Pinhole I: Impressionism, England

Hello, 2019.

I spent the last bits of 2018 under a mountain of film negatives scanning them into digital format. Turns out a project like this isn’t something that lasts for hours or even days. Weeks and months is more like it. I nearly stopped all other creative projects and pursuits to finish this task and after over 1000 scans, I have made it to the summit, sort of.

The time away from the lens allowed me to reflect on my year, relive wonderful fleeting moments and dream up what’s next.

2019 is the year of film for me. The digital cameras will remain on the shelf, hopefully gathering a thick layer of dust, while I explore deeper into the world of analog photography…

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In November, I found myself back in merry ol’ England for work and I brought along a new toy, a Holga 135 Pinhole Camera. Over a couple of brisk autumn days, I wandered around Alton and documented my impressions of the English countryside…

Camera: Holga 135 PC

Lens: Pinhole, f/175

Film: Portra 800, pushed to 3200

Law of Boots: Evidence

I’ve been searching for the right words for this story for a few weeks now.

What do you say when your best friend could have (should have?) died in a motorcycle wreck while on his way to visit you? Should I have let it slide when he asked if he would be missed if he didn’t make it that day or did my guilt laden response spur the chain of events? Should I write something pithy about the sanctity of life or wearing a helmet? Do I recount the experience blow by blow or try to capture the spirit at large?

I have more questions than answers but as I looked through the photos from that weekend, the words never came but the emotion did. What is this but a love story…

I love you Boots and I’ll see you on the porch soon…

A Summer's Eve

Once upon a Summer’s Eve I dusted off an Olympus 35 RC.

Her stature small, tiny and compact The perfect size to not distract.

Candid moments, I chased. Around town, we raced.

From over here to over there, We went everywhere, we went nowhere.

I caught some shots and missed a few But all in all a sweet rendezvous.

For hanging out and connecting with friends Is all that matters in the end.

So today I sit in reverie Fondly remembering that Summer’s Eve.

Camera: Olympus 35 RC

Lens: E. Zuiko 42mm f/2.8

Film: Tri-X 400, pushed to 800

Note: The film advance on this camera is a little sticky, so it makes for some super cool double and triple exposures.

Old Haunts, New Jaunts

I found myself back in Salt Lake City in late May of this year.

It was an emotional whirlwind as I found myself revisiting people and places that have left their mark deep upon my soul. Having left the City under stormy skies, to return and feel love and compassion from everyone I met and hung out with helped ease the burden of winter 2016/2017.

And what’s a buffalo to do when there’s a lot on his mind? He walks. He wanders. He roams. With camera in hand, of course.

So, here it is…a wander through the streets of Salt Lake City.

Camera: Nikon FM2

Lens: Nikkor 50mm f/1.4D AF

Film: Kodak Portra 800, pushed to 3200

And to Think, It Was All Just a Dream

A few months back, I found my dad's old Minolta SRT 101 sitting comfortably, but sadly, unused on his closet shelf. 'A new old toy,' I thought as snatched it up from its quiet resting place, nearly dropping it as I was reminded of its heft. I held it in my hands, rotating for inspection.

Lens looks good. Light meter dead. Focus ring still works. Film, ISO 3200, 5 exposures taken.

Whoa, cool. 31 exposures left, let's see what happens.

The resulting gallery is exactly what I mean when I say 'The Romance of Film'. The negatives developed in a weirdly dark manner but with some Lightroom magic I was able to find some light within. 

The camera captures the moment and film interprets it. This gallery has a dreamy quality that reminds me of the nature of memory- pliable, flexible, mutable. The moment I saw through the lens- vibrant, sunlit and full of color- interpreted through this film as grainy, dark and faded. Romance, indeed. 

And to think, it was all just a dream...                                                                                                                 One fantastic hallucination.

Camera: Minolta SRT 101

Lens: Minolta Rokkor-X 50mm f/1.7

Film: Ilford Delta 3200, expired

 

With The Wild Ones

Ah, birthdays- another cycle around the sun. A simultaneous beginning and end. A day to reflect, scheme, dream and celebrate. 

