considering pictures | sean justice > open journal

Last week at ICP we ran with Collage/Montage again. This is one of my favorite ways to teach. Basically it's like finger painting. We throw ideas on the table from many different directions -- that is, pictures from the history of collage and montage, pictures from today, Photoshop techniques, darkroom techniques -- and then cajole folks into letting their intuition loose. Headless Barbie on the scanner. By the end of the week we were zooming back and forth between the computer lab, the black & white darkroom, and the color darkroom. People were scanning and printing and rescanning. Stuff was getting cut up, recombined, and then re-cut up. An inkjet negative getting ready for the darkroom. The organizing question at the root of this workshop is about the role of the edge of the picture within the picture itself. When you shoot a photography, what do you include inside the frame? What do you exclude? Normally that boundary is invisible (we don't think about the stu...

As you know, I'm an advocate of using the camera to connect to life. By the looks of it, though (no posting here for far too long, and very little new pix on flickr), it would seem that I've not been following my own advice. And that, perhaps, I've become disconnected. Both are probably correct at this point. But, actually, I make pictures almost every day: at odd moments in-between breaths, on the ferry, before starting to shave in the morning. Really, though, all I'm doing is clicking the shutter. That is, I'm not sure it's truly picture-making because that's as far as the process goes. There's no time for sorting and editing; two thousand latent frames sit unseen in my Lightroom catalog. Do you remember that word? Latent. Once we mystified that state of existence. Between the click of the shutter and the emergence from the D76, we had time to romanticize the unknown, the half-known, and the almost but not quite ready to be known. Today we ...

We want pictures. We are saturated with this desire. The ad moguls want us to direct that passion towards their clients' commodities. Once in a while, though, we find evidence of another kind of wanting. Delivering some more of the endless paperwork that the educatioal beurocracy demands, I cross paths with a kindred soul, and stumble on a sign of the power of pictures. This way has recently been marked. I am not alone. Out here, in here, through here, picture-makers travel together. This is the gut of what I hope we're doing together this term: photography is a way to pay attention to our lives, our desires. We also want eggs, deviled eggs. At least, I do. Especially at a picnic on a warm day with friends and blankets and folding camp chairs, comfortable in the sun. With sangria, too. And cold white wine. But, summer is over. It's rainy in New York. Time to get to work! See you in class.

Toronto 2010, from our recent vacation. I've been thinking a lot about perception lately, as I always do at the start of the new term. The puzzle comes back when I begin to map a course: how is it possible to picture a round world in a flat rectangle? The projection of one onto one feels miraculous and ordinary. That paradox is thrilling, intoxicating! I want to share it with you. But for you to see it, to do it, first I've got to make the process visible. And yet I'm filled with doubt. How can I do that? That is, what will you (in class) perceive as I waltz through my material, the rant of my lecture, the pictures on screen, the assignments, and my reactions to your assignments? And, how will I perceive that you're seeing anything? Even seeing that you're paying attention is difficult. (Although it's easy to see when you're falling asleep in class...sometimes.) At the start of each new term it comes back to me that, really, the project of learning...

I'm slowly mining through the several thousand photographs I collected during the Beijing project last month. This one surfaces unexpectedly. I remember the thick still air, and the steep, sweaty climb behind the Forbidden City. I remember the dusk and the dragonflies. I remember feeling annoyed that my dSLR battery had died earlier that afternoon because I'd forgotten to charge it the previous night. I also remember the moment I looked up and saw the concentric circles of this structure from beneath the trees. I don't remember why I forgot about this picture until I found it again just now. The camera doesn't make the picture; the brain does. And the world and the imagination meet in a slow dance of negotiation, each making due with the limitations and neuroses that the other brings. This might be my favorite picture from the month. To the Photo Two group from ICP last week -- thanks for the great work. Keep looking up and keep making pictures.

Zha Zhiang Mien on a warm afternoon. Summer Palace majesty in the morning, still hot on my feet, and the silence of the mountain still humming in my heart. A short ride past the noisy gates and we arrive. This must be what heaven feels like. I'm posting pictures as fast as possible on flickr (click on these pictures to connect to the collection). More to come. Sorry about the minimal captions. Lunch is long and dinner is longer. This isn't the time for sitting at the computer. Please follow our workshop blog !

