentions of the artist, you can begin to see the psychological and philosophical factors that drive their work. There is little or no separation between a meaningful piece of art and the artist who made it."[1]

While considering the motivations and inspiration behind my series, Blue Pencils, I can’t help but recall the weeks and months after losing a dear friend a couple of years ago. Bret’s sudden passing was the third friend my husband and I had lost in the short span of a few months. At the time, I was working on an entirely different fine art series, which was a strong contender for my final thesis proposal in the MFA program.

The time following Bret’s death left me questioning my own mortality. The earth still turned, and time went on; however, I was truly struggling. I decided to turn my camera on myself, capturing a series of self-portraits entitled, Haunting. As uncomfortable as I felt in front of my own camera, I explored different vantage points, studio verses natural lighting, and creative elements such as a water-soaked piece of plexiglass (set between the camera and myself). One day, I found a roll of gauze and, for some reason, decided to place it over my head and face. It was this capture that reminded me of my father and his work. After submitting this self-portrait for a class assignment, I received positive feedback from both my professor and peers. The most significant response was to “keep digging.”

Haunting | Dianne Morton | 2015

As I journaled, I reflected on memories from my childhood, especially those involving my father who worked as a mortician and deputy coroner. I was used to our phone ringing at all hours. If there was a car accident, house fire, suicide, or the like, my father was called to make the “removal.”

My earliest memories of the mortuary included the family business’ signature blue pencils, which I kept in a plastic case in my wooden school desk.

Over time, my father became quite well known in the community, not only because he buried many people in town but also for his kindheartedness. When I was in first grade, our teacher asked the class what each of our fathers did for work. I raised my hand to answer, “My dad makes blue pencils.” I proceeded to proudly hold up my blue pencil, which had my last name printed on it with the label “Sneider & Sullivan Funeral Home.”

It wasn’t until the following year, second grade, that I began to understand how my father truly spent his time at work. It as the day I learned that the boy who sat in front of me, Jimmy Alden, died over the weekend. A car had hit Jimmy. After the morning school bell rang, our second-grade teacher briefly explained to our class that Jimmy was in Heaven.

Our class attended Jimmy’s funeral and there, standing next to his white casket, was my father.

While working on my photographs, I found the inspiration to combine three distinct artistic genres (portraiture, self-portraiture, and still-life) as a means to build my autobiographical series, Blue Pencils. My intent is to communicate my intimate childhood memories as the young daughter of a mortician. My unique experience translates to pictorial storytelling, allowing the viewer to see something that may appear vague or ethereal.

Resources

[1] Nichols, T. Artistic Motivation: Examining Motivation. Module 5. PH810-OL1: Concept & Image. Academy of Art University. Web. 10 March 2018.

Understanding Artistic Movements

An art movement is a trend or style that often includes a specific philosophy, attitude, or goal. As a medium, photography initially struggled to find its place within the confines of the fine art world. Originally, photographers tended to value sharp focus on subjects, and photographs were viewed strictly as representational. It was deemed important to capture the reality of nature without manipulation. During the mid-19th century, an international crusade spearheaded by like-minded photographers ended the division separating painting and photography. This popularized the opinion that photography is indeed art, and over time, photography has been increasingly included in discussion of art movements.

The advent of Pictorialism during the late 19th century was the first attempt to bring photography as a medium into the world of fine art. At this point in history, an artist was credited as the creator of a painting and was held in high esteem in the art world; however, a photograph was viewed as a recording created by a mechanical device. Eager to differentiate themselves from amateur and utilitarian photographers, artistic photographers began to consider the potential for expressionism within photography. No longer was the main scene or subject of significance; for the Pictorialist, the aesthetic and emotional effects became far more important.[1] Pictorialist work incorporated artistry during photo processing, creating imagery that used allegory, metaphor, and symbolism.

Various techniques were used while distorting the image: soft focus during captures, multiple negatives to print one image, and scratching the negative were all employed. Additionally, Pictorialists embraced labor-intensive, homemade processes such as gum bichromate to increase the artistic quality of their work. During this process, the photographer brushed a mixture of gum arabic solution, potassium bichromate, and an appropriate pigment or dye onto a sheet of textured paper. After the paper dried, the photographer would expose the light-sensitive paper to the negative contact and then manipulate the image with a brush or sprayed water to create a more painterly quality. Ultimately, the Pictorialist emphasized the importance of artisanship over mechanical means to achieve recognition for photography as a worthy medium in the fine art world.[2]        

One of the most notable Pictorialist photographers was Alfred Stieglitz, who was the American-born son of German-Jewish immigrants. Stieglitz and his family left the East Coast and returned to Germany while Alfred was young, hopeful that the German school system would adequately challenge him. While studying engineering, Stieglitz bought his first camera in 1882 and captured images of the German countryside. After teaching himself all about cameras and photography, he submitted articles and images to the British magazine Amateur Photographer. This earned Stieglitz a solid reputation among leading European photographers.[3]

