Robert Jones Photo

California Again

2012-01-26T22:21:00.000-06:00

Wool Growers' Restaurant

Los Banos, California, October 2009

I began my series on the farmers of California's San Joaquin Valley on this particular day, in October 2009. I had begun photographing at the San Juan Reservoir early in the afternoon, and by the time I was finished, I asked the park guide where I could get a good meal.

He directed me to the famous Wool Growers' Restaurant in Los Banos, ten miles away. Wool Growers' is a French Basque restaurant which serves its food - lamb stew, fried chicken, boiled cabbage and potatoes, and tons of bread and wine - family style. I could barely finish half of my meal, though the farmers sitting nearby cleaned their plates. Farming is some strenuous labor.

Los Colores de Coahuila

2012-01-15T23:08:00.001-06:00

Dam reservoir along the Rio Grande

Presa La Amistad, Coahuila, Mexico, April 2001

The one thing I learned from A. Aubrey Bodine's spectacular photography of Baltimore and Maryland's Eastern Shore, is that a great photographer can never leave home, yet show us the world. I have been in Minnesota three years, and still I cannot develop an affinity for the place. (That's not to detract from Minnesota as photographic subject - Chris Faust has done wonders with the Gopher State).

This is where my heart is, the Mexican state of Coahuila.

I shot this exposure on one of the greatest films ever, Kodachrome 64. Sadly, it is gone now.

The Shape of Things To Come

2012-01-13T21:26:00.001-06:00

Parachute ride, Coney Island

Brooklyn, New York, November 1988

I don't plan on dying like Eggleston, with more than 1,000 rolls of exposed film still in the icebox. I developed this roll of Agfapan 100 when I was a student at Hunter College, and quickly contact printed it. But a project of street photography took over my interest straightaway, and I never got around to printing this one until nearly a quarter-century later.

Better late than never.

Los Colores de Coahuila

2012-01-09T23:43:00.000-06:00

Ciudad Acuña, Coahuila, Mexico, April, 2001

Great news! I will be having my first one-man exhibit in nine years, at the Firehouse Gallery, in Del Rio, Texas. Friday, April 6, 2012.

Mark your calendars!

Oh, the Humanity!

2012-01-06T23:13:00.001-06:00

Hindenburg Memorial

Lakehurst Naval Air Station, New Jersey, March 2004

This photograph is from, literally, the oldest roll of film I ever shot. I acquired this roll, which had been stored in a cool basement since bought new by an old photographer friend of mine. I shot this photo of the Hindenburg Memorial on a roll of Kodak Panatomic-X, the fine-grained film that Kodak stopped production of in 1989.

The Panatomic-X film we film photographers all know was rated 32 ASA. This particular roll was rated 12 ASA back in the day, and had an expiry date of April 1939. That meant -- film usually given a shelf life of three years -- this roll was probably manufactured sometime in 1936. Which means the film I finally exposed in 2004 -- 67 years after the Hindenburg disaster of May 6, 1937 -- actually predated the crash landing by at least one year.

I developed this in Kodak D-76. I used that developer as I hadn't the foggiest notion how to develop the ancient roll of Panatomic-X. Fortunately there was a data sheet enclosed in the film's box, and D-76 was one of the recommended developers still in existence, and as I happened to have some D-76, it came out pretty well. The negatives were rather dark, as the film was fogged after almost seven decades of storage. You can see little black spots on the film, which resulted from heat exposure.

Concrete Cathedrals

2012-01-03T00:23:00.000-06:00

U.S. Route 66, Landergin, Texas, November 1999

It's hard to believe that it has been more than twelve years ago that I began the series I now call Concrete Cathedrals. I was on my way up out of Texas to photograph the Anasazi ruins at Mesa Verde. I never got there, because I was captivated by the cement grain elevators which dot the landscape in the Texas Panhandle. These particular silos are found outside the tiny ghost town of Landergin, about 10 miles west of Vega.

Since I photographed this image, I've visited hundreds of grain elevators in the United States and Canada. It's the longest series I've worked on, and it will be my last book. I don't ever plan on stopping work on Concrete Cathedrals.

Pentax Auto 110

2011-12-30T19:01:00.000-06:00

County Road 1, Ostrander, Minnesota, October 2011

You can't find 110 pocket camera film anymore, but I caught this photo - on a negative smaller than a thumbnail - on the versatile Pentax Auto 110 with 18mm prime lens, on Kodak Verichrome Pan 125 ASA film. Lovely stuff.

Concrete Cathedrals

2011-12-26T23:13:00.001-06:00

Off Interstate 37, Corpus Christi, Texas, May 2000

Rescanned the original negative at extremely fine resolution, and found beautiful nuances in Photoshop I never knew were there before.

Concrete Cathedrals

2011-12-18T00:46:00.000-06:00

U.S. Route 150, Fithian, Illinois, August 2011

I was so overwhelmed by the beauty of this grain elevator in Illinois that I previously only shot with my Polaroid Colorpack in June, that I returned in August to get a "proper" photograph with my Rolleiflex SL-66 on the now long-gone Agfapan 25.

Christmas Pictures!!!

2011-12-16T23:07:00.000-06:00

Evan and Sarah wish you a blessed holiday season!

Painting With Light

2011-12-03T01:34:00.000-06:00

Portrait of Emily Tomlin, Rochester, Minnesota, November 2011

Or, this could be called film from the freezer, as I shot this photograph on a roll of Kodak Panatomic-X, 32 ASA film that expired in 1969. It held up well. I took this photograph with a tripod-mounted Rolleiflex SL-66, loaded with the great old stuff. Zeiss Planar 80mm lens/f2.8, f5.6 at 1-1/2 minutes.

I only used two sources of light: A 25-watt desk lamp behind the armchair, and a diffused flashlight.

Thanks to Emily Tomlin, especially, for being extremely patient and still during the shoot.

Garish - Retooling

2011-11-17T23:30:00.001-06:00

Dairy Queen, U.S. Route 63, Stewartville, Minnesota, November 2011

It has been quite a long while since a film emulsion has excited me. It used to be a quarterly -- sometimes even monthly -- event. But with the ascendancy of digital and the waning of film, it's become somewhat akin to listening to a favorite band's long-awaited release on vinyl.

The last time I got this excited was the summer of 2010, when I returned from Barcelona with a number of exposed rolls of Kodak Ektar 100, and found that not only was the color superior to Agfa's old Ultra 100 emulsion, but that its grain was even finer than Agfa Ultra 50. It was as though Eastman Kodak had retooled Ektar 25, but made it jump two stops without any loss in resolution.

Well, with the demise of Polaroid, I am starting to run out of their wonderful 669 and 690 Polacolor pack films I use in the Polaroid Colorpack cameras. So, preparing for the inevitable, I purchased a few packs of Fuji's FP-100C Professional pack film, which replaces Polaroid 690.

Now, while I shoot Polacolor for its obviously "off" colors (who doesn't love their loam green and cyan skies of 669 film?), I found the color way truer than even the 690 film, which was a vast improvement in color accuracy over 669. In fact, the above photo recalls Fuji's marvelous E-6 emulsions, and instantly reminded me of many transparencies I have made on their Astia and Sensia films. (The above has not been tweaked for color balance, nor for saturation).

Even more astounding was the exposure latitude on this stuff! Whereas Polacolor (in either 669 or 690) would have had lost detail and murky shadowing in the darker areas, the Fuji maintained detail in both the shaded and shadow areas.

This is an astounding find! Although this film has been around for a while, I was a Polacolor diehard. I still prefer to use it (I honestly don't shoot it for reasons of color and tonal fidelity - I use it because of -- not despite -- its flaws).

Still, I have a new snapshot stalwart awaiting me when I run out of the great old stuff, and I am looking forward to new ways of seeing the things I shoot.

Garish - The Next Generation

2011-11-07T20:41:00.001-06:00

Trans-Canada Highway, near Lytton, British Columbia, Canada,

July 2011

I am not, by training nor inclination, a nature photographer. When God was passing out the Ansel Adams and Galen Rowell genes, I was in line for the Walker Evans and Pete Turner DNA. Still, if nature has been altered, trimmed, and adapted by the hand of man, then I am attuned to this mutation, and it piques my interest and captures my eye.

