Wet Collodion Negatives & Prints - April, 2013

When it comes to making photographs, you can't get more authentic or real than wet collodion negatives and printing out paper.

From Friday morning, April 12th to Sunday evening, April 14th, I had five students working in Studio Q. They learned how to make the wet collodion negatives, re-develop them. They also learned how to make Salt and Albumen paper as well as Collodio-Chloride paper (Aristotypes). They made negatives on Saturday and printed all of them on Sunday. It was a great workshop and we had a great group of people - Craig from Kansas, Euphus from Mississippi, Kevin, from Denver, Rustin from Carbondale, and Matt (assisted) from Denver.

I'll be in Europe next month, but will return (with tapas) in June and I have an introduction course set for June 15-16, 2013. If you are interested, please send me an email or visit this page for more details. 

All photography by Matt Alberts (www.mattalbertsphotography.com) - thanks, Matt!!

When you make negatives, you always start with a positive. Black Glass Ambrotype of Euphus.

The "Euphus Negative" after redeveloping.

Hot water being poured into the sizing and salt for Salt paperA good look at a redeveloped negative. Printing Euphus out on some Salt paper.Euphus printed out on Salt paper.

One of Euphus' first negatives of the day.

Kevin inspects one of his negatives.The "Cat Daddy" and Euphus ;-) This is a portrait that Craig made of Matt - a wonderful image!Euphus was ready for the group portrait before everyone else. "And that is Collodio-Chloride... let's pour it on some paper and make some prints!"Gold toning Craig's portrait of Kaitlan.Rustin gold toning a Salt print of Kaitlan.Euphus and his Bellocq print of Kaitlan (Bellecq's image is on the left for comparison).Bellecq... er.. Euphus and his print. Kevin and his group shot - Whole plate Salt print.

Whole plate Collodio-Chloride print from a wet collodion negative - Euphus Ruth

Barcelona Wet Collodion Workshops

I'll be in Barcelona in May teaching two workshops and doing a public demonstration. If you've wanted to learn this process, and its variants, sign up and join me in beautiful, sunny, Spain!

Click here to get more information and/or to sign up for a workshop. 

Spend Some Time in My World

"Jan in Berlin, Germany 2009" - POP print from a Wet Collodion Negative.My approach to making photographs has been grounded in three ideas or concepts. I call this my philosophical tripod. They are; identity, difference, and memory.

If you were to scour through the thousands of plates I’ve made over the many years of doing this, you would find these ideas supporting almost every image.

I’m most interested in the tension that comes from someone seeing themselves very differently than the world sees them. When we are photographed, we exude that tension. Especially the way I photograph people; I want that to be palpable. We all have it, some more than others. My friend, Caron, sent me this article the other day that sums this idea up nicely. 

When I receive an email or someone comments and they say something like this, "There’s something about your portraits that’s haunting and disturbing". I translate it like this, "Your portraits make me feel a little bit uneasy, but I’m attracted to them. It must be the tension the sitter is feeling being revealed in this way."

We live so much of our lives in the past. Our memories, good, bad, or indifferent, drive a lot of what we do and who we are. Some would argue that if you live in the past, you live in depression. Maybe that’s true for some people, and I can see this point of view. I use memory as a learning tool. While I don’t "live in the past", I often think about it and evaluate current events based on it, at least to some extent. The aesthetic of wet collodion screams memory. To my mind, there's no better visual description for memory than a wet collodion image. People recognize this, even if they don't know about the process. It's visceral and visual. 

Many years ago, I heard someone say, "How can every person have the desire to be unique yet at the same time want so desperately to fit in?" That has been in my mind for decades. It is the quote of difference that appears in every one of my images/portraits. This is the question I’m asking and the struggle of every sitter trying to answer. I can see it in the image. I can feel it when I’m making the image, too.

