The bull and I

So I’m gonna let you in on a secret, just between you and me: The print sale . . . a total bust.

After my experience in May, where my edition of 25 prints sold out in nine hours, and given the number of people who’ve asked me to bring back the print sale, and the number of people who read this blog, I honestly thought that the print would sell out in a few days, a week at most. The idea was, sell a hundred prints every February, May, and August, and earn enough money to produce a yearly zine, as well as fund my photo projects. Other photographers go about it in other ways, but this seemed like an option worth trying.

I’ve been praised in some blogs for taking the bull by the horns, but I have to tell you, I may not have been gored by the bull, but I’m standing at the other end of the ring trying to figure out how to win this one. Many people—complete strangers, as well as people whose work and careers I emulate and respect—suggested that doing these editions of 100 would only hurt me in the long run. That would’ve been bad enough. But the damn thing hasn’t sold worth shit, so I can’t even console myself with having enough money to produce the zine I wanted to do for November.

The one encouraging aspect of all this is that, despite the mild embarrassment at having so misjudged things, my reaction hasn’t been at all what I would’ve thought it would be. If you’d told me that I would go live with a print sale and sell only a handful of prints in over a week, I would’ve guessed I’d be really bothered by it in some kind of deeply personal way. Instead, I’m wondering what the hell’s wrong with everyone. I love this photograph, and I know I’m biased but I don’t love everything that comes out of my camera. The fact that I’ve been rejected and come out with my confidence stronger than ever makes me feel as though I have some hope of actually lasting in this crazy art world. Now I just need to get off the ground.

P.S. Given the counsel I’ve received, I won’t be doing any other $20 sales on my blog or Web site. (If Jen Bekman wants to include me in 20x200, I won’t turn her down.) So if you’re struggling to fund your own projects and don’t have thousands of dollars to pay for art, and you’d like to own one of my prints, now’s your chance.

20x25: My first ever print sale

I crunched some numbers over the weekend, and I have good news and bad news: The good news is, I’m just shy of having enough money to buy a lens I need. The bad news is, I have to pay down my credit cards before I can buy anything that big.

So I’ve decided to print one of my photos (see below) in an edition of 25 and sell them for $20 each. Jen Bekman sells her $20 prints in editions of 200, so think of the bargain you’re getting here in such a small edition for such a low price. Plus, you’ll have the satisfaction of knowing you helped out a photographer. And you’ll get a cool print.

Here’s the really cool part, though: When the edition sells out—when all 25 of the prints are sold—I will buy the lens, and upon doing so, I will send each of the 25 buyers an additional free print of a photograph made with the new lens. So two prints for the price of one! All the more reason for you to tell your family, friends, neighbors, and anyone else you know to get in on the action. The sooner the edition sells out, the sooner you get your second free print!

This is all being done through Google Checkout. The cost of shipping is $2 within the United States. For all orders outside the United States, shipping is $5. The prints are archival pigment prints on 8½-x-11-inch paper, signed and numbered on the verso.

Thanks, guys!

Copyright © 2007 Liz Kuball

SOLD OUT

Interview: Justin James Reed

Batting cleanup is Justin James Reed, just about the nicest guy in the world and a damn fine photographer to boot. His responses were so good I smiled the whole way through reading them. I hope you do, too.

Liz: You were Shawn Gust’s best man, right? How or why did you end up living in Idaho?

Justin: Ha! That is pretty great that you found out I was Shawn Gust’s best man—you jogged my memory there. Idaho has always been a special place for me. My family is originally from Spokane, Washington, which is right across the Idaho border from Coeur d’Alene, where I lived for a little more then a year. I had been visiting Coeur d’Alene for my entire life, spending every summer out there, and ended up living out there really by chance. After I graduated from college, the Minneapolis College of Art and Design, I had a number of jobs and they helped to solidify my interest in attending graduate school. When the opportunity came up to live at the family lake house on Lake Coeur d’Alene in the middle of the woods, I couldn’t pass it up. I knew that at no other point in my life would I be able to just up and leave, and to do something so spontaneous. On top of that, I also felt that challenging myself to create an entirely new body of work (my Westward series), with which I planned on applying to graduate school, would push me, and my photographic practice. My work had always inherently been about traveling, and by taking this chance I was consciously testing myself. This is something I picked up working with Alec Soth, that you had to have conviction and a strong belief in yourself, otherwise you didn’t stand a chance.