Ol' Boots turned 31 this year and at his request, we gathered in the enchanted canyon of West Clear Creek. There were no birthday challenges this year, no striving to keep age at bay, no desire to prove that the old boy's still got it. Instead, we laughed. We played. We photographed. We celebrated- not just the birth of one, but the gathering of many in a sacred place. 

The best gift you can give to others, to yourself, is space to just Be...

And it's not a post about Boots without some wisdom from the Tao:

"Those who understand others are clever, those who understand themselves are wise."  

Camera: Nikon FM2, 

Lens: Nikkor 50mm f/1.4D AF (manual focus, of course :))

Film: Kodak Portra 400

 

Passion: Eitan Levy

Since I began intentionally focusing on my photography, one thought stands out in my mind a little bit more than others, 'Holy Shit, I know a lot of people who are doing really cool stuff.' In May, I was fortunate enough to travel to Venice, CA and watch one of those friends in action.

Near the corner of Venice and Lincoln Boulevards, one finds The Love Shack, an eclectic space of art, music, spirituality and bean bags. Parked at The Love Shack is a 40' Conex trailer and in the back third of this steel box, sits a man, Eitan Levy, hunched quietly over a table. Tools and drill bits and files litter the scuffed surface like the work space of some demented dentist. But this man is no dentist, he is a jeweler, a goldsmith.

"It's all just wires and sheets." 

Take a handful of simple materials, a few small tools, thoughtful design, precise movement mix it up with a quiet, talented and humble man and what you get is pure beauty. 

Thank you Eitan for allowing me into your space and showing me your process. 

Mix Tape: What is the Weight of Distance?

What is the weight of distance?

As I cast my travel net wider and wider- further and further- around the world this question creeps ever deeper into my mind. Yes, travel experiences show the depth and breadth of the human experience, but more and more I am wondering, at what cost?

A year ago, the answer was simple. Go, travel, wander, roam...and I have, but personal growth is a funny thing and as I log miles and miles away from The Mothership, the concept of place and home crystallizes in my mind. For the first time in my life, I have a place that I call home. A place that I miss, a place where I can feel its pull no matter the distance. Travel has opened me and Flagstaff received me. I have found in that small mountain town a community, a place of acceptance where I can be myself through and through with ease. 

The currency in question is growth. Does a travel opportunity elicit more growth than time and energy spent in one place? Can ephemeral experiences sum equally to the reward of maintaining healthy, connected relationships? Where is the balanced line? Is there a balanced line?

Luckily, I am in no need to rush to answers. Life will unfold as it does and answers will come. It is not time, but the day is coming. I can feel it on the horizon...

This mix tape was created over the past couple of months with all these thoughts stirring in my head.

Recommended for: Questions with no answers, Long plane rides, Hanging in, Hanging out

You can follow this mix-tape on Spotify. My user name is kubok13. 

Check it out here: https://open.spotify.com/user/kubok13/playlist/0PeLaBAFJItbMEwOEcCyXa?si=GtyVxMszTdKHLxz8D73T-Q

And Screenshots...

 

What is the weight of distance 1.png
What is the weight of distance 2.png

Spring, Joshua Tree

A visit to Joshua Tree in the Spring                                                                                                                            Awash in color, my senses ring.

Waiting long for winters end                                                                                                                                       Warmth, I forgot I kenned                                                                             

The Homie Jack and Ally were on the trip                                                                                                                but the delicate floral structures held my grip.

Click, click, click, click, click, click, click                                                                                                                     My shutter hammering like a drumstick.

A wonderful world full of stimuli                                                                                                                                 So, a gallery for you of what caught my eye.                                                                                                             

The Locks of Recoleta

Recoleta Cemetery- resting place for some of Argentina's most notable figures. Nobel Prize winners, former Presidents, members of high society, Eva Peron. Had I known any of this, I might have wandered with a different eye. 

Instead, I walked into Recoleta knowing nothing and my eyes wide open.

