A Putz

Originally Posted Thursday, June 13, 2013

Last night's nightmares had to do with all the supremely smart and creative people who I don't even know are there.  You have to do things like this workshop to know them, I guess, for they all seem to be connected in some way.  Person A and Person B both know Person C who knows Person D who happens to be your workshop's host second cousin.  It is a closed system in some ways, I think.  I feel like the hillbilly I am here. 

"You haven't met so-and-so?  Oh, you simply must.  He is the world's greatest expert on color theory.  He has a series of DVDs you can buy that are about eight hours of instruction.  It is a good introduction.  But you need to go to one of his workshops. . . ." 

I'll say something like, "I'll go ahead and let you all know what I am wanting to do.  I'm going to make a digital print with a low color output and then register the plate to print the blacks!"

Everybody will look at me incredulously, me thinking for a moment that it is infatuation with my genius and innovation.

"You need to read Bonnie's book.  She covers that." 

Etc. 

Still, all the talk is about technique.  They are all great.  But I want to talk about meaning.  Perhaps I am jejune in that, too.  I think one's work needs to be supported by one's philosophy.  I won't say anything. . . probably.  But then again, I'm not afraid to take the beat down.  Not completely. 

I have been lazy here.  I should get up early and drive someplace with my camera and take a walk, but I don't.  I go to Albertsons and get a Starbucks coffee and come back and do here what I do in the mornings at home.  Then I go to the workshop.  Afterwards, I am tired and come back to the room.  But in truth, all places are becoming the same.  I walk around Santa Fe and see the same characters I see at home.  And the plaza is surrounded by tourist shops.  Outside the downtown area are the chain stores and the poverty zones, both of which look like every other of its kind.  Poverty is always exotic to those who are not poor, of course, and I have little desire to photograph it, no more than I do to photograph the physically or mentally handicapped.  Not unless I had a good reason, that is to say if I had something I wanted to say about it that was informed by some philosophical code. 

I'm certain to have pictures of impoverished cripples on this site soon now.  I will not be able to think of anything but that. 

I don't mind taking hip-shots of the middle class, however.  Nope.  I don't mind fucking with them at all. 

It is early enough that perhaps I will go for a walk with my camera.  I don't have any pictures to go with my posts.  I'm feeling the putz.