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2014 | Museum of Man, San Diego
I had begun work on an intentional series of pictures, which ended up re-interpreting the interpretive displays I found in various museums. But years later, some of these belong in another series, which I hope you will see in book form before the leaves turn in the fall.
1971 | Todd County, South Dakota
I had put this one on the cover of a little volume of photographs from my year and a half on the prairie. In 1974, back on the coast and after a few real paychecks, I asked my good friend Rex Heftmann to design the book, and he got it press-ready for his trusted local printing house in Chula Vista.
I learned a lot during that process — a pure sense of page space and typography from Rex, and a jolt of awareness from Doyle Blackwood at Crest Offset. When I picked up the finished books, and expressed my pleasure at the quality and price (a thousand copies at 71¢ each), Doyle responded, “It’s a nice book; what’s it about?”
When I got home, I realized that though we were close collaborators, our worlds were entirely different. Doyle’s job was solely to get each droplet of ink in the right place on each sheet — if he attended to the content on every page in every book, he’d go crazy. On my side of the counter, I was only interested on how those droplets conveyed my content.
I mailed copies out to friends and curators around the country, and a few more to offshore contacts. One went to Thomas Barrow at the University of New Mexico. Not long after, I received a note from Tom Johnson, on sabbatical at UNM, who had seen my book upside down across Barrow’s desk. He opened it up and thought to arrange a show of my work in his campus gallery at the College of Marin. We became good friends and stayed in touch.
A few years later, Tom had put together an intriguing series of his own color prints, which I arranged to exhibit in the gallery at Grossmont College. During that run, we invited him to visit for a photographer’s talk. He showed more work, beyond what was on the walls, projecting slides on our big auditorium screen. During questions afterward, a young woman raised her hand and inquired about the arc of Tom’s career. He answered thoughtfully, held a beat, then asked her, “And how long have you been a photographer?”
“Since just now.”
1979 | El Cajon, California
This sort of thing has been going on for some time.
1989 | Garfield Couinty, Utah
1976 | Point Richmond, California
This is a old view from the lot next door to Henry Wessel’s house. I used to drive right through his town on my way from Southern California to family in Marin County. After we met in 1976, Hank gave me a standing invitation to call whenever I came through, so we had good visits and conversations over the years; he was consistently generous with his encouragement and brilliant with his comments.
On the times when I did not stop to visit, I always waved hello as I passed by on the elevated freeway. Now that he is gone, I wave to him all the way up, and all the way back.
1991 | Arroyo Seco del Diabolo, Anza-Borrego
Psorothamnus spinosus, one of several species known by this common name around the world, is easier to pronounce than to photograph. These, growing in the Mojave and Sonoran deserts, the lower Colorado River basin, and in northern Mexico, are remarkable lacework in the hardness of the desert landscape.
I’m fond of photographing what is not quite there, and these trees provide opportunities to engage in that quiet practice. In proof of their special contrary nature, they bloom in the first bright heat of summer.
1976 | Denver
Remembering Dr. King
1989 | Virgin River Narrows
This was a good trip; my father had called to say he was heading out to Utah, and he could pick me up at the airport in Las Vegas for a week away. We had not traveled one-and-one for many years, so I packed some gear and figured out how to load my view camera and hefty field tripod for the short hop from San Diego. The only hard part was carrying enough film holders with a decent way to reload them in unknown conditions. Later, it turned out that the darkest place in Utah was the kind ranger’s staff restroom in Capitol Reef, which allowed me to set up for the second half of our trip.
On this day, after checking the weather forecast for the huge drainage many miles upstream, we waded up the river through the narrows. I chickened out when the water reached the middle of my thighs. I trusted my tripod to hold its footing on the cold and cobbled river bottom, but I just wasn’t sure of my hands and feet; a slip could easily topple my whole rig, or at the least, drop a cable release or film holder into the current.
As I worked my back toward the parking area, I turned around for this picture. It brings to mind my pal Jim Noel’s National Park Rule, “All good pictures are made within fifty feet of the car.”
2002 | Universal City, Los Angeles County
We were heading to Japan, my first time there. I had been working with a view camera for many years and was ready to get back to light-footed photography. The prices had gone astronomical since I had last purchased my M2 Leicas in the early 1970’s, and all I could manage was a new M6 and a 50mm lens. I had a week before our trip, so I walked around town a bit to loosen up. After a few minutes, I was ready, enjoying my core competency with the very best hand camera. The 50 was all I needed.
The trip was a real eye-opener, culminating at Narita and LAX airports with gracious luggage inspectors who passed my eighty rolls of exposed film around the X-ray scanners. I am still digging through those pictures today.
1976 | Reseda, California
My daughter had just turned two at the time of this picture; she was out of her infancy and on her own feet, so I was able to get back to photographing with two hands. I’m glad to have witnessed her curiosity and mobility from the beginning — here I found her already enjoying a good stride and an affection for the water.