Tag: photography

The Rhythm of Writing

After many years as a photographer, adapting to the process of writing novels is very much about adjusting the pace of creativity. Photographs record moments, miniscule fragments of time measured in fractions of a second. The creative process may be much longer and may involve such things as travel, research, rearranging the furniture, image processing, editing, sequencing, and printing. But the critical act of framing the subject and releasing the shutter is brief and fleeting. The expression of a portrait subject or the light on a landscape is a momentary thing and capturing that moment is the essence of photographic creativity.

The final product may take months or even years to complete, but that process is usually just a matter of repeating the critical moments of creativity in different circumstances.

Writing fiction is a whole different ballgame, one that involves retraining the brain to accommodate a much longer creative process. Think about stretching that fraction of a second out to the time it takes to write a three hundred page novel; it takes endurance, dedication, and discipline in the face of great odds against success, whether critical or commercial.

I write every day because that’s what it takes for me to maintain the creative process long enough to finish a book. Sure, there are days I accomplish little. I’ve learned to accept them and try to use those days for reading related to my current project. And I adjust my work schedule to accommodate other interests, especially when the Giants are playing.

I try to keep in mind that I may be an accomplished photographer but I’m a novice writer. I’m working on my second novel, while continuing to revise and rewrite the first. These incremental changes take time: some changes necessitate others, and flaws missed on the fifth draft may not be obvious until the tenth. The process makes me feel like a manuscript is never finished. It is, I guess, like a photographer’s portfolio: it may never be perfect, but at some point you have to go out and show it to the people you want to work for. Where I once called on magazine picture editors, now I’m searching for a literary agent. Every industry has its gatekeepers.

I like the task of learning something new, but I’m surprised that I seem to have lost interest in photography so quickly. Earlier this year I was in Paris, a city that has never failed to engage my eye, until now. I passed days at a time without shooting anything, although I did keep a journal. Last week I went to Lake Tahoe with my friend, Tom. It was beautiful. I shot little, more with an iPhone than a Nikon.

In this era of instant and constant communication, of disruption and sharing, I have taken up a practice that is slow, solitary, traditional, and personal. I like it.

IMG_0903

Capa Two

Just a few more thoughts on Capa before we move on. Larry Walker’s comment about belief and reality strikes home: “If I believe the Capa snap is a picture of a soldier just killed, lacking any evidence one way or the other, does it matter?”

Capa’s job was to report on the war in support of the Republican cause. He was employed by Vu magazine, and the photos appeared in a special issue supporting the Republicans. He was, in short, a propagandist. If he was shooting training exercises and an editor seeing the picture with the caption, The Falling Soldier chose to believe it was a picture of a man dying, what difference does it make? Either way it succeeds in its purpose, which was to create sympathy for the Republican cause.

I doubt Capa set out to deceive, but he gave at least three different versions of the circumstances of the photo. In one he said that he was ducking down beside the hill and holding the camera over his head when he released the shutter. The film was then sent off to France to be developed. If this is true, he didn’t know what he had captured. When the magazine claimed it was the moment of death, what could Capa do?

If he contradicted the editors, he would lose all credibility, probably forever, and certainly lose his job. He would also damage the cause he passionately supported. Capa was a gambler: sometimes poker, sometimes he put his life on the line. In this case, when everyone felt he held the winning hand, and it would have been foolish to fold, he went all in. Was it a bluff? Maybe. We’ll probably never know, but it makes for a very interesting story.

A fascinating and enigmatic man who hated war and was never happy when he was away from it, Capa spent his life surrounded by beautiful women, poker playing artists, and soldiers fighting for their cause, their country, or just their lives. He wasn’t a very good poker player – Huston would win back all the fees he paid him to shoot stills for his films – and he was never able to commit to any of the women he loved. He was a great war photographer and a dedicated anti-fascist who lost his life covering the ridiculously futile French colonial effort in Vietnam for the vehemently anti-communist Life magazine of Henry Luce. The final irony in a complex life.

