Kick in the ass

Yes. I used PS Dark Arts on Myself - 012812

"It's great to have a passion, but you must also have a work ethic around it." Unknown*

For the past month or so I received multiple subtle and explicit messages to get my shit together.  Most of these messages concern my art.  All of them are basically saying, "Karl, You take pretty good photos.  You have an eye for capturing people in your photos.  Good boy.  Now you really need to move on to the next level.  You need to do it better and you need to get it done.  Not only done, but done right."

I  hired a graphic/web designer/artist to help me build a commercial website.  She designed  a new logo for me late last year.  I was impressed by it and looked at her portfolio of commercial websites she designed and was very impressed.  I showed her my half-ass, stagnant website and she gently tore it apart in a critique.  I knew then I had hired the right partner to help build the new one.  A month later, and many hours of writing text, selecting key photos, and many other tasks concerning SEO, keywords, aspect ratios, and categorizations, it is almost ready to go public.  I will co-premier it here and Facebook when it is ready to go.  I will also share her name and website in that post.

That experience taught me a valuable lesson.  If I am going to spend a good chunk of money and get a strong commercial site going, I had better go all in or pack up.  You can't go into business half way.  All in or fold.   Balls deep.  Shit or get off the pot.  Ok.  Enough metaphors for that.

While on Christmas break I saw a great a video clip of a George Carlin tribute with Louie C.K.  Louie C.K. is a comic genius and speaks so many truths for me.  In this tribute he shares the influence of Carlin on his career.  The key lesson is to keep reinventing his work and push his comedy further and further and get to what is raw, core, and never stop exploring.  Go deeper.   The gold starts at 4:55.



It is too easy to keep producing the same images the same way and getting the same responses.  I keep creating the same stuff, just with different flavors.  I keep getting the same results, and not going too far both in my art and in the success of my art.

The golden nugget from this video made me realize that I get the best feedback from my stuff that pushes me in new directions, new materials, new concepts, new people, new methods, and new feelings.  It is time to let some things go that are finished and run their course with me.  It feels like being given a new wild world to go out and explore!!!

So, if the first lesson was to go all in or go home and the second lesson was to keep reinventing and pushing myself harder, deeper, and into new areas, the third one was a hard criticism on what I have done.  It made me first question what type of photographer/artist I am in the sense of the quality of my work and then kicked me in the ass to do something about it.

I sent out a few proof portrait images.  The subject liked a few and then did something shocking, but also taught me a lesson.  The subject edited  one of my photos and sent it back with the list of edits.  Holy fuck.  Nobody has edited my photos before, especially without telling me first.

At first I was pissed.  How dare somebody touch my work like that!  I went for a walk around the neighborhood and came back and decided to look at the edits and compare them to the original I had sent out.  In came the head kick of humility and the lesson - Karl, your digital photo editing skills are kind of rudimentary and basic.  Karl, you do some digital photo editing really well, but if you are going to do this seriously, you really have to get better at it.

I use Adobe Lightroom for my photo workflow, everything from downloading and storage, through editing and refining, to creating a print or digital output.  It has many great tools that are similar to what can be found in the traditional darkroom.  It greatly complimented my darkroom knowledge and helped me make the transition from film to digital.   All along I denied the value of Photoshop.  I felt it was too complicated to learn.  It made my art a technical exercise, not a passion of the soul.  I would get lost in all the layers and gadgets and my art would lose its soul.  All of these were excuses, not reasons.

I am in the middle of an intensive Photoshop course now and am finally beginning to understand that its a wondrous tool box that can liberate so many of the limitations that straight photography places on me.  I am quickly realizing that I am not making the best art I can and honoring my subjects by my reticence to learning this important (and let's face it, industry) tool.   It is sort of like learning magic.

I've learned many new things that remind me of the Harry Potter universe.  Magic has both its good and bad arts.  In the books, all Hogwarts students had to learn the Magic of the Dark Arts.  For some it became their primary tool for power, for others it became a last-use weapon or a knowledge on how to defend ones self from it.

I think this is true of Photoshop as well.  There are so many ways to manipulate photos within that program.  There is the subtle stuff like correcting for perspective, saturating or de-saturating colors, reducing wrinkles, getting rid of pimples, etc.  There is the heavy stuff like distorting the body to look thinner, taller, whiter, darker, and closer to an ideal of what someone should like vs. what they truly look like.  All of these tools are available for the photographer to change the photograph from simple edits to a work of fiction.  These are some potentially dark arts that I need to learn and master.  How I use my knowledge and mastery of the dark arts will determine whether my intent was good or not.

Below is a video about the dangers of Photoshop.



I haven't written a blog post in the past few weeks due to all the work I am pushing into my art while still working my paying job and trying to maintain a life.  I am not getting any younger.  I know I have many more years behind me than ahead of me.  I need to get my art done before I die and I need to get off my lazy ass and do it.  I also have to do it better or why do it all?

*I hate it when I hear a great quote and can't find who said it.  Google can only do so much I guess.  I know it was an author. 