Case in point: These young growth conifers in the mountains of British Columbia. They fascinate me as to how mankind can harmonize with nature, in a Grandma Moses sort of way

I'll leave the Muir Woods to those who can do it way better than I.

Stairways to Heaven

2011-10-14T14:30:00.000-05:00

U.S. Route 87, Colfax County, New Mexico, February 2002

There is a story behind this memorial. To be shared soon....

Film From the Freezer

2011-10-11T13:16:00.002-05:00

U.S. Route 63, Rochester, Minnesota, October 2011

A fun thing to do as a photographer, especially when I am bored, is to test film I've never used before. In this case, the film is Kodak Vericolor Reproducing Slide Film 5072, which expired in July 1992. I inherited it about eleven years ago when the folks at the Randolph Air Force Base photo hobby shop were getting rid of old and expired film, and it has been in my freezer ever since.

This Vericolor stock was never meant to be run through a camera, but rather was manufactured as a lab film for making 1:1 slides in C-41 process from E-6 and Kodachrome originals.

Apparently, time has also rendered it totally devoid of yellow and green hues. The posts in the foreground are a blazing amber, but all that remains is the magenta.

But, for blue and red objects, this seems to be just the film I was looking for!

Ali Sifuentes

2011-09-30T11:52:00.005-05:00

Painting of Kentucky Fried Chicken on U.S. Route 14, Rochester, Minnesota

by artist Ali Sifuentes

Often when I eat at a fast food restaurant, I walk by and glance at the "art" many of them hang on their walls, from the annoying "inspiration" posters, to faded advertisements from the 1990s, all ensconced in those annoying metallic-gold lacquer plastic frames.

But, while stopping by the Kentucky Fried Chicken in Rochester, a picture actually did catch my eye. I thought, "who dreamt up the advertising ploy to paint a KFC restaurant a la Edward Hopper, all full of alarming hues and chiaroscuro? Someone on Madison Avenue knows what they're doing!"

But, on closer inspection, I saw that the painting was an original, and not some high-quality reproduction. I inquired about the artist. It turns out the artist is one Ali Sifuentes, a 20 year-old painter who works the fryers and the drive-thru at this particular restaurant. The painting is a gift he made to the restaurant.

Although my Motorola Z6C cheap camera phone can't do justice to the tonal balance, and the brush and putty-knife strokes, here is a somewhat acceptable photograph of the painting. Ali hails from Nuevo Laredo, Mexico, which is a border city across the Rio Grande from Texas. When I mentioned the painting had a cinematic perspective and Edward Hopper feel, he smiled, and told me that was precisely the effect he was going for. Along with Hopper, he is a follower of Dali. He has only been painting for two years, so until he was 18, Sifuentes must have had all this latent talent building up. Soft-spoken, and of diminutive stature, Sifuentes seems to be one of those artists who pays a lot of attention to the dull surroundings the rest of us take for granted, transforming them into something magical and arresting.

Road Less Traveled

2011-09-07T22:09:00.002-05:00

U.S. Route 12, Oakdale, Wisconsin, September 2011

Not to sound like Andy Rooney, but Have You Ever Noticed that whereas the old independent strip motels that dot our byways off the Interstate have character, that you would not want to actually stay there?

That's because they're are often run down, unhygienic, and you certainly wouldn't want to take a shower in Cabin 1 on some lonely, rainy night.

I would much rather stay someplace luxurious and civilized, such as the DoubleTree Suites, in Minneapolis (/sarcasm).

Daniel Raven Valdes, 1945-2011

2011-09-04T00:09:00.007-05:00

Portrait of Daniel Raven Valdes, Santa Fe, New Mexico, March 2005

Bad news travels fast, but the saddest news takes its time. I learned last night that the acclaimed American Indian artist Daniel Raven Valdes, died of a brain aneurysm. He was 65.

I first met Daniel in 2005 when fellow photographer Lori Montoya interviewed and photographed him for an article I was writing on how the American Indian and native Spanish populations were being systematically pushed out of Santa Fe's old city through gentrification.

What most struck me about Daniel was that he exuded an inner confidence and graciousness one seldom encounters amongst artists--particularly Santa Fe artists. But Daniel was a real Santa Fe artist, not just a transplant who moved into the local art scene and pushed out the local artists. Father Sun-Mother Earth, his gallery, planted its roots way back in 1976, and for over thirty years, Daniel was adamant about remaining the "last man standing." He wasn't a bitter individual, just someone who knew his worth. He was a fixture of the downtown scene for friends of his, like Lori, and another fellow artist, Cruz Eagleheart, and with his characteristic modesty, likened his gallery to the Woolworth's lunch counter, always making his art accessible to anyone who admired it, whether well-heeled, or on a student budget.

Daniel's work was gorgeous, but his best work--painstakingly done on scratchboard--had to be experienced in person, to appreciate its intricacy and texture. He possessed an eye for color that was in keeping with the tradition of so many great New Mexican painters, not of the Georgia O'Keefe school, but in comradeship with the airbrush wielding artisans, waxing poetic over lowriding '63 Impalas in Española body shops.

In honor of Daniel's memory, there will be a gathering at Embudo Station at 1 p.m., Sunday, September 18th, in Santa Fe.

Daniel Raven Valdes at his gallery at 124 Galisteo

Santa Fe, New Mexico, March 2005

Photograph by Robert Jones

Madhi Choudhury, Graphic Artist

2011-09-02T12:09:00.005-05:00

Mahdi Choudhury's reimagining of a poster for

Alfred Hitchcock's masterpiece, Vertigo

Sometimes, a graphic so totally bowls me over, I have to share it on my blog. Case in point: Toronto artist Mahdi Choudhury, who has taken Kim Novak's silhouette from a key scene in Alfred Hitchcock's masterpiece, Vertigo, and transformed it into an arresting stand-alone graphic.

While I do not think Choudhury captured the thematic essence of the movie, he brilliantly distilled its emotional impact. Compare that with Kate Whelan's design (see below), which captures the movie's theme splendidly, but totally lacks Choudhury's emotional connection.

I am certain the world will soon know Choudhury's work the way it does Saul Bass's or Paul Rand's -- the quite accomplished graphic designer is but 14 years old, though his soul is much older.

(Hat tip: Dan Auiler).

Happy Accident

2011-08-30T22:31:00.001-05:00

Trans-Canada Highway, outside Parkbeg, Saskatchewan

August 2011

Shooting with my Polaroid Super Colorpack, I had left the focus ring set at 5 feet from the previous photograph I took, a portrait. I retook the shot, but actually prefer the heavily-diffused look (called "soft focus" nowadays, a euphemism for "out of focus").

I can't pull a Pee Wee on ya, and say "I meant to do that." I didn't, but so what? The results are just the same.

Tomatoes!

2011-08-28T21:50:00.001-05:00

Tomatoes on conveyor belt to washer

Ingomar Packing Facility, Los Banos, California, July 2011

It slices, it dices, look at that tomato! You could cut a tin can with it, but you wouldn't want to!

You Can't Go Back Sometimes

2011-08-27T00:00:00.000-05:00

Cedarhof Restaurant

Trans-Canada Highway, Wawa Ontario, Canada, August 2011

The first time I traveled the Trans-Canada Highway, in October 2002, I pulled off at this charming restaurant and had an expertly-cooked German meal that still makes my mouth water, just remembering it: Hungarian goulash soup, buttered rye bread, and a Wienerschnitzel, lightly breaded, that just melted in my mouth.

Every time thenceforth I traveled the Trans-Canada, I would pass through Wawa too late at night for it to be open. So, this time I set out early enough to make it there in time for dinner.

No matter: I found that the Cedarhof had been closed down eight years ago, which means on my five subsequent journeys -- beginning in 2004 -- it had been out-of-business all along; I just didn't know it yet.

I assumed it was still opened, as it is still listed on Wawa's tourist website promoting its businesses.

You just never know.

Pixley Tire Shop Revisited

2011-08-26T23:25:00.000-05:00

Pixley Tire Shop, off State Highway 99

Pixley, California, July 2011

I always like to revisit places I've photographed before, particularly during different times of day, and even seasons, when the light is different. In this case, I was able to photograph the south face of the tire shop in Pixley, California, which I had previously visited in November of 2009. Using my Nikon this time instead of a camera phone, and some rather flat Kodak Gold 400, I got an interesting look for this shot I took around 9:00 am.