Alfred Stieglitz | Die Kunst in der Potographie | 1897

Presently, photographers have a multitude of options when it comes to image making and post-process manipulation. Today’s world is saturated with digital imagery, yet many photographers choose to use analog cameras to further develop their own creativity and artistic intent. One such photographer is Adou (Chinese, b. 1973), whose photographs have been exhibited throughout China, Japan, and the United States. First inspired by the documentary photographic works of Julia Margaret Cameron, Robert Frank, and Sally Mann, Adou began to create images of people and settings around him, displaying exceptional visual and artistic expression. As a photographic artist, Adou uses expired film to construct dappled images reminiscent of the Pictorialists’ works of yesteryear. Balancing textures and tones caused by photographic processing chemicals, Adou creates a mystical ambiance.[4]

Adou | Fog Child, Frost | 2006

In Adou's image (above), the viewer clearly identifies a young child on a dirt path. The photographer’s artistic use of the Pictorialist style includes elements such as naturalism, an emphasis on blurring, dark tonality, and moody effects. Adou effectively creates imagery that is just sharp enough for the viewer to recognize the subject, yet soft enough to create a balance of atmosphere and mood. The slight element of fog within the image offers a sense of three dimensions on a two-dimensional plane. Frequently used by the Pictorialists, this technique allows the sharp subject to move towards the viewer while blurred elements recede. In addition to his decision to use expired film, Adou furthers his artistic expression by tempering the image during development. Scratching negatives or furthering artistry while printing extend the process of refining an image into a work of art. Historically, Pictorialists have rightfully believed that anybody can take a photograph, only an artist can make a photograph. Adou’s work epitomizes Old- World processes, and through his creativity and craftsmanship, successfully communicates his artistic expression.

The American modernist movement took place in the early to mid-20th century and was as multidimensional as it was vibrant; it encompassed a variety of artistic disciplines, including literature, music, and painting. Photographers who embraced this movement had been stymied by American Pictorialism and were influenced by the European avant-garde. American modernist photographers encompassed a broad array of styles, subjects, and philosophies embracing urbanity, machinery, and new technology. The American photographers of this era believed that mastery of clarity, balance, and other formal elements would demonstrate artistic identity, which became “the primary cultural and critical issue of the Post-World War I era.” [5]

European prewar avant-garde aesthetic concepts such as Constructivism, Dadaism, and Surrealism stimulated a sense of exploration, introducing techniques such as photo-collage and montage, unusual angles and vantage points, and work with nonobjective forms. The avant-garde movement marked the beginning of photographic expressionism. Photographers and other artists of this era also took notice of Freudian and philosophies associated with the psyche, creating works that might influence or spotlight political and social struggles of the period.[6]

Again, we see Stieglitz as one of the most notable photographers from this modern movement. Following World War I, Stieglitz departed from the ambiance of Pictorial photography, shifting to more geometric themes, sharp focus, and high contrast to honor and celebrate the mechanical, modern life in America. Producing images that featured abstract forms and tonal variation, Stieglitz epitomized photography’s involvement in the modernism movement by photographing the real world.[7]

Alfred Stieglitz |      Georgia O’Keefe | 1920

One contemporary photo artist who demonstrates Modernist principles and views is Willem Oorebeek (Dutch, b. 1953). Exhibiting his works in museums and galleries all over the world, Oorebeek utilizes pictorial processes to manipulate his images and produces surreal imagery reflecting “the mechanics of visual legibility and graphic sense.”[8] Interested in how language and image can be combined, Oorebeek creates images with obvious multilayered exposures that appear as double exposures, like that in the image below. This effect creates a surrealistic state in which multiple exposures seem displaced and unreal; as beautiful as Oorebeek’s work seems, it also offers poetic dislocation, or a confusing sensation, which the next image demonstrates.

Willem Oorebeek | More Elle(L) | 2011

To successfully express a sense of absurdity and irrationality, Modernist photographers used a constructive artistic involvement. A common theme was the repetition of imagery in a single print to represent the twofold nature of the brain. Oorebeek’s seemingly double exposed/superimposed image creates two images stacked on top of each other with low opacity, almost creating a ghostly effect. This instantaneously communicates both reality and illusion. Oorebeek also dips into the Dadaist realm by using printed magazine covers from the mass media to create modern photo collage imagery that reflects on “the representational power of images and information disseminated by mass media.”[9] Oorebeek chooses published material to manipulate and rearrange into his work, all the while investigating themes of repetition, imitation, sociality, and order.

At the end of the movement, Late Modernism shifted while searching for the distinction between high and low art. In contrast to Modernity, which was less interested in present-day experiences, Late Modernist photographers were open to critiquing the medium itself and were far more interested in what photography had to offer than the subjects it portrayed. Unconcerned with depicting societal or cultural issues, the Late Modern photographer studied technical aspects of the medium: time, frame, vantage point, detail, sharpness, and flatness. The originality of the image was equally as important as its aesthetics, contrasting this Late Modern movement with classical art and pop culture.

