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

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

 

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!

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...

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...