Tomato Harvest In the San Joaquin Valley

2011-08-24T22:09:00.001-05:00

Tomatoes and Vista of California's Coastal Mountains

Huron, California, July 2011

Dear readers, my apologies for being "gone" most of the summer. If this were any normal blog, I'd be updating it via my Blackberry, Droid, or iPhone. But, being the low-tech Luddite I am, I still do things the old-fashioned way -- on film.

I spent two weeks in the San Joaquin Valley of central California this summer, capturing the majestic vistas found there, farmers and farm laborers doing the backbreaking -- yet highly efficient -- work of putting food on America's and the world's dinner tables. The panoramic vistas I snapped on the Hasselblad X-Pan, and the grit, grime, and guts of the people bringing the harvest to market I shot on my trusty Nikon FM-3A. Instead of cards and memory sticks, I captured these images on Agfa's brilliant Optima II 100 film (see above) and Kodak Tri-X black and white 400 ASA.

It was worth the wait.

Mission San Juan Bautista, California

2011-07-18T20:42:00.002-05:00

U.S. Route 101, South of San Juan Bautista, California, July 2011

California's Mission San Juan Bautista was founded by Spanish fathers as the fifteenth of twenty-one Roman Catholic missions in 1797. Named for St. John the Baptist, the mission represents redemption through the cleansing of sin, and acceptance of Jesus Christ as one's savior.

Mission San Juan Bautista, San Juan Bautista, California, July 2011

But for the avid moviegoer, the mission is immortalized as the place where a torn Kim Novak and an obsessive James Stewart brought themselves to a point well beyond redemption in Alfred Hitchcock's masterpiece, Vertigo, filmed here in 1957, and released the next year.

The mission has changed little since Hitchcock and Robert Burks, director of photography, filmed Vertigo more than 50 years ago, with one exception: The tower where the movie's climatic scene takes place was a figment of set designer Henry Bumstead's imagination, and inserted into the film by way of matte painting.

San Juan Bautista's fictitious tower, Henry Bumstead, designer, 1958

The mission church as it exists in reality, with a smaller, external bell tower to right;

The missions original bell tower was destroyed in a fire in the 1800s

Photo taken July 2011

I was able to capture these images with the amazing Hasselblad Xpan camera, which captures its images on a focal plane 65mm wide by 24 mm high, the exact same in-camera dimensions as Paramount's VistaVision camera, on which Vertigo was shot in Technicolor. These photographs were taken on Kodak's Vericolor III film, which has not been available since the 1990s.

Detail of Plaza Livery Stable, July 2011

Standing outside the mission, I can hear Bernard Herrmann's mesmerizing soundtrack in my mind.

Dissolve of Livery Stable and Courtyard, July 2011

Courtyard, Plaza Hall, and Livery Stable, as seen from Convent arch, July 2011

Plaza Hotel, July 2011

Mission San Juan Bautista and courtyard, July 2011

In addition to the mission at San Juan Bautista is the lovely small town of the same name, where you can dine in very civilized fashion at Joan and Peter's German Restaurant, which makes one of the best Sauerbratens I've had in the United States, and a Westfalischen Schnitzel the California way, with melted Monterrey Jack cheese.

Garish: The Next Generation

2011-07-15T16:27:00.001-05:00

State Highway 13, Morgan County, West Virginia, June 2011

When driving to your destination this summer on vacation, remember to look out for the little ones!

Crazy Horse in Black and White

2011-07-12T16:36:00.002-05:00

Crazy Horse Memorial

Crazy Horse, South Dakota, April 2011

I finally got around to developing the film I took of the majestic Crazy Horse mountain, near Custer, South Dakota. It is simply powerful beyond words!

Going To California

2011-06-23T23:41:00.002-05:00

Fallow land, outside Mendota, California, aerial shot, June 2010

Next week, I'll be continuing work on my pictorial essay on the San Joaquin Valley in California.

Click on this image. What you see is not land that has gone fallow because of the prudent agricultural practice of crop rotation, but land that has been fallow for years -- and perhaps, for evermore -- because of misguided, so-called "environmentalists" in the Federal government who are sacrificing the nation's most fertile farmland to the ravages of soil erosion, in the name of allegedly saving a tiny fish called the "Delta Smelt."

Never mind that the Delta Smelt is in more danger from urban users upstream near Sacramento, who overwhelm Northern California's waterways with millions of gallons of untreated sewage every single day, what is more important is that the Beautiful People -- the upscale yuppies who need only "care" for the environment -- have more numbers than "Those People," the farmers and Mexican laborers downstream who are among this nation's best stewards of farming land (in all my travels through the Central Valley, I've maybe seen ten or twelve tanks of anhydrous ammonia in total, versus a dozen -- to scores -- in every farming town in Minnesota, where I currently reside).

Who cares that there is 40% unemployment in the heart of America's farming paradise? Not the important people. Important people think that food grows in the produce section of their local Whole Foods or Safeway. The "important" people upstream could care less whether food comes from their own home state, or China, or South America. They don't have to live with the people who are watching the American Dream going down the sewer: People who came to this country out of the hope of making better lives for themselves and their children, and now are watching that hope slip away from them as their numbers become casualties to the scourge or drugs, alcohol, dropping out of school, and crime.

The Left turns their backs on the people who do the real work in this country, because they're just a bunch of gauche hicks after all, clinging to their guns and religion, while the Right turns their backs on their fellow American farmers because they hired workers of somewhat darker complexion who committed the unpardonable sin of wanting to bust their humps for a pittance of a wage.

Out of the Box: Rediscovered Photographs

2011-06-21T16:22:00.000-05:00

Hyde Park, Boston, Massachusetts, October 2000

Out of the Box: Rediscovered Photographs

2011-06-20T00:54:00.000-05:00

Barber Shop, Hyde Park

Boston, Massachusetts, September 2000

So, I ask the two barbers if I can snap a photograph of them in their shop. No problem.

The client has a problem. "Well, you can cover your face if you don't want anyone to recognize you," I offer.

Problem solved!

One Lonely Night

2011-06-17T03:32:00.002-05:00

U.S. Route 522, Fulton County, Pennsylvania, October 1989

I found this photograph, eerily reminiscent of Hitchcock's Psycho on many levels, in a box while unpacking. (As prior military, I still haven't unpacked everything yet; there are about thirty boxes yet to open). Ah, to be 24 again, armed with a Ricoh KR-5 and Agfapan 100.

Concrete Cathedrals

2011-06-11T01:58:00.000-05:00

Grain Elevator

U.S. Route 150, Fithian, Illinois, June 2011

I saw this beautiful example of an early-20th century granary in rural Illinois, when I felt the pang of regret that I hadn't brought my Rolleiflex SL-66 medium format camera, my traditional tool for capturing these specimens of what photographer Chris Faust calls "commercial archaeology."

But then I remembered: I had a medium format camera with me, a Polaroid Super Colorpack 108-format instant camera, loaded with color 669 film. Thanks to Photoshop, I was able to tweak this into something silver halide.

Garish: The Next Generation

2011-06-10T01:00:00.000-05:00

Unger Store, State Highway 13, Unger, West Virginia, May 2011

Some times, as a photographer, I luck out: Unger's General Store closed down about four years ago, and I missed the opportunity to photograph this old country store, which had played such a crucial part of my teenaged years: I would often ride my old Team Raleigh ten-speed from my house outside of Berkeley Springs, West Virginia, to rural Frederick County, Virginia. Sitting atop the ridgeline after a steep climb of many miles, Unger's store was just about the point when my bike bottle went dry. Though there was no air conditioning in the store, just dunking my hand into the pop cooler to grab a glass bottle of Coca-Cola immediately reinvigorated me. They made Coke with real sugar back then. Today, you have to find a place that carries Mexican Coca-Cola to experience Coke as it ought to taste.

My bicycle journeys took place some thirty years ago, but driving up Route 13 and finding the place still intact made it seem like yesterday.

