Artist Unknown (by Most)

I must admit to something that truly bothers me. When I hear people (online or in person) talk about a song, they mention the person or band who is best known for performing it, but not the person or people who composed the music and the lyrics. For example, people talk about Elton John’s “Tiny Dancer”, failing to mention Bernie Taupin, the songwriter. Taupin wrote and co-wrote many hits for and with Elton John. Or how about Diane Warren, whom you might know from “Sweet”, sung by Jon Batiste and Pentatonix. One might say, “I love that song by Celine Dion from ‘Up Close & Personal'”. Yes, except it was sung by Celine Dion. Diane Warren wrote it, and she won a Grammy for it.

In 1982 George Merrill and Shannon Rubicam formed a pop duo called Boy Meets Girl. The had a hit with “Waiting for a Star to Fall” that reached no. 5 on Billboard’s Top 100 in 1989. However, their biggest success came from writing for other artists, particularly Whitney Houston. “How Will I Know” and “I Wanna Dance with Somebody(Who Loves Me)”. Houston also performed songs by Dolly Parton and Michael Masser and Gerry Goffin (“Saving all My Love for You“). It’s not surprising when you consider this is not limited to pop music. Percy Mayfield wrote a song titled “Hit the Road Jack”, first recorded by Ray Charles. Mayfield stopped performing after being disfigured in a terrible crash in 1952, but he kept writing songs, thankfully.

“Why did Ray Charles write Hit the Road Jack?” Well, Ray Charles didn’t write it, to start with. People are pretty lazy when it comes to getting the information right. They hear a song and think that it began and ended with the artist who recorded it. They don’t consider the teams of people, from the songwriter and/or composer, the studio musicians, backup singers, to the sound engineers and producers that made it all happen. Most of the time listeners don’t even know who’s performing a song. That just irritates me. Maybe I’m a snob. But the other day I watched a reaction video on YouTube about the 1988 film “Scrooged“. The couple in the video said they recognized the name Scrooge as a Disney character. To make matters worse, they had no knowledge of the phrase “Bah Humbug”, nor did they know who Charles Dickens was. They did not understand any of the “Christmas Carol” references, like the appearance of the ghosts or the long-suffering clerk (or secretary, as the case may be).

I wonder if the writers of all those hits ever got over the fact that people don’t know their names. Of course it helps when you get paid. Charles Dickens was kind of a celebrity back in the 19th century, actually. He was pretty famous at the time, and he toured the US performing public readings. Readers knew who he was, and they actually read. I think modern audiences either don’t care, or they aren’t presented with all the information. Pop music did that to us. Now we say things like, “that song by Whitney Houston”. (Well, we don’t say that now, but you know what I mean.)

A Brief Season

Some things, like this hyacinth plant, are present one day and gone very soon. The blossoms appear like clockwork the first week of March. By the the time April arrives they are spent, and wait 11 months to make another appearance. At least they return the next year. Some things lose their relevance, like last week’s People Magazine or a floppy disk. Some things lose their usefulness after a while, despite all the time and effort that went into creating them. I think compact disks (CDs) lasted longer than many bits of ephemera. For years I purchased CDs at book and record stores. I’m not even sure if those still exist. They must, but I wouldn’t see myself venturing to a mall to do something I can do very easily from my phone. It’s really rare that I actually purchase music these days. I normally pull up a playlist on a service like YouTube or Spotify or Apple Music. And I have to wonder how many decades these will last.

The perennial plants and flowers, like the hyacinth and other rhizomes, or plants that produce flowers at certain times, like the India Hawthorn, which begin to produce flowers later this month, remind me that everything has its time, but some things are cyclical. Unfortunately the CD may not make a comeback. Neither would the floppy disk or rotary dial phones. But, surprisingly, film photography is making a comeback, if you believe in science. I picked up my Minolta X370 and started taking pictures. Buying film wasn’t difficult, but finding a reliable processing lab proved to be a challenge, especially during a pandemic. After shooting a couple rolls of 35mm film I decided to get into medium format (120). My wife bought me a Holga 120N, then I purchased a Yashica-D camera on Ebay. And recently I started shooting with a Mamiya 645. I’m enjoying it, but at a cost of $2 per photo I have to consider what I’m taking a picture of and whether it’s worth the expense. Also, I only have so many exposures (12, 15, or 36 per roll), I have to be a little choosy.

But even if film isn’t making a comeback I feel passionate about the art and the science behind it, and I can’t imagine it will ever be completely obsolete. There are film photographers of all age groups and in every country around the world. “Old” film cameras are going for higher prices than I’ve seen in a while, and some film is getting pretty expensive, too, when you can get it. As hobbies go, it’s not cheap. And yet it isn’t slowing the demand for film and cameras. It can be a little frustrating to see how inflation affects even one’s hobby. It probably also applies to art supplies and golf clubs. I don’t shop for those things, so I have no idea what the prices are or where they’ve been recently. If you paint with oil or watercolor on canvas or paper or anything else that works you probably feel passionate about it. It isn’t about capturing a realistic image necessarily. A photograph can do that. But painting is more an outpouring of the artist’s very soul. At least it is a way to express yourself like with writing, dancing, or anything else considered artistic. You would expect that painting became less popular when photography was invented; yet, artists like Gustav Klimt, who was born after the invention of photography, his passion was to paint masterpieces, like The Kiss (1907-08).