L: I read somewhere that you worked as a printer for Alec Soth. What was that experience like? What did you learn about your own photography working for Alec? I’ve always wondered if, after working so closely with a photographer whose work you admire, you end up sort of imitating them, consciously or not. (When I was in high school, my handwriting changed from one class to the next, because I was actually imitating the teacher’s handwriting on the chalkboard, without even realizing it.) Did that happen for you, and if so, how did you work past that?

J: Working with Alec was undeniably a major defining experience in my life. I had originally seen Alec’s work at my college in a faculty show. I initially approached him about possibly TAing for a large-format class he was instructing. Over the course of the class, we developed a rapport, and he eventually asked if I would be interested in helping him print at his studio. This was right around the time that he was finishing his Sleeping by the Mississippi project.

Printing for Alec was a pleasure. It was always a relaxed atmosphere, and not at all intense. I started by making contact sheets for color proofing purposes, and then making large prints for his gallery, then Yossi Milo, and shows. He had a color processor right in his studio, so throughout the printing process we would work closely together, talking about color and other techniques.

But probably the best part of working with Alec was just being able to talk to him on a regular basis. As everyone now knows from his blog, Alec is not just a great photographer, but also probably one of the most inspiring voices in contemporary photography. I was struck by how closely his blog mirrored just spending a few hours interacting with him. He offered me not only some of the best advice about my own work I have ever received, but also, by far, the most critical. Alec had a way of getting right to the crux of the matter, and asking questions about my work that still haunt me. I learned that photography is not just something you do, it is something that comes from inside of you. It is a singular experience that requires patience, dedication, and, above all, a belief in yourself. Seeing how Alec worked, how dedicated he was, made me push myself that much harder. Seeing his evolution and success also solidified my interest in not working for another photographer, and pursuing it for myself.

Before I met Alec, or had even seen his work, I was shooting landscapes mostly but had been interested in portraiture. When I saw how easily Alec oscillated between portrait, interior, and landscape, I knew that is what I wanted to do. He encouraged me to start taking portraits, and offered me some of the best advice I have ever gotten regarding portraiture: He suggested not approaching a subject with the camera, as it can be too intimidating, especially when shooting with a large-format camera. However, the large format affords something incredibly unique when taking a portrait. It forces the photographer to take their time, thus allowing the subject to relax and appear more natural. You get to interact with the person for a few minutes while you set up, and under the dark cloth you can closely scrutinize them without them knowing you are staring! However, the advice that I still cherish today, and share with all of my students, is how willing and giving people can be, that you will always be surprised how often people will say yes to having their picture taken, as I know you now know from your recent “portrait-a-day” project.

In terms of influence, I think it is the most important factor in any photographer’s career. I encourage all of my students to seek out the photographers they admire, figure out exactly what it is that they like about these other photographers’ work, and then try to use this understanding to create a unique body of their own work. My aesthetic is less an influence of Alec, and more a similarity that we both share. Hopefully, my work is distinguishable enough from his work, but I won’t deny that I don’t sometimes think about it.

L: I love your South Philadelphia project, the mix of portraits and landscapes. You said in your HHS work statement:

I moved to South Philadelphia about two years ago from rural Idaho. It was quite a shock to be in an urban inner city again, and I was surprised by how put off I was by the environment. It was only until I started exploring this specific part of Philadelphia at dusk that I was able to approach it as a photographic subject. Exploring streets and finding isolated moments of serenity became my way of coming to terms with this city. I became interested in the relationship between evacuated spaces, and contained lives in the cityscape. Focusing on the young people that live here is another way of revealing quiet beauty under a rough exterior. Through juxtaposition of portraits with the lived environment a more personal vision of this hostile terrain presents itself. By focusing on South Philadelphia’s individual aspects I am documenting the place that I see, and am now proud to call home.

I really relate to that feeling—that sense of finding your place in a neighborhood or a city by photographing there. Do you find, now that you’ve lived there for a couple years, that your photographs of South Philadelphia are changing in some way, and if so how? How do you know when a project like this is “done”? Or will it continue as long as you’re living there? Also, what other projects are you working on now?

