Visit, but not live.

Karl and the Bear's tooth - 062616

I travel a lot for pleasure and work.  One of my first reactions when I get to a nice place is to think if I would want to live there.  I look at what life would be like there, including, housing, entertainment, work, art, etc., all the things worth living for in a place.  Almost all the time, the answer is the same, great place to visit, but not to live.


Last week I was in Montana, and I mean IN.  I drove over 2200 miles in that state in 7 days and rarely repeated the same section of road.  I saw Glacier National Park, Fort Peck Dam, Yellowstone National Park, and drove through the big Montana cities of Missoula, Kalispell, Helena, Great Falls, Bozeman, and Billings.  Some how I missed Butte, one of the greatest gems in America, but I've been there quite a bit.

I grew up in Montana and still have family there.  I visit it twice per year to help out on my parents' land and around the home.  I love that state.  It is a part of me, my heart, my loins, my art, my spirit, but...  it isn't home anymore.

I looked at what it would be like to live in Great Falls, Butte, and Red Lodge.  I explored so many options, but in the end I realized, I left their in 1997 for a reason.

There are many reasons I prefer the Bay Area and Las Vegas, but to list them would seem anti-Montana and kind of mean.  I love that state and am glad I can visit it and love it.

On a side note, this photo was taken at 10,800 feet in elevation near the top of the Beartooth Pass.  It is one of my spiritual homes.  I treated myself to a short hike (air is thin and hiking is hard there) and meditated for 15 minutes.

I closed my eyes and focused on breathing.  I tried to be present to all the senses other than vision.  I got lost in that world and forgot where I was.  As my timer went off telling me my 15 minutes were up, I opened my eyes and this was the scene before me.  I started weeping from the grandeur of the moment and my being a small part of it.  I felt so alive after that.  In another post, I will tell you about the clouds above me and how they die.

PS - The mountain range is named after the tiny, craggy, tooth shaped peak you can see at the top far right of the image, the last little point along the horizon before hitting the photo's edge.

Speeding by annihilation

ICBM Missile Silo, Central Montana - 012813

When you zip around eastern and central Montana (and much of North Dakota) you see these places.  The are about an acre of fenced in concrete, asphalt, and a few electronic devices.  They are scattered all over the landscape and often have cattle around them quietly grazing.  Under that bit of concrete though lies the potential death of millions of people.  It is the ultimate potential energy device humanity has every created, the intercontinental ballistic missile, or ICBM, just waiting to become kinetic.

I grew up in the 70's and 80's with these all around me.  As kids, my brother and I would play a game counting the number of missile silos we would pass while on family trips.  Mom and dad didn't say anything about our game, but by the look on their faces we could tell it was not a game to them.

In junior high and high school, we watched movies like The Day After that chronicled the aftermath of the nuclear holocaust.  We read Alas, Babylon.  We were told that if WW3 started, we would be some of the first to know as we would watch the missiles rise out of the earth and go into space to come back down on the USSR.  We also knew that we would have about 20 minutes to live before we would burn up in a flash.

Once after school, a few of us talked about what we would do if we saw the missiles launch.  A few with teenage bravado and hormones exclaimed a desire to die not virgins, so they would go find their girlfriends to spend those last minutes with.  A few said they would race home to family and spend time with them. I just got sad because I knew my home was thirty minutes away and I would die alone.  Whenever I heard a sonic boom (a monthly or even weekly occurrence), I would worry for an instant that a missile had launched and gone super sonic on its one-way trip over the arctic.  I would close my eyes and say a soft, mumbled prayer, "Please. Not this time."

In 2011 I took a long road trip around Montana.   On the third to last day in that state, I started to come down with a nasty cold.  I could only do a couple hundred miles of driving before I needed to rest.  I was sad because I knew I would be sick on the day I would drive my favorite road in Montana, Highway 200 between Great Falls and Missoula.

I love that road because it tickles my fetish for geological boundaries.  It is where the Great Plains runs head on into the Rocky Mountains.  It is my favorite place in the world.  That day though, I was feverish and wanting to both enjoy the beauty and just get to Butte and a warm bed.

About forty minutes west of Great Falls, I saw the deja vu-inducing missile silo site.  I quickly grabbed my camera and shot five images as I sped by at 70 mph.  I wasn't sure if I was allowed to take those photos, so I made it a quick pass.  After I set my camera down, all of those high school memories from a time when our enemy was the USSR came flooding back.  I suddenly felt both lonely in the car and nostalgic for Montana.  I looked in my rear view mirror at the quickly receding silo and and whispered in a horse voice to it, "Please.  Not this time."

The price of branding and exposure.