I’ve been fortunate to have people that will actually spend time with my work, read my statements and understand it. There are few feelings or emotions that are more satisfying than to have someone email me saying that they "get it", that the work resonates with them and they’ve connected the dots. What more can someone ask for? We spend so much of our lives in other people’s worlds; your employer’s, a television show, a movie, a book – so it’s an honor when someone spends time in my world. 

Native American Massacre Sites: A New Project

One thing that always has to be present in a project for me is a deep, strong connection to the topic or concept.

I can’t commit to make work for a year, two, five or even longer on a whim or fad. It can’t be because it’s "cool" or looks good in (fill in the blank) process. It has to be deliberate, focused, challenging, interesting, and it has to be something that will make the viewer think.

I've found that over the last 30 years, I’ve always made images about my heritage, memory, history, or identity. I’ve not always been aware that’s I was doing, but age and maturity have allowed me to look back and see this clearly.

During graduate school (Goddard College 2005 - 2007), I had my DNA tested. I had both my mother’s (mitochondrial) and my father’s (Y) tested. The results revealed what I thought they would, my father’s Jewish and my mother’s Native America (Navajo from the Ket people).

My photographic/art career has centered on photographing “otherness”. I’ve been preoccupied with people and ideas outside of the mainstream. I explored this in my project, “Portraits from Madison Avenue” (2003 – 2006) and in “Vergangenheitsbewältigung (struggling to come to terms with the past)” (2006 – 2011) a project I made in Europe centered on my Jewish heritage and the events in Nazi Germany.

What I haven’t explored is the Native American side of my heritage. In 2011, I moved from Europe to Colorado with this in mind. 

When I was eight or nine years old, I went into my parent’s room one day after school to use the restroom. The other restrooms in the house were occupied. When I came out, I noticed a book on my father’s nightstand. I picked it up and read the title, “Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee” by Dee Brown. I started looking through it and saw the photos. One of them was a photo of Big Foot frozen in the snow. It shocked me and piqued my interest. I started reading about what happened.Big Foot frozen in the snow after the massacre.

One hundred and twenty-three winters ago, on December 29, 1890, some 150 Lakota men, women and children were massacred by the US 7th Calvary Regiment near Wounded Knee Creek on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation. Some estimate the actual number closer to 300.

"It was the fourth day after Christmas in the Year of Our Lord 1890. When the first torn and bleeding bodies were carried into the candlelit church, those who were conscious could see Christmas greenery hanging from the open rafters. Across the chancel front above the pulpit was strung a crudely lettered banner: "Peace on earth, good will to men," writes Dee Brown in "Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee."

It was confusing to me. I didn’t understand all of it and I wanted to know why this happened. I asked my mother why the US forces attacked Indians when they weren’t doing anything wrong. I wanted to know why that happened. She simply said so they could take the land and resources (horses, supplies, etc.) and to get rid of the Native Americans. I read as much of the book I could. I didn’t fully understand, but I understood enough to know that something terrible happened to the Lakota that cold, awful day in December.

“I did not know then how much was ended. When I look back now from this high hill of my old age, I can still see the butchered women and children lying heaped and scattered all along the crooked gulch as plain as when I saw them with eyes still young. And I can see that something else died there in the bloody mud, and was buried in the blizzard. A people's dream died there. It was a beautiful dream . . . . the nation's hope is broken and scattered. There is no center any longer, and the sacred tree is dead.”

Black Elk

The Hotchkiss cannon that was used in the genocide of the Lakota men, women and children.Not only was this early experience a shadow of what was to come for me and my interests, it created a longing in me for justice and truth. I remember feeling helpless and filled with anger and anxiety about this event. It was a seed planted, and now, 40 years later; it’s going to sprout.

 When I was in undergraduate school (Weber State University; 1989 – 1993), I met Drex Brooks. Drex was in charge of the photography department at Weber State University. I respected Drex, I liked his work and admired his philosophy about photography. We worked together for over three years. Drex influenced my work and he influenced my philosophy about life, too. People would often ask if we were related. In the late 1980s through the early 1990s, Drex created a body of work about Native American massacre sites. His book was published in 1995 by the University of New Mexcio press, it’s called, “Sweet Medicine”. This book had a big impact on me. Through his teaching and his work, Drex taught me how to make serious artwork and what’s important about being an artist/photographer. 