As studied in the Academy of Art University’s graduate language arts course History of Photography, one such photographer following Late Modern principles is JoAnn Verburg. Working with time and frame, Verburg creates comparative diptychs and triptychs by exhibiting photographs of survey sites taken in the 19th century alongside her newer photographs of the same subject. Verburg’s interest in such work is that, although seemingly depictive, ultimately, her comparative series beautifully exemplifies the capabilities of photography. For her, photography exhibits a subjective and informational quality that is reflected in the exquisiteness of the depicted subjects.

JoAnn Verburg | Under the Rocca | 2002 | Three Chromogenic Prints

Another current photographer emphasizing Late Modern technique in her work is Karin Apollonia Müller (German, b. 1963). In 1995, Müller moved from Germany to Los Angeles. Using her new city’s seeming unpredictability, monotony, and unfamiliarity, Müller sought to create images that investigated people and their connection to the landscape. Müller’s work investigates nature and space, and how each tries to control the other. The image in Figure 6 displays nature’s overwhelming power and force, yet it is simple and beautiful. Using her camera and traditional photographic techniques, Müller constructs an imaginary line between the viewer and the subject of the image.

Karin Apollonia Müller | Landscape, TC, 9613 | 2011 |  Two Pigment Prints

The second half of the 20th century ushered in a new, defining art movement known as Postmodernism. Unlike its predecessors, Postmodernism was never meant to be an artistic style. Instead, the movement developed as a thoughtful approach to the position and significance of imagery within our culture. Although the movement also never intended to act as a clean break from Modernistic photography, it was an improvement to or re-valuation of late modernism, not necessarily its close. Postmodernists claimed that photographic images of true life would not offer individuality or uniqueness. In actuality, Postmodern photographs were meant to appropriate or replicate something that previously existed to provoke opinions about current social experiences. The need to identify the photographer’s artistic intent was no longer as important, as it could block the viewer from finding his or her own significance within the work. For the Postmodern photographer, “…what the artist is trying to communicate is almost irrelevant. The most important thing is the viewer's subjective interpretation of the work.”

Peaking in the 1980s, Postmodernist photography offered a cutting assessment of current cultural and social values. One notable Postmodernist photographer is Cindy Sherman (American, b. 1954). Sherman is broadly acknowledged as one of the most important artists in contemporary art. Acting as her own model, makeup artist, wardrobe assistant, and photographer, Sherman has captured herself in a variety of costumes, disguises, and personas, offering both humorous and unsettling narratives.[10]

Cindy Sherman | M·A·C Fall Colour Look #1 | 2011

Including more than 170 images, Sherman’s reflective works often examine female roles inspired by the photography of Hollywood, history, and society. Utilizing deception, fabrication, disgust, surrealism, pageantry, allegory, and gender and class identity, Sherman successfully addresses post-feminism concerns by pointing out that gender is constructed by our culture and mass media.

Contemporary photographer Tanyth Berkeley (American, b. 1969) explores portrait photography in a Postmodern format by creating images that hover somewhere between representational photography and artistic photography. Having studied photography most of her life, Berkeley admits she needed to “…open up to the difficult process of being exposed and feeling naked…my work was forced out of its shell, beyond my purely personal reasons for making it. I began to understand the viewer’s [.1] role.” Like Sherman’s, Berkeley’s works are self-directed and constructed. Below is an example of Berkeley’s self-portrait, which offers a clear example of one of the more popular Postmodernist theories, Constructionism.

Tanyth Berkeley | Grace for Cyberspace | C Print | 2006

The constructed identity within this image depicts Berkeley in a passive yet sensual pose, perhaps identifying a social or cultural defining influence.[11]

The recognition of photography as an art form did not come without perseverance. It took many committed and driven photographers to blaze the artistic path that elevated the medium to the position it occupies today. Acceptance as a medium within the world of fine art meant that photography would forever be seen differently. Because of the photographers discussed here and many like them, the art of photography has and will continue to make its mark in artistic movements that are larger than any one medium.

Resources

Katzman, M.; Art of the Photogravure. A Comprehensive Resource Dedicated to the

Photogravure, n.d. Web. 19 Nov., 2017

http://www.photogravure.com/resources/glossary.html#gumbichromate

Keen Graphics. History and Influence: Modernism in 20th-Century America, n.d. Web.

23 Nov., 2017 http://keengraphics.net/keenblog/2012/05/08/history-and-influence-modernism-in-20th-century-america/

Modern Art. Willem Oorebeek, More of the Same, n.d. Web. 20 Nov., 2017       http://www.modernart.net/read.html?id=1,4,31,262,371

Modern Museum of Art, Chicago. Exhibitions: Cindy Sherman, n.d. Web. 25 Nov., 2017

http://www.moma.org/visit/calendar/exhibitions/1170

Photography of China. Adou, n.d. Web. 19 Nov., 2017

http://www.photographyofchina.com/blog/adou

Robert Miller Gallery; Exhibitions: Willem Oorebeek, n.d. Web. 20 Nov., 2017

http://www.robertmillergallery.com/#!willem-oorebeek/cq94

Rosenblum, Naomi. A World History of Photography. 4th Ed. New York: Abbeville

Press Publishers, 2007. Print. p. 393.

