Following in Grandma's Footsteps

I had my moment in the sun as an artist's model as well.  (Please see previous post.)  Below is a series of photos John Lesnick did in homage to Duane Michals, entitle "Exit the Photographer."  I believe John took at least one class with Mr. Michals at a workshop in Venice.  John asked my friend Larry and I to pose for him on this project.  He wanted to use Larry's apartment, which Larry had just moved into and which, being on the top floor of the building, had good light.

As far as I know, John only printed this one series.  He presented it to me as a gift about a year later.  (He complained that creating the mat for the sixteen pieces was more work than he usually did for photographs.)  I then gave it to my friend, Jack Bayer, as a birthday gift one year.  Jack passed away about 10 years later of heart-related causes.  Again, the family swept in, but this was one piece they didn't care about, so it landed back in my hands.  After cleaning 10 years of cigarette smoke residue off of the glass and frame, it turned out o.k.  Here are the full series and one of the individual scenes:

 

  

The photos are fully mounted on acid-free cardboard.  Each individual photo is 4" x 6" and the framed work is 33"w x 26"h.  The work is dated 1980, and signed.

Why I like this piece:

Apart from all of the narcissistic reasons, (I mean, who doesn't revel in their faded beauty?) this is a good homage to Duane Michals.  It follows his artistic MO, but it follows John's particular way of translating that method to his own uses.  I suppose one could infer that the photographer leaving the scene of his own creation to join a scene (imaginatively) being created elsewhere is clever.  Perhaps too clever, but John was early on in his career (1980) and so perhaps this represents his working on an issue rather than actually resolving an issue.  

That is one good thing about art.  If it is done with the idea that the questions are more important than the answers, than it is at least done in the spirit of art.  The questions engender more questions, and that is why art often reflects its era more accurately than the carefully recorded history of the same era.  

What this piece reminds me of:

First, it reminds me of how the Lower East Side has changed so completely from those days.  You may remember that I mentioned a friend who was mugged 3 times in as many months.  That friend was Larry, pictured above.  He left New York defeated by the danger.  New York, supposedly, is less dangerous these days, but it could easily revert to the late 70s and early 80s, when you had to know where and when you could be on the streets.

Mostly it reminds me of Jack.  Jack had this over his desk in his studio apartment in Chelsea.  He liked it very much.  Jack was a very ruggedly handsome man.  He had served in the Navy during the late 60s, and ended up in New York with a career as a freelance graphic artist. He made a good, if modest, life for himself in the city.  He also made no excuses for his vices.  In today's world of political correctness, he would have smoked his cigarettes and over-indulged in food and drink because the practice of self-denial in such things would have smacked of hypocrisy to him.

Jack and I carried on a brief affair about a year after Terry's death.  He was one of Terry's trio of caregivers.  We became closer because of our shared grief I suppose, but the affair only lasted a few months.  It is one of the signs of how time had changed such that when he passed away a few years later, in the late 90s, I hadn't spoken to him for over a month.  I had to track down a close friend of his to find out that he had died of congestive heart failure.  He had programmed all his phone numbers into the phone, and no one thought to listen to his message machine.

Flea Markets and Photography

Although I had bought a few photos here and there previously, this group of photos represents my first major purchase of photography.  These cabinet cards were found at a flea market which first appeared on Canal Street, and which then migrated to 24th and 6th Ave. in Chelsea.  It was one of those purchases where I went back several times within the space of two hours or so, trying to decide if I could really justify the purchase.

The photos represent scenes from an ascent of Mt. Hood which took place sometime during the late 1800's.  I have placed two of the photos on this post, and the rest can be seen after the jump at the end of the post.

 

It is the first image that got me excited.  The other scenes you'll see after the jump are mostly beautiful landscapes.  Though direct attribution can't be made, an appraisal undertaken by Swann Galleries noted that these are likely to have been taken by Dewert.  (I'm still trying to find information about him.)  At some point I plan to donate the photos to the Mazamas Organization, a non-profit founded in 1894 which provides education about responsible mountain climbing in Oregon.