4:30 am. Time to get up and start shaking off the jet-lag. Breakfast downstairs starts at 6:00. I'm using the quiet fuzzy hours to enable the proxy server so I can keep posting. In a bit, or so, I'll get together with Songzi, my friend, a script writer who works with foreign movie productions here in Beijing, to go over the plans for the coming weeks. She's helping me arrange transportation and other logistics for the workshop. Then, off to Three Shadows to compare notes with Isabelle and say hi to Rong Rong and inri. Can't wait to get my feet on the ground. The workshop blog is Beijing2010 , as I noted in a earlier post . Please check it out and follow along. Outside my smudged hotel window, the early morning sky looks promising. Bright sunrise reflects off the buildings in the distance and wispy clouds show the blue above. Time now to get some breakfast and that first cup of Chinese coffee.

After you've decided to make pictures you must decide how your body will frame the experience. That is, where is the edge? The boundary? The horizon between what is in, and what is out? These choices matter, and photography it's the shape of your body that determines how your audience will see what you see. In class we talk about what you want to look at, and about what you want me to know about it. These are the ultimate questions. But buried within them, preceding them, is a skill more primary: can you feel the frame? In The Photographer's Eye , John Szarkowski writes The central act of photography, the act of choosing and eliminating, forces a concentration on the picture edge—the line that separates in from out—and on the shapes that are created by it. In this essay ( read it here ) Szarkowski is trying define the major differences between photographic picture-making and other kinds of picture-making, as he sees them. In one way or another you've most lik...

Walking in the winter with Diana and Brendan; I'm not going to not see the Callahan trees surrounding me. Automatic. Can't help it. I know it's cliche. Sorry about that. But there's history here too. The contrast, the sequence, the rhythm, the simplicity. Those Callahan pictures from the 1950s resonate for me; they come to back to me from my earliest thoughts of pictures and photography. Do an image google if you're not sure what I'm talking about. And do you remember the conversation that's in the background, especially of the series of weeds in snow? The story as I recall it is around Callahan's introduction to photography at a workshop in Detroit by Ansel Adams. Apparently there was a long discussion about how to expose properly for snow — how to keep the detail in the negative but not underexpose, how to compensate in the developing, how to print it just down enough to make it feel bright but not too bright. Even if you've never done ...

In the morning at St George the sun skids into the terminal and skews the grid of the day, reminding us of our shadows and our momentary passing. An open letter to everyone who worked with me these last four months: Congratulations on finishing (and beginning) your study of photography! I know the learning curve can be stressful and perhaps even overwhelming at times. But you’re on the way now… In closing the year on our work together I’d like to briefly repeat something I’ve said several times, beginning from the first day we met: these are exciting times to be working in the visual arts. We’re entering an uncharted world of picture-making, and you are at the threshold of these new days. From my perspective, having watched these changes over these last twenty years, from the pre-digital, non-digital, what-is-digital??, into the current thrill-ride rollercoaster of new possibilities and challenges, it feels momentous and extraordinary. Last week at a holiday party with photographers an...

Teachers College, Columbia, after Shannon Fagan As we cross the half-way mark in the semester an old question appears again: what is a project in photography? In class the topic seems part of school, an assignment on the syllabus. But the word we use — project — applies to many endeavors (working an election, painting a kitchen, helping a friend move) and isn't rooted in this institution. Instead, working with photographs is part of life, a motivation for further learning. This is what I hope you'll take away from our time together. In our discussions I've asked you to think about what connects you to your life, what wakes you up in the morning. To begin, let your curiosity guide you — what do you want to know about? What do you want to learn about? There's no right or wrong answer to this question. Shanghai dish, apple, on the windowsill At root, though, is just that: a question. Whether your project is short-term (through the end of the semester) or follows a longer a...

