Found on Flickr: Okinawa Soba and Old Japan

Geisha From Another World, vintage photograph posted by Flickr user Okinawa Soba. Click image to view source.

Flickr user Okinawa Soba has shared with us a vast archive of antique photographs, mostly of old Japan. If you have a couple of free hours, explore sets such as Geisha and Maiko, Religion in Old Japan, or Foot Binding in Old China.* (Caution -- some of these photographs contain nudity or are otherwise NSFW. Flickr will give you the option of viewing these, or not.) These photos are licensed under Creative Commons.
An Early Meiji-era Geisha Hair Style, vintage photograph posted by Flickr user Okinawa Soba. Click image to view source.

Okinawa Soba himself is quite a character, as you'll see from his humorous (though very informative) photo captions. (Many commenters provide additional information about the subjects photographed.) Read his full profile here.

Interestingly, there is a photo of Evelyn Nesbit (the "original supermodel" and inspiration for the Gibson Girl) posing as a geisha among this collection. OS thoughtfully provides a link to other Flickr images of Ms. Nesbit. We can see why she was such a big hit.

* If you're interested in the history of footbinding in China, I recommend Splendid Slippers: A Thousand Years of an Erotic Tradition by Beverly Jackson.

See what else I've Found on Flickr.

This post is part of NaBloPoMo for July 2009.

Andy Mattern, Photographer: Interview

David's Food Store, 2005 photograph by Andy Mattern. Click here to see more images like this.

Andy Mattern is a photographer currently living in Minneapolis. His starkly composed images capture ordinary spaces of our lives as though human presence has been removed. In his work we feel absence and presence with equal weight.

I first met Andy when we went to high school together in Albuquerque, NM. I thought I'd check in and see what he's up to artistically these days.

SA: What kind of camera(s) are you currently using? Traditional film or digital?

AM: For the past few years, I have mainly worked with digital cameras, but I keep a 4x5 and a film cooler on hand just in case. The process of shooting digitally is frenetic and cerebral. I savor that speed and control, but I appreciate the meditative process of large format film, it's like a dream in slow motion. Part of the allure of photography is that there are all these choices of ways in which to work. It's easy to fetishize one method, but each has its benefits and, thankfully, it's not necessary to pick only one.

SA: Your technique is very formal. Is your composition entirely in-camera? Do you do any digital augmentation?

AM: I am not against cropping when necessary, but generally I compose in-camera. I spend a lot of time inspecting the edges and considering the frame as a whole before making a picture. Afterwards, if I notice something in the frame that shouldn't be there, I will remove or replace it. Working on a tripod and making numerous exposures lets me easily edit later.

SA: Why does formalism appeal to you over other techniques?

AM: Photography is an organizing tool for me. I use the camera to collect and consolidate my immediate environment into visual containers. I am not inclined to make abstract pictures because I am preoccupied with looking precisely at what is before me.

Information, 2009 photograph by Andy Mattern. Click here to see more images like this.

SA: How did you become an architectural photographer? Do you continue to do this as a business?

AM: I had been photographing buildings at night in Austin as a way to explore the new city for a few years when a photographer friend of mine referred me to an architect who needed a dusk shot of a new residence. I did the job and ended up getting more work by referral. In the lead up to graduate school, though, I have slowly tapered off my work. For the next three years I intend to focus my efforts on creative projects and teaching.

SA: What role has art played in your daily life in recent years?

AM: I am constantly stopping whatever I'm doing to make a picture. Whether it's with my tiny point-and-shoot camera, which I keep with me, or with one of my more official cameras, I get distracted by things I see and I can't relax until I photograph them.

Peaches and Potatoes, 2008 photograph by Andy Mattern. Click here to see more images like this.

SA: The Leland St. series is photographs of your home (I presume). These photographs are less formal than much of your other work, yet they retain a detached, impersonal feel. What was the impetus for this series?

AM: A former professor of mine once said that if you are really good, you never have leave home to make pictures. Maybe Leland St. is an attempt to exercise that idea. As in my other series, I prefer to look directly at my subjects without distortion or visual inflection. I think it's interesting to take a step back and remove the actor from the scene in order to focus on the character of the place and provide room for new narratives to emerge. In the case of photographing my own space, a found a tension between this clinical way of seeing and depicting personal objects like toiletries and dishes. When I review these pictures, they appear to me like crime scene photographs or continuity images from a film set.

SA: You have just moved to Minneapolis. What will you be doing there?

AM: I am starting the MFA program at the University of Minnesota this fall.

SA: What are some of your current influences?

AM: I really like these books right now: An American Index of the Hidden and Unfamiliar by Taryn Simon River of No Return: Photographs by Laura McPhee by Laura McPhee The Nature of Photographs by Stephen Shore

I'm also taken with these artists: Cara Phillips Michael Vahrenwald Myoung Ho Lee Jake Rowland Dan Boardman

SA: Where can we see your work?

AM: I am always updating my website. But to see physical prints, please visit Stephen Clark Gallery in Austin, Texas. Also, I have a show coming up in Houston this November at the Lawndale Art Center.

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This post is part of NaBloPoMo for July 2009.

End Matter - Finishing Touches on a Gallery Show

Aloe polyphylla Schönland ex Pillans by Flickr user brewbooks. Click image to view source.

End matter or back matter is a book publishing term that describes all the written elements of a book to be dealt with after the author has finished writing the manuscript. These may include indexes, appendices, glossaries, the table of contents, notes, bibliographies, and so on.