Valya - 092612

I am in a conundrum.  To become a better artist and to try to make a living from it I have to promote myself more. I appreciate and understand that, but where is the balance?  How much of this exposure is about my product or about my own personal brand?  What is the price of branding and exposure?

A friend gave us an beautiful original platinum print a few years ago of a young Mexican woman standing by a fountain in a plaza.  That is a definite description of the product and could mean the print is worth a few dollars or a few thousand.  With just this description though, I would only pay the lower end of the spectrum.

A friend gave us a beautiful original Edward Weston platinum print of Frida Kahlo.  Just that sentence alone increased the photo's value substantially.  It has two very powerful names with Edward Weston as the photographer and Frida Kahlo as the subject.  It bears both their brands.

When building a personal brand, the creator's personality, accomplishments, failures, challenges, likes and dislikes, and creations are built into the brand.   Think about Edward Weston's brand - black and white modern photographer and pioneer of the art, fine-art nude photographer pioneer, lived in the US and Mexico, often took photos of his lovers or had intimate relationships with his models, part of the California photography movement, co-founder of the Group f/64, and so on.  He was temperamental, had estranged children, and other personal challenges.  All of this has become part of his legend and his brand and helps ensure his art continues to hold or gain value.

Out of all the prints I've sold, I've never heard anyone say, "I own a Sutphin photo."  I would probably hear, "I have a great photo of horses and windmills that I bought from this guy in California."  Only people that know me personally and know my work have a chance of looking at a photo of mine and being able to identify it by style, content, etc., that it is one of mine.  Most others just see the content.   My branding is weak in two ways, no one recognizes my name to my art and no one can look at my art and identify it as mine. 

Rocky Mountain Front near Heart Butte, Blackfoot Indian Reservation, Montana - 092612

The answer appears very simple - get my work and name out there.  Promote, promote, promote.  The cost of it though is what do I associate with my name?   I see I can have at least two very different categories of clients, starting with portraits and erotic fine-art photography.  I doubt my clients for either group really care of or for the other type of work I do.  Do I hide one (probably the nudes) to grow my other brand and business?  Am I ready for my personal history, warts and all, to become part of my brand?  Is my history exciting enough to add to my brand?  I think about this because as someone's notoriety grows, so does his/her exposure and discovery of personal history.  Both my friends/clients and my competition are going to want to know about me if my art star rises.  How will this information of my work and life affect those around me?

It is sad that we can't embrace sexuality, sensuality, and eroticism as an open art form without worrying about fall out from it.  I greatly lament this, but it is the reality and I must figure out my niche and how I can exploit it.  It's easy for me to think I wont worry about what others think of me, but if I want to grow my brand, I need to be concerned about it's value and appearance as well.  As much as I am growing into accepting who I am and trying not to worry what others think, that nagging worry will always be there. 

Overstaying my welcome

Delta Sign - 121411

Back in college our group of friends would take turns hosting parties.  There would usually be a dozen or so of us laughing, dancing, arm wrestling, drinking, eating, toking, making out, joking, and then repeat.  Each party was a treat that lasted for hours and ended when everyone dribbled out.  This exodus usually would last only last ten minutes or so before everyone cleared out.

One night at Scott and Tracy's, four of us remained as we hung out in the living room talking, laughing and getting drunk.  At one point (around two am) there was a lull in the conversation and we could hear the music coming from the stereo.  The song was Contact by Phish.  The relaxing lyrics of the first verse so clearly poured into our ears.

The tires are the things on your car
That make contact with the road
The car is the thing on the road
That takes you back to your abode

We looked at Scott and asked if he was trying to give us a hint.  He laughed and shrugged.  We all then laughed and decided it was time to walk home.  That song became a running joke that we would all play at parties as the exit tune.  It was a funny way to give the soft message, "Time to move along."

We moved to California in 1997 and have lived in Vallejo ever since.  That is only fourteen years, but that is four years longer  than I've lived in  any other place in my life.  Vallejo feels like home and I am comfortable here, but I am getting the subtle signs, internal and external, that it is time to move on.  For the past year or so I've felt both pushes and tugs to leave.  These forces are communicating to me that it is time to move along down the road.

Las Vegas Sign - 121411

The pushes are all around me.  They are subtle and I believe exist in both my subconscious and of those around me.  Many of the pushes are probably my sub-conscious creating negative narratives affirming a need of my own.  One example is the feeling at work that it is time to move one.  The job feels old and rusting.  My performance is getting worn out and I am running out of enthusiasm for it.  I wouldn't be shocked if my coworkers feel the same about me. 

