Tim Soter … blog.

A few photos from a job I shot for Adidas yesterday.

This is also to let you know that I don’t sit in my lair all day over-intellectualizing and articulating the process - nothing’s more engaging than shooting!

I’ve slowly become somewhat obsessed by the ‘before and after’ corresponding to the birth of the internet and ultimately what boils down to analog vs. digital time periods.  Recently I found myself somewhat profoundly connecting with a scene from ‘Crocodile Dundee’ (1986) where the lead character finds himself trapped with the locals late at night in a NYC bar.  Having lived in New York, pre-digital era, I was reminded of what that experience felt like.  The doors might as well been locked because without cell phones, the people in the bar were your cast and crew for the evening; the deck you were being dealt from and you had to make something out of what (who) was there.  This environment had the potential to force you into conversations or situations that you might not have expected you’d be involved in.  There was an un(der)appreciated freedom to being truly unreachable and this wonderful feeling is probably best documented unintentionally in Hollywood movies of the time.  With today’s digital disconnect, one may all too easily find themselves pressing a magic button to “phone a friend” instead of engaging in a conversation with your barstooled neighbor.  And while the argument could be made that one could choose to leave their devices at home, who would?  What a paradox - by disconnecting from your portable communication device you have a higher probability of truly connecting with someone.  Relating this to the creative process, often times a lot more creativity can generated within parameters (”you have to make X within this radius, with these items, in this amount of time.”)  When one has limitless possibilities it’s easy to get stymied, lazy or simply overwhelmed.

I’d like to say that I’m simply working to figure out what systems work best for me, so I can be happy (and connected) and make the best work that I can make - that I’m not making a value judgment.  But that’s not really true.  I’ve spent a good deal of time excitedly documenting people who make things and contribute culturally.  I believe that cultural life is richer when people are truly connected and when there are parameters and hierarchies; when artists try to best each other without the constant distractions of remixed digital nostalgia. I have a vested interest in what the new guard generates, I want the bar to be just as high.

Currently I’m making decisions on how to present a body of work I made which documents NYC nightlife from 1994-2001, the period just before the internet and digital technology starting changing the idea of subcultures, presence and connectivity.  More on that project as I develop it but this is definitely a lead in.

Yesterday I contributed work for a show put together by my friends at Parlour.  On a monthly basis, Parlour curates shows utilizing nomadic exhibition spaces that presents weekend-long exhibitions in different homes throughout New York City.  The show/party was in celebration of the 1,000,000 birthday of art.

“On January 17, 1963, French Fluxus artist Robert Filliou celebrated the 1,000,000th Birthday of Art, which he determined was born when a sponge was dropped into a bucket of water.”

I made this work fifteen minutes before walking out the door - it felt great to be forced to do something quick and instinctive.  I used some expensive last-batch Polaroid SX-70 film which, having gone through a few airport X-Ray machines, has a really low grade palette to it.  Not overthought (a theme that runs through my posts on Process) the finished piece installed appears BELOW.

ABOVE is the isolated Polaroid.  It really brought me back to fun spontaneous creations of the past.

Occasionally I’ll think about an old assignment and wish that I had the opportunity to do it over, in the style and manner in which I’m currently shooting.  There hasn’t been any radical change over the years, I’d just like to add the knowledge and experience that I’ve gained since that shoot.  It’s like a system software upgrade - simply building on a foundation and making improvements.

At some point though a few years ago, I reached a plateau.  There’s definitely a cut-off where I feel that the work found some solid ground.  Before that plateau, if it were possible I would definitely go back and really redo some assignments/after the plateau I would go back and possibly make some minor adjustments with what I know and do now, but it’s successful where it is.  Things can always be improved but it’s resting on the plateau.

(I could fragment this thread into several different directions.  I had a talk with a friend last night about how well Robert Frank made a strong point of not looking back. I could talk about how obsessive photographers are as we very obviously want to control life, stop time, etc.  That’s all been pretty well covered before.)

Lying in bed this morning, I was thinking the photo ABOVE (made after achieving the plateau.)  I shot this two years ago in a hospital in Syria - I’m really happy with it, it’s part of a full reportage story and it’s a good stand out as an environmental portrait made within the full narrative.  But I was lying in bed thinking… if I were shooting this assignment now I would have reached in my pocket, pulled out my Olympus Stylus and shot a separate photo of that TV in the corner. BELOW is a crop of the digital photo I made that day; it’s an approximation of the photo I would have made with the Stylus had I had it on me. It’s a sketch of a photo that would have been added to the ongoing body of work found at TheShipEscaped.

The plateau is so important for me. It’s such a mark of positive mental health. It’s the difference between obsessing about past “failures” and wanting to apply the excitement of the present.

It’s not what keeps me up at night… but it is what gets me out of bed in the morning.

There is a segment in the documentary ‘William Eggleston In the Real World’ (if I’m not confusing this with an article that I’ve read, instead of the documentary) where a student stands up and asks him, “do you take several photos of the (portrait, object or landscape) you’re shooting, or just one?”   Eggleston pauses and replies, “Just one.”  There’s another long pauses as the student tries to find a way to get more information beyond that curt reply and he asks, “Could you tell us why?”  And Eggleston responds that when he gets his developed negatives he would then have to choose between four of five and he doesn’t want to choose.  This of course is all coming though in a slow handed southern drawl and presented in an almost slightly annoyed manner as if to suggest, “is there any other way?”

