It seems lately that I am finally able to catch up with myself in the strangest of ways. I am slowing down, thinking about and doing only what is most important to me, spending time with those I haven't crossed paths with in years or those who have just crossed my path and stayed firmly in it for whatever reason.
And in this process I am examining vernacular artifacts, ephemera long-enough outdated to qualify as "old pictures." Some rolls just never got processed, some film never scanned, some simply forgotten in a box, only resurfacing because I am spending so much of my time in studio practice, allowing myself to be slow and thoughtful, remembering being given permission for my studio practice to be whatever I was doing in the studio at that time, in that moment, right then. Right now, my studio practice is in the taxonomy of memory with regard to human interaction and geography.
Vernacular photography is the creation of photographs, usually by amateur or unknown photographers both professional and amateur, who take everyday life and common things as subjects.
.. here are some of my favorite, recent, old, pictures:
the Black & Whites: Ilford 100 Delta Pro damaged by salt water / the Color: CR100 (both rolls Summer 2012) / unedited
On this particular day, after six or so hours of teaching art outside, in Maudslay, to tykes and teens alike, my assistant Stephanie and I decided to walk back down to the fairy pond to where we had come across an owl pellet earlier in the day. A "nature moment" as I am prone to call any time our outdoor classroom yields unexpected learning opportunities, the owl pellet allowed us to explain how the scatological cycle of owls differed from that of other birds the kids were used to, and from themselves, for that matter. Unfortunately I was ill-prepared to dissect the pellet with the kids, so Stephanie and I went to retrieve the bones later in the day.