J: First, thank you for your kind words about the project. As I mentioned before, traveling has always been a large part of my photography. It took me a while to realize that I could photograph my immediate surroundings, and as I alluded to in this artist statement for HHS, it took me a while to even consider South Philadelphia as a subject. I was so put off by the environment that I didn’t take a picture there for about a year. However, my photographic curiosity got the better of me, and I found myself bringing the camera along because I was seeing photographs everywhere.

Copyright © Justin James Reed

Copyright © Justin James Reed

In terms of having it change as a photographic subject, I think no matter what, as you continue to shoot something, it changes. You develop a new understanding of it, and no longer approach it in the same way. This is a double-edged sword though. On one side, you gain a deeper understanding of your subject, and how to approach it in order to make strong, meaningful photographs. On the other side, you are more aware of what you are doing, and the initial thrill of discovery can dissipate.

So, how do know when a project like this is done? One of my good friends, who is a painter, once told me that he knew a painting was done because he felt like it was. I think that is a good description. Inherently, I believe you know when a project is done. Sometimes, of course, it is a change of location, but most of the time I think you can no longer approach the same subject again and again in a fresh and exciting manner. I make lists as I drive around of photographs I see, in order to go back and shoot them later. As the list starts to feel more like a chore, then you know it is time to stop. The South Philadelphia series is at that point. I believe I am close to having shot the rest of the series, and am in the process of editing. On top of that, I am planning on moving this summer, so all of the signs are there.

I am glad you asked about my new work. I have been shooting a lot and am focusing more on landscapes—no portraits for now. I am planning on updating my Web site soon but am more than happy to share some of my new work with you here. I see this work not so much as a continuation of my New Cities project, but as a continuation of the subject matter. I am approaching some of the same subjects in a new way, stepping back, and looking at their striking presence in the contemporary landscape. This project has become a new challenge for me in terms of light and composition. I hope you like them!

Copyright © Justin James Reed

Copyright © Justin James Reed

Copyright © Justin James Reed

Copyright © Justin James Reed

L: You were a Hey, Hot Shot! in May 2007. (Congratulations again!) I’m curious about the whole HHS experience. Had you applied before, or did you get in the first time you applied? Has being a Hot Shot opened any doors for you that you’re aware of? What’s your take on contests like this in general? Do you recommend applying to them?

J: HHS was a great experience. Jen Bekman is awesome, and it gave me a ton of exposure. My Web site and blog traffic exploded, and I think it helped me get my name out there to a certain extent. It is impossible to gauge if it “opened doors” for me, but the exposure and experience was irreplaceable. And, of course, it is always encouraging to receive recognition for your work.

This was the second time I applied, however with different work (the first time was with my Westward series). I definitely felt ready and more prepared the second time around, which I believe came through in the work and statement. Jörg [Colberg] was a juror, and had just been kind enough to feature some of my photographs on Conscientious. So, I also knew that he was aware of and liked my work. All of this goes into my feelings about these kinds of contests. They are incredibly necessary for beginning photographers to get exposure—I kind of look at them as the initial testing grounds. However, they are very subjective, so knowing who the jurors are, and applying with the appropriate work, will increase your chances of success. Of course, because these contests are so subjective, I think it is important to not give up and keep applying if you do not succeed at first. This is something I have to remind myself of all the time. There are so many amazing photographers out there that being a juror must be so hard. However, if you believe in your work, and keep plugging away, you will prevail. And hey, if you don’t, well at least you had a blast and made some damn fine photographs!

L: I just got a $37.50 store credit from photo-eye. What one photo book should I put that money toward buying? And why?

J: Oh man, just one? Well, I will use this as an opportunity to drop a few of my favorite names.

I noticed that you could back-order Katy Grannan’s new book The Westerns. This body of work from Grannan is stunning, and I feel pushes her to the top of new contemporary photographers.

If you were willing to throw out a couple of more dollars, you could pick up Richard Renaldi’s Figure and Ground. Renaldi’s portraits kind of sneak up on you, and the sheer amount that this guy shoots is insane. I also think he is the new August Sander.