The Art Story. Your Guide to Modern Art; Alfred Stieglitz Synopsis, n.d. Web. 19 Nov., 2017 http://www.theartstory.org/artist-stieglitz-alfred.htm

The Metropolitan of Art. Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History: Pictorialism in America,

n.d. Web. 19 Nov., 2017

http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/hd/pict/hd_pict.htm

Turnbull, Richard; Museo Magazine. Interview: Tanyth Berkeley, n.d. Web. 18 Nov.,

2017 http://www.museomagazine.com/TANYTH-BERKELEY

Understanding Artistic Involvement

A photographer uses various levels of involvement while capturing an image. The elements of a photographer’s involvement may include: depictive involvement (concerned with basic, factual description above all else); constructed artistic involvement (the subject matter is created by the photographer or under the photographer’s direction); representational artistic involvement (no manipulation from the photographer); or directed reality involvement (the photographer works in tandem with what already occurs in the view). The amount of a photographer’s participation within a scene, from strictly representational to highly constructed, not only affects the category or genre of the work but also its classification as a depictive document or a photographic art piece. Depending upon the ratio of the photographer’s involvement to the reality of the scene, directed reality involvement can be less obvious and difficult to categorize than the other methods. Ultimately, since there is not a clear division between this category and constructed reality involvement, the differences between the two can be ambiguous.

My curiosity about influences concerning various generations of artists and photographers motivated me to delve deeper into this subject. I have chosen two photographic artists who exemplify directed reality involvement: Saul Leiter’s work from the mid-twentieth century and the work of the contemporary photographer Todd Hido.

Though Saul Leiter’s (American, 1923–2013) work was recognized by the photographer/curator Edward Steichen and exhibited at the Museum of Modern Art in 1953, he remained essentially anonymous for most of his career. Originally a painter, Leiter discovered photography as an additional artistic outlet for his creativity. During the 1940s, “straight” or street photography was becoming critically acclaimed, as the work of photographers such as Robert Frank and William Klein offered visceral views of urban life. As a painter, Leiter found inspiration with street photography; he used his camera as an extension of his mind, arm, and paintbrush.[1]

Leiter’s work embodied an alternative view of street photography: instead of black-and-white film, Leiter used bold chromogenic (three-colored) color film and, with his unique style of composition and framing, offered a creative twist within the reality of city streets. He used his camera as an unconventional way of seeing, framing, and communicating events on the streets of New York City by shooting through obscure angles, under canopies, or through rain-soaked store windows. The printed work offered a realistic view of the city with a slight bend of stillness, gentleness, and grace.[2] Leiter loved beauty, and this love resonates in the piece below. Leiter’s only directed involvement was to stand behind a rain-soaked window; in doing so, he created an image that offers a softer version of the cold reality outside on the busy New York street. The window acts as a filter to the harsh reality of the fast-paced city life outside. The lovely pop of yellow color is juxtaposed against a nearly monochromatic scene, softening the reality of the cold winter day. Upon further study, it appears Leiter’s directed reality involvement has a nearly 50–50 ratio: half-illusory, half-real.

[1] http://www.gallery51.com/index.php?navigatieid=9&fotograafid=15

[2] http://www.newyorker.com/books/page-turner/postscript-saul-leiter-1923-2013

Snow | 1960 | Saul Leiter

Whether influenced by Saul Leiter or simply on a remarkably similar path, Todd Hido (American, b. 1968) offers a similar directed reality involvement in two of his series, entitled A Road Divided and Excerpts from Silver Meadows. Hido has never used filters on his Pentax 6x7 camera’s lens; instead, he often uses a rain-soaked car window as his filter between the lens and reality. Adding this element to his syntax enhances a supplementary, illusory layer to the narrative. After finding a location or scene to photograph, Hido’s approach often includes sitting in his car and photographing rain accumulating on the windshield. In addition to the scenery, the weather ultimately becomes a prominent subject throughout both series, often inferring an emotional weight. Hido’s directed reality involvement and inclusion of the windshield creates a murky effect, resulting in an antiquated veneer to the finished images.[3]

Hido’s images below are views of deserted scenes on dreary days. His use of directed reality involvement offers a unique and experimental way of observing an ordinary landscape. Through his own direction, Hido chooses at which point he will release his shutter, after deciding how much of the rain-soaked windshield he wants to include within the view. Therefore, he purposely interferes with the clarity and reality of the setting. This twist on reality offers a distinct and moody perspective; the “through-the-windshield” landscapes suggest the forlorn viewpoint of a perpetual outsider.

[3] https://paddle8.com/work/todd-hido/30270-10845-7

Untitled #10473-B | 2011 | Todd Hido | Chromogenic Print

Untitled #9238-e | 2011 | Todd Hido | Chromogenic Print

Though not strictly viewed as representational, directed reality involvement creatively engages the reality of the subject matter (in this case, the landscape), yet the photographer introduces a twist, which affects the reality of the view. In both Leiter’s and Hido’s works, directed reality involvement plays an instrumental role in furthering the moodiness of each narrative within the images.

---

Works Cited

Cole, Teju. “Postscript: Saul Leiter (1923–2013)”. The New Yorker. n.d.