As I ambled through the tightly packed streets and corridors (the cemetary is laid out much like the Buenos Aires city streets), a repeating unit caught my eye. I wasn't wondering about the names of the people, who they were, what they did or when they passed. 

It was the locks. I could not stop looking at the locks.

Each grave has a lock. Each lock is different. From pristine and well kept to hasty and improvised to dusty and forgotten, the Locks of Recoleta asked me questions and told me stories.

I hope looking through this photo gallery will do the same for you.

Ponderosa Morning

This buffalo has been burning white hot lately and the upcoming stories will show you why. I went on a work run from late January until middle April starting in California, jumping the Pond to England, venturing to "El Fin de Mundo" in Argentina and capping it off (oooo, a little dome joke in there for ya) on the Mid-Atlantic in Maryland. What a trip. I saw, I drew, I dreamed and I documented plenty.

But how to start the story? While mulling this question over, I realized that I have been thinking about this website too linearly. Keeping a true timeline of events is a little too practical for what I'm after. So, the story starts in media res with my return back to Flagstaff and some much needed time off. Maybe even enough time to actually catch all the way up...

I returned to Flag swirling in creative energy and found that Ally and The Homie Jack were doing the same. Interesting stuff is in the works and it was pretty cool to be gone for so long while feeling like I never left. In fact, our creative energies conspired through the distance. Quantum energy...

I shot this short set while we enjoyed a lazy morning among the Ponderosa. It's a set that reminds me of exactly what it's all about...connection. There is an ease with which we all hang out and the more we do it, the more appreciative I become.

Enjoy!

Meet Me Under the Joshua Tree

Well, well. Here we are. It's been some time and while I have not kept up with my self imposed goal of one post a week, the internet at the End of The World would not allow for such vigorous picture uploading. As I slowly make my way northward, connection to the wider world has improved (for better of worse) and thus, it's story time.

Only, there's not too much of a story with this one. In mid-December, Ally, The Homie Jack and I made a quick little trip to Joshua Tree for a solid day of R&R. This trip did mark my first as the official title holder of The Mothership so it was nice to take her out, let her see the world (although she's an old hat in the travel game) and have some friends over. We drank loads of coffee, made warm soups and ventured through the psychedelic world of Joshua Tree's landscape. 

All in all a wonderful trip and if you had told me a year ago that I would travel to Joshua Tree and not put on rock shoes in any capacity, I'd have called you crazy. Well, you're not crazy and now it seems that I am more at home in the land of f-stops, film speeds and nailing that perfect bokeh. Times change and what else is there to do but enjoy the ride. (Best done with a coffee in hand while hanging from an air chair.)

Trying out the slideshow format for this post. I can't decide which one I like better...

If you like one over the other, let me know!

A Mix Tape is Intended

I have added a new page to the website called: Mix Tapes.

In what feels like a previous lifetime (graduate school, 12 years ago), I hosted a radio show on KVRX, 91.7FM, the student run station at the University of Texas. My air name was The Ph. DJ (PhD candidate at the time, the name was better than my performance as a student) and the show was named Zapatos Locos (an inside joke and the dopest street gang in Austin). These two hour shows introduced me to a variety of genres and gave me the space to create soundscapes based on my mood/desires at the time. While some shows are lost to the haze of early mornings (the 1-3am or 5-7am time slots suuuuck), others have stuck with me to this day. 

There was the Rain themed show when Austin received a solid month of it in summer 2007. The Sun theme when the rains finally abated. The ABC's of Zapatos Locos where  I went through the Artist Alphabet or the time I played only songs under 2 minutes. 88 songs as I remember and certainly the only time I worked up a sweat in the booth. 

These shows, to me, were performances. I'm shite (I've been in England for a while now) at playing any instruments, so curating collections of people who can is my artistic contribution and while I was dormant for years after my DJ'ing days, last year saw a resurgence in my desire to collect, order and share. 

Now is a good time for me to stand upon my soap box and give a bit of a spiel. I use mix-tape instead of playlist because, to me, a playlist is a large dump of songs that can be played on random. There is nothing wrong with a playlist but it is not a mix-tape.