Killer Songs

Me - 072411

There are so many killers written into literature.   Many killers are portrayed in paintings.  Actors create amazing characters of murderers (think of Anthony Hopkins as Hannibal Lector).  I am not much of a poetry fan, but I am sure there are many poems about killing as well.  What I am thinking about today is the representation of killers in songs.

I got onto this theme after listening to Psycho Killer by the Talking Heads on my way home from work.  I then listened to Folsom Prison Blues  and Mack the Knife to get into the theme.  It made me wonder what the appeal of these songs were.  I know I have a number of them on my iPod.

I first explored the voice of the story teller in these songs.  Many are in the first person, but a few are in the third person.  This is interesting that singers and song writers want to be the killer rather than talk about them.  What is the motivation for this?  What makes us want to be vicarious participants in the darkest parts of humanity?

Me - 072411

I think this instinctual drive expresses itself in our acclamation and devotion to mystery/murder novels, television series (CSI, Criminal Intent, Medium, The Sopranos), songs, video games, and movies.  We deep down want to understand the motivations and experiences of a killer without having to actually live them, or to be blunt, pull the trigger or bury the knife.  If we thought about these deep feelings too much we would be disgusted by ourselves, so we never analyze deeper into them.  We just know we like the shows, books, and songs - even if they makes us look away at times.

Are portrayals of violence bad for society?  That is a tough question that is not a simple yes/no answer.  By exploring them through these genres, we can better understand them and maybe even scratch an subliminal itch that keeps us from going further.  On the other hand, these violent productions can stoke inhibited fires to become a reality.  Where is that fine line?  Can we even define that fine line since it is different with every consumer of the content?

Moon - 072411

I explored making abstract violent imagery last year in New York.  The images were inspired by the aesthetic qualities of the night terror dreams I often have.  I don't think the photos got to the point that I was trying to make, but they were my first attempt.  I wanted to capture the horror from those dreams.  They are third person for me, not first person.  Upon further reflection though, the images where the models look at the camera feel first person due to the eye contact.  (Thanks to Moon and Valya for their roles in making these photos.)

Valya - 072411

I think back to when my family first got HBO when I was 13 or 14.  My mom told me she didn't mind me seeing movies rated R if the reason was sex or nudity, but was concerned if the rating was due to violence.  As she said, "Nudity and sex is natural, but violence was evil."  It is in our DNA and basic behavioral psychology to desire sex for procreation.  It is primal.  It is our most basic core programming.  I don't care if someone is homosexual, straight, bisexual, or some other identification, the base drive to do it comes from the same place.  What we find desirable; same, opposite, or both genders, is coding that came later.  Maybe killing is another genetic program as well.

So, back to the question why do we vicariously live in lyrics like "I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die."? (Folsom Prison Blues - Johnny Cash)  Maybe it is because we are too scared to admit that some of these crude, base instincts are in us but we still need to hear others tell the stories.  I am sure many people will disagree with my theory, but I think everyone has an instinctual killer gene in us that we work so hard to deny.  Way back when, this gene helped protect us and get us food, but we don't need it in that way anymore.  By consuming others' stories of killing, through all genres, most of us stimulate, satiate, and suppress this gene without even acknowledging we have it.  Too bad this cycle it doesn't work for everyone.

Below are some killer songs.  I identified whether they are first or third person and shared a few of my thoughts on them.  I didn't want to write too much and would rather read your thoughts on them.  I chose not to put songs about victims, like Strange Fruit.  That may be worthy of a future post.

Mack the Knife - Louise Armstrong - Third person - I remember when I heard McDonalds use an altered version of this song for an ad campaign called "Make it Mac Tonight".  A few years later I was listening to an old *Satchmo album of my mom's that had the original.  I quickly realized this was no fast food ad song... it was scary as hell.  I listened to it three more times.  It chilled me how Armstrong was retelling the story as if he and some drinking buddies were shooting the shit, gossiping about these murders.  Pretty damn cold song.

Folsom Prison Blues - Johnny Cash - First person - This is a rare one in that it is not about the murder, but how murderer is rotting in prison.



Hey Joe - Jimi Hendricks - Third person - This song is about a man about to kill his lover for cheating on him.  Like the story in Cash's Cocaine Blues - the murderer heads down south to Mexico.




Cocaine Blues - Johnny Cash - First person- This is sort of a continuation of Hey Joe in that it is about a man killing his woman, but then tells the story of his running away and finally getting caught.  It is a light-hearted murder song, but very chilling in how it is meant to humorous ending with a weak warning to avoid drugs and alcohol. 




Psycho Killer - The Talking Heads - First person. I think these are some of the best lyrics about the mentality of a killer.

I can't seem to face up to the facts
I'm tense and nervous and I
Can't relax
I can't sleep 'cause my bed's on fire
Don't touch me I'm a real live wire

A bit of the song is in French.

Part of the chorus and the bridge are in French. The verse translates to "What I did, that evening, what she said, that evening fulfilling my hope I throw myself towards glory." The chorus lyric "Qu'est-ce que c'est?" means "What is this?"  from the Song Facts website.

My Name is Mud - Primus - First person - A dark disturbing story of how fast it happens and how it has to dealt with by the murderer.  Les Claypool is the band's leader, singer and bass guitarist.  His guitar style is rough, dirty and hard.  I like it.  It matches the theme of this song.