Web. 4 Nov. 2017.

< http://www.newyorker.com/books/page-turner/postscript-saul-leiter-1923-2013>.

George, Michael. Workprints; Spoken Words: Todd Hido—A Road Divided; 2009; n.d., Web. 6 Nov. 2017.

<http://www.michaelgeorgephoto.com/blog/?p=361>.

Szmulewicz, Roger. Fifty One; Saul Leiter; Fine Art Photography, 2014. n.d.

Web. 5 Nov. 2017. <http://www.gallery51.com/index.php?navigatieid=9&fotograafid=15>.

The Whispering Soul

Earlier this week, I attended a wonderful annual event that was so incredibly inspiring, I decided this organization needed to be shared with my readers. Kainos Home and Training Center is located in Redwood City, CA. It was founded in 1974 to serve adults with intellectual and developmental disabilities. I was introduced to this organization several years ago through my lifelong friend, Tara, who has been an avid supporter and fundraiser.

We have a nephew named Ben who was born premature in November 1978. Nearly one month later, Ben was diagnosed with severe cerebral palsy. As a nonverbal quadriplegic, Ben has worked very hard simply to live and breathe. We’ve witnessed Ben’s parents’ fear, strength, struggles, and support for this amazing man. When Ben was nine, his parents began a school for children with severe speech and physical challenges. Currently, the Bridge School offers support and identifies the most efficient, effective ways in learning to communicate. Finally, Ben’s parents have created an environment allowing him to live a meaningful life filled with stimulation, family time, social activity (Go Sharks!), extensive travel, and vitality. 

Benny with Uncle Brian (sharing a dirty joke), and Ben's caregiver, Tony | Dianne Morton | 2016

My husband and I have three children; Cousin Ben has affected each in unique ways. As babies, our children used Ben’s wheelchair to pull themselves up to a standing position. I remember Benny slowly and carefully directing his head to look down at them, which was always followed by a sweet smile. Aside from the obvious valuable life lessons each of our children have learned from Cousin Ben (kindheartedness, empathy), they have true insight into the fact that Ben is a whole person. He thinks, sees, hears, and feels everything.

To say that our family has compassion for anyone with a disability is an understatement. My children understood from a very young age never to use derogatory statements such as “He’s such a spaz” or deeply offensive words like “retarded.” Regardless of ignorance or lack of compassion, there is no place for such terms.

Now that our children are grown and out of the house, I’ve found myself on a new journey. No longer driving to and from basketball practices or piano lessons, I am filling my days with meaningful philanthropic work within my community, and I am also exploring my artistic passion of photography.

A couple of years ago, I stumbled on a way to combine my two passions by capturing environmental portraits of intellectually, developmentally, and physically special needs adults who reside at the Kainos Home and Training Facility. Through guidance, residents learn the ordinary skills that we might take for granted. Education and training range from daily living skills such as personal hygiene, household maintenance, health, and safety to vocational skills such as job readiness classes, community-based work teams, and job placement. I have been utterly humbled by the kindness these people offer me.

The employees’ curiosity about my camera was absolutely infectious. One woman, Katie, asked if I would send her photo to her mother so she could see Katie working. The Kainos community demonstrates the most basic example of authentic and genuine humanity. 

Katie | Dianne Morton | 2014

Throughout history, intellectually, developmentally, and physically special needs adults were hidden from society. Different intellects were viewed as stigmatic and humiliating. The demonic, subhuman image of the disabled persisted for decades in not only public thought but also school systems, government codes, court systems and, most particularly, the dehumanization of mass-care institutions.

Humanitarian efforts can be traced back to mid-19th century medical records alluding to educating the “poor idiot” with the hope of making the person publicly and socially competent. In 1846, Dr. Samuel Gridley Howe of Boston organized the first systematic survey identifying the disabled population. His study concluded that two out of 1,000 people were “mentally defective.” Dr. Howe’s study intended to discover this population’s capacity for development. He ultimately determined disabled people were capable of learning in areas of labor, caring for themselves, and eliminating institutional isolation from asylums. 

The decades that followed offered little change in the public’s ignorance regarding the disabled. In 1915, public records indicate programs to “identify, segregate, and sterilize every feebleminded person as a menace to social decency and racial purity: to the end that they shall not reproduce their kind.” By the mid-twentieth century, however, personal stories of Mrs. Rose Kennedy regarding her daughter, Rosemary, offered awareness into the fact that the special needs child is a human who needs love to help her grow. These stories began to open people’s minds, which inspired a move to action and laid the foundation for extraordinary developments for the disabled. Agencies with parental support were established, along with schools, workshops, and daycare centers. The need for vocational and occupational training became apparent, furthering the need and desire to continue programs for advocacy, education, training, employment, and community services. Today, we know the disabled deserve the opportunity to learn, live, and laugh. 

Untitled | Dianne Morton | 2014

A few years ago, I captured a series of environmental portraits to document a typical day in the life of these people. Since the beginning of my volunteerism at the residential facility, I have become familiar with many of the residents and am happy to call them my friends. My images were shot in color using digital technology. Although most of the images were captured indoors with limited natural light, I did not use flash or studio lights, as I wanted to move freely amongst the workers without disruption.