Garish: The Next Generation

2011-06-08T23:47:00.003-05:00

Mid-1970s Sebring Vanguard Citi Car SV-48

U.S. Route 136, near Brownsburg, Indiana, June 2011

Who killed the electric car? Just stabbing in the dark here, but my guess is it was the guy who designed this "unsafe at any speed" micro econobox. This loser was dead on arrival.

I don't know what the industrial designer's previous resume items were, but I'm thinking set designer or propmaster for Woody Allen's 1973 futuristic comedy, Sleeper.

Garish: The Next Generation

2011-06-03T21:20:00.000-05:00

Waffle House Restaurant, Arlington Road, Brookville, Ohio

June 2011

This is not a "Poladroid." This is not something I tweaked in Photoshop or Lightroom, to make it look like a Polaroid print. No, this is a Polaroid print, taken on 669 film with my Super Colorpack camera (which I bought on eBay for $3.50; may the Colorpack III rest in peace) just this week.

And, this beautifully stylized Waffle House restaurant -- which appears right out of the 1950s, with its lush landscaping -- looks simply stunning on real Polaroid film, a nice stash of which I keep stored in my Frigidaire. You see, while Polaroid film will most often render washed-out looking skies (as it does in this print), it was engineered to also produce heavily-saturated colors (also evident here), something the techno-geeks at Poladroid didn't exactly factor into their bit crunching. Like Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell sang, when music was also made in the analog format by artists who could read music and play instruments, "Ain't nothing like the real thing."

Baby.

Summer is here!

Ronnie James Dio: One Year Later

2011-05-16T00:01:00.003-05:00

Ronnie James Dio passed into the afterlife one year ago, today. This self-portrait is dedicated to his memory, replete with flashing horns to ward off the devils and daemons that may await him on his ascension from Purgatory, whilst he is breaking into Heaven.

New Book Launch: Los Colores de Coahuila

2011-04-29T22:57:00.002-05:00

Guitarist, Piedras Negras, Coahuila, Mexico, March 2001

As Garish: Roadside Polaroids goes through its final tweaks and polishing, as it goes to press in the Fall, I am pleased to announce work has begun on my next volume, Los Colores de Coahuila, my excursion through the cities and villages of the Mexican frontier state of Coahuila, along the Texas border.

Juan Torrescano, in his essay for the book, comments,

Robert Jones declares he does not want to use his images as a "deep" philosophical vehicle, nor does he want to concentrate on historical subject matters, but his images speak precisely to these topics (but without the verbiage to get in the way of his imagery): The aged troubadour, who dexterously strums his lira to please his improvised clients, the popsicle vendor who tirelessly runs through the broken pavements and alleyways with the desire to exhaust his goods, the proud rancher who places his hopes in the next season's harvest -- not to mention the spotted furious cock ready to enter into battle. The colorful juggling street clown in full attire, the snapshot of the smiling family, and what about the fortezza vecchia of the National Emblem, the effigy of the Patron Virgin of Mexicans? The flower vendors who avidly conquer their lady with a beautiful bouquet, as well as the figures of San Martin De Porres, the elderly woman, the barber, and the emerging mysterious gardener, the fresh fruit vendor, the roses in the church atrium, as well as the tower, and the stained glass windows. Or the scenes of dogs and felines lounging in the sun, and the wide range of multicolored, stripped and weathered facades, doors, and windows. All this -- for the people of the border -- is a standing ovation. It gives integrity to a bland environment of brick walls without decoration, or older houses that speak only of their abandonment.

The tentative launch date for Los Colores de Coahuila is Spring 2012.

Camera Phone Heresies: Crazy Horse Memorial

2011-04-21T21:46:00.006-05:00

Crazy Horse Mountain Memorial, scultpted from an original model by Korczak Ziolkowski

Crazy Horse, South Dakota, April 2011

Of course, no camera phone could ever do justice to Korczak's immense mountain, which has since 1948 been transformed into a man and his horse. But then, no camera could do full justice to this larger-than-life labor of love. This amazing rendition of the Lakota warrior Crazy Horse is a work in progress, still approximately five decades away from completion.

Located just miles from the famed Mount Rushmore, which Korczak was apprentice to Gutzon Borglum on in the late 1930s, Crazy Horse Mountain dwarfs the Presidential busts. Indeed, all flour faces could fit inside of Crazy Horse's head. To understand the height and breadth of Crazy Horse Mountain, consider that it is taller than the Washington Monument and broader than the Great Pyramids and Giza.

What most impresses me about Korczak Ziolkowski was that ever since Lakota Chief Henry Standing Bear invited him in 1939 to carve Crazy Horse's likeness, not one penny of government money has gone to support its construction. On principle, Ziolkowski refused a $10 million offer from the Federal Government to "help" him sculpt his mountain. The Boston native was a rugged New England individualist, in the mold of Emerson, and didn't believe in sticking his hand out. He knew that there's nothing "free" about government money, and that it always comes with strings attached. He probably also knew that in the case of his sacred mission, it would be blood money he was accepting.

Camera Phone Heresies: Wisconsin Trailer Park

2011-04-03T15:21:00.000-05:00

U.S. Route 12, near New Lisbon, Wisconsin, April 2011

The simple eloquence of these hand-painted signs is disappearing in a rapidly standardized world. Before long, we'll all be forced to use kilometers, and to purchase the signs from government-approved manufacturers.

Back From the Dead

2011-03-14T22:03:00.000-05:00

State Route 9, Paw Paw, West Virginia

July 2004

In the hazy, lazy days of summer, this sign beckons the motorist to its cooling charms. But here in Minnesota, ice is the nectar of the damned. Whoever said "When Hell freezes over" has never had to spend his winter in Minnesota. If he did, he'd use the present - not the future - tense.

Yet, the Earth here is thawing, the days are longer, and spring is around the corner. I shall take up my camera, wind in a spool of film, and shake of this pneumonia-induced funk I've been in for months on end.

Los Colores de Coahuila - Film from the Freezer

2010-12-18T15:06:00.000-06:00

Street scene. Location unknown, Coahuila, November 2004.

Of course, one of the problems of keeping film in the freezer forever is I sometimes forget where I took a certain photograph or roll of film. This is one such case. Nonetheless, it is a very intriguing scene.

Icelandic Sojourn

2010-12-14T22:05:00.000-06:00

Granaries, outside Reykjavik, Iceland, August 2001

So I visit Iceland, and what do I photograph? The spectacle of Icelandic nature in panoramic Technicolor?

No: I shoot stark black-and-white images of the industrial stuff. Just performing a public service no one else will! :)

Stuff I Should Have Printed

2010-12-12T22:50:00.000-06:00

Gnarled mesquite and epiphytes. Kerr County, Texas, October 2000

When you go through hundreds of rolls of film in a year, it is entirely possible to miss great images like this one if you fail to contact print them. Glad I finally got around to it.

Los Colores de Coahuila - Film from the Freezer

2010-12-10T21:46:00.003-06:00

Street Scene, Piedras Negras, Coahuila, Mexico, March 2001

One of the best unintended consequences of storing film in the freezer for nearly a decade is when a print such as this sneaks up on you, and quietly grabs you. I usually don't go for understatement, but this forgotten scene was apparently just too elegant to pass up.

Los Colores de Coahuila - Film from the Freezer

2010-12-09T14:07:00.000-06:00

Paleteria. Sabinas, Coahuila, Mexico, April 2002

I don't plan on leaving this earthly realm like Eggleston, leaving over 1,000 rolls of film in the freezer. In fact, I am now below 90. Just picked up this somewhat faded, but nonetheless sweet frozen treat from Walgreen's just today. After nearly a decade in the Frigidaire, this one still makes my mouth water.

Semi-Abandoned Bikes

2010-11-28T17:35:00.000-06:00

Bicycles. Coney Island, Brooklyn, New York, April 2003

It is entirely possible that these bicycles are still chained to this signpost, more than seven years after the fact. There is an off chance their owners returned to reclaim them. It is more probable the New York City Department of Highways sent someone over with a bolt cutter, and released these simple transportation machines back into the wild.

Of all my years in New York, I can never understand why people wrap their bikes in Hulk-proof chains and hasp them with Brinks-grade locks, only to abandon them to time and the elements.