A mix-tape is an ordered selection of music put together to take the listener on a ride, a journey, through a curated soundscape. The mood of the mix tape is intentionally set by the mix tape mixer, so with that said...

THE MIX TAPE RULE:

  • All mix tapes must be played twice from start to finish before they can be played on random (No one likes rules...but this one is a MUST!)

I will be updating the page fairly often as I am usually always on the search for new and interesting sounds. My musical tastes vary depending on the time of year and my emotional state...There is usually a story behind each mix, so I'll probably share a little of that as well...

Enjoy!

 

The Ph DJ in action. Good times.

The Ph DJ in action. Good times.

Center of the Universe

While helping drive the RV for the Rob Jones Journey (more on that coming soon, but if you're curious, Google it), the reality of my situation started to sink in. 

'When I get off this trip and with winter coming, where the hell am I going to live?,' I thought.

Since March (2017) I'd been bouncing between crashing with friends, in the truck (Goldie, my 2000 Toyota Tacoma), at my parents house or out on jobs. While the roaming lifestyle is exactly what this buffalo needs, I also need a place of refuge; a place for when the chill wind blows; a place that I can call my own. 

The universe acts in mysterious ways and as the Journey started down the home stretch, the question of where to rest my head occupied more and more space in there. I love my parents, but no, not even remotely an option. Love my friends, but couch crashing gets old. I could work constantly, but 'work to live' so another no. Crashing more in the truck was a possibility, but the set-up in Goldie was more for utilitarian uses and not living (I want to LIVE!). Renting a room would provide shelter, but work can leave me gone for weeks and weeks at a time. Why waste money on a place I might see one week a month...?

What to do, what to do? 

As if on cosmic cue, one sunny day in Phoenix (as Rob ran marathon 20-something) I received a text from Ol' Boots.

"Hey dude, I'm selling the Mothership. First dibs go to you."

The Mothership. Ol' Boots' home for the last 18 months and literally the COOLEST home on wheels. I had hung out in it plenty of times as Boots and Bashie dirtbagged around the states and it always felt like a second home. 

Thoughts of what I could do with the space filled my head. I have a certain knack for listening to my intuition, my gut, and I knew instantly that The Mothership would be mine. Call it destiny. Call it probability. Either way, The Mothership is a vehicle for transition and as I entered a new phase of my life, she was/is the one for me.

Boots filled her to the brim with toys and trinkets from his travels. Bikes, fishing rods, climbing gear, weaponry...all somehow stuffed into a very small space. The man can pack and as he moved all of his stuff out, the reality of what I wanted to do with The Mothership crystallized. Blank walls= Blank canvas. The Mothership was Boots' adventure mobile and for me it would become my mobile art studio. The refuge I sought. The place where I could go to be completely myself and allow my creative process to be free.

I've been in her for a month now and when inner vision becomes a reality, amazing things happen...

Zen and the Art of Being Boots

If Murphy's law states that "anything that can go wrong, will go wrong," Boot's Law states that "everything will go wrong." It's a subtle variation but having known Boots long enough, there is a difference. Chalk it up to bad luck, karmic debt or the set-up for easy living for the rest of his days Boots has seen and felt quite a bit. From heartbreak of immeasurable depths to missed opportunities to watching his trailer (with motorcycle aboard) cartwheel freely down the interstate, I've watched him handle these challenges with grace and aplomb. 

Thanksgiving 2017 was no different. 

Ol' Boots climbed aboard his Kawasaki KLR with an empty stomach and visions of a feast in his minds eye, and a feast there would be. For the last 4 years, my dad has brought his A game to the kitchen for Thanksgiving and Boots has made it a tradition to be at the dinner table, tongue agog, ready to fill himself to the brim.

He chose the old Senator Highway as his scenic route. Starting in Prescott, Senator Highway weaves its way south towards the tiny town of Crown King, drops through Bumble Bee and spits itself out on I-17 just north of Phoenix. It is a classic central Arizona drive, an excellent road to get in some adventure but short enough to not miss the Thanksgiving festivities.

Or so Boots thought...