And if you were feeling flush, you could throw down for one of my most recent acquisitions, Alessandra Sanguinetti’s On the Sixth Day. This body of work is touching and poignant. It features some of the best portraits of animals, and our relationship with them, I have ever seen.

Overheard outside Paul Kopeikin Gallery

“Oh, I just love a big dog. They’re so bourgeois!”

Domesticated, contemporary art, and Indian food

Amy’s opening was amazing and beautiful and all the things that you would hope an opening would be. Her work is simply incredible.

On my way into L.A., the photo shoot I had lined up fell through when the subject’s wife went into labor, so I had way more time down there than I had planned. That gave me a chance to stop in quickly and see Amy and then walk down to LACMA where I discovered that admission was free because of the opening of the Broad Contemporary Art Museum. I scored one of the last available tickets (free, but you still needed a ticket) to get into the BCAM, and I did a whirlwind walk-through of the place. The building is great, and then there’s the art. Say what you will about what’s missing, there are Basquiat and Lichtenstein and Warhol and Kruger and Sherman and Serra and way, way more. I need to go back when I have more time.

After about 45 minutes in the museum, I walked back to the gallery where Amy introduced me to photographer Patrick Romero, who should really, really get his own blog or Web site because his work is too good not to be seen by a big audience. Then off for dinner (Indian food, very good) on Paul Kopeikin. I was lucky enough to be assigned the seat (yes, we were told where to sit by Mr. Kopeikin himself) next to Amy’s husband, John, who is ridiculously fun to talk to. All in all, a great night.

Oh, in case I didn’t already mention it, the show, it was fantastic.

Maps

New Yorkers have a Google Map of the hip gallery scene in the Bowery Arts District courtesy of the Jen Bekman Gallery:



Amy Stein fans have a Google Map of her Stranded series:



And Southern Californians have this, courtesy of the Los Angeles Times:

Group show and Halloween party

What: Night of the Witches Group Show and Halloween Party
Who: You! And your friends!
When: Halloween, 8 to 11 p.m. (submission deadline: October 25)
Where: Shotgun Space, 2121 San Fernando Rd., Suite 11, Los Angeles
Why: To show great art, put on a great party, and provide archival-quality prints at an affordable price to the L.A. community.

Ian and Star invite you to participate in their inaugural Cartridge Group Show on October 31—a one-night-only, small-scale, affordable photo exhibition. And while they’re at it, they’re throwing a party to celebrate Halloween, you, and your wonderful photographs.

What should you submit? Send them up to three JPEGs (up to 13 x 19 inches @ 300 dpi). From the set they receive, they’ll select 100 images and print them in monster grids to be plastered on the walls of Shotgun Space for the October 31 exhibition. The prints will be sold in unlimited Ultrachrome editions of either 8 x 10 inches (for $25) or 13 x 19 inches (for $50). Artists will receive $10 for each 8 x 10 and $20 for each 13 x 19 sold. If you’re into themes, Halloween and its associated season, autumn, are what they’re looking for. Having said that, they’re not really the types to disqualify anything, so if it’s good, send it.

For those in L.A., here’s how a Halloween party/exhibition works: You dress up in the best costume you can find and fill the pockets with money. (If your costume doesn’t have pockets, they suggest adding them for storage, or stuffing the hollow plastic sword you’ll be carrying.) Show up at Shotgun Space ready to spend money on photos for your home, play Edward Fortyhands, and dance to things other than “Monster Mash.”

Send your images to cartridge@shotgunspace.com by October 25. And you don’t have to live in L.A. to participate. [But why do you live anywhere else?—Ed.]

The meet cute

When Ian and Star asked me to be in a show, my head was in that isn’t-it-cool-that-I-have-my-first-show space. But very soon after, I realized that I needed to get my act together. We decided on the images that I would show, and then I had to get them ready. In a class at JDPW, the amazing Aline Smithson recommended that, as a way to keep costs down when you’re just starting to get your work shown in galleries, you do the matting and framing yourself. I followed her suggestion, printed my own archival pigment prints on my Epson Stylus PHOTO R2400 at 12 x 18 inches, matted them using precut archival mats from Light Impressions, and framed them using black metal gallery frames from Dick Blick.

