Making New Friends Wherever We Go...

As the lesbian project continues, we are making new friends everywhere we go. Last Sunday we set up on the corner of St. Marks and Second Avenue in the East Village, and chased down Jax. She seemed to enjoy the experience of being photographed so much she wrote this Facebook entry:

I was walking down the street, minding my own business when this woman chases me down the block flailing her arms. Naturally I assumed she was another East Village Crazy but eventually I took out my New York Defense System, otherwise known as earbuds and listened to what she had to say. She enthusiastically says..."Excuse me, are you a lesbian?" I roll my eyes and snidely reply "what gave me away?" She goes on to explain that she is working with this photographer who is doing a series and wants to photograph me. I am suspicious but cautiously follow her to where this gentleman is eagerly waiting with a huge camera already set up. I was sweating bullets and all I could think was "Great, the one time I professional wants to photograph me and I'm wearing gym clothes. Perfect."

After he photographed me he asked me to write something down that "defines me". I was put on the spot and drained of all inspiration. After awkwardly taking ten minutes to come up with some pearls of wisdom, all I could think was..."Damn, no spell check. I hope I don't embarrass myself." Just when I was about to write "Bye Felicia" it finally came to me.

As luck would have it, another photographer, Kurt Wittman, was present and made this snap of all of us: Jax, me (the "gentleman") and Linda (the "East Village Crazy").

A jolly time was had by all!

A Case of Mistaken Identity

As the lesbian photographic project continues on, we find ourselves hanging out in places where we are likely to meet lesbians. Just last week, for example, we set up in front of the Cubbyhole, a bar in the West Village section of Manhattan catering to a gay clientele, and waited for likely looking subjects to pass by. When we stop potential subjects, sometimes we are met with a good-naturedly asked question, "Why do you think I'm a lesbian?" and sometimes we are turned down because the person is straight. For the most part, however, the people we stop respond favorably and consent to having their portrait made.

That was the case with Tanja, a striking-looking German woman we met in Provincetown.

Tanja

Considering her look, the fact that she was with several other women as they strolled through the gay community of Provincetown led us to the conclusion that she was a lesbian. Imagine the surprise then in receiving the following, charming email from Tanja early this morning (grammar and spelling have not been corrected): 

Dear Robert,
I saw my picture on your homepage yesterday. I'm really honored and I like it very much. It was a speziell experience. I noticed the titel of the project and I think you have to know that I'm not homosexuell. I can't remember if you or the nice women told me about that before we startet to take the picture. Otherwise I would have mentioned this immediatly. I would be very proud if you don't change the picture but I will understand your descision if you will do.

Uuuhhh writing in english isn't that easy. 

Yours Tanja 

PS: I was really laughing wenn I got the titel "lesbian Portraits" and on the other hand it was a strange feeling. But don't worry about that. It didnt happend to me for the first time.

Sigh. Sometimes the perfect look just turns out not to be...

The World Is Really A Very Small Place

Photo - © Andrew Frost

I routinely read an online forum called Large Format Photography. Earlier in the summer I read a query from a photographer who was planning on traveling across the country, asking about current exhibits that he could check out along the way. A photographer by the name of Andrew Frost answered: "If you pass through Kansas, I have some photographs and a set of books I made in collaboration with a printmaker up at the Lawrence Art Center... 40x50 inkjets from 8x10."  Coincidentally, I was about to make a family trip to Lawrence, so I decided to drop by and check out his work.

Andrew's photos and handmade books proved to be exceptional. His 40x50 inch prints were full of rich, meticulous detail, and his handmade books were one-of-a-kind show pieces. The work just blew me away. Inasmuch as I am currently working on a project entailing large format prints, and I have a new found interest in book making, I decided I would track down Andrew and see if he would answer some questions.

Turns out that Andy lives only about fifty miles from where I live. When I contacted him by email and asked if he would be able to meet me to talk about his work, he graciously agreed. So, over coffee on Sunday, Andy met with me for two hours, generously sharing his deep technical knowledge about printmaking, and patiently answering all of my naive questions.

So, consider today's blog post as a shout out to Andy Frost, as well as an ironic acknowledgement that two, metropolitan New York photographers could connect with one another through a photo exhibit in Lawrence, Kansas, of all places.

I encourage you to spend a few minutes linking over to sample more of Andy's fine work.

Photo - © Andrew Frost

Photo - © Andrew Frost

"Just Me"

We were working on our lesbian project in Provincetown last weekend, approaching likely candidates in the street as they walked by. We stopped one great-looking woman who had a couple of children in tow along with her partner. Initially, she thought we wanted to photograph the kids and demurred. Once we explained our project and made it clear that we wanted to make her portrait, she agreed.