I’ve tried to abide by this but I confess, sometimes the Olympus misfocuses and I would hate to get back a good image and have the focus be off.  So sometimes I take another shot, though not often.  Then while I’m “retaking” the photograph I’ll make an adjustment, recomposing slightly… and I’m not retaking the photo at all.  I’m taking a new photo.  A variation of the first.  And then I’m left with making a decision when the prints come back.  Above and below and the siblings.  Sophie’s Choice.

The above photo is most in line with the photos I have been making.  The angle and the crop are similar to photos I’ve made for this ongoing series.  But the straight forwardness of the photo below is different and for me a little exciting in its novelty.  It’s a little farther away than I normally allow myself to be.  It seems like is might be less about abstracting shapes and textures and more about the experience of standing there, where I’ve placed the viewer.  I see it both ways.  That is the problem.

In September, the New York Times published a piece by Tim Kreider (here) titled “The Referendum.”  One of the topics Kreider profiles is the frustration that humans have in choosing one path of life - in this case, the choice adults make to become (or not become) spouses and parents.  “We only get one chance at this, ” he writes, “with no do-overs.  Life is, in effect, a non-repeatable experiment with no control.”   I have a very, very difficult time making choices, large and small because I usually can see the possibilities and potential of all decisions and this become paralyzing.

Perhaps all we can do is simply embrace the luxury and privilege of having choices.

My resolution for the new decade is to truly accept some of the chaos which no one can control.  Bend like the reed and make mistakes.  The key to better photography and a happier life.

Best to everyone in the New Year!

Since editing and compiling The Ship Escaped, I’ve continued to shoot in the same style, while really evaluating and determining the works’ meaning.  In so doing I’ve realized that all of these images are self-portraits and there’s really a lot to be said for that.  In describing the entire body of work I would say the images are as I perceive myself; easily accessible, not too lofty, usually channel a dry sense of humor, and convey a curious investigation into the specific and an enthusiasm for life.  That isn’t to say that there aren’t a lot more intricacies to be discovered if one were to spend a little more time delving beneath the surface. A fellow artist noticed the repetition of fences in a lot of the images, a subtle barrier designed to keep the viewer from getting too close, which mirrors my own internal defense mechanisms.  Truly.  Aquarians are know for being friends to many but not letting any one person get too intimate.

There is a very fine line between the repetition in finding some consistency through a narrowed field of exploration… and a gimmick.  It’s something most photographers have to deal with at some point when making work.  “How much of my style is a way of making work that’s comfortable for me, and how much of it is an old standby or fall-back?”  Too much consistency equals not enough exploration.  The bait is all around - it’s much easier to have work accepted if it falls into a series.  A great deal of current photography books are shot in the style of the series; “I shoot flight attendants, here is a book full of photos of flight attendants.”  When one evaluates the work however, maybe two of the photos are memorable and the rest are there as filler to support the idea of the series.  The modern day handling of shooting serially can lack the time and effort needed for proper exploration.  And the reward given for the effort is won too easily.  (See previous post.)

I don’t feel that I’ve hit that problem yet while working in this series.  For me, I have been defining the series more in a past tense sense, by what was shot and why rather than consistent subject matter.  However I’m very aware of the potential to run into the same problem and no one is more critical of my work than me.  As I move forward, shooting more consciously within the series, I run the risk of simply “adding to what’s already there.”

The image above, shot about a month ago, is the last photograph containing a fence that I will ever be able to shoot unselfconsciously and naively.

I read a story on the PDN blog about an “artist” who takes photographs “(capturing) unaware New Yorkers during very private, very intimate times in their day, all played out in front of their apartment windows…”  I see this coverage as a trend that is not going away.  The press prefers to acknowledge the low-shock valued offerings on an attention starved individual as if it were something for discussion.  This work is an amateur idea, executed and presented in an amateur manner.  I’m not singling out PDN, this story can be found in many outlets.  Another recent example that comes to mind is that of the photographer who shoots spontaneous public nudes and was recently brought to court for his impromptu nude shoot at the Met.  This story was covered by the New York Post, NBC and CNN among others.

It all amounts to a version of pay-for-play, a business relationship where the media at large, through their past actions say, “You do something mildly shocking that we can run as ‘content’ and we’ll give you your fifteen minutes.”  I guess I find it obnoxious because it’s the state of Now.  No news agency or media outlet, high or low seems to be able to resist, fearful that they’ll be left behind.  None have the courage to call what is obvious: It’s not interesting.  It’s not a story.  It’s done for the media’s benefit and they are aware of that.  It’s cyclical and they complete it.

And that is the heart of it.  It’s demeaning to everyone involved, from the producer airing the story down to the viewer at home, eating his plate of spaghetti after a long day of work.  As a society we’ve come so far, do we really all agree that “boobies at the museum” is still shocking and worthy of taking up a time slot that could be devoted to the presentation or exploration of anything else new?  Say that description out loud.  “Boobies at the museum.”  That lets you know where we’re all at.

It’s time to say enough.

And to those who work in this type of “artistry” I say… go work really hard at something, come back and blow my mind.