Garish: The Cutting Room Floor

2010-11-26T22:59:00.000-06:00

U.S. Route 87, Union County, New Mexico, February 2002

According to artist Deidre Adams, this place is still standing, at least as of early 2009. I wonder how many decades or centuries America's ruins will hold up before ultimately being reclaimed by the earth.

Garish: The Cutting Room Floor

2010-11-26T00:28:00.000-06:00

Neon signs from Earl Abel's fabulous restaurant and coffee shop

Broadway, San Antonio, Texas, October 2002

One of the many things for which I am most thankful, now that Thanksgiving in America is over, is the great diner food at San Antonio's fabulous Earl Abel's. A fixture of San Antonio dining for almost a century, so were its customers at its old location, at the corner of Broadway and Hildebrand.

It was the kind of place that had its last facelift sometime in the late 1950s or early 60s, and where you could find comfort food freshly cooked, along with an amazing selection of scrumptious pies and cakes. As the Welsh say, "lush."

I don't remember them ever having a "wall of fame," but everybody who was somebody stopped by the legendary eatery. The most famous story about Earl Abel's was when Democrat congressman, Rep. Henry B. Gonzalez ate there. A fellow diner called him a "communist," and Henry B. apparently wailed on him. True story (I think). Who knows? It's fun to tell.

This photograph was taken on Polaroid's legendary (and, also defunct) 669 film, a nighttime double exposure, with my trust Colorpack III camera. For a tripod, I leaned against one of the convenient telephone poles which lined the sidewalk outside the restaurant.

Sadly, Earl Abel's -- the most beautiful example of Art Deco architecture still surviving in San Antonio -- met the wrecking ball in 2006. It was bought out by Red McCombs, a car dealer who throws a lot of money around to local charities to make a big show of how magnanimous he is. Instead of following his policy of benign neglect that he employed previously as owner of the Minnesota Vikings, McCombs razed Earl Abel's to make way for yet another boring high-rise. Real class.

Fortunately, the Earl Abel's name was bought out by the Elias Brothers restauranteurs and though, architecturally, it's but a shadow of its former self, you can sate your appetite for lush food at its new location at 1201 Austin Highway.

Garish: The Cutting Room Floor

2010-11-24T21:36:00.000-06:00

Street signs, television aerials, telephone lines

Piedras Negras, Coahuila, Mexico, c. 1999-2000

This one is too close to my heart and it hurt a lot to excise it from the book. Yet, it stands alone quite nicely, and takes me back to the smells of burning mesquite and roasting pine nuts.

A Libertarian Artist's Credo

2010-11-12T21:11:00.019-06:00

Actor Robert Duvall is an outspoken conservative in

Hollywood, whilst many thumb-sucking conservatives

are afraid to step out of the closet. Universally

recognized as a master of his craft,

here Duvall hoists his Best Actor Oscar

for 1983's Tender Mercies

I hate political art. Political art is not for me. I am uncomfortable with it mainly because its foremost practitioners’ politics are way stronger than their art – and their politics suck.

Yet, if you are like I, you know viscerally what it feels like to be a conservative artist, especially if you’re one who takes his art seriously. It feels lonely as hell.

Especially if you won’t sell out. It has not been news that the art world is peopled with flaneurs, shockers, and other assorted pretentious dilettantes who pose at being outcasts. But, you know who the real outcast is: It’s you.

It’s not just that you don’t fit in – you even feel as though you’d have been exiled from the Island of Misfit Toys. It’s not that you are lacking in a certain social DNA – it’s that you’re completely bereft of it. Kind of like that scene in Taxi Driver when Robert DeNiro, woefully inept at dating prowess, takes an uptight Cybill Shepherd to a porno theater on a first date.

By day, you’re just some guy or girl with a workaday job. You save up enough loose change and singles to finance what your family regards as your “eccentric hobby.” The earmarks of your passion are the oil paint you can’t fully scrape out from under your fingernails or the smell of photo fixer you can’t get out of your skin and clothes no matter how often you wash them.

You hide your political beliefs. You know you’re not a liberal, a progressive, or one of those mindless lemmings who’ve “gone green.” But, you’re struggling in your art career, and your position in the gallery scene is too precarious to let people know the “real you.”

So, you become a bifurcated self, hoping to avoid a confrontation with the movers and shakers, those oh-so insouciant curators in black turtlenecks, whose opinions you secretly despise whilst simultaneously craving their imprimatur.

You swell with a strange kind of “half” pride when you finally see your work hanging in one of those trendy galleries. You’re “half” elated when a collector buys one of your pieces. You convince yourself that you’ve kept your art “pure,” because you’ve kept politics out of your art – while hiding your personal political beliefs from the majority who automatically assume that because you’re an artist that you’re also a leftist.

You make yourself believe that you’ve kept yourself “above it all” by not stooping to the same level as the rest of the art community. Yet, deep down, you also know the very minute your secret political self is unmasked, that you will be blackballed, that so-called “friends” will drop you like a hot potato, and that in the art world you’ll be persona non grata.

You’ve censored who you are in order to stay safe, fit in, and pass by unnoticed. But your real self looks upon your artist self with nothing but scorn and shame, because deep down, you fear that you have sold out in some more insidious way than by prostituting your art.

You tell yourself it’s not your fault, because you know that the selfsame “tolerant” lefties have stacked the deck against Republicans, conservatives, and libertarians. They get away with it because of Political Correctness, you tell yourself.

But then, from out of the past comes the stinging rebuke that maybe they are not the only ones culpable for this bad scene. The admonition that, “All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing,” echoing in your mind comes not from Edmund Burke, but your own conscience.

Yes, when the intolerant left finds out about your clandestine conservatism, of course your art career will be ruined: You have already abdicated the sanctity of your conscience by prostrating yourself before people who hate what you stand for. Why should they suddenly respect you when they already know you’re lacking in spine and stomach?

Or, you can take some schooling from Don Vito Corleone: “You can act like a man!” I have never had the problems so many conservative artists have with liberals because I have never played this self-defeating charade of hiding my political beliefs. I don’t bash people over the head with them, but at gallery openings and such I don’t let an insult go by without at least offering an “I disagree with that.” If you are forthright about who you fully and truly are from the start, then you set the terms by which others deal with you, not they.

Do you see the Tea Party movements the past couple years, filled with people who found the courage to stand up and defend their cherished beliefs and the Constitution of the United States of America? These are regular guys and gals who finally realized that being consoled by their membership in the “silent majority” was a fool’s bargain – their opposition was only too happy to oblige their silence.

What am I asking of my fellow artists? To join Liberatchik? Sure, but Liberatchik is merely a symptom of the problem, not the solution. True solutions to the ills that plague society seldom rest in collective action.

The solution rests in being true to yourself, and standing up for your beliefs as an artist, as a citizen, as an individual. What is needed, now more than ever, are individuals whose purpose in life is to fully engage in the pursuit of their happiness, not in wanting to be liked by everybody.

Take a look at Frances Byrd’s and Irene Deely's examples. These Jeanne d’Arcs of the conservative art movement are out there, standing on their own feet, facing the fire, but succeeding. They're succeeding because they're true to their art, true to themselves, and their souls are not for sale.

Take an assessment of your own life as an artist, your own soul. You will be welcome by us at Liberatchik, should you so wish, not because you’re “one of us,” but because you’re true to yourself.

-- Robert L. Jones
Stewartville, Minnesota

Powerful Photographs

2010-11-04T22:36:00.001-05:00

Lorne Michaels at the funeral of Chris Farley

Madison, Wisconsin, December 1997

I am usually unmoved by photographs. By that, I mean while I can almost appreciate them the same way I do music, they usually don't resonate with me to the point where an emotion washes over me, like listening to Rachmaninoff, or Led Zeppelin; the appreciation is usually more intellectual than visceral.

Yet, almost thirteen years after the fact, this photograph by an Associated Press photographer still shakes me to the core. It is the only photograph I've ever cried over. It is a straightforward composition of a man at a funeral, standing before a hearse, his face caught in a quiet moment of utter devastation.

Lorne Michaels had already gone to a number of funerals of cast members from Saturday Night Live, most notably John Belushi, writer Michael O'Donoghue, Gilda Radner, early guest Andy Kaufman. But the overdose death of anything-for-a-laugh fall guy Chris Farley clearly shook Michaels. Looking at this simple composition, I can fully feel the pain of a father's anguish over the loss of his son.