Klimt could have explored photography; cameras were becoming more sophisticated by the beginning of the 20th century. But his expressions of erotic fantasy in painting are a gift to the world, not just art lovers. The allure and popularity of his style have not faded over the last 104 years since his death. Somehow these paintings have lasted. My snapshots, on the other hand, are ephemera. Well, perhaps not, if I take care to capture scenes that evoke feelings or inspire or cause a stir. I don’t intend to be controversial, but I also do not wish never to have been known. I do not seek fame, but I don’t mind the little attention I have collected from a few appreciative fellow photogs.

I keep shooting film because I enjoy it so much. It looks like this medium is here to stay, like paint and canvas. We should all have a passion regardless of whether it will make us famous or bring prosperity. I don’t think that’s what drove most of the great artists. For me, there is joy in finding a subject and the right light for the picture, then I search for an interesting angle, and if I can tell a story, all the better. I carefully line up the shot, checking the light with my meter, then make all the settings and focus. Then, CLICK! Then I wait.

Taking digital photos has stopped bringing me the kind of satisfaction I get from film photography. I love exploring the different film types (I’m shooting with tungsten-balanced film now). And I like to shoot at night. Lights and blurry images, shadows, it’s actually fun, and it excites me when I open the shutter and expose the film. I like to imagine what exactly I might have captured. And I won’t know right away, which is part of the fun. I hope film remains widely available so more people have the opportunity to experience this. For now I have some photos to take while the light lasts. Good night.

What is it You Need?

It’s not the correct size!

I don’t know where my needs align with Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, but I need things to work properly. I definitely have most if not all my other needs met; I eat well (probably too much), I sleep through the night generally, and I have friends and family. I also have a washing machine to clean my clothes (it’s stuck on cold water, but ok). I live in a really safe place, and I feel secure when I go out.

I am a photographer. Not a professional, but I take my hobby seriously. Lately I returned to shooting with film cameras. Sometimes it’s referred to as analog photography, because that is one antonym of digital. But analog is usually associated with things like sound recordings (i.e., vinyl records) or clocks and watches that have hands, as opposed to a Casio. With photography the act of shooting with film is a more mechanical process, but it’s not really analog. (A SmarterEveryDay video explains in some detail how film photography works.) A digital camera still has a shutter and aperture. The difference is in what medium is used to capture the light.

Mamiya 645 with Sekor 80mm f1.9 lens

I began adding more film cameras to my collection, and now I have three medium format cameras (120 film) – a Holga 120N, Yashica-D, and most recently I acquired a Mamiya 645. I’ve just started shooting with it, and I love the feel, but it’s really heavy. I like to shoot in low-light situations, so I use a tripod to stabilize the camera. Problem solved. But my tripod requires special plates to mount the camera. And I only have two of them. So I need more.

There’s that word again, need. Why do I need anything? I suppose I should say I have a strong desire for additional accessories. Lacking extras does not constitute a hardship by any means. I can just as easily transfer the quick-release plate from one camera to another. But a photographer needs to be properly equipped. Thus I ordered some more, but they were the wrong size.

I guess what I really mean to say is that need is a very subjective state. I had a co-worker who often responded to someone stating their need for one thing or another with, “you need Jesus!” Okay. But you also need rest, and you need to take care of your health. And you need to take a break. We need something to break the monotony, the endless repetition of bad news and worse news. We need a diversion.

I’m thankful that I have photography. I love the results I get with just the right light and subject. I love shooting on film because I feel like the medium captures light and shadow in ways that a digital sensor cannot. Besides, I am more conscious of my shots, knowing that there is a cost associated with exposing a frame, and there is a finite limit of shots I can take. Sure, a memory card has limits, too. But I’ll shoot 10,000 pictures, and only 7 will be keepers. It’s about the same result with a roll of film, but that’s limited to 36 exposures at the most, fewer with medium format.

A few weeks ago I carried my Mamiya out to the country to my friend’s house near the lake. I set up to take some low-light shots, and I think I got some good ones in there. And that brings with it some pleasant anticipation, knowing there is latent image stored on the medium, and I’m eager to see how it will turn out. The instant gratification of a digital photo wears off rather quickly. With film I must wait until I reach the end of the roll, then more waiting for the processing (I don’t have the proper setup). I keep a journal of when and where I took the picture, along with the f-stop and shutter speed. Every time I load new film, I star a new page. I can go back years and see where I was when I shot a picture, despite having a visual record of it. It adds another dimension to the exercise, and I enjoy doing it.