Around 1030 am I get a short, staccato text, "Dude, motorcycle acting funny. Not sure. Try for Crown King." I've been down Senator Highway before and it is most definitely not the place to break down. It is lightly traveled, far from anything (nearest paved road is 20 miles at least) and cell service is spotty at best. 

"Do you have enough water and warmth?"

"Think I do. Let you know."

As the turkey slowly roasted and the pecan pie took shape, we waited for word. Would Boots arrive? Or would his place setting sit empty with what could have been?

One hour turned into two and his prospects looked dim. By now the potatoes were mashed, the rolls rose heavenly in the oven and the turkey rested. Finally, word. "Getting a tow to your house, be there in an hour." And sure enough, as the table was set and the wine poured, Ol' Boots arrived just in time. 

Success. Relief. His plate would be piled high and his belly sated, but there still remained the issue with the motorcycle...what the hell is wrong with it? After we enjoyed all of my dad's offerings and took down the pies, it was time to diagnose.

"Hey dude, want to help me with the motorcycle?"

"Sure man, I'd love to help."

"Hand me that wrench...[Colin reaches for the camera]. Dude I said the wrench, what are you doing?"

"Helping. Like I'm gonna pass up this opportunity with this lighting." 

I love watching Boots do his thing. He's a tinkerer, a projector and it's really fun to watch his mind and hands at work.

So here ya go...here's my help.

Oh and if you're wondering...it was a bad spark plug. Boots figured this out AFTER he took the carburetor apart. Law of Boots...

Collage-spiration

I have been experimenting lately with using materials that would otherwise be trash. The idea of giving new life and meaning to something most consider useless carries a certain romance to me especially as I am working on my awareness of how much I consume and waste. Mixing media is new to me as well, so I am interested in seeing where this goes...I only wish I brought my paints to England.

From the Bordon Messenger, a free local paper 

From the Bordon Messenger, a free local paper 

Passion: Ally Viente

Pizzicleta

This is the first installment in a series that I am calling Passion. In it, I will follow and document people I know and the interests, hobbies and/or careers that make them tick. This word gets thrown around too often in trite phrases on motivational posters or inspirational memes. No one has ever found it in passivity. Passion is direct action. It is dynamic and there is a certain flow that I can't really explain in words, but I know it when I see it.

My friend Ally is the perfect example of passion. 

Over 2 days in December, we hung out in her current baking laboratory, the wood fired kitchen of Pizzicleta* in Flagstaff, Arizona and I observed as she made the special bake of the week, cinnamon raisin bread. 

Baking is a subtle, thoughtful art and watching Ally flit with ease about the kitchen made the bread all the more tasty. She even made orange ginger scones (not pictured) on her downtime because "I woke up wanting to make some." They were delicious. Ally bakes with love and delight and you would be remiss to not grab a loaf from her next time you're in Flag. Grand Canyon trip anyone? 

You can follow Ally on Instagram: @ally.viente

*Pizzi will show up often in this space because the people are awesome, the food is wonderful and the whole staff exudes, well, passion.

Note: In photo 5 (Preparation) those are not Ally's hairy, muscly forearms. The homie Jack (future Passion subject!) stopped by to help out.

Personal note: if anyone is interested in having me document your passion, drop me a line/a note/write a letter/call me/tell a birdie...

Welcome

Hello, you've met me at a very interesting time in my life. 

I've started this website because my creative output has moved beyond the limited scope of social media. I want to share my inner world on a deeper level. The key word being share. This is not show and tell. This is not a one way street. My goal is to inspire others to explore their own inner worlds. We all have something in us that is creative; that is expressive; that is beautiful. Let's explore it together.

This is my story...

...and it is most definitely a work in progress

"Throughout centuries there were men who took first steps, down new roads, armed with nothing but their own vision." -Ayn Rand (as painful as it is to quote Ayn Rand, it's a damn good quote...and...apt.)

"Throughout centuries there were men who took first steps, down new roads, armed with nothing but their own vision." -Ayn Rand (as painful as it is to quote Ayn Rand, it's a damn good quote...and...apt.)