Less than six months later, Michaels would attend the funeral of hilarious straight-man Phil Hartman, who was murdered in his Encino, California, home by his wife Brynn.

Camera Phone Heresies: Pampered in Luxury

2010-10-07T23:12:00.001-05:00

The photographer's feet and cankles taking a respite

DoubleTree Hotel, Minneapolis, October 2010

I am no member of the unwashed hoi polloi, which you often see frequenting such abodes of iniquity as WalMart, Motel 6, and the Tea Party movement. No, not I.

Rather, I am a member of the great, upwardly mobile mittelbrowkeit, and if you wish to find me basking in the lap of luxury, look no farther than the plush digs at the DoubleTree Suites in Minneapolis, Minnesota. What luxury! Why, for $199 per night, I can sit in a tub in which the tiles are definitely a notch or two higher class than you'd find at any such bourgeoise lodgings, like Best Western, or Howard Johnson's. Talk about culture -- why just look at the culture growing on the grout of these obviously more refined shower tiles. This must be what they mean by the "beyond," as in "Bed, Bath, and ...."

When I jet-set about the Heartland of the great old U.S. of A., I'm proud to be staying at such a well-appointed spot as the DoubleTree. Because, when I want to be whisked away to a swanky joint like this one, I certainly don't want the mould on the soap dish to be anything less than the finest aged soap dish mould.

A.K.A. Pablo

2010-09-17T22:41:00.001-05:00

Actor and comedian Paul Rodriguez

Latino Water Coalition, State Capitol

Sacramento, California, October 2009

Paul Rodriguez is a stand-up guy in more ways than one: His support of family farmers in the San Joaquin Valley by bringing the issue of the drought forced upon them by the Federal Government is commendable, and spurred the California legislature and Gov. Schwarzenegger to enact measures to deliver badly-needed water to the farms of the Central Valley.

Semper Fidelis

2010-08-30T23:08:00.000-05:00

State Highway 80, Gonzales County, Texas, January 2005

As a proud wearer of the 56th Field Artillery patch and Pershing tab on my left shoulder during my term of service in the 1980s with the U.S. Army, I walk with a little swagger. Anyone who's ever served in an elite unit knows the pride that comes with having earned their way aboard.

Yet, there are two groups of people I will always stand before humbly: Combat veterans of any service branch (I have almost twenty years of service divided among the Regular Army, the Texas and Delaware National Guards, and the New York State Guard -- but I've never been sent into a combat theatre of operations) and United States Marines.

You'll know one if you've ever met one, whether in uniform, or out: Once a Marine, always a Marine. The toughest, baddest ass sons of bitches ever to make the other poor bastard die for his country. My godfather, rest his soul, is a Marine.

I say "is," not "was." Even in heaven, there's no such thing as a "former Marine."

Stairway to Heaven

2010-08-27T23:20:00.001-05:00

Roadside memorial, Highway 7, outside Sacaton, Arizona, January 2010

I often photograph these roadside memorials. At these heretofore gory scenes, where the brutal merging of machine, men, and Mother Nature fatefully collided, seldom are these peaceful areas thereafter disturbed.

I found this quiet but poignant tribute to Ramos outside the small town of Sacaton, on the Gila River Indian Reservation.

What becomes of these little-known in the e-universe we've created? I could find no obituary for Basilio Ramos, Jr. However, I found this entry in a people search form. He appeared to have a run-in with the law.

And this once-created, never again visited MySpace page. Listing himself primarily as a weed smoker and a proud parent, I wonder: Who exactly was the Basilio Ramos who died at this sleepy junction? The author of the MySpace paean to the Oakland Raiders, or his child?

However and whoever lived his life, and however he died, he is now resting in peace.

God rest his soul.

Food Fetish

2010-08-26T22:07:00.002-05:00

Cafeteria automat conveyor, Passau, Germany, July 2010

I'll admit it: I'm a culinary voyeur.

This photo is for Ana, whom I was aesthetically channeling as I snapped up this image.

Luxury That Really Is Luxury

2010-08-26T00:27:00.000-05:00

View from hotel room, Sheraton Wild Horse Pass Hotel

Phoenix, Arizona, January 2010

Being a photographer means dozens of rolls of photos from your family vacation strewn everywhere in sock drawers, in the cube refrigerator, and shoeboxes. But, it's always a pleasant surprise when you get your snapshots back from Walgreen's.

One such shot was taken on our family vacation to Phoenix last January, which was marred by the worst torrential rain (which came down as mud) and flooding Arizona had seen in twenty years.

But, for one day, the clouds went elsewhere and we had a beautiful day to go out and about. To boot, I snapped this pic from our balcony. In all my days, I've never been afforded a greater view from my hotel room window than this. Not even in Iceland.

Auteur

2010-08-24T22:52:00.000-05:00

Photo guru Klaus Ditté, Passau, Germany, July 2010

If Akira Kurosawa were alive and not dead; were German and not Japanese; and were a photographer and not a director....

....he'd be this man.

La Boqueria, Part IX

2010-08-19T15:00:00.000-05:00

Puppet. La Boqueria, Barcelona, Spain, July 2010

At night, this seemingly benign creature awakes and prowls the floors of La Boqueria, marshaling an army of insects and vermin which will soon take over the world!

La Boqueria, Part VIII: Jamon Iberico

2010-08-12T00:00:00.000-05:00

Jamon Iberico. La Boqueria, Barcelona, Spain, July 2010

I am not a fan of Tapas bars, with their minimalist portions. The custom of grazing on small portions throughout the day is tedious and absurd -- after your third Tapas "meal," you begin to get that Bill Murray/Groundhog Day deja vu feeling. I prefer the Italian tradition of a big lunch of pasta and a midday rest until three.

That said, as I was forced to eat at these Tapas places during meetings with friends in Spain, I did reacquaint myself with a delicacy known as jamon Iberico. Quite literally, Spanish ham. It's shaved razor-thin and often served on bread, or alone on a plate, and is the most heavenly pork confection my taste buds have ever experienced. Think of it as Canadian bacon crossed with prosciutto. I'm in pig heaven!

La Boqueria, Part VII: Peppers

2010-08-10T23:24:00.000-05:00

Peppers. La Boqueria, Barcelona, Spain, July 2010

Looks like a San Antonio doorway around Christmastime!

La Boqueria, Part VI: Smooth Up In Ya

2010-08-10T00:15:00.000-05:00

Fruit smoothies. La Boqueria, Barcelona, Spain, July 2010

This lovely lady implores you, "Have a smoothie!"

Frutos del Mar: La Boqueria V

2010-08-09T00:00:00.000-05:00

Whitings at fish market. La Boqueria, Barcelona, Spain, July 2010

Monkfish tails. La Boqueria, Barcelona, Spain, July 2010

I have never been a seafood eater. With the exception of tuna salad, I don't eat fish. Forget about shellfish -- I've no use for bottom-feeders.

Yet, some of my fondest memories as a boy were going to Lexington Market, Baltimore's renowned open food market. There is no market in the world that can rival Lexington Market for a tour of smells: From the dogs and sausages grilling at Pollock Johnny's, to the roasted Brazilian nuts, the cotton candy, and my favorite smell -- the most distinctly Baltimorean of them all -- crabcakes frying.

And when it came to sights, I would marvel at the fish. The lobster tank, the crab salads, the trout, and German pickled herring from Chesapeake Bay..... You gotta go there sometime and see it for yourself.

My time at La Boqueria brought me back to all that, in its own way.

La Boqueria, Part IV

2010-08-08T00:00:00.002-05:00

Watermelons, peppers. La Boqueria, Barcelona, Spain, July 2010

It's hard to believe, but these ultra-fresh looking watermelons are now either human byproducts floating in Barcelona's sewers, or they went unconsumed, and are rotting in some compost pile. But, thanks to this Agfa film I've preserved in my freezer for seven years, their fuscia, lime, and salmon hues will be fresh for eternity.