Because of the difficult, challenging light within the facility, I decided to convert the images into black and white with Photoshop, as the contrasting grey tones adapted well to all lighting situations. Furthermore, I didn’t want the color to distract the audience from my subjects. This way, my subjects spoke for themselves with honesty and truth. 

Untitled | Dianne Morton | 2014

Untitled | Dianne Morton | 2014

Untitled | Dianne Morton | 2014

http://www.bridgeschool.org

http://www.kainosusa.org

Resources

http://www.life.arizona.edu/docs/ra-section/ability-hist http://mn.gov/mnddc/parallels2/pdf/70s/77/77-MR76-PCMR.pdf 

The Quest of Bowen Island

My inspiration has always been photography's ability to stop time and reveal what the naked eye cannot see. —Lois Greenfield

A few weeks ago, I conducted an online search for a written assignment. Magically, I stumbled upon a workshop that involved one of my TOP influences of all time! My first thought, “Does Todd Hido really do workshops?” was followed by, “Is this for real?” As internet starstruck as I was, my thoughts didn’t matter: I signed up. Hastily, I booked my flight, ferry itinerary, and hotel room for Bowen Island, BC.

In case my reader is wondering exactly who Mr. Hido is, and why I find his work so intriguing, it’s because of his peculiar nighttime imagery. Todd Hido (American, b. 1968) photographs with natural and ambient light and, while in the darkroom, manipulates the developing process to create a mood he’s looking for, all the while summoning reality. Within his series, Excerpts from Silver Meadows, Hido sets a scene, which includes soft color tones within images of landscapes. Driving through Silver Meadows on a rainy day, Hido captured beautiful photographs through his car window. The result is simply breathtaking, as his images appear as if they are paintings. The soft edges of the landscape seem like gentle brush strokes as they blend beautifully from land, to water, to sky. The hint of color adds detail to the imagery and creates an illusion or dream state.

Todd Hido  |  Untitled #5368

Notwithstanding a travel date set for Friday the thirteenth, I never considered bad luck. Why would I? I was lucky enough to attend a workshop with one of my biggest influences. As I ventured to San Francisco International Airport, I was greeted with many delays, all of which occurred exactly 30 minutes apart—all five hours of them. I thought the delays were due to the devastating fires in the North Bay, but with the plane sitting right in front of our gate having a tire changed, it was clear this was a mechanical issue—and that it takes several mechanics (and hours) to change a plane’s tire.

My careful planning soon evaporated as I began to do the math, realizing that not only would I miss the last ferry from Vancouver to Bowen Island but I would also not be able to check into my hotel room. Despite my fate, I quickly booked a hotel room in Vancouver and figured I could easily catch an early-morning ferry in time for the workshop.

Saturday morning came quickly, as I had set an early alarm after a late-night arrival. I gathered my bags, climbed in a cab, and headed to Horse Shoe Bay to catch a ferry to Bowen Island bright and early. Now, when I mention my bags, I’m not speaking lightly. I (over) packed a duffle filled with warm clothes, a camera backpack (including tripod), and a portfolio case (stuffed with my prints, a laptop, iPad, and cords). This gal is pretty rugged, but I never thought there would be a narrow staircase on the ferry. I’m sure it wasn’t hard to notice that I was the only portfolio-carrying “camper” on the ferry.

Somehow, I thought to call the nice gentleman from FotoFilmic (our workshop host and contact), who kindly offered to meet me at the ferry dock. Based on our descriptions of each other over the phone, I delightedly recognized Bastien as I disembarked the ferry. Being a sympathetic, young gentleman with a deep French-Canadian heritage and accent, my new acquaintance offered to carry my duffle, and off we went, walking through the quaint harbor and into town to the workshop.

I was fifteen minutes late and worried I would interrupt Todd’s presentation. After I quietly entered the room and found a place to lay down all of my baggage and gear, I found a chair in the back of the tiny room. I pulled out my notebook and began writing immediately.

Though I’ve never heard Todd’s voice, it seemed familiar. With a confident and steady pace, Todd spoke with experience and knowledge, all the while passing on lessons to the workshop attendees. He spoke of his time in graduate school, specifically, a “narrative course.”    It was during this class that Todd began working on his series involving photographing houses at night. I recall him advising us, “Go and shoot … Paths will emerge.”

Todd told us that he spent hours driving around the San Francisco Bay Area, looking and looking, and found a neighborhood that reminded him of his hometown in Ohio. Oddly, this neighborhood is almost in my backyard. Todd spent many, many nights in Daly City, California, photographing old, worn homes that were “lit from within.”

Many things resonated with me during Todd’s lecture. Honestly, I could have sat for days, weeks, months … listening. Perhaps I connect with this particular artist because much of his work is based on memories, as is my current work. Nevertheless, when he said, “Turn your camera inside,” I knew my efforts to arrive at this workshop were worth every moment of tested patience.

The rest of the day was spent listening to more of Todd’s process, inspiration, influences, and syntax. (He’s currently shooting digitally and LOVES using the software program, Lightroom!)

