It's a learning process

My view over the weekend.I dipped my toes into the world of art festivals this weekend. It was not a spontaneous decision, as most summer festivals require you to submit your work for a juried process months in advance. We (our company) already had a tent, and we purchased an expensive mesh panel system to hang our photographs on (a good purchase as it made setup and take-down a breeze).

There were three festivals I applied for, all relatively local, and all kind of upscale. I made it into two out of three. My reasoning was simple, another revenue source in this lame economy. My biz partner is doing one this weekend (you can’t enter as a company, only as an individual).

I had been to many art festivals and thought I knew what to expect, but found out that there is a whole sub-culture to it. Everyone knew everyone else, they traveled the circuit, discussed the good festivals and the bad. And, they complained about how bad sales have been over the past few years. You know, the economy and all.

I was chatting with another photographer on Sunday (day two) and told him everyone I had talked to reported disappointing sales, except one exhibitor who said it was a great weekend for her. “She’s lying,” he said.

As for me, I sold one unframed print over both days. BUT, I also won a Blue Ribbon for first place in photography, some cash, and an automatic “in” for next year. So I’ve got that going for me.

I have one more festival coming up in about three weeks. I compiled a list throughout the weekend. I will make adjustments. But I have to wonder … is it my photography, is it priced right, is it the economy, is it my (non) sales pitch, does my presentation suck, bad Karma? I’ll report back in a month.

Ansel was right

"The single most important element of a camera," wrote Ansel Adams, "is the twelve inches behind it."

Amen.

This is probably the most important theme I profess in my photography classes. It's not the car, it's the nut behind the wheel (not my quote).

Unrelated to this blog, just saw this the other day.This week, I have been so busy with the process of making a living from photography, that it's become hard to process what is visually important, to me. I have my first arts festival show coming up this weekend, in Chagrin Falls, Ohio. Hope to see you there. I have a 10-foot square tent, with mesh walls to hold my work. Easy stuff, but don't Google what happened to the arts festival in Columbus, Ohio last weekend.

In hoping to make this work, I am presenting two styles of images.  My pinhole photographs, and my "Reconstructions." To my dismay, I realized I had been so caught up with personal baggage, that I was down to the wire in getting this show off the ground. Had I really taken that many photos? And I like all of them? Let's frame them all, cost be damned. The masses will see the beauty in my art. Or, not.

But thanks to the totally supportive work of my business partner, Al, and my family, I think I may now actually be able to pull this off.

Now if only I can find a comfortable chair for the weekend, and if it doesn't storm, and I actually sell something.

More later.

Thanks for serving

On this Memorial Day, we pay tribute to those who gave their lives in the service of our country.

A few years ago I photographed early morning services at small cemetery in our community. It’s an annual event, followed by a parade. Arriving before the participants, I strolled through the grounds, only about a quarter acre, and read the names on the head stones. Most names were of the early founders of the area.

But one stood out to me, a modest marker that reads “Unknown Soldier, Civil War.” I thought, what an odd place for an unknown soldiers grave. Usually, they would be interred in a National Cemetery. So I decided to ask around.

As it turns out, during the war the body of a Union soldier was washed up on the shore of Lake Erie, literally a stone’s throw away. No one knew where he came from or what unit he belonged to.

Although he didn’t die on some distant battlefield, I thank him for his service in helping unite the nation.

Painted in a circle

When I head to the D.C. area, I’m fortunate to have an excellent place to stay, at a friend’s seasonal home located on the ridge just east of the battlefield of Antietam.

Antietam is my favorite Civil War battlefield and I have visited it many times. I’ve also been to most other major battlefields. By far, in the Eastern Theater, Antietam stands alone as the most pristine park, with little or no commercialism encroaching on its borders. A tip of the hat to the National Park Service and for their effort to return the battlefield to it’s original 1862 condition, including replanting entire groves of woods and orchards.

In juxtaposition is Gettysburg, just 35 miles or so northeast of Antietam (as the crow flies). Over the years the city just kept creeping southward, comprised mostly of tourist traps. But again, thanks to the efforts of the NPS, they have made strides in restoring what they can.

The new visitor’s center, opened in 2008, is a true state-of-the-art museum/theater/educational center. The centerpiece is the restored Cyclorama painting, finished in 1884 by French artist Paul Philippoteaux, depicting “Pickett’s Charge.” Four versions were painted, but only two currently exist, one in private hands. This painting’s original home was Boston, and it was exhibited in its own building. It moved to Gettysburg in 1912 and then to a new location in 1961 (where I first saw it in 1962). The painting measures 42 feet high by 359 long and is intended to be presented in a circle. It underwent restoration from 2005 to 2008 before it moved into its new home.

Visitors stand on a raised platform and watch as a soundtrack describes the scene. Dramatic lighting and sound effects highlight different parts of the image. At the bottom is a diorama that perfectly blends into the painting. It is breathtaking. My only complaint is that visitors don’t get a lot of time to just walk around, in full light, to view the image.

So, if you get the chance to visit, don’t miss it. Also, take in the slide show put together by the Center for Civil War Photography. It’s located near the museum store. A bin below the wide-screen TV contains 3D glasses to put on so you can view how most of the images made during the conflict were intended to be seen.

My son and I spent about two hours in the center, and then made a quick tour of the field. Here is the only pinhole photo I made on my trip. It is a view of the “Slaughter Pen,” looking west from Little Round Top.

(Click on images to view larger versions)

The D.C. dilemma

I had a pleasant, long weekend visiting the Washington, D.C. area, on the occasion to pick up my daughter from college. My son and I went down a few days early to say at a friend’s retreat near Antietam. From there it’s just a 30-minute drive to catch the Metro.

It’s always a dilemma for me when I head into D.C. in trying to decide which camera gear to carry.

Since I knew I was going to be walking quite a bit, I didn’t want to be too encumbered with gear. Although my 35mm DSLR outfit (with wide zoom and tele zoom) fits snugly into a comfortable backpack, it’s still pushing 15 pounds.

My pinhole bag is significantly lighter, if I just take my mini-pod.  No big loss because there are many places you can’t set up a tripod on the street (like in front of the White House). But I had made numerous pinhole photos in the past, the process can be a bit time consuming, and I feared it would cut into our tour time.

So I opted for my Canon G9, in addition to snapshots with my daughter and son and other things that struck my fancy, I had the opportunity to pursue some “reconstructions” at various places. I photographed the Capitol, the Washington Monument, the White House and the Museum of Natural History.

I tried to make some at Fords Theater but there were too many school tours going in and out, milling on the sidewalk, crossing the street in front of me, that it just didn’t work. And I think it really needs to be photographed (notice I didn’t say shot) at dusk for the best effect.

Directly across from the theater is the house where Abraham Lincoln passed from this world (now, he is one for the Ages). Unfortunately it was under renovation and had all sorts of scaffolding and workers in front. Next door, well known to any student of history, is Lincoln’s Waffle Shop, where he and Mary polished off a stack of Belgians before heading across the street for the play.

Is nothing sacred in America?