La Boqueria, Part III

2010-08-07T02:32:00.001-05:00

Egg vendor, La Boqueria, Barcelona, Spain, July 2010

The series of photographs I took at La Boqueria were also very technically interesting to me: I exposed my first rolls of Kodak Ektar 100 there, but I also shot a number of rolls of Agfa's highly-saturated Ultra 100, a now-defunct stalwart of mine which has been in the freezer for seven years. Although I had to do a little more tweaking in Photoshop, I got very similar results with the color-curves and saturation, although the Agfa was significantly grainier.

I am so glad Kodak did the right thing for once, and brought back a film they killed in the mid-1990s. Still, I purchased many bricks of the Ektar in 35mm and 120, because I'm not counting on Kodak to continue doing what's right.

Colorful Czech Republic

2010-08-06T00:00:00.001-05:00

Advertisement detail. Federal Highway 39, Horní Planá, Czech Republic, July 2010

After the fall of the Berlin Wall, the formerly greywashed Czechoslovakians went wild with all manner of colorful paints to enliven their surroundings. If I hadn't known otherwise, I would have thought I was in Mexico during this delightful sojourn into territory once verboten to NATO soldiers.

Tire tower, Federal Highway 39, Cerná v Posumaví, Czech Republic, July 2010

Political advertisement, Federal Highway 39, Želnava, Czech Republic, July 2010

Mojo Jojo?

2010-08-05T00:00:00.000-05:00

Graffiti and ventilation grate, Salamanca, Spain, July 2010

I don't know if the vandal who aimed his can of Krylon on this public wall meant to do it, but it looks like he made a portrait of the Powerpuff Girls' nemesis wielding a bolt of lightning.

The All-Seeing Eyes

2010-08-04T00:00:00.000-05:00

Optometrist's sign, Salamanca, Spain, July 2010

In my invisible dreams

When no one is watching

I'd make the whole world blind,

And I'd be free.

-- Dio, "The Eyes," 2004

Taking Credit For Other Photographers' Work

2010-08-03T00:53:00.000-05:00

Detail of advertising mural, Salamanca, Spain, July 2010

In the fine arts world, all an aspiring photographer need do is cleverly crop someone else's work, and claim it as his own. As in this case, for instance.

It's done all the time. ;)

On a Lighter Note...

2010-08-02T22:14:00.000-05:00

I "Mad Men'd" myself at American Movie Classics. Not a very accurate likeness, but it captures the spirit of the thing. Mad Men, for the uninitiated, is a smoke-filled paean to the guys and dolls of Madison Avenue, set in the mid-1960s. It is also the only show I know that heterosexual men watch to get tips on how to dress for success.

Most importantly, you'll see the lovely and curvaceous Joan Holloway has her eye on me. I can dream, can't I?

Christina Hendricks stars as the duplicitous Joan Holloway in Mad Men

Class Act in Salamanca

2010-08-01T23:40:00.000-05:00

Accordion player, Salamanca, Spain, July 2010

To get me to toss a 5 Euro note in your instrument case, all you have to do is play the love theme from Il Padrino. Con affetuoso, of course!

Salamanca, Sunday Morning Coming Down

2010-07-29T01:41:00.000-05:00

Pedestrian and ashcans, Salamanca, Spain, July 2010

Salamanca is Spain's most beautiful city and one of its most historically significant. A history of the Middle Ages would be incomplete without its many battles and sieges. More importantly, Salamanca is noted for its gorgeous Renaissance and Baroque architecture, and is one of the crown jewels of the Roman Catholic Church.

Yet, in this picture postcard city is fast becoming deserted as every third shop and building has been left empty, put up sale or rent, thanks to Spain's faltering economy. As I found Salamanca early one Sunday morning, it seemed a brightly-lit ghost town, besieged by silence and the vandal's can of spray paint.

Light switch and graffiti, Salamanca, Spain, July 2010

Shoes for sale, Salamanca, Spain, July 2010

Cracked insulator, lamp fixture, and buildings

Salamanca, Spain, July 2010

The city, as seen through the curtain of a coffee bar

Salamanca, Spain, July 2010

Respite from the heat

Salamanca, Spain, July 2010

La Boqueria, Part II

2010-07-28T00:01:00.001-05:00

Bustle of the fruit market

La Boqueria, Barcelona, Spain, July 2010

I returned twice to La Boqueria, and exposed about five rolls of the highly-saturated C-41 color films Agfa Ultra 100 and Kodak Ektar 100 to capture the brilliance of the intense hues of the market. Shooting with my Nikkor f/1.4 lens achieved the exact opposite of deep focus: With its shallow depth of field, I could concentrate on composing with colors, rather than any particular objects.

The results were almost impressionist compositions that breathed with the fire of surrealistic color. These prints are out of a Technicolor dream. Fitting for their subjects' location.

Detail of grapes, La Boqueria, Barcelona, Spain, July 2010

American tourists at watermelon stand

La Boqueria, Barcelona, Spain, July 2010

Greengrocer and customer

La Boqueria, Barcelona, Spain, July 2010

Butcher and customer

La Boqueria, Barcelona, Spain, July 2010

Rubber Chicken Dinner

2010-07-27T08:53:00.001-05:00

Rubber Chickens

Busker's Stall, Ramblas, Barcelona, Spain, July 2010

One of the biggest tourist draws on the Ramblas -- Barcelona's pedestrian walkway which intersects the Catalan city -- is La Boqueria, the great fruit market.

The stall owners here all have artistic flair, a vivacious sense of color (heightened by the use of sodium vapor lamps) and a knack for arranging their wares in patterns which appeal to the graphically sensible.

Altogether, a visual feast for the eyes and heaven for the nose and mouth.

Produce, La Boqueria, Barcelona, Spain, July 2010

Fruit salad arrangement, La Boqueria, Barcelona, Spain, July 2010

Los Colores de Coahuila - Desaturated

2010-07-24T10:57:00.001-05:00

Piedras Negras, Coahuila, March 2000

Another quiet exposure that looks better in black and white than color.

Garish: The Cutting Room Floor

2010-07-20T10:49:00.000-05:00

U.S. Route 57, La Pryor, Texas, May 2008

Continuing my theme on "water," here is another spot you can avail yourself of free water! No need to make the people at Evian and Aquafina any richer, I say!

Camera Phone Heresies

2010-07-16T10:44:00.001-05:00

Rest area, U.S. Route 63, Baldwin, Wisconsin,

April 2010

This is an artifact of a bygone era called a "water fountain." If one wanted a drink of water, one just bent over the spigot, turned the valve, and out came water. For free.

Harvest of Sorrows

2010-07-12T10:23:00.000-05:00

Interstate Highway 5, near Firebaugh, California, October 2009

No crops were planted on this land last year. None will be planted this year, and next year is probably a wash as well.

Under the Endangered Species Act, and in the name of "saving the planet," half of the farm land in California's San Joaquin Valley is going fallow, and what was once the nation's most fertile ground is falling victim to soil erosion. Farmers are being denied the use of water on their own land, in order to "save" the Delta Smelt. Yet, as this video argues, the danger to the species of fish comes not from California's farmers, but from cities and industries upstream, who are using the environmental movement as a cat's paw to cover their own pollution.

Recovered Silver: Bringing Negatives Back From the Dead

2010-07-08T10:23:00.000-05:00

Howard Johnson's Restaurant, U.S. Route 30,

Chambersburg, Pennsylvania, c. 1989

With some Photoshopping, these negatives can be largely restored. I lost seventy-five per-cent of my negatives in a flood, and these are what the "survivors" look like. These two frames were exposed at a Howard Johnson's restaurant in south-central Pennsylvania. Like most of its orange-roofed brethren, it is now closed.

Hungry Like the Wolf

2010-06-29T12:43:00.001-05:00

State Highway 41, Lemoore, California, October 2009

Doesn't this sign make you hungry? It did me, but to no avail: This diner has been closed down and boarded up for years, in this depressed farming community in the Central Valley of California.

Fruits of Labor

2010-06-28T22:12:00.000-05:00

State Highway 152, near Los Banos, California, October 2009

If you've been wondering where I went for the past week, I've been out in the San Joaquin Valley of California working on my next project, for which I will divulge details soon.

Now that I am devoting myself full-time to this project, I am pleased to present this as the first image from this upcoming series, a photograph I took of the side of a fruit stand October last.