Then, he turned his interest to us, his students. We were allowed a thirty-minute review, and for those of us who brought prints, Todd also gave guidance on knowledge, perception, and sequencing. Every single one of the attendees are remarkable artists … all exhibiting different, yet notable talent. I brought the prints from my thesis proposal and one new image. I was incredibly nervous and considered sitting quietly in the back and not presenting.  Something came over me, because I knew why I was there: to learn. Eventually, I volunteered to show my prints.

I began by explaining my thesis project, Blue Pencils. I pulled out my newest print, then another, and another, until all the 13x19” prints were sprawled out on the table before our group. Todd methodically studied each print,  picked up and held some of the images to take a closer look, changed the sequence, and eliminated several. I was pleased to see that some of the remaining prints are the images that I most recently found as “keepers,” with the help of my MFA professor and peers. Silently, I smiled. Todd offered me incredible input and ideas in continuing my “strong” narrative, and I’m really excited to investigate these areas.

After our day of lecture, I was eager to visit FotoFilmic’s current solo exhibit by a young photographer and attendee of Todd’s workshop, Jill Beth Hannes. As we strolled down the woodsy path into town, I recognized how fortunate I was that everything clicked into place and that I was actually THERE.

Our group was greeted at the lovely reception with appetizers, wine, and a warm fire. After visiting with several of the attendees, I strolled a short distance to the gallery to view FotoFilmic’s exhibition. As I reviewed the work, I was drawn to several of the self-portraits, noticing that, perhaps, Cindy Sherman could be a likely influence. This body of work was fluid, deep, and developed. As I usually do, I reviewed the images and, then, read the artist’s bio.

I was at home. As I read, I learned the artist is a fellow graduate of the Academy of Art University.

Jill Beth Hannes  |  Rearview

A Blind Photographer

A Blind Photographer | Dianne Morton

My husband and I are involved with various organizations, all very near and dear to our hearts. Our connection to such work offers us the opportunity to meet people from all walks of life. Additionally, it gives us a chance to form real relationships, which have a lasting impact on both of our lives.

As a child, my parents were involved with Guide Dogs for the Blind (San Rafael, CA), and I grew up understanding the important work of these organizations for the visually impaired. As the owner of a “career change” dog, I often took my German Shepard, Addie, to work as a distraction on the obstacle course for guide dogs in training. Over time, I recognized that a trained guide dog offers tremendous independence and companionship. When Brian and I were dating, I was pleased to learn that his parents were involved with a similar organization called Guide Dogs of America (Sylmar, CA).

Through our involvement with Guide Dogs of America, we’ve befriended a woman who lost her vision at 35. Can you imagine that? Lori was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes when she was a teenager. Although her disease was managed with the best available treatment, while sitting at her work desk one day, her vision ceased in one eye. Soon after, she lost vision in the other.

Our friendship with Lori has caused me to pause. As a photographer, I can’t imagine my life without my camera, my passion. Yet, Lori and her guide dog, Carter, are content and happy, and she has an irreverent, hysterical sense of humor. As an active voice for Guide Dogs of America, Lori relishes her role of marketing, bringing awareness and support from many resources.

—Nevertheless, I wonder: How does a visually impaired person see artistically?

I recently visited a bookstore and stumbled upon the book The Blind Photographer; of course, I purchased it, adding to my growing collection of photography books.

As I read and reviewed the photographs, the imagery from blind photographers worldwide captivated me. I was struck by the work and writing of one particular photographer, Evgen Bavčar (Slovenian, b. 1946):
“Photography must belong to the blind, who in their daily existence have learned to become masters of camera obscura.

Camera obscura has existed for a long time; it is, for example, the concept of the cave in Plato’s philosophy and later the invention of the darkroom, which photographers entered blind: in the nineteenth century, the pioneers of photography would veil themselves and join the darkness in order to better control the image appearing on the sensitive plate.

Today, the modern work runs the great danger of lacking in darkness, and one will have to seek the invisible in the quest for new aesthetic solutions. For me, photography does not only represent a medium of artistic expression; it is also a manner of reclaiming one’s right to the image, and the refusal to be another’s passive model.

All the images that I create exist beforehand in my mind and are perceived by my third eye, that of the soul.

Being a philosopher, I am passionate about art history. I sometimes meditate upon the following phrase: ‘The more visible the world grows, the more invisible the world shrinks’, and so the words of Kazantzakis come back to me: ‘Such a shame for our eyes of clay, which cannot attain the invisible’. But this world is here; it is, so to speak, within arm’s reach.”

Like my friend Lori, Bavčar was born with vision; however, he lost it before age 12 due to two repeated accidents. A few years later, he held a camera for the first time and took a photo of his first love:

“The pleasure I felt then resulted from my having robbed and fixed on a film something that did not belong to me. I secretly discovered I could possess something I could not see.”

Soon after, Bavčar went on to study history at the University of Ljubljana followed by philosophy at the Sorbonne. While embarking on his post-graduate education in Paris, Bavčar deepened his passion for photography; his work has been exhibited throughout the world.