Please join me in a refreshing, free-form photo-share event. Sign up at the flickr group PhotoGroupFSJ to participate. The idea is to have a casual and inspirational conversation about photography and learning photography. I'm launching this flickr space in the hope that students and teachers can keep an outer-classroom discussion percolating, share random photo favorites, and talk about the experience of being photographers today. There aren't any restrictions! Anyone can join...teachers, students, student-teachers — after all, we're all embedded in the culture of the photo-world. One goal of the group is to mix it up, swap places — we can learn from each other. For instance, I learn a ton by talking with friends, students, other teachers, and even with people who don't even consider themselves 'photographers.' (And vice versa: you learn more about what you do when you gear up to teach about it.) I hope you'll come aboard for a while and share some thought...

Where do ideas come from? This is the question that takes a lifetime. You know how to use the camera; you're learning the computer; and printing just takes time and practice (lots of practice). The hard stuff is more diffuse than that, more difficult to touch: where do you point your camera? what do you want me to see? what are you learning? Here's where we fight with each other. Some of my best friends and most valued colleagues believe it's impossible to teach artists to be artists, that you can't teach curiosity. I don't want to agree: if that's true, then what have I been doing all this time? The model I've proposed in the classroom is pretty simple: pay attention and respond. That's the core, I think. The essays and the photo prompts are all directed at it. So are the emails back-and-forth and the walking tours and the invitations to post on flickr. Then we close the loop with conversations about the pictures and about the process itself. At root is...

Hiroshi gave me new seeds after my lovely persimmon went to sleep. (I'm still watering it, by the way, and keeping my fingers crossed that it will somehow come back to life; Hiroshi says nature is strong and unpredictable!) These are planatus seeds. They are fluffy and spindly, hard and soft simultaneously. The instructions are to mix the seeds with some soil, add some moisture, and then put them in a ziplock bag in the fridge. For two months. After that I'm supposed to dump the whole mixture into a small terracotta pot and keep it watered. And warm. So that'll be December in New York. I hope it'll be warm enough in the sun-room. The heat just came on last night and right now the entire apartment feels like a sauna, so presumably we'll have warmth enough to grow with. I still feel like a failure with the persimmon, but I'm happy to get another chance. The Planatus Orientalis, aka the Oriental Plane, is a fast growing deciduous flowering tree. If th...

I'd like to highlight a foundational part of the conversation. I've mentioned this in class several times, but I want to emphasize it again here, in writing: It's important to know where you are in the digital landscape when you use computers to make pictures. In class I've talked about the three domains of computer imaging. A metaphor I've used is the three-legged stool. I've also referred to a map, or schematic, that describes three primary arenas within the world of computer-based picture making. The three basic areas are Capture, Control, and Display. Here again are the basic distinctions in terms of purpose, hardware and software. Capture Snag the image using a camera or scanner (that's the hardware). They're everywhere in our lives: DSLRs, cell phones, snappy digi shooters, and all manner of scan-type (non-camera obscurra) devices. As well, as you know, there's no distinction anymore (or very little) between still and motion capture — each devi...

798 Factory Area, Beijing So we've gotten the ball rolling and bouncing in a dozen ways all at the same time. Classes at NYU, ICP and Parsons are flying now, full speed. Learning photography often seems to require that you know something while simultaneously already knowing something else, in order to learn some other fairly critical fundamental. I'm familiar with the way it begins to feel overwhelming; it seems to be part of the process, though that doesn't make it easier. But I'd like to focus back on something that precedes all of that, at least in my mind. Namely the question: what are we doing when we work in photography? That is, what is the work? And what are you trying to learn? After mulling it over for a while, and after watching a lot of people surf the learning curve, I want to suggest that the pictures you're making are NOT the work. Or, at least, the pictures are not the entirety of the work. Here's the thing, I can "teach" you how to use...

I'm thrilled to report that our visit to the Pingyao International Photography Festival was a huge success. The exhibit "Young Artists Emerging in America" was well received, and many conversations were begun around it. Thanks to all of you who participated — I'm truly honored by your good work. A report of the exhibit has been posted on my flickr site, under the photo set titled PIP2009 Report . There are 193 photographs with captions, some of them extensive. To view the report you can either dip in and out of the photostream as you like, or go to the flickr slideshow function and turn on "Show Info" to read the captions. (Hint: for better viewing of both the pictures and the captions, go to Options and uncheck "embiggen," and check "always show title.") For participating artists: if you'd like copies of any of the installation photographs, either download them directly from flickr or contact me for higher resolution files. For every...