Jay Gould’s Photography Blog

I'm not sure why, but lately I have been thinking in Limericks. I have decided to make one every weekend that may have no relevance to anything else I'm working on, but will make me laugh.  Enjoy.

He furiously types in the nude 

Inbues characters with traits quite crude

They can't turn down a fight

Or ignore a delight

and, like their author, are often lewd 

It was a foggy night in Minnesota, bringing about fond memories of Maine.  I went walking blindly through the tall grass and came out with my nostrils filled with spring and my pants soaked up to the knees.  I hope this beautiful phenomena exists frequently in Northern Louisiana. 

8:15 AM 

Expired Polaroid

Unexpected exposure

Drips Caustic acid 

 I found about 150 shots of SX-70 film, expired, years of freezing and heating in Minnesota, and completely unpredictable.  I am going to shoot it all up casually as the caustic material it shoots out after every exposure will add a little excitement to my life, (and make people wonder why I photograph with rubber gloves. 

A little less than a year ago I was enjoying myself in the hectic and humbling environment at Review Santa Fe. Meeting the artists behind the work I loved, like the Chicagraphers , and new friends, like Todd and John , as well as unbeknownst future co-workers like Joy .

Before I ever considered even being worthy to attend, I had followed the work Santa Fe prize winners, such as Alec Soth   , Eirik Johnson , and Sheila Pree Bright .  Seeing their careers exposure in the years following the review truly made me want to attend to at least naively probe into the photography world a bit.

This years winner, Leigh Anne Langwell , has been stuck in my eyes for days.  In contrast to the winners previously mentioned, this work is black and white photograms with a scientific twist.  As many of you know, this harmony of science and photography has been the subject of my research for many years.  I am always amazed at how I can endlessly search for related work and still randomly be presented with some that has been in front of my face for some time.

This work follows in a history of the beautiful invisible world.  Though the artist has a background with microphotography, these are fiction, fabricated to give the immediate impression of real, yet somehow by the careful nature of their production they make me think even more about our relationship to the unseen mechanics of our bodies and the universe.  

To see more, check out The Center and Langwell's page . 

It's the bottom of the fifth, Twins up on Baltimore 6-3.  The season opener, a marker that has long ushered in the end of Minnesota's winter and lead fans into the first weeks of what I like to call "the beer and grilling season."

After a return from living in Georgia for a few years, I am warmed by what this particular day means to Minnesotans.  There is a genuine excitement and positive cheerfulness, not aggression.  A tangible glow of history and hope. 

I did not plan to watch this game, but turned it on while making dinner and was stuck. The HUGE contrast between baseball and the last sport I watched on television, basketball, filled me with awe.  Where are the glitzy commercials… the blatant fouls… the obvious cussing???  Apparently sports can still appear casual and gentile, even at this level, and these ten reasons to enjoy baseball are just the ones on the tip-top of my head.

1) Batters warming up at the plate.  I love it.  The shimmy.  The little butt wiggle.  I personal ritual that is completely their own.  I can still remember Kirby Pucketts, lodged in there from my childhood for the rest of time.

2) Quiet acceptance.  A strike is usually a strike.  Arguing with officials is reserved for really important moments, making them special instead of annoying.

3) Missing fouls.  Sometimes a scuffle occurs, but mostly it is clean play, not pre-planned attacks filling the hours with endless free throwing.

4) Classic.  The uniforms, the logos, the wood bats.  Throw in some dirty 16mm film and catch a game and it would not be far off from 100 years ago.  Even the announcers feel just right.

5) Short advertisments.  Inning is over, here's a little commercial… makes sense.  Also, the great public service announcements starring coaches and players with silly puns as well… those shaped my moral being.

6) Not too Hip (hop).  I like to listen to hip-hop and some rap, but am amazed by it's presence in sports.  Not just basketball and football, but so many others.  The organ belongs in every sport.

7) Understandable strategy.  Anyone who picked dandelions during tee-ball can understand this sport enough to follow.

Fans Wearing Gloves.  I am still afraid of baseballs, and attend games with one purely to hold it in front of my face while I curl into a fetal position.

9) Mascots.  Gnate the Gnat is a close personal friend, and like so many baseball mascots, it tough as well as jovial.

10) Umpire armor.  That shiny black chestplate reminds me of Darth Vador in a sports coat… and it makes me laugh.  Now if they wore a necktie too I would have a new career.

My big computer is in the shop, having a transplant.  And with it all of my recent images, so today on the blog, it's words! 

You are all keeping me so busy. I mean it.  I'm mostly at fault, but you are keeping me very busy.  All you bloggers, with your interesting thoughts, delicious photographs, and constant comments streaming in.  If it wasn't so interesting I would walk away and spend a little more time on my bike or doing my job. 

I have been monitoring the shift in how I spend my computer time lately. Conscious that how I procrastinate, at least, is becoming slightly more intellectual.  Better that I am looking at some of Jeremias' new work or reading some of Alec's completely unexpected connections rather than surfing Myspace.

Another way that I use up time is podcasts.  Last week, John Dickerson , Slate's chief political correspondent was explaining why he has never listened to, and avoids listening to This American Life. the imminent radio program, entirely because he knows he would love it.  At first I wondered why anyone would avoid TAL, but in a voice of obvious burden and pain, he makes a good case.

"The problem is, my media diet is already way too full." 

