Archive | November, 2012

Darkroom work and questions…

In the past few weeks I have begun printing some of the images I made last summer during my island hopping following the spring 2012 session here at the Aegean Center.  For the most part, they are photographs of the stone walls that criss-cross the Kyklades landscapes like so many topographical scratches: property lines, terrace farming, some ancient, some new.  The proofs are working out fine, but I have begun to grow uneasy.  I am still coming to terms with the idea of ‘art’ and my photography.  True, I can compose within the format, be it square or rectangular, but am I an artist or am I simply a skilled documentarian?  The same applies to the portrait pieces I am photographing with my 4×5 and then using the scanner to render them into a digital format.  This is not my discussion alone, but one that has been on the table since photography began.  Is a photograph art?

I was told tonight by someone at a cafe that if a photograph ‘moves him’, creates an emotional response, then it is art.  I’ll buy that.  So what kind of emotional response is my ‘wall photography’ generating?  Nostalgia, loneliness, sadness…The scenes are desolate, full of ruins and, in some cases, the detritus of man.  Overturned ore carts, rotting and rusting in the harsh Aegean climate; volcanic chunks of stone piled two meters high to create the snake-like patterns running over hills one sees from the aft deck of the Blue Star ferry as they sail from Pireaus south.  There are no people in these images.  There are only the bones of ghosts.

The portrait work, on the other hand, is completely different.  I am trying to capture the essence of the person, or people, in their own environment.  Some are in studios, others at home.   In each case I have been able to catch a glimpse of something that reaffirms the great possibility of life.  The terrace farms may collapse due to misuse over the centuries, but these people will live on through the images I am creating.  I am creating.  I can create.  Perhaps that is as close a definition for ‘art’ as I will ever get.  Art is creation, a recognition of beauty and grace despite the ravages of time.  I can be a creator of something.   I can document with a deft hand, be mindful of the alchemical processes and thus reveal something to the world that I find beautiful.   There is a lazy part of me that wants this feeling to go away.  The realist in me understands that questioning is essential.  Without doubt and self-examination, how can I possibly progress?

JDCM

Serifos, 2012

 

Andiparos, 2012

Dentistry and roast pork…

As everyone knows by now, Barack Obama is the 44th President of the United States, his second term.  I, for one, and happy although the victory is bittersweet for me.  This is the first major election in which I have not participated.  My absentee ballot for New York State never reached Paros.  I checked on-line and I am still registered.  Obviously a mix-up somewhere.  New York went thoroughly blue, so it wasn’t a huge deal (my absentee vote probably would not have mattered) but I feel it is still important to participate.  Enough of that subject.

During the fall break I was on Andiparos.  One evening while enjoying the satisfying crunch of potato chips, I bit down on something much more crunchy than the crisps and, thinking it was just a fried chunk of spud, swallowed it.  It turned out that the side of one of my lower molars had sheared off and that is what I ate.  It did not expose the root, so there was no pain or sensitivity but it did necessitate a visit to the local periodontist–a Greek word, by the way.  After short research I was given a choice between the authentic, mad Greek dentist full of charm and local color or the modern young fellow up the street who had been recommended by another ex-pat.  I chose the less colorful, more practical path and made a visit to Panagiotis Hondros, DMD, Msc.  He took one look and booked me in at the beginning of the next week.  Long story short, he re-built my tooth for 60 Euros (last week) and this week cleaned my teeth for another 70.  In the USA this would have cost me hundreds of dollars and I would have had to have waited a month for the first appointment.  I was very impressed.  I was so impressed I have booked him for some cosmetic work on a tooth that has become discolored following a root canal in my mid-teens.  It will be a simple procedure and we start bleaching next week.

As I write this post in Pebbles Jazz Bar, overlooking the bay of Paroikia, I am also roasting a bone-in pork loin.  Some would call this multi-tasking.  Here they call pork loin ‘pancetta’, not to be confused with the Italian bacon of the same name.  Here is the recipe:

1 bone-in pork loin, approx. 1.5 kilos

4 small onions and three carrots, sliced in half, both from Dimitri, the old man who sells vegetables here in the streets.

7 cloves of garlic, chopped

fresh rosemary, gathered from the hills just below Marathi

fresh oregano, gathered on a hike along the Byzantine Road above Aspro Chorio

sea salt/ fresh cracked black pepper

200 ml extra virgin olive oil, from olives grown near Boutakos

Mix the olive oil, salt, pepper, chopped herbs and garlic in a bowl to make a paste.  Place the halved vegetables in the bottom of a roasting pan to create the ‘rack’ on which to rest the meat.  Pre-heat the oven to 190C (375*F).  Smear the pork, all over, with the paste and place in the pan, on the onions and carrots.  Roast until done, about 1 1/2 hours.  Take out of the oven and let the roast rest for about 10 minutes, then dig in.  I plan on gnawing on this for the next few days.  Below is a photo, before cooking, to give you a visual of what it should look like after it is prepared.

JDCM

Parian roast pork

 

Sunny days, cooler nights…

The mid-term break here at the Aegean Center on Paros has drawn to a close.  The first day of the rest of the session begins tomorrow with our Monday morning meeting, and back to work we go.  As usual, most of the students went traveling, as they should, and many came back in time to knuckle down and get back into the swing of things before the final push begins: 31 days until the student exhibit and I, for one, have not done enough.  Granted, I have been shooting a lot of film and developing it, but my digital projects have slowed and I haven’t been printing as much as I should.  I am not worried, however, as I know what and how much I can do and how to accomplish these tasks, but the newer students are just now acclimating to the idea that they are here to work as well as explore.  First the push, then the crunch and before anyone knows it, it is time to say ‘farewell’ to Paros, unless they are lucky enough to return in the spring, a session that breathes at a different rate then the fall.

As I write this dispatch from Pebble’s Jazz Bar, overlooking the quiet bay of Paroikia, in America the election for the President slouches  towards the the doorsteps of millions, like a wary and red-eyed dog begging for greasy scraps. On Tuesday evening the tally will reveal the overall tenor for the next four years of that country’s leadership and how this beast will be fed.  Of course, this election will effect the whole world.  If Obama wins, I hope he will have a chance to do more than just clean up his predecessor’s terrible messes.  If Romney is chosen to succeed, I fear the world will see what kind of mess can be created by a man with a parochial world view, a medieval stance on civil rights, freedom of speech and a religious background that I, for one, must call cultish at best.  I imagine the worst.  For a good idea of what this could mean, please feel free to read ‘The Handmaid’s Tale’ by Margaret Atwood.  To think that a military theocracy is impossible for the United States in this age is to bury your head in the sand.

The days have been warm and sunny.  There has been a shift in the breeze, from south to north, resulting in clearer skies and cooler nights.  I am hoping for more rain this week.  As the temperature slowly drops this becomes more likely, but the weather report doesn’t list this as a possibility.  More good news along with the weather is that the water in the darkroom has dropped to a lovely 21C.  This makes my life easier: small mercies for a possible bleak future.  I hope Yeats is wrong but poets seldom are.

JDCM