While I may be manufacturing many of the pushes in my mind, I've noticed real ones too.  I've burned a few bridges over the years.  One really bad and recent one is indirectly sending me push messages.  Through very indirect communication (some subtle, some public), the sender is giving signals that my presence and welcome are worn out.  The sender is done with me and it is time for me to fade away.  I earned that push so I am trying to fade out as quietly as possible.

Helping the push are the tugs pulling me into new areas.  The tugs come from going to New York, Las Vegas, Rome, and my other wanderings and travels.  During those times away I felt tugs to move to the new area and a growing regret when I got back to the Bay Area.  These tugs made me realize that a new home awaits me elsewhere.  These tempting tugs beckon me with promises of a  home where I am welcomed, wanted, and where I can bring fresh blood, no burned bridges, new perspective, experience, passion art, humor, and energy.  These places are not tired of or annoyed with Karl yet nor feel the need to push me out.  I haven't disappointed, failed, hurt, or broken hearts in those places.  I am sure though one day I will.  It seems everyplace I go I overstay my welcome.

Phish - Contact

Back and forth

Rocky Mountain Front near Heart Butte, MT - 102311

Plans change as life forces them.  I just got back from a long road trip through Montana. 
This wasn't my first trip of my vacation either.  Just before that I went down the California central coast with my brother and his wife and stayed in two different motels.  In the past 18 days, I've slept in 9 different hotels, each one for only a night.  Needless to say, I am really good at checking in and out, unpacking and repacking, and moving on.

Last Sunday, a week ago, I was kayaking on Kintla Lake in Glacier Park near the Canadian border.  The fall colors enticing me to paddle a little further as the sun went down.  That was a magic day.  There were other magic days along the way as well, but I hate reading or listening to others' traveling tales almost as much as seeing their photos.  The memories or photos really only have meaning to the traveler, not their friends.  Their are exceptions though, if something newsworthy happens, if the traveler has a life changing experience and shares that, and a few other rare traveling gems.

Kintla Lake, Glacier National Park - 102311

Most of the trip involved me driving my little mid-life crisis sports car at just over the speed limit (I did get up to 100-110 mph for a dozen miles and also set a personal speed/time record for a curvy bit of Idaho road).  I saw 2905 miles of the American West through my bug-splattered windshield.  If I averaged 60mph over that distance, I spent 2905 minutes (~48.5 hours) being alone in my head.  You would think that during that much time in some of the most beautiful autumn scenery around I would find some deep intrinsically valuable nugget.  I didn't have any life-changing epiphanies on this trip.

On the second to last day I checked my credit card and bank account balances online.  I was shocked by how the former had grown and how low the latter had dropped.  I was being pretty frugal by staying in 1-2 star hotels, eating the free breakfasts, and keeping other expenses down.  It is amazing though how fast it all adds up.  It was worth it though.

I also started to notice my own energy/enthusiasm savings account was running low.  It didn't help having a cold and needing to rest and drive minimal distances for two days.  Like my monetary backing, I was running out of personal resources.  By the time I parked in my driveway I had to rethink how I am going to live the rest of my 8-week vacation.  By the end of week three I had used up over 2/3rds of my money I set aside for this time.

I originally planned to take this trip to Montana, then head to NYC for a week and end with a trip along the eastern Sierras on another road trip to Las Vegas.   That stuff isn't going to happen.

NYC is out.  I love the city more than any other.  It  is very difficult to cut that trip, but I have to.  It isn't just the money and energy.  I need a plan for what I want to do and capture there and sadly, my plans seem empty.  I really want to photograph the place, meet up with a few friends, work with models, both new to me and as well as veterans of my work, and create life-changing (at least to my life) art.  Sadly, I am not feeling the inspiration for what to create and don't have the time and money to gamble that something will come up when I get there.

A Las Vegas trip is still in play since it will be much cheaper and I will soon have a stronger/more permanent connection to that city.  That trip comes in November.

There is another reason for these deep changes to my travel plans, I need to take care of some shit in my life.  For years I've neglected finishing things that I started.  I have a truck in the driveway I restored 95% a few years ago, and it has sat at 95% for two years.  I have a website that cost a bit of money to set up and I need to finish it so I can gain the benefits from it.  There are thousands of untouched photos on my computer that I need to finish.  I have two or three major photo projects I need to finish up before starting new ones.  My home needs some repairs before the winter rains hit.  My physical and mental health is deteriorating due to gluttony and neglect. The list goes on.

I am sad I will have to snuff out the sexy, cool and exciting plans I created for this special time off.  I always desire to move on to the next thing at the cost of not finishing what I am on.  It is exciting to live like this, but also comes at a heavy cost of unfulfilled commitments and strained/broken promises and relationships.

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..