Odd. You would think the short series called Moses Lake 2 would be preceded by Moses Lake 1. But it is not.
Let me give you a little context. In the 90s I was steaming on several fronts. Still shooting in black and white 8 x 10, I was making yearly trips to photograph in the wheat field country of the Palouse in eastern Washington. But I was also shooting with the Superwide Hasseblad mostly handheld.
In those days I often would fly west to Seattle or Portland and drive back east in a rented car to Colfax or Pullman, which served as a base for ten days or two weeks of photographing in the wheat fields.
Washington is a big state and, once over the Cascade Mountains, it is dry and desert-like. Inevitably, after several of these trips driving east I was going over the same territory. Driving on Rt 90 I would go right through Moses Lake, a small town in the middle of the State. In the mid-90s the town was experiencing a housing boom. As I was photographing all sorts of housing in those days, I stopped to photograph one development under construction where, I learned, the builder was able to put up a house a week.
Moses Lake 2 was the 2nd time I'd photographed homes under construction in Moses Lake.
The two prevailing characteristics were the water tower and the incredibly black pavement which had just been rolled out, in fact, hot under my feet.
I made Moses Lake 2 prints on Kodak Polymax paper 11 1/2 inches square. They are over matted to 16 x 20 inches and are available for viewing at my studio in Acton, MA by appointment: here.
Oh yes, Moses Lake 1? Didn't make the cut.
Going back. Way way back. 1978 grant application. One of two key grants back then: The Guggenheim and the NEA (National Endowment for the Arts).
As American citizens and individual artists, we could apply for the NEA using our photographs as an application. This was a granting program initiated and signed into law by President Johnson in 1965. The individual grants are long gone now, as they went down a path of controversy to elimination. Look up Jesse Helm, Piss Christ and Robert Maplethorpe for more info. In 2017 President Trump tried to deep six all federally funded grants in the arts.
At any rate, I applied. We all did.. I'd started teaching at Harvard by that year and was pretty pumped about it. Were we presumptuous? Absolutely! I was five years out of graduate school.
I'd spent the previous summer traveling in Europe so included a couple of those in the application. I was working in 35mm black and white infrared in those days, hand holding a Leica M4 with 21 mm Summicron and 35 mm Zeiss lenses. I toned the prints. I bulk-loaded the film and changed the film in a changing bag as the felt trap in the film cassettes was not infrared proof.
I was trying to promote the different way the film saw the world and my abilities with it.
My application was 10 disparate photographs, meaning not from one series or body of work.
Part of the reason for being in Europe the previous summer was to go to the Nazi concentration camp at Dachau, Germany where thousands had been put to death in WW II.
I didn't get the grant. That year, photographer's grants were $7500 or $10000
Please leave comments below. The full series is now on the site towards the bottom of the Gallery page.
In From the Archives and From the Archives 2 we looked at some work that I felt might have been missed or passed over. Being prolific has its downsides.
In From the Archives 3 we're going to look at work made over the winter of 2012. Having just retired the year before I was free to make new work. The year before I had been invited to present at the Yuma (AZ) Art Symposium, a remarkable meeting of all kinds of artists, including pin makers and jewelry artists.
After that brief exposure. to Yuma, I decided to spend most of the next winter living there. This turned out to be a very productive time. Here are a few:
Castle Dome Mine Museum
Goldfield Ghost Town
As is often true for many of my series, Salton Sea had concurrent ideas going on at the same time. The dystopian view of a wasteland fecund and irredeemable, and an experiment of color and black and white coexisting. I could feel my teachers rolling over in their graves as I worked on the files back in Cambridge.
And last, the first year of making the Dunes pictures started that winter. The next year I spent time in San Diego with much less photographic success but did drive back to Yuma for ten days to complete the Dunes project, aerial and ground-based imagery from the Imperial Sand Dunes in California, just over the border from Yuma.
Just like Iceland would be for me two years later, I found the dunes a revelation; abstract, otherworldly, and very beautiful. Being freed from teaching and no longer having the duties of a full professor at a large urban university not only made going away possible but also allowed freedom of thought and immersion in what it is that I do, which is photograph.
This continues a series of posts in the blog that examine earlier essays.
This one gets us looking at "The Field" made in 2016. There are two posts: The Field and The Field 2.
Photographs made at the Medfield State Hospital in Medfield MA.
Quiet and unassuming, the pictures are of a field behind the hospital that was used to grow produce for the patients for many years.
I made the photographs the summer after having both hips replaced and so, was pleased to be getting back to work. They are in black and white, while the last one is in color.
The Hospital has been closed since 2003.
This one is close to my heart. The series is: here
I feel as though I've had two separate careers, both bound together by a love of photography. One being in analog: darkrooms, negatives, chemicals, film holders, light-sensitive emulsions, handheld light meters, and mostly big cameras. The other starting in early digital days on up to my present practice of high-end capture, memory cards, Adobe Lightroom and Photoshop, an extraordinarily broad array of materials to print on, and inkjet prints of unsurpassed quality.
Ah, those analog days! I am often asked if I miss it all. Not one bit. Almost 40 years of it, long hours in the darkroom processing and printing, trying to eke out the best possible print.
Yes, I have them all, boxes and boxes of negatives; 35mm, 120mm, 4 x 5, and 8 x 10. Probably 99% black and white as I didn't work in color most of those years.
I've written this before but will repeat it again. You've got nothing if you don't scan your analog work. No way for the world to see it, no way to talk about it, cite examples, or document your own photographic history. Just negatives sitting in a box probably headed for the dumpster when you're gone. Another way to look at it is to ask yourself how much effort, thought, and love did you put into making those photographs back then? Isn't that work worthy of seeing the light of day?
For some of us, of course, this is a massive undertaking and I do not pretend my job is finished. I would say I am about half done. It is an easier task to scan roll film formats than sheet film, for it can be automated to some degree. A few scan their prints and I have seen good results doing this although it is not for me. There are a few places that you can hire to scan your work and I would cite Digital Silver Imaging in Belmont, MA. They even have a (scan) van that can come to you! Highly recommended.
If you are of a certain age and a career photographer you most likely have some real work ahead of you. No time is better than now.