Los Colores de Coahuila

2010-06-23T19:10:00.002-05:00

Piedras Negras, Coahuila, March 2000

As readers of this blog can surmise, I spent a lot of time in the city of Piedras Negras. The genesis for a series on the brilliant colors found in the state of Coahuila was here. The juxtaposition of forms, of ostensibly ashen masonry and dry-rotting wood miraculously brought back to life by mere coats of paint is at once the simplest thing in the world, and also the most fascinating.

Los Colores de Coahuila

2010-06-22T23:22:00.001-05:00

Piedras Negras, Coahuila, March 1999

Any urban or even small town landscape in Coahuila would be incomplete without telephone and power lines to establish the image's geometry.

Rediscovered Negatives: Portraits

2010-06-21T23:37:00.002-05:00

Alisaith, Cookstown, New Jersey, 2003

A frequent subject of my camera's lenses is Alisaith, but this roll escaped development for years, until I pulled it from the freezer last month. I usually use available window light to illuminate my indoor portraits, but we wanted something with a more nocturnal feeling. Using a low-wattage table lamp (upper right) for backlighting, we set up two candelabras for our prime lighting source. Shooting with some of my stash of old school Kodak Tri-X (expiry date, August 1972), we were able to obtain a very painterly portrait.

Happy Father's Day!

2010-06-20T18:24:00.001-05:00

Bernard Jones (9), Plymouth Belvedere (10)

Bowie, Maryland, Spring 1977

When I was twelve, just having joined the Boy Scouts of America, I began working in earnest on my first merit badge, Photography.

My father very graciously let me drag him away from his yard work, to be my guinea pig for my "improper technique" shot of posing him directly in front of a tree, so that the trunk appears to be growing out from the top of his head. The next exposure is of his 1968 Plymouth Belvedere, my favorite car he ever owned, parked on the street in front of our house, 12022 Maycheck Lane.

Happy Father's Day, Dad, and thanks for putting up with me all those years!

Channeling Homage

2010-06-19T22:23:00.000-05:00

Highway 17 (Trans-Canada Highway), Ignace, Ontario, May 2010

Last week, I was subconsciously channeling the great color photographer, Keith Laban. On my recent trip to Canada, Ed Ruscha? Walker Evans? Maybe, maybe not. But I sure miss tableaux such as these. They're disappearing.

Rediscovered Negatives: Im Augenblick

2010-06-18T12:46:00.000-05:00

Somewhere in the Texas Panhandle, c. 2006 or 2008

I usually have a photographic memory, but in this instance when I found this orphaned negative, which was the only shot exposed on the whole roll, I had no idea what to match it up with.

Still, I was lucky to get this. I remember driving through the Palo Duro Canyon, but there were two trips I took through there, one in 2006, the other two years later.

Hopscotch

2010-06-17T22:49:00.000-05:00

Hopscotch grid, Highway 17 (Trans-Canada Highway)

Town Square, Ignace, Ontario, May 2010

This sure brings back memories! Take the video consoles out of your kids' hands and take them out to the playground for a couple rounds of hopscotch!

Signs From Oblivion

2010-06-17T00:00:00.000-05:00

Farm Security Administration building

U.S. Route 181, Karnes City, Texas, May 2002

One that has disappeared from my repertoire. Actually, I don't think I should have dropped it in the first place.

Things Found While Driving

2010-06-16T08:16:00.001-05:00

Corrugated Wood Separating Drums

Highway 11 (Trans-Canada Highway Extension)

Emo, Ontario, May 2010

I didn't find any "emo punks" in Emo, but I did find these amazing specimens of rugged technology.

Los Colores de Coahuila

2010-06-14T00:01:00.001-05:00

Ciudad Acuña, Coahuila, Mexico, April 2002

Coca-Cola may be American, but it is ubiquitous in Mexico. Not for nothing was their previous president, Vicente Fox, also president of Coca-Cola before being elected national leader.

This one is for a photographer now vacationing in Galicia, who's on a similar wavelength.

Camera Phone Heresies

2010-06-13T01:27:00.000-05:00

Soo Line GP-30 diesel unit No. 703

Colfax Railroad Museum, Colfax, Wisconsin

June 2010

Not planning on taking any pictures on this dreary day, Evan, Sarah, and I packed up, and drove to the Colfax Railroad Museum, where we had an enjoyable weekend afternoon. Evan and Sarah ran amok among the rolling stock, and I did my best to make certain they stayed off the Canadian National right of way.

Nonetheless, this particular diesel engine -- long past its prime, and quietly rusting in the station yard -- piqued my attention, and this lovely color accident found its way onto my camera phone.

Rediscovered Negatives: Im Augenblick

2010-06-12T01:01:00.001-05:00

Off U.S. Route 87, Happy, Texas, November 2004

This is my Texas. A hundred years from now, this scene will still be there.

God willing.

Help God Fight Evil

2010-06-10T23:00:00.001-05:00

Political protester, Santa Fe, New Mexico, October 2004

This gentleman is obviously in a different religious camp than mine. Obviously, he's not a Deist, though he's ostensibly in the same political party that I was back then (am Independent now, btw).

Incidentally, God is not a Republican. Or a Democrat. I filed a FOIA request, and found that He is a registered member of the Symbionese Pan-African Green Natural Law Party, in Smuggler's Notch, Vermont.

Garish: The Cutting Room Floor

2010-06-09T22:00:00.000-05:00

U.S. Route 130, Burlington, New Jersey, August 2003

The geometry of these power lines intrigued me greatly one hot and humid day in New Jersey. If I may be so bold, I think this image belongs in the same company as photographs of telephone lines by Albert Renger-Patzsch, Tina Modotti, and Walker Evans.

Camera Phone Heresies

2010-06-08T00:40:00.000-05:00

U.S. Route 169, Blue Earth, Minnesota

December 2009

My son Evan asked me to take a picture of the Green Giant statue in Blue Earth, Minnesota. How could I not? So, I trudge out into the snow to get a closer shot, and -- leaning against a tree to stabilize the camera -- took this rather conventional picture.

Still, it's one of Evan's favorites!

Garish: The Cutting Room Floor

2010-06-07T16:42:00.000-05:00

Ceramic wares and wall

Canyon Lake, Texas, April 2002

This arrangement of ceramic-coated tinware was made by photographer Sonja Heldt-Harris at the Rebecca Creek Gallery, near Canyon Lake, Texas. I loved the way the red and the cerulean blue of the wall worked together.

This image was not included in my book, Garish, because, well, it is too subtle and not at all...garish.

Here, kitty kitty!

2010-06-06T12:50:00.000-05:00

Jane Eyre, San Antonio, Texas, July 1997

Pictured is our lovely cat Jane, who was born in late 1996. We named her "Jane Eyre," as she was orphaned. She suffered a horrendous mauling under the wheels of a garbage truck, but held on for life, and was nursed back to health by a dear friend who worked as a veterinary assistant. She was adopted soon after her recovery.

She is still quite an active cat, going on fourteen and living a lazy life of eating, sleeping, and protecting her territory.

Rediscovered Negatives: Los Colores de Coahuila

2010-06-05T00:36:00.000-05:00

Federal Route 57, near Progreso, Coahuila, May 2007

The sky was beginning to clear right about the time I photographed this billboard early one spring morning. To bring a little more color to the image, I used an 81A warming filter. Apparently, it warmed up the sky enough to saturate the blue to such an extent that during processing, uneven development occurred, and you can see where the developer made the sky denser at points away from the sprocket holes.

Still, the sign made me hungry enough to stop and buy some beef jerky.

Gartch

2010-06-04T13:29:00.002-05:00

The Proprietor of Gartch's International Pub

Fort Frances, Ontario, May 2010

If you happen to be passing through the border city of Fort Frances, Ontario, in Canada, a great place to go for libations and a pretty good place for food is Gartch's International Pub, which is on Highway 11, running through the center of town.

There, I found some interesting inebriates and even more interesting conversation. A patron kept good-naturedly referring to me as "Russian," (I am Welsh/Irish/English/Scots) and another warned me against the food, which I actually found quite palatable.

Pictured above is the pub's proprietor and host, Gartch himself, a lad of obviously Scottish descent and a true gentleman.

P.S.: Myung told me she thought this photo was a still from a Hitchcock movie. Made my month! R.