When I was done framing the eight images for the Shotgun Space show, and the three images for the White Wall Collective show, I told my boyfriend that I never wanted to frame my own work again. It wasn’t that the matting and framing was difficult—after the first one, it was actually pretty easy—and they looked good. But what occurred to me was that, even though Aline was right (it was an incredibly cost-effective way of doing it—I was able to print, mat, and frame each image for around $20), I felt as though I hadn’t followed through as well as I could have.

It reminded me of knitting. It’s been a while, but I used to knit pretty often, and I was really good all the way up until the finishing—the part where you have to sew together all the pieces. I hated the finishing part, and I never got good at it, because by that point I was just so damn impatient and ready to be done that I rushed through it. And that’s why my sweaters didn’t look half as good as Diane de Avalle-Arce’s sweaters did—well, that and the fact that Diane is the kind of woman who milks her own goats to make her own cheese and is inherently a better knitter than I am.

I didn’t care that much about knitting, so my lack of finishing skills wasn’t that big of a deal. But in case you hadn’t noticed, I do care about photography—and somehow the thought of spending all that time and effort working to make good photographs and editing them until they were just right, only to end up printing at a size that I chose because it’s what I could print myself and frame on the cheap . . . that just didn’t sit well with me.

So I recently began the process of looking at print services—more specifically, master printers, people who spend as much time getting the print just right as I spend getting the photo just right. I don’t have the kind of money to go to a place like Laumont, and I started looking around at places in L.A. and elsewhere. That’s when I came across West Coast Imaging. Their site is really clear, and they seemed like they might be a good fit for me. So I e-mailed them with a few questions on Wednesday night, and first thing Thursday morning I got a callback from Terrance Reimer, a custom printmaker. We connected this morning and talked for 45 minutes, and I knew he was the guy (or at least the printmaker) for me. He was easy to talk to, happy to answer questions, passionate about photography, and enthused about my work, plus a photographer himself.

Today I uploaded images for him, and he’s going to print some free 8-x-10 proofs for me—two from the Chromira (one on Fujichrome Supergloss paper, and the other on Fujiflex Crystal Archive) and three from the Epson Stylus Pro 9800 (one on Crane Museo Silver Rag; one on Hahnemühle Photo Rag; and the third on Hahnemühle FineArt Pearl). I should have them in a week or two. And now I feel much better prepared. I can start thinking more seriously about the size that I want to print—right now I’m thinking of doing one edition at 20 x 30 inches, and maybe another edition at 30 x 45 inches.

Next step: Find a framer I can work with long-term. I think I’ll start by going in to Santa Monica and talking with the people at Allan Jeffries. I’ve had a couple things framed there in the past and been really happy with their work.

They should have Match.com for photographers, printers, and framers. eHarmony would be asking too much.

Collect this: Katarina

I just bought my first original photograph: Karolina Karlic’s Katarina, part of Jen Bekman’s 20x200. Which means that, for 20 bucks, I got one of 200 images in this edition. And it was made by one of my favorite photographers. Sounds like a good deal to me.

Now I can’t wait to get the photograph! (Patience and I are not good friends.)

Copyright © Karolina Karlic

Three chairs

Quick note: Added a link to Justin James Reed’s blog today. I first found his work through Shawn Gust, and I’ve been a regular reader of both of their blogs for a while now. Justin’s is a great mix of his own amazing photos and the work of other photographers. And it just so happens that he was named one of Jen Bekman’s Hot Shots today. Congratulations, Justin!

Copyright © 2007 Liz Kuball

Blame

Courtesy of Andrew Hetherington’s blog, I came across an animated short made by cartoonist Chris Ware and animator John Kuramoto for This American Life. (Unlike Jen Bekman, I actually love the sound of Ira Glass’s voice.) The short is an animated version of a true story, told to Ira by Jeff Potter, about how people change when they’re behind a camera, even a fake one.



I know the point of the video—beyond the humor of kids forming their own news crews—is that we become heartless voyeurs, more interested in photographing people than in helping them. The way I see it, though, the kids on the playground who were “filming” their classmate get beaten up probably weren’t kids who would’ve jumped in to stop the fight in the first place. Maybe they would’ve watched from a distance or ignored it. Or maybe they would’ve just crowded around and watched, as kids usually do when a fight breaks out. But it wasn’t because they had “cameras” that they didn’t jump in to save the kid who was being pummeled.