 Oh My Yes! I am horribly obese with media obligations, or, more appropriately, media obsessions.  I evade invitations to watch regualr programs like Lost as though my friend's couches are on fire.  The thought of a movie night while my coffee and strobes get cold makes me twitch.  Do any of you skip a decent movie prospect to stare in silence at the wall with a notebook.  Dickerson is right, I trust my friend's opinions about what I "need to see." so much that I avoid it, under great pressure, in order to have a moment to ingest their earlier recommendations.

I suppose I won't cut out the blogs, it's too late for that.  Too late to give up Todd's biweekly wordless, Memo's musings and Jon's treasures, but I am going to be watching the media calories this spring.

Sorry for the rant… interesting blogging coming soon… I promise.

I am finally getting around to reading the recent Aperture and am happy to report that it has been getting me pretty psyched up for the upcoming weeks ahead.  Next week, a quick trip to Louisiana and the week after that presenting an Imagemaker lecture at SPE's National Conference in Miami.  The last month in Minnesota has been less than hospitable for photographing, but I am buckling down to drop some film this weekend with the help of some new strobes.. woo-hoo.

A lot has been passing through my head, but the very first article that I read in the current Aperture has been lodged in my head for days.  The article is a dialogue between writer Luc Sante and Stephen Shore regarding his book, The Nature of Photographs.  I have read very little from Shore.  An article here, an interview there, but not his entire book.  After this short article I am looking forward to getting my hands on this book.

Within the wide range of topics addressed, Shore even touches digitization's effect on photography, something I have never heard from him.  It is valuable to hear someone who was at the front of one photographic revolution speak about another massive shift.  He answers with an open mind that seems characteristic of an eloquent and supportive professor.  Essentially a nod to go ahead, but with caution.  He refers to there being a lot of "junk" being produced because of the immaterial aspect of digital, something I am looking forward to hearing more about in Nancy Spector's keynote lecture at SPE . 

What really has been stuck in my head was Shore's very last statement:

I guess what it comes down to is: an illustration is aiming the camera at the direction of some content, while the photograph is making sense of it."

I am someone who likes to define things.  Creating personal definitions for things allows me to really understand something and more effectively create what I am after in a specific art/job/task.  This definition of Shore's is well said.  Many people like to think of photography in terms of illustration, and I sometimes feel as though my work walks the line of illustration in other's eyes, but when I put it in the context of Shore's definition I know exactly where I stand.  Making Sense, that is exactly what interests me about photography and why, in the end, I am obsessed by it.

On a side note: Those of us who studied at the Savannah College of Art and Design know Mr. Shore as Stephen "F'ing" Shore, a result of a funny story about a professor's experience at CAA 25 years ago, when Shore received his long held position at Bard College.  

Perhaps not officially, but Todd Deutsch, being the badass that he is, did come close enough.  I had not realized that this blogging "chain letter" was making its way around.  Normally I ignore these things, but since I was quite entertained by everyone else's it's only fair that I share 5 things you might not know about me.  Enjoy.

1. When I am stressed out I become a very "active" sleeper.  I thought that this had went away some years ago, but it turns out that I have just been sharing my room with heavy sleepers.  The special lady-friend witnessed me at my finest recently as I announced an upcoming exhibition by my students, attacked a ghost, very carefully arranged the blankets over her, and pushed myself out of bed in a crouch ready to run away for some reason (not all in one night.)         *note: apparently this runs in the family.  My father, while in medical school worked for UPS and would often be caught stacking imaginary boxes during the night.
2. I am probably one of the most avid former 4-H members you have known.  I may have been the only non-farmer in my club, but that did not stop me from reaching the oh-so sought after position of Club Presidente'.  Impressive, I know.  I have been wood working since I was young and 4-H lead me to spend much time exhibiting my work at the Minnesota State fair, where I still can navigate to any specific food booth or exhibit purely by instinct.
3. My father was a former 4-H'er and it lead him into the unique hobby of beekeeping.  I helped out for many years, learning the gentle art of honey theft while building up my immunity to the venom.  After a while I stopped wearing anything but the gloves (which my father always did without.)  I can still close my eyes and recall the smell of the honey shed and it gives me happy goosebumps.
4. Bees weren't the only animals I liked.  I had lots of strange pets over the years.  The most unique would have to be Smokey, my parrot, who enjoyed nothing more that exercising to the 1989 Batman Soundtrack (he loved Prince.)  I also had a hamster that hated to be handled so much that he would pop one eye partly out of his socket to frighten us.  I would say this plan is destined to backfire when dealing with 13 year-old boys.
5. During my teenage punk-rock years I had a hairstyle that my friends still enjoy bringing up.  For some reason I buzzed my head except for the hair by my ears.  I would say they were like sideburns, except that I didn't have facial hair, so they really were much more like sidelocks.  They got pretty long and hornlike (with the help of wood-glue).  After visiting a friend's house, his father, a native Russian, kept referring to me as his son's Hasidic friend… finally I put it together… he was thinking of the beautifully aweful locks as Peyot.  Afterwards I wondered how I went so long without thinking of that myself.

Now you all know so much about me… I feel so much closer to you anonymous readers…sigh…  Now for the tagging.  I'll branch out.  Jeremias Paul, Greg Davis, Steve Aishman, and Bjorn Hagstrom.