Here’s a link to Magnum Photos, the cooperative of photojournalists founded by Capa and others where you can view The Falling Soldier and a whole lot of other great images.

http://www.magnumphotos.com/C.aspx?VP3=CMS3&VF=MAGO31_10_VForm&ERID=24KL535353

Robert Capa

I intend to use this blog to preview themes and develop ideas for a novel-in-progress. Your comments are welcome.

How do you know what to believe about a man who created a false identity, inhabited it with enthusiasm, and willed himself to actually become that person?

He was born Endre Erno Friedmann on 22 October 1913 in Budapest to middle class Jewish parents. Having trouble getting paid photo assignments in Paris in the early 30’s, he and his lover, Gerda Taro (née Gerta Pohorylle) invented Robert Capa, a brilliant but reclusive American photojournalist whose photos commanded very high fees. Editors never met this “Capa” but Gerda, acting as his agent, sold many photos and procured high profile assignments.

So Friedmann became Capa, and Capa became famous. Picture Post called him “The Greatest War Photographer in the World,” and Capa came to believe it. He was never a great technical photographer, but in the words of his friend, Henri Cartier-Bresson: “Capa knew how to tell a story in pictures.”

He also knew how to promote himself, including writing and publishing a memoir that he freely admitted wasn’t always true, but was the way it should have been. The book, Slightly out of Focus, was always intended to be the basis for a film script and Capa followed it up by becoming friends with writers, actors and directors, such as John Huston, Ingrid Bergman, Ernest Hemingway and Martha Gellhorn.

He was passionate about left-wing causes and his coverage of the Spanish Civil War is anything but objective journalism, but he was not alone. Writers, artists, and photographers from around the world enlisted in the cause of the Republican government. This was the first battle against fascism and when it was lost, WWII became inevitable.

Capa went on to cover the China-Japan war, WWII, and, finally, the French war in Indochina where he was killed by an anti-personnel mine in 1954.

The problem with Capa is not in his ability or his sympathies, it is in just one photograph, which Capa titled: The Falling Soldier. It’s also been labeled: Death of a Loyalist Militiaman and The Moment of Death. There are a number of questions about the validity of the photo, many stemming from the fact that Capa sent the undeveloped film to Paris, did not provide captions, and the negative has never been found. The name of the subject and the exact location are in dispute, and there is evidence that Capa’s statements on the location and circumstances are false. He claimed in an interview that the soldiers were on an exercise and not expecting combat when a sniper’s bullet hit his subject, but subsequent research has established that there was no combat and no snipers in that area at that time. Some accounts say the man was shot in the head, others in the stomach. Several researchers are convinced it was a machine gun. There is no blood in the photo. There is another photo of a different man apparently being shot in the exact same place. Is this possible, or is it the same scene staged with two different soldiers?

The 1997 discovery of a suitcase with 4500 negatives from the war shot by Capa, Taro and Chim (David Seymour) raised hopes that the controversy could be resolved, but The Falling Soldier was not in the case. Negatives on the same roll shot before and after the famous image are also missing. None of this is very surprising and all of it does not add up to an indictment. Capa was 23 years old in 1936 and still inexperienced as a combat photographer. Spain was in chaos, systems were broken, communication was difficult. There are many reasons why the negative could have been lost and why he might have been confused about the circumstances. And this is in no way meant to denigrate his accomplishments: Capa, Chim, and Taro defined combat photojournalism in Spain, and Capa’s WWII coverage is extraordinary.

But questions remain and that leaves an opening for interpretation. Is it the greatest war photograph ever made, or just an awkwardly composed, slightly out of focus snap of a man tripping on a slippery hillside?

Art lives outside the borders of certainty.