As a gallery artist, I have learned to do a lot more legwork besides making the paintings. I have come to think of certain tasks as the end matter -- what remains to be done after the art is finished. The more of this work I do myself, and do well, before delivering my work to a gallery, the better my professional standing.

Following is some end matter I'm faced with before a gallery show.

Sign and date the work. Sometimes, as with the Normal series, I include a story on the back of the piece. Information like this can increase a painting's value and provenance.

Prepare the painting for hanging in the gallery, either by wiring or framing. I highly recommend Downtown Art & Frame in Norman, OK.

Attach a business card or other identifying information to the back of the piece. This is especially important for group shows where your work might be misidentified.

Photograph the piece. That is, take a good photo, not one with uneven lighting, or glare, or out of focus, etc. The digital formats I use most often are: 300 dpi, 1,000 pixels on a side (for print) 300 dpi, 4 x 6 inches or thereabouts (for print or application to juried shows) 72 dpi, 500-800 pixels on a side (for the web) 72 dpi, 150 pixels on a side (for thumbnails)

Make a backup of the photos, on cd, on the home server, etc.

Upload the image to my website, Flickr, Facebook, etc.

Add the piece to my portfolio, if it's among my best works. Add the piece to my inventory. I'll post more on this later.

Register the work with the copyright office. I keep a text file with an ongoing list of all the works I complete, called "Works By Date." When I finish a piece (or scan a batch of sketchbook pages), I add it to the list. I also keep a folder of small images at 72 dpi, which I will submit as a batch with my copyright registration. When I'm on top of things, I register my work four times a year.

Create an inventory for the gallery. This is so underrated. I make the inventory in two formats:

A spreadsheet containing the title and dates of the show, then the title, medium, dimensions, year, and price for each piece. At the bottom of the spreadsheet I list the show drop-off and pick-up dates, with space for my initials and the curator's. I print two copies: one for me, one for them.

A visual inventory with thumbnail images of each work in the show, followed by titles and prices. (Again, I print two or more copies, and file one for my own reference.) This helps whomever hangs and labels the show, and can also facilitate sales. When a potential buyer calls the gallery asking for the price of a piece, they may only remember it as "That yellow one, with the guy, and that thing in the corner." Having a visual inventory on hand can help avoid all sorts of confusion.

I've learned to leave myself a few days before my deadline to tie up these loose ends. When it's time to ship or deliver my work, I feel much better having all these ducks are in a row.

This post is part of NaBloPoMo for July 2009.

Carrie Ann Baade Interview at Hi Fructose

Wedding Portrait of Madam Himmelblau, oil on panel, 2005 by Carrie Ann Baade. Click image to view source. This painting is from the Secret Lives of Portraits series.

via Right Some Good.

The Hi Fructose blog is featuring an exclusing interview with contemporary pop baroque painter Carrie Ann Baade. Reading Baade's description of her working process, I found that she uses collage as a sketching method, just like I do! Quote:

The spark of the muse that could be called intuition is present when I make the collage for my work. I begin this process by covering the first floor of my house in photos and ripped out pages from books. After the floor is covered I walk around looking for images that fell on top of each other in an interesting manner…this is similar to reading tealeaves. Often I will have a question in mind while diving into the piles of picture images, such as, “What can I say about the horrors of dating in Tallahassee.” This process reminds me of reading tarot cards and getting an answer through the cards that can sometimes be uncannily accurate. Looking for the divine spark to speak to me through these images, I collect and adhere together with cellophane tape to paint later. I know something is really working if I involuntarily laugh aloud at the juxtaposition.

I feel the same intuitive connectivity when I'm making collage sketches. Sometimes the best compositions happen by accident, because I left two scraps in the same pile. I look over and realize, with a little rush of adrenaline, "Of course those go together!"

Ostrich, collage sketch, 2007 by Sarah Atlee. Click image to view source.

I like how Baade allows the collage aesthetic to show through in her finished paintings, without her images appearing slapped-together. She does an excellent job of creating integrated compostitions from a variety of sources. The world is a vast grab-bag of information, and our job as artists is to interpret, reinterpret, and dis-cover meaning through our medium. Although Baade has been told that "paint was an inadequate media to display the complexity of [her] ideas," her intricate creations overflow with narrative and emotion. You can explore more of Carrie Ann Baade's work here.

As I was reading this interview on the Hi Fructose blog, I felt an eerie similarity between Baade's collage process and my own. This feeling was redoubled when I saw the previous blog post about the release of Isabel Samaras' new monograph by Chronicle books. The gent on the cover bears an uncanny resemblance to this guy here. The similarity is a coincidence.

This post is part of NaBloPoMo for July 2009.

What's the Story? Peggy Preheim at the Philbrook Museum

Kid Napping, (pencil on paper, 14 x 11 inches) 2003 by Peggy Preheim. Collection of John Carhart Ebeling.

When we look at figurative art, we inevitably place ourselves inside the narrative, whether consciously or subconsciously. Peggy Preheim's work presents us with a complex set of visual information, but no clear story lines. As viewers, we create personal narratives through which we can interpret her work. On Thursday Wednesday July 8, 2009, I will be leading a discussion about symbolism and implied narrative in the work of Peggy Preheim at the Philbrook Museum. The talk starts at noon in the Helmerich Gallery. Little Black Book, a comprehensive collection of Peggy Preheim's drawings, sculptures, and photographs, is on display at the Philbrook Museum of Art in Tulsa through July 26. Here's a map.

I highly recommend the catalog that accompanies this show. Not only is it a beautifully made book, it contains insightful interpretations of Preheim's work and an "Object Map" of some of the artist's sources.

This post is part of NaBloPoMo for July 2009.