I would say this fits within the boundaries of Maslow’s view. I believe I just described my own need for self-actualization, “exploitation of talents, capabilities, potentialities.” I would feel some emptiness without the joy photography brings me. That’s the real need here. I could probably fulfill that need with one small camera, my Holga, for instance. But I’m not content there. I need to advance, to graduate. Eventually I may move into large format film photography, but those kits are a little out of reach at the moment, so we’ll see.

Giant Zinnia – Minolta X370 with Kodak Portra 35mm film

I’m Writing a Book

It’s ambitious enough for anyone to declare their intent to write something for publication, but I applaud the ones who came before me to have the nerve to submit their work, like Charles Dickens, who published the Pickwick Papers in installments, 19 volumes in total. It was Dickens’ first novel (and I have wondered if this wasn’t the inspiration of modern comic books.) Writing for some would-be authors is never easy. I believe Stephen King said, “the scariest moment is always just before you start.” I feel like that’s very true. I’m also encouraged that the most celebrated American horror writer has no less anxiety than I, but he probably worries less about grammar.

Hemingway is often credited with the quote, “There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” This gory metaphor suggests that, even for the masters, the act of writing is both painful and exhausting. I certainly know that now. Also King is not a fan of adverbs. Really, Stephen?

The cool thing is that I can create whatever world I want, and I’m sure people will like it. I’m also positive some will hate it. I think many of those who liked Jurassic Park the movie would not like Michael Crichton’s original novel (I loved it. The book explored the science a lot more than the film could have.) So I’ve gotten over that first hurdle. I started writing. My wife is the better writer, but she can’t understand how I write fiction. I’m not sure where my storytelling comes from. But I’m grateful for it.

 

The Choices We Never Made

I spent Leap Day shooting photos all around the city where I grew up, Dallas, Texas. Ironically, I had never been to the Meadows Museum, which rests on the campus of Southern Methodist University. The main campus was constructed as early as 1914, and the Meadows Museum opened to the public in 2001. I paid 1/2 price admission ($6) for some reason, and they encourage photography. But, like most museums, I was not permitted to use a flash or a tripod.

 

When I visit art museums I take my time, looking at each piece, wondering about the time when it was made. Artists like Caravaggio tended to paint stories. Others simply depicted s scene of some action or a portrait. I’ve long admired the great masters, Van Gogh, Rembrandt, Renoir, for depicting very ordinary moments and turning them into masterpieces. Renoir’s Luncheon of the Boating Party is one of his most famous paintings. Yet the scene is something so banal, so ordinary, one which might be recreated by assembling a few millennials in a dog-friendly bistro. (Well, looking at the photo, it was probably more challenging than I assumed.)

One of those ordinary scenes can be seen at the Meadows in a painting by Antonio María Esquivel, Woman Removing Her Garter. The painting might seem it was rather scandalous at the time (1842), but nude representations of the human form have been around since the beginnings of civilization. But the painting of this woman sitting on the floor removing her stockings (and other things, perhaps) raised one huge question. When Esquivel decided to paint this scene, one which we all do every day, I find it interesting what he chose not to paint. Looking at the painting, my wife said she could almost see that the woman wasn’t wearing any panties. I don’t know what women in the mid-19th century wore under all those superfluous outer layers, so it’s conceivable some went “commando”. I mentioned that only the painter and his subject really knew, leaving the rest to the viewers’ imaginations. And what naughty imaginations we have!

Apparently, given the constraints within Spanish culture at the time – and I am still reading from the Oxford History of Western Art – it seems that artists could only have brushes (pun intended) with depicting nudity. So it was with the woman sitting on the floor coyly removing her undergarments. The paint on the canvas is opaque, and we cannot see except in our own minds what’s really going on. A camera or a microphone might be assumed to capture reality, but even photos and sound recordings can be engineered to give us only what the artist wants us to perceive.

Do we do that?

I have tidied up my house before the hired cleaners were scheduled to arrive. It’s a little dishonest and vain. But that’s not art, is it? Can life be art? Did Renoir paint the scene of a hero returning from battle? No, he painted people having lunch, for crying out loud. We live art in our everyday experiences. We can make our scenes of plain, ordinary existence look golden and radiant. Yes. We do that. And it’s okay. It’s our choice how we want to live our lives so that no one needs to see what we decide to leave out of the picture. Every one of us goes to the toilet in a most undignified way. We all wake up looking like shit. So, yeah, every bit of our lives we choose to share with the world is a purposeful, deliberate expression of how we want others to perceive us. We are vain and proud, and it’s part of being who we are: human beings. We’re ordinary, so we portray ourselves in a way where we can pretend we’re not disgusting animals. We perhaps shouldn’t be concerned about how many likes we get on Instagram. Instead, we can focus on how we live our lives, like works of art, allowing the world to see that part of us that is beautiful, and maybe just not displaying other parts. We can work on that, but there’s something to be said for private lives, because no one wants to see that.