 

 

Old Guy Ranting

I just looked at my Facebook page and found that I was born, went to college, and then the next thing that happened to me was in 2009.  Now I understand this is only Facebook’s version of history but it bothered me enough to get me to sit down and write, which is how I try to work out things that are bothering me. And I am indeed bothered by the idea that our current obsession with the personal and the immediate will cause us to lose sight of others and of the past. It seems to be a natural extension of the democratization of criticism, which has made peer reviews far more powerful than those of professional critics, but has also enabled an overpowering solipsism that makes everyone the center of his own universe. If you are your world, you have no need of the knowledge that came before. I’m a bit uncomfortable with that.

Rain ©2012 Ron Scherl

I’ve been noodling around with Instagram lately and reading about the power of social media for photographers and I get much of it. I know it’s a new world out there and if I were pursuing a career in photography I would be taking advantage of all these tools. It’s different now than it was for me. Now you don’t build a portfolio piece by piece and haul it around to magazine editors and agency art directors; now you populate your various feeds, build your online audience and parlay that into assignments for which you might even be paid. Some of that really appeals to me.

When I was a young photographer, I would get physically ill (slight exaggeration) at the sight of the Time-Life Building, but would force myself to go there twice a year to visit picture editors and solicit assignments. I had moderate success, but there’s no doubt that my discomfort didn’t encourage people to want to work with me. I got work because I was well trained, skillful and respected the craft. Here’s a tip of the hat to Greg Peterson, who taught me almost everything I know about the craft of photography.

Digital has, of course, made the craft less important, which will no doubt appeal to the arbiters of art, but it’s also bringing the standards of commercial photography much closer to art photography, which has never been concerned with craft.

So now we get kids with iPhones covering large corporate events, posting the images to their Instagram and Twitter feeds and not really expecting to be paid. It’s a great deal for the sponsoring and distribution corporations who don’t have to pay for content, but here’s the kicker, it works because that’s where their target audience is.

In the old model, corporations and their agencies would hire photographers to create pictures promoting their products and services, and then buy space in the media to distribute the images. This would not only allow the commercial photographers to make a living, it would enable the media outlets to hire professional photojournalists to tell the world’s stories. This chain is breaking; it’s not totally gone but we’re headed that way. I remember when stock photo agencies started to introduce royalty-free images; the argument in opposition was that it would turn photographs into a commodity. That certainly proved to be true, but now we’re going beyond that and getting close to a world where all photography is free and, after that, other forms of content.

I understand the argument for free dissemination of information; I just don’t understand how the content creators will be able to put food on the table.

Time for lunch.

 

Visa Pour L’Image 2012

Nice to take a break from the wine business and focus for a while on the rest of the world’s problems.

Visa Pour L’Image runs for two weeks in September and in that time the entire city of Perpignan becomes a gallery. There are exhibits everywhere: in bars, clothing stores, post offices, theaters and restaurants. Makes you want to be a photographer.

Eglise des Dominicains ©2012 Ron Scherl

The major venues are spectacular. I spent several days there trying to absorb the images in small doses. After a little while it becomes overwhelming and you just stop seeing, in the same way people can watch war and suffering on the nightly news and it stops having an impact because you just can’t take anything more to heart. That is, if anyone still watches the nightly news.

Now, of course, we get most of our coverage online, in video and immediately, but this is a chance to probe deeper and reflect on what we’re seeing. We absorb the message in our own time through the power of the still image. We’re seeing one moment in the stream of time, a fraction of an incident that reflects the magnitude of what’s happening and generates a greater intensity and intimacy than video. I know I’m swimming upstream here, but I still revere the still image and its place in the transmission of information and advocacy of a cause.

Couvent des Minimes ©2012 Ron Scherl

There’s an expression in French: Avoir le feu sacré, which is translated as “to have an activity or a passion that allows you to live life fully and to continue to pursue it despite obstacles.” This is Stephanie Sinclair on Child Brides.  We know the marriage of children exists but we usually choose to look away and focus on more immediate problems; Sinclair recognized that there is nothing more immediate to these children than being forced into perpetual sexual slavery.  She uncovers the horror of a nine-year-old girl being sold to her uncle to settle a gambling debt and details how widespread the practice of selling pre-teen girls into marriage has become. And she was not content to record it and go on to the next assignment, but has devoted herself to the story, pushing for multiple publications and enlisting the aid of international organizations to help end the practice. She is determined that her photos will make a difference and she is an example for every journalist working today.