A few days later, as a result of our brief session, the subject of the portrait wrote a poignant blog post, which she has agreed to let me repost, as long as I maintain her anonymity. The repost, sans links, is below, as is her finished portrait. The post speaks for itself...

Just Me

August 2, 2015

This weekend, while in our most favorite ocean-side city, on our best day adventure yet, a lovely man & his wife blind-sided us and approached from behind. They were photographers. And before I could let them fill the space between us with the want to document our family, I said as I so often do, "No thank you. We don't allow photos of our kids." And then the man surprised me. Already, I liked his gentle way. The welcome in his glance, which said he knew things about the world that I did not and that I could only wonder about, left me wanting to hear what he had to say. He redirected the conversation despite the wall I was quick to erect & asked for just me. Not my kids. Not my beautiful wife. Just me. Because I fit the bill for a project he was working on to honor his late sister. Whom I now understand to have been one of the few brave gay women who paved the way for me. Who, like me, identified as a woman in all ways and who, like me, was socially scarred by fear & mean-filled eyes of passersby who would identify us as butch or worse, men. "I'm looking for masculine looking women," he said. And at once, I agreed & thanked him for the opportunity to participate. Thanked him for pushing forward with such a project. Thanked him for being kind.

And then I stood there in the square of that busy intersection, in our favorite ocean-side city, with my family playing nearby & curious people observing, standing on his X marks the spot & looking into the lens of this great camera. 

In all the world, he is the only person to have ever approached such a sensitive topic in such an earnest, honest, kind way. And he is the first person to seek me out and ask for just me. 

Give it away Give it away Give it away now...

As I've mentioned in this space before (http://wwwrobertkalmanweb.blogspot.com/2015/02/go-figure.html) I routinely post on Flickr and Facebook so that I get feedback about my portraits. The writer, Austin Kleon, has advocated as much in his popular book, Show Your Work, suggesting that posting not only enhances one's findability, it also builds reputation which can lead to opportunity.

On the other hand, my friend who is knowledgeable about managing images online, is constantly reminding me to be careful about what I post, and about how easily work can be stolen. She alerted me, for example, that some misguided soul in Beijing had recently stolen over thirty of my pictures (as well as the photos of other photographers) and repurposed them as illustrations. While I was suitably outraged when she told me, I've learned to shrug it off as a poor imitation that is perceivable as a compliment.

A published photographer I know made a similar appeal to me as my friend's the other day: "Why would a publisher be interested in bringing out your work", he asked, "when you're giving them away for free?"

Turns out that a whole bunch of serious writers have learned that there is, indeed, great value in giving away work for free. Giving work away builds audience, it builds attention and it leads, ultimately, to selling work. You can read about it here.

So, despite the well-intentioned advice I've received, I'm going to continue to "give away" work.

Here's a selection my latest.

Is there any feedback?

Sheba

Maddy

Gayle

Overcoming Inertia

In 1991 I was walking through a park in Mexico City where a group of artists were showing and selling their work. I saw a piece that I absolutely fell in love with, but walked on, thinking that I should see what else was available before deciding to buy. Of course, by the time I returned the piece had already been sold. Then and there I made myself a promise: when there is opportunity, act; do not wait, because it only leads to disappointment.

It is a promise I have broken hundreds and hundreds of time.

Chalk it up to inertia, that is, my own resistance to changing my state and acting. These days it usually happens when I see someone I want to photograph. I make dozens of excuses to myself because inertia freezes me up. You know, excuses like, "She's probably in a hurry," "The lighting isn't very good," "There's too many people in the way," "The sidewalk is too narrow." You get the idea.

Yesterday, I had one of those moments. Passing a barber shop, I spotted an incredible-looking young woman through the window: attractive, slender, in a buttoned up white shirt and loud bow tie, and, best of all, without hair. I immediately manufactured excuses: I'll have to set up the 8x10, she's working and won't have time, we're walking over to another part of town and we're losing the light, and on and on... Stupidly I ignored my rule, allowed inertia to carry me on, and figured I had lost the picture.

Apparently, the photo gods decided to give me a break. Because when the other side of town didn't pan out, I retraced my steps, and, when passing the barber shop once more, there she was, seated outside and talking on her cell.

The rest of the details are not important. The fact that she reappeared was a sign to make her photo no matter what. It is viewable below; the bonus was the back story that she wrote to go along with the image. Perhaps after this, I will follow my Mexico City rule without ever hesitating.

Eva

Interview with My Daughter, Jordanna

My daughter, Jordanna, is a superb photographer. She's just been interviewed by Sophie Greenidge over at Ghost.

I invite all of you to check it out.