Why I like this piece:

These photos take part in both history and art.  It must have been a struggle to lug the equipment necessary for decent photos to the top of Mt. Hood.  And it is interesting to note that the photos in general are very carefully composed.  Nothing is too off-center, and nothing is accidentally cut out of any of the frames.  This is photography that is decidedly not "point and shoot."  The photographer was committed to his subject and provided the best images he could have possibly provided.

Even if the photos are not proven to be by a known photographer, this is clearly a photographer we should know more about.  The men in the photos are relaxed with the camera, although they are posed.  It is not a surprise to them that the camera is there, and it is not really a matter of "showing off" for the camera.  Photography was welcomed as a documentary tool.

So do these "documents" partake of art?  I would say so, and that is mainly due to the care taken with composition.  Even though they are not large images, the viewer gets the sense of the spectacular vistas available to the climbers.  That can be a difficult thing to do without careful consideration of the what is seen through the lens.

What this piece reminds me of:

This reminds of the amount of time I spent walking around New York city. I came upon this flea market after a little Saturday morning tour of Soho in the early 80s. New York was not quite so set in its ways, and real estate, especially unused parking lots on weekends, was  likely to be utilized in a more slapdash manner.

Now, quite a few of the parking lots are built over with condominiums hungry for buyers, or already converted to rentals. As I mentioned above, this particular flea market migrated to 6th Avenue in the lower 20s. Almost all of the open lots that were flea markets are gone. Many have moved to some place near 38th St. and Ninth Avenue, but I haven't visited there. There is still a garage on 24th St. near 6th Avenue which has two floors of vendors, but who knows how much longer that will last.

I am also reminded that I bought a few daguerrotypes at that flea market before I bought this group of photos. Daguerrotypes are very difficult to find now, and even then I was often told, "You should have come earlier. I had some really good ones." If I were a true collector, as was my friend Carl Morse, I would have been there as they were unpacking their trunks to get the real jewels.

The rest of the photos are after the jump:

Dance, Photography and E-bay

This item was purchased on E-bay some time ago.  More about E-bay, and much more about photography, later.  This item charmed me.  It represents Ted Shawn, a modern dance pioneer, in what I would describe as an "ecstatic moment."  More can be found about him here and here.  On a personal note, we share a birthday.

  
Ted Shawn was the founder of Jacob's Pillow and was a major influence on Martha Graham.  He brought male sensuality into modern dance.

 

The image and the back of the postcard seem at odds with one another. I note that the box for the stamp on the correspondence side is not closed and the type within the box, especially the word "here" is off-register.  That indicates to me that this was not a professionally printed item. 


The image is clear, but also note the airbrushing or other modification made to highlight the upper body in the image.  I don't think the sky so conveniently follows the contours of the human body usually.  This image is based on a photograph taken ca. 1940, so I believe the whole object has been "antiqued" to make it look older.  As they say in the E-bay business, caveat emptor.  Happily, I bought it for the image, not because it looked antique.


Why I like this piece:

Again, the "ecstatic nature" represented in this pose is why I like it.  The "joie de vivre" that dance brings into one's life is what is really on show.  Of course, dance consists of all human emotion, as art does in general.  I think the modifications made to the image are appropriate.  Photography is as subject to amendment and occasional refinement as any painting still on the easel. 


What it reminds me of now:


I first encountered modern dance on the Dance in America series on PBS in the 1970's.  I was between universities and living with my parents, holding on to a job in a factory.  PBS showed Dance in America once a week.  It was there that I first saw Paul Taylor, Martha Graham, George Balanchine and Merce Cunningham performed.  I had no idea at the time that I would be moving to New York and have the opportunity to see these companies.  I didn't have any kind of network of friends that shared my interest in modern dance, and I didn't really know why I enjoyed what I was watching so much.  

Dance was a foreign language to everyone I knew and to me as well.  But I watched because the movement and the music spoke to a new way of expression, and I needed to know what that was.  The commentary before and after the performances helped to some extent, but without someone as a sounding board to understand or echo my thoughts on the subject, I simply absorbed as much as I could.  This period of my life could be understood as a "fallow" period, before beginning life again in New York city.

And once in New York, I found like-minded people who could answer the questions I had and who were instrumental in exposing me further to modern dance.  I was very lucky.  After a few years, I knew who Ted Shawn was.  Not so many years after that, there was this image on E-bay.