Every time someone brings up paparazzi vultures and royal breasts, I’m going to counter with Stephanie Sinclair.

The other exhibit that really moved me was the Guantanamo portrait project of Mathias Braschler and Monika Fischer. This is an unusual group of images, not traditional news photography but carefully posed and impeccably lit formal portraits of prisoners in Guantanamo. These are men who were locked away on suspicion, never charged and eventually released and in these intense and compelling portraits they appear to be clinging to what remains of their dignity and humanity. The studio lighting, limited palette, high resolution images and precise prints establish a neutral tone and allow these sensitive portraits to reveal both the suffering and the strength of the subjects.

There’s much more of course, all the major stories of the year and in-depth looks at places we hardly knew existed, but I need to give a nod to Doug Menuez and his coverage of the birth of the digital revolution in Silicon Valley from 1985-2000. Doug made this story his own and it was a treat to see this work again after so many years.

And finally, in what I hope has become an annual tradition, I had the pleasure of the company of three beautiful and talented photographers. Lucky guy.

Sarah, Helen and Jess ©2012 Ron Scherl

Slump

Do photographers have slumps?

Seems reasonable, but I don’t think there’s a great body of research on the subject.

Last week, I had two appointments with winemakers to do portraits and I felt like Tim Lincecum on the hill without his fastball. I had nothing, not an idea in my head. I couldn’t seem to find a situation that worked; even when I had a decent location I couldn’t find an interesting composition. It wasn’t just the fastball, couldn’t get the curve or slider over either.

What is it, what causes it, and how do you deal with it? At the time I just kept pushing, hoping for a gift that didn’t come. In both cases I kept moving and moving my subjects until I sensed that time was up. If I had a manager, he would have pulled me long before I quit. When I got home I didn’t really need to look at the photos, I knew.

I imagine it’s somewhat akin to writer’s block; it feels like there’s a vacancy where your creativity used to be. It’s one of those dreams where you show up late for school and realize you’re naked. Maybe it’s not enough preparation, not taking it seriously, maybe I was just tired or forgot my medication.

There’s fear too, that maybe I’ve just run out of ideas, have nothing left to give, or maybe I’ve exhausted the subject. Or wait, here’s another, ADD. Just can’t seem to concentrate. Watching Lincecum this year, I thought that was his problem, maybe it’s mine. That might also explain why learning French has been so hard.

That’s enough of that, what I need here is a new approach to portraiture with a consistent style that I can exploit through a body of work. I don’t think we’re talking Avedon white backgrounds, but I’m not sure. The environmental, let’s go out to the vineyards thing just isn’t working anymore.

So send me your suggestions, or prescriptions, I need to get back out on the mound soon.

In the meantime, here’s something I did recently that I do like.

Potter’s Hands ©2012 Ron Scherl

A Dark and Stormy Night

Well it was and I always wanted to write that. And don’t forget I’m a photographer and if I hadn’t made that photo I would have had to come up with a different opening. Thunder and lightning but no rain on Maury. Busy week: business meetings (who would’ve thought), new label for Richard, bottle shots at the Coop, music, aperitifs, dancing at Pichenouille and a lovely winemaker to flirt with at Michel’s dinner. Life is pretty hectic here.

So when I told the folks at the coop that I didn’t like the way their web designer was using my photos they asked me if I could do bottle shots for them. You’re thinking non sequitur, but this conversation was in French and seemed to make sense to me. I said of course and then remembered I have no lights. I spent a day trying to jury rig some soft boxes with my Nikon flash units but never got comfortable, then remembered that I’m not the only photographer in Maury and Jess has some strobes and soft boxes that she was happy to loan me. I gave her a bottle of Marcel’s wine and some tomatoes from Ben’s garden just to introduce her to the barter economy.