Henry Lee - Nick Cave and PJ Harvey - This comes from Cave's album Murder Ballads.  In this unique song, the killer is not who you would think.  The fair lady is the murderer.  Here is a link to the color youtube version of it.  I highly recommend you watch the black and white version by clicking on the photo and scrolling down to this song. 

Click the image and scroll down to the video

Jack the Ripper - Morrissey- First person - Sounds like he is telling of the stalking of his victim.



State Trooper - Bruce Springsteen - First person - Not sure if this is about a killer, but feels like he is willing to kill to get away.




Midnight Rambler - Rolling Stones - Third and first person - Starts off in the third person and transitions to first person after a long bridge section. 

And if you catch the Midnight Rambler
I'll steal your mistress from under your nose
Well, go easy with your cold fandango
I'll stick my knife right down your throat
Baby, and it hurts!

It feels like he is bragging about his work.





All of these songs are from the last 100 years.  I know there are great pieces from operas, and other musical genres, about murderers and killing and would be interested in learning about them as well.

* My mom named her trumpet Satchmo in honor of Mr. Armstrong.

And the band played on...

jacqui and truck - 061211

We caught the direct flight from Missoula, MT to San Francisco.  After take off, I put my iPod on and this song by the great Canadian "politically satirical folk" band, Moxy Fruvious came on.   It is aptly called The Drinking Song.   The lyrics are both nonsensical and beautifully poetic.

This song makes me think of artist/musician friend Joe Crachiola and I don't know why.  Maybe it is just that I'd like to be in New Orleans listening to some great music, creating some great photos, eating great food, and drinking a great bit with him.

This song also makes me think of old and recent endings in my life.  Those moments when something ended, yet parts of me hasn't accepted the passing or impending passing.  By the end of the song my eyes were all tearing up, but felt sadly comforted by the tune.

The Drinking Song - Moxy Fruvious

And the band played on
As the helicopters whirred.
Drunk on the lawn in a nuclear dawn,
My senses finally blurred..

He was a rock
Til the end, a solid reminder
Couldn't deny a friend
We lived in the noise and
The sweet amber poison
Peeking up the skirt of the end
And we'd drink
Two gnarly dudes and some records
Much like plates of black food
We filled up our faces
Saw some far places
Stood on the roof in the nude.

And the band played on
As the helicopters whirred.
Drunk on the lawn in a nuclear dawn,
My senses finally blurred..

Between poles, he said,
"We're like cows in the grass.
Brushing off flies
Chaise lounging around
Standing up falling down
Til we no longer opened our eyes."
And we'd drink
Ever notice how drinking's like war?
Cup o troops oe'r the guns
Til the end of our health
A campaign 'gainst myself
Armed with bourbons and scotches and rums

And the band played on
As the helicopters whirred.
Drunk on the lawn in a nuclear dawn,
My senses finally blurred..

Think of bombs
We're poised on the edge of disaster
Whether it's right or it's wrong
We opened the window
Played some nintendo
Sang a few bars of some pretty old song.
"Irene good night. Irene goodnight
Goodnight Irene, goodnight Irene
I'll see you, in my dreams."
Oh to dream, those impotent
Bones of extinction
Flying graceful and free.
None but the best,
Cause the man cannot rest
Til he's finally beaten his me

And the band played on
As the helicopters whirred.
Drunk on the lawn in a nuclear dawn,
My senses finally blurred..

Til the end, he passed out on the
Sundeck that morning
Quietly saying goodbye
But I was so hammered I sputtered and stammered
Told him he couldn't just die
He was a rock
Went straight for his own armegeddon
Face froze in a grin
Ambulance flying in, I never drank again
Can't really call that a loss or a win

And the band played on
As the helicopters whirred.
Drunk on the lawn in a nuclear dawn,
My senses finally blurred..

42 is the answer

Me at 41 - 030910

I've been thinking about the book, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, by Douglas Adams.   In the book, a very intellectual species builds a super computer called Deep Thought to find, "... the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything."  The computer spent 7.5 million years to find the answer.

On a huge, momentous day, all the people gathered around Deep Thought for the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything.

Lunkwill:  Do you...
Deep Thought: Have an answer for you?  Yes.  But your not going to like it.
Fook: Please tell us.  We must know!
Deep Thought:  Okay.  The answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything is... 42.

Everyone was so disappointed with the answer because it made no sense.  Deep thought then told them they needed to figure out what the questions was that had the answer 42.  That would take another 10 million years.

I appreciate Douglas Adams cheeky writing about this.  We (the royal we) spend so much time looking for the answers that we forget to ask the right question.  It reminds me of when my parents always corrected me when asking for permission.  "Mom.  Can you take me to the store?"  My mom would always respond with, "Yes.  I can take you to the store, but it doesn't mean I will take you to the store."  I then rephrased the question as "Mom.  Would you please take me to the store?".

Now that I am 42, I am trying to figure out both the question and the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything.  Actually, I am not trying that hard.  Maybe some parts of all this is better left to being a mystery.  Until I figure all this out, I am happy with being 42.