We are different when we have cameras in our hands. But plenty of photographers are actively engaged in helping the same people they photograph. Check out this photo of Magnum photographer Christopher Anderson carrying a Lebanese woman out of the rubble, during the conflict between Hezbollah and Israeli forces in August 2006. (Click here to read an article about photojournalists rescuing trapped civilians in Lebanon. Note: I first saw this photo and got a link to this article here, on Alec Soth’s blog.)

AP Photo/Hussein Malla

Bottom line: Cameras are not to blame for our inhumanity—we are.

P.S. I just received my copy of NIAGARA from photo-eye. Oh, man. Also, click here for an American Photo interview with the incomparable Taryn Simon.

Copyright © 2007 Liz Kuball

Ventura Boulevard

I’ve added a couple more links to photo blogs today, both worth checking out:

Shen Wei: I found Shen’s work through Amy Stein’s blog, and he’s one of Jen Bekman’s Hot Shots. (Check out his site, and you’ll see why.) He has a great post up today about the Marc Jacobs ad featuring William Eggleston. And his suggestion of “Nan Goldin for Vivienne Westwood or Duane Michals for Versace” is priceless.

Magnum Photos: Yesterday’s post has an interesting bit from photographer Simon Wheatley, talking about laws against street photography in France and elsewhere. The blog as a whole is, I think, a bit hit-or-miss—some of the posts are excellent, others you’ll skim through or ignore. Hey, not everybody’s blog can be like Alec Soth’s (even the agency he’s a nominee of).

Copyright © 2007 Liz Kuball

Recommended reading

A couple nights ago, I added a list of links to photo blogs I regularly check out. Here’s a quick rundown of what I’ve listed (so far) and why:

Jen Bekman: Her Personism blog is all about art and photography and poetry and such. And she owns a gallery in New York and runs the Hey, Hot Shot! contest (see below). Way-cool stuff.

Jörg Colberg: He publishes the Conscientious blog (usually short posts, often multiple times a day). It’s a great place to find out about other photographers’ work. Plus, his interviews with photographers are must-reads—check them out by clicking the Conversations link on his home page.

Amy Elkins: Her blog started as a series of self-portraits—one a day for every day remaining in her father’s incarceration. She often includes a sentence or two from a recent phone call with her father. I like Amy’s blog because it leaves me with more questions than answers.

Martin Fuchs: His Journal of a Photographer blog is a glimpse into the life of a photojournalist. The blog grew out of an earlier one that Martin did during his internship with Magnum Photos in 2005. If you have the time, read some of his first posts in that first blog—you can get to it by clicking on the About link on the home page and scrolling down.

Hey, Hot Shot!: This is the blog affiliated with the contest by the same name (see Jen Bekman, above). I think this may be my favorite blog of all, just because I love seeing all the work people are putting out there. I’m not ready to enter Hey, Hot Shot! just yet. But in the next year or so, I’m there. In the meantime, I’m watching.

Shane Lavalette: To illustrate my point (see Hey, Hot Shot!, above), I found out about Shane’s work through the Hey, Hot Shot! blog just a few days ago. His blog is mostly photos, some words, and a good ride.

Alec Soth: I’ve said enough about Alec Soth already. His blog is a great big goulash of photography and poetry and randomness, and all you have to do is start reading it to get why his blog is popular.

State of the Art: This blog is a group effort by the editors of American Photo magazine. You get everything from tech news to gallery news to gossip here.

Amy Stein: Amy’s photos are just amazing, and her blog is pretty nifty, too. I think I first heard about her in PDN. If you’re not a fan of her work already, you will be.

Zoe Strauss: She’s the cool kid on this blog block, as far as I’m concerned. She’s got a voice and she’s not afraid to use it.

Brian Ulrich: His Copia, published as part of MP3: Midwest Photographers Publication Project (Aperture, 2006), rocks. So does his blog.

P.S. Here’s a photo to end the post with, in honor of all the incredible, awe-inspiring photographers whose books will crush me in my sleep if we have an earthquake. Buried in photo books. Could it get any better than that?

Copyright © 2007 Liz Kuball