Let’s talk about tomatoes for a minute because I’m now on the all-tomato diet. Sure, a little basil, olive oil, salt, sometimes even some pasta, but the star of every dish is the tomato. I’ve even cut down on pork for the summer because the garden tomatoes are just so good I’m not feeling much need for meat. Between Ben, Bardot and Pappi I’m feeling pretty secure and eating well. This is a great neighborhood despite the new renters up the block putting out their garbage on Friday although it won’t be picked up until Monday. The ladies of the Olive Tree Salon were outraged, but that great French shrug of the shoulders seemed to indicate that you really couldn’t expect much from renters. Another week of this kind of behavior and I’ll expect to see the mayor down here to mediate.

The Olive Tree Salon © 2012 Ron Scherl

I’m on a campaign now to change my image. Two weeks ago a young American woman on her way to the sea stopped at the café for dinner, heard us speaking English and made friends. When she asked if there was a campground nearby, I offered her a real bed in her own bedroom and she accepted. The next day came questions about where we went off to (as if there’s anywhere to go but home), and a neighbor passing by averted her eyes when she was leaving in the morning.

Then last week came the two gentlewomen from Gerona for a few nights and we were seen in all the hot spots in town. No more lonely old guy for me.

We move along. Heading into August when the harvest will start and I’ll mark one year of living in Maury. I’ve spent most of my time in town but now it’s time to branch out. I’ll be shooting 21 of the little villages nearby that constitute the Communité de Commune de l’Agly-Fenouillèdes and I’ll also expand the wine focus to provide some counterpoint to the wines of Maury. I want to expand the scope of the photo book and soak up some new grist for the blog, which doesn’t mean I’m feeling the limits of small town life. On the contrary, I think I’m just getting to know this place.

Here’s the complete image.

Dark and Stormy ©2012 Ron Scherl

Breakthrough

I went down the lane beside the house to see Bardot’s garden and received promises of many tomatoes this summer. As I was coming back up I ran into Jean-Roger and Francois coming to pick roses in Jean-Roger’s garden. He offered some and when I asked if he had enough for Marie and his mother he responded that the gesture of giving them to me was important.

Then, I saw Pappi, Marie’s grandfather working in his garden. A few weeks ago I had made a photo of him that I really like and now was a good time to bring it to him. I retrieved it from the house and came back to the garden. I showed Pappi the photo and his face lit up. Then his smile faded and he looked at me and said:

“Pas jeune.”

“Oui, mais full of life”, I responded and he smiled again. My French really is getting better.

Pappi Serge ©2012 Ron Scherl

Genevieve came in to the garden and he showed her the photo and she did the most unexpected thing, she invited me into the house. Genevieve lives next door with Mammi Pierrette and Pappi Serge and while we’re friendly on the street, I’ve never been in their house. Now I was in the kitchen, the muscat came out and a conversation began as Pierrette swept up the dirt tracked in and gently chided Pappi for not changing his shoes.

She looked at the photo and said: “90 years old” and I repeated my full of life phrase. She smiled and said: “Moi, 92”

“Merveilleuse, ma mere is 94”

Pappi went to get a bottle of wine as a gift in kind and promised me many tomatoes and eggplants this summer. This barter thing may work out just fine.

Genevieve: “Are you going to stay in Maury?”

“Oui, but I need to find a house or apartment to rent to be fair to my partners.” I asked if they knew the house next door to the beauty parlor, but they didn’t and suggested I talk to Severine at the Mairie. I said I had and she will let me know if she hears of anything.

We talked about my interest in their family and the history of the village and Genevieve suggested we meet next week for a discussion with Marie and Jean-Roger. I was delighted and hope we can manage to make it happen. I think getting Genevieve involved can help make almost anything happen.

A neighbor came in angrily waving a soggy baguette.

Sympathetic smiles all around and what a shame that the bakery is so bad. Genevieve picked up a loaf from the table and said: “Estagel, bon pain.”