 I’ve had almost a year to think about a new project. It’s been a rollercoaster in ways, but a very needed respite from image making (for a project). My show, “The American West Portraits”, ended last June in Paris, France. Since then, I’ve been contemplating what’s most important to me and what would have the most meaning to me in terms of impact. This is what I have decided to do; I’m going to follow in the footsteps of Drex (at least to some extent) and make wet/dry Collodion images of Native American massacre sites, places where treaties were signed and where “battles” took place with the Wasi'chu (non-Natives/white people) in the Western United States.

 In a few weeks, I’ll have some examples from the Sand Creek Massacre site (1864), Colorado, the Council Grounds and Fort Laramie (site of a treaty signing in 1868) in Wyoming and the Summit Springs Battlefield in Logan County, Colorado (1869).

My mother before she died. These are 5"x7" Black Glass Ambrotypes 2005

Art & Religion: Defining Success and Setting Standards

How do you define success? This is a difficult question and is different for everyone. There isn’t a standard, per se (keep reading you might call me a liar). In my mind, to succeed means to accomplish what you set out to do. It’s really that simple. However, there are a lot of people that want to define success for you by their standards. This is where it gets weird.

I got thinking about this in relation to people’s photographic projects. I’m usually asking questions like, “Why are you making this work?” or asking what the work is about. Maybe the better question is, “How are you going to know if this work is successful?”

"Red Vineyards at Arles" - Vincent Van Gogh

A lot of artists, or people who call themselves artists, define success by two standards; the first one is selling work (or having people collect the work, which means it’s monetized) and two; exhibiting work (in museums, galleries, etc.). The second one usually needs to happen before the first one, but not always. We feel that if complete strangers put out a large amount of money to purchase our work, it means that our work is good. I’m not saying that this is true. And I’m not saying that it isn’t either. 

Selling work: These standards are so high, few can achieve them. Let me define what I mean; most artists will never sell any work. Van Gogh only sold one painting during his lifetime, “Red Vineyard at Arles” for 400 francs. This painting now resides at the Pushkin Museum in Moscow. The rest of Van Gogh's more than 900 paintings were not sold or made famous until after his death.

In this context, selling work to friends and family wouldn’t count. Or selling work at your local coffee shop for $25 doesn’t either. We’re talking about selling work for thousands of dollars or thousands of Euros.

Exhibiting work: This is easier than selling work, but there’s a different standard here, too. Local coffee shops or restaurants wouldn’t qualify as a proper exhibition space. The standard here is defined by exhibiting in well known, or established galleries and moreover, galleries that support and believe in your work (called representation).

So, are you totally depressed yet? You should be, most artists will never achieve one of these standards, let alone both.

What do we make of this? I think it should draw us back to defining success for ourselves. It could be that these standards are your map for success. And it could be that you have no interest in defining success for your work in this way.

Art can’t be defined in the way physics can. Art is like religion; everyone has the right one and believes they’re correct. How can you argue with that? I can’t tell you that what you believe is wrong, moreover, prove that you’re wrong, at least not in a way that we can have a discussion about it. For those of you that have heard me lecture, this is where I say, “I feel lusciously gray”.

So there needs to be some kind of standard. Is this relative or absolute? If you ask the artists that feel they’ve succeeded, they will tell you there’s a standard and that they know how to define that standard.

Truth be told, most people never think about this, they make photographs (or whatever they work with) and do it for “fun” or post it to Facebook and get really nice comments and a lot of “likes”. That’s reward enough for them. Others have a completely different definition of success and think about this a lot."Rex Rideout with Gas Mask & Knife" - 16x20 BGA - 2013

Maybe someday, we’ll have a place where we can sort all of this out and find out what it means to make successful work in a balanced and supportive environment (not Facebook!). Until then, we have to define success on our own terms and in our own ways.