What I find most interesting about Bavčar’s artistry is his inspirational explanation of his work. He places pictorial beauty within the context of blindness, a paradoxical juxtaposition for the sighted. Bavčar’s series Itineraries delivers beautifully ethereal images, which depict precisely what Bavčar imagines. With the original concept he envisions, Bavčar endeavors to translate his mental image to a physical record, which best represents the “work of what is imagined.”

                                                        Self Portrait | Date Unknown | Bavčar

.                .                 .                 .                 .                   .

Artist Statement—

Itineraries | Evgen Bavčar

I was only seven years old when my father died. The most vivid memory I have of him is of a toy gun he made for me, as if to say to me: never stop fighting destiny. I was still unaware that I belonged to a small nation threatened by others. How could I have realized then that it would be the same for me and that I would need so much energy to defend my own identity?

I was a terrible child, who the teachers could hardly teach. I especially liked technology and reading. One day a branch damaged my left eye, and I was unable to predict the great calamity which had been forewarned. For months, I observed the world with just one eye, until one day a mine detonator damaged my right eye as well. I didn't become blind immediately but little by little. It went on for months, as if it were a long farewell to light. So, all the time I had to quickly capture the most beautiful things, images of books, colors and celestial phenomena, and to take them with me on a voyage of no return.

While I still detected some traces of light and color, I was happy because I could still see. I retain a vivid memory of the moments of my farewell to the visible world. But monochromy invaded my life, and I have to strive to retain the palette and its hues. I color the objects and the people that I touch so that the world escapes from monotony and transparency: I know a woman whose voice is so blue that she manages to paint a gray autumnal day blue. I came across a painter who had a dark red voice, and chance willed that he should love this color; that gave me a dark delight.

I sense the sun by its thermal effects, but I can make mistakes. One day something happened at a friend's home, whose apartment I didn't know well; as I know where the window is in advance by the noise in the street, I said: "The sun is strong today!", but I was unaware that it was a radiator that gave us heat. We laughed together. At the beginning of my blindness, when I took it more seriously, I used to wear very dark glasses to exaggerate my condition; nowadays I use clear glasses to look like an intellectual.

In museums or in exhibitions I enjoy the presence of all the silent gazes, the sound of steps that I perceive even when listening to the voice of my guide, who tries to convey his own gaze to me. Sculpture, on the other hand, gives me an immediate aesthetic feeling, insofar as I have been given permission to touch the statues, something that is not very common. To touch them is my own way of penetrating the myth of Eros and Psyche, which in every other way I am outside. The pale reflection of the oil lamp which for me symbolizes the world of appearances has disappeared.

The nostalgia for those inaccessible realities and the desire to embark on the road that leads to them remains. The intellectual nature of my perception urged me to take my first photos one day, but without any artistic pretension. The smooth surface of the images taken by the camera do not look at me, I only have the physical proof of landscapes and people that I have seen or met. That is to say, my gaze exists only through the simulacrum of the photo that has been seen by someone else. That gaze makes me happy and induces the images to come to life inside me. There is also the mystery of the human gaze that greatly interests me; in my photos, in fact, the people appear very different before the lens and before themselves.

They are different when faced with an unknown or infinite darkness. The absence of the photographer's eye is accentuated by the precarious irreversible moment of taking a photo; that photo which by coming from a hidden gaze is transformed into a kind of double death. The people who are photographed cannot see themselves in the usual way: that complicity between the photographer that confirms them in their narcissism is implicitly missing.

So what is a gaze? It is perhaps the sum of all our dreams in which we forget the nightmare, when we can look in a different way. Besides, darkness is no more than an appearance, given that everyone's life, however dark, is also made up of light. And in the same way as the day often breaks with birdsong, I have learnt how to distinguish the voice of the morning from the voice of the night.

                                        Caligula’s Head, Naples | Itineraries | Date Unknown | Bavčar

     Stairs with Shadows | Itineraries |

            Date Unknown | Bavčar

     Hand on Stone, Pompeii | Itineraries | Date Unknown | Bavčar

       The Door of Fuzine | Itineraries |

              Date Unknown | Bavčar

.                .                 .                 .                 .                   .

Personally, I find that understanding a blind person’s ability to photographically communicate what is imagined is impossible—and incredibly inspiring. The use of memory, past experiences, and emotions offers Bavčar a magnified way of seeing. He also graces his audiences with his capacity to create artwork against all odds and his ability to interface a fantastic view of the world.

                                                               Self Portrait | Date Unknown | Bavčar

.                .                 .                 .                 .                   .

Resources

Gooding, Mel. “CNN Style.” http://www.cnn.com/style/article/the-blind-photographer/index.html. Web. 9/27/2017.

Gooding, Mel, and Julian Rothenstein, ed. The Blind Photographer. London: Redstone Press. 2011.

O’Hagan, Sean. “The Guardian.” https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2016/aug/20/blind-photographers-talk-about-their-work. Web. 9/30/2017

Sumitra. “Oddity Central.” http://www.odditycentral.com/pics/evgen-bavcar-the-blind-photographer.html. Web. 9/30/2017.