“Oui, et St. Paul,” I said. She agreed and then shook her finger to strongly express disapproval of the Maury bakery, “pas ici.”.

Then she proudly showed the photo of Pappi and explained that I was an American professional photographer and have an exhibit at the Maison du Terroir.

Much nodding of approval.

Madame then changed the subject to our new paint job: “Une jolie nouvelle façade”

Genevieve: Oui, c’est tres bon pour le quartier.

I noticed a glance at the oven, realized it was almost time for lunch and wishing everyone a bon appetit, left thinking how much these little things mean in a village this small.

 

Scherl Boffo at Box Office

I hadn’t even realized how nervous I was until I woke up Saturday morning and didn’t want to get out of bed, then I remembered that for the past week my hands had been shaking when I tried to write, food had been an afterthought and I had totally forgotten how to speak French.

There wasn’t really any reason to be nervous. The photos were printed, framed and hung, invitations were out, posters were posted. My remarks were written and my accent honed. There was nothing left to do except show up. And there, I think is the fear. What if no one came?

©2012 Ron Scherl

Irrational of course, but there’s a part of me that thinks if I hadn’t worried no one would have come.

But they came, more than I expected, they enjoyed the show, bought some prints, and understood and applauded my speech. I talked about how different it was to come to a small town in France after living all my life in large US cities and what a pleasure it is to walk around the village and exchange bonjours with everyone. I talked about how special a place Maury is. I thanked the winemakers for sharing their knowledge and passion with me and thanked the mayor and others for welcoming me into their community. And that welcome was the essence of this day, my real initiation into the village of Maury.

I don’t have any photos of the event, it was the only thing I neglected, but here are a few images of the venue in morning sunlight, followed by a gallery of the exhibit.

©2012 Ron Scherl
©2012 Ron Scherl

Show Time

Exhibition PosterI’ve started printing images for an exhibition to open in April and I’m really pleased with the work. It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to say that. I can always find things that I think could have been done better but for the most part, I’m happy. And this output, a 17x 22 inch print is critical, since my analog photo background doesn’t see the image as complete until it’s printed. Of course it really isn’t since the RAW file is just a negative subject to interpretation in the next stage of the process. The only real difference is the lack of nasty chemicals to breathe.

So the shutters are closed, the space heater on full power sits next to my desk and I sit here layered with turtleneck, hooded sweatshirt, sweater, scarf and fleece trying to keep my brain working and my fingers moving. It’s very cold here. If you ask the locals if it’s unusually cold (and I’m now fluent in weather), you’ll get one of three answers: oui, non, or just a shrug, the all-purpose French gesture with multiple meanings. In this case I translate it as beh, it’s the weather, what can you do, a sentiment that applies to everything you can’t find a way to blame on Sarkozy.

While it’s probably not his fault – I think you can make a better case for blaming Ronald Reagan – last summer’s heat and this winter’s cold provide a lot of evidence that our climate is stretching at the edges and the comfort zone is shrinking.

The temperature hovers around 30o Fahrenheit, but the wind keeps blowing through the valley and right through this house, which the renovators never expected to be occupied in the winter. Even with the shutters closed the wind can rattle the windowpanes and you just know the heat is flying right out the windows. I haven’t been this cold since my last night game at Candlestick.

The cold also keeps people indoors and isolated. There’s no real tradition of visiting homes, people greet and chat on the streets, but not now. The town could really use a hospitable place to gather but the café doesn’t seem to work that way. I’m not sure why but it just doesn’t feel welcoming and I’m told that’s especially true for women.

Photo of vineyards in snow
Vineyards in Snow ©2012 Ron Scherl

The exhibit features vineyards in summer heat, autumn color and under snow, and portraits of winemakers. Most of the shooting is done. Last week I photographed the first woman president of the Cave Cooperative leaving two more portraits to do. I’d also like a spring landscape if it arrives in time.

It’s very satisfying to do work that’s enjoyable and personally significant, to do it well and have that recognized. It may be a small pond but it’s a nice place to swim.