San Francisco photographer Esther Reyes has a great eye for details and scenes that others may pass by, and aims to find harmony or balance in what she sees. Her photos contain beautiful light and a wonderful sense of rhythm, and In her words, “photography became a way for me to pay attention, to get out of my head, and to document where I have been.”Be sure to check out more of her work on her website and on Instagram.
I asked her eight questions about her work and her current projects.
Can you tell us about the projects you are working on these days?
I have been thinking a lot about the concept of querencia, or the place where one feels at home. I had recently planned to move away from the San Francisco Bay Area, where I have lived all of my life. Instead, I moved back to my childhood home in the Castro Valley suburbs. The change in plans was due to concerns about my father’s deteriorating health and his move to an assisted living facility. The project is about how place impacts one’s identity and the gray area of ambivalence mediating safety and obligation versus risks and freedom. It will be from my own perspective, as well as my father’s.
I am also putting together concepts and experimenting with lighting and reflective surfaces to work on a Jaromír Funke-inspired still life project. I do not typically stage photographs, so it is an interesting process.
I’ve read that you see photography as a meditative practice. Can you talk about this?
One day I was walking around the Outer Mission in San Francisco where I had lived for more than four years a long time ago. I looked up and saw Sutro Tower, a prominent San Francisco landmark that looms over the city. I had never noticed it from this neighborhood during the four years I had lived there! I realized that I had failed to notice both obvious and subtle details and experiences of my surroundings for most of my life. I also have a poor memory. Photography became a way for me to pay attention, to get out of my head, and to document where I have been. I started meditating at about the same time. I no longer meditate regularly, but it helped me develop a way to both let go of and to internalize the external world. Using photography as a meditative practice for me means engaging more fully with my environment and finding harmony or balance in what I see.
Your photos of the social landscape are a pleasure to look at. They contain many elements and details that most people would pass by. How have you developed this vision?
I am grateful that you think so! My mother was a concert pianist and painter. She taught me to notice beauty where others might not. I think being raised to be a musician gave me discipline and patience for details. I also credit the many talented photographers on Flickr that have educated me with hundreds of thousands of images. When I started shooting and posting photographs to Flickr, I had conventional ideas of what a photograph was supposed to be, what was considered worthy of photographing. I became and still am fascinated by the wide variety of answers to these questions (or visual responses that pose even more questions). I suppose that I am drawn to the details of overlooked and neglected anomalies because they say something about human nature and about me.
What’s your state of mind when you’re taking good photos? Do you think there’s any connection between your mood or mindset and the results you get?
I may get better results when I am feeling more free and can let go of expectations, when there is a sense of openness or discovery. But, it isn’t always predictable.
What themes are you exploring in your photos?
Human nature. Impermanence. Entropy.
What is beautiful? What is valuable? Who gets to decide?
Do you like the city you live in? Do you like your home? Do these affect your photography?
I have loved living in the San Francisco Bay Area all my life. It has lovely light and a mild climate, is incredibly walkable, and even the garbage on the street is photogenic! Tolerance for the foibles of human nature has provided lots of rich subject matter.
“Isn’t imagination really the final measure of intelligence?” – Larry Sultan
I am inspired by the fact that anyone and everyone is or can be a photographer these days, including me! Photography has become a ubiquitous medium for self-expression, communication and connection (hat tip to Marvin Heiferman).
I am also inspired by meeting other photographers and exploring possibilities for collaboration and community. I have met a few dozen photographers from social media in real life and some have become dear friends.
One final question: Can you tell me briefly about a couple of photographers I may not be familiar with yet but you would recommend checking out?
Sotiris Lamprou, and Yanina Boldyreva. Both of these photographers have a distinct, recognizable style with a wide and rich variety of subject matter. They are able to communicate a palpable sense of wonder.
Many thanks to Esther for doing this interview. I’m so appreciative of her thoughtful answers that provide insight into her work. Be sure to check out her website and Instagram.
In Jeff Turner’s words, he takes photos that are about the arrangement of shapes and underlying geometry of the image, where the ostensible subject is just an interesting prop. But his photos are an interesting document of Seattle’s explosive growth and dramatic gentrification. Be sure to check out his work on Flickr and Instagram.
I asked him eight questions about his work and his current projects.
What got you interested in photography?
My exposure, if you will, dates back to early childhood, watching my grandmother develop studio-quality photos of her many children in a basement darkroom. I took my first photos as a child with a thrift store Argoflex. I got my hands on an SLR in high school photography class, really took to it, and was very active for a time afterwards, then slowly petered out to just the occasional really good vacation photos for many years. When I first got on Facebook eight or so years ago, someone mentioned in passing how much he liked my photography so I decided to go out and take a few new pictures just so I would have something to post, and here we are.
Can you tell us about the projects you are working on these days?
I’m in the process of winding down the Hipstamatic Neighborhood project I’ve been working on past couple years. My neighborhood has become prosperous and dull, and not very Hipstamatic anymore. I don’t know if you’re familiar with Minor White’s “camera-as-brush” vs. “camera-as-extension-of-vision” distinction but I’ve tried to adhere to camera-as-extension-of-vision for most of my work so the Hipstamatic camera-as-brush treatment, which I have described as “fiddling with the image until it looks like a memory” has been a fun diversion.
Your photos seem to encompass the urban landscape, architecture, the banal, and things of historical significance. Do you see your work as documenting an ever-changing world?
Without really intending to I’ve been recording some of Seattle’s explosive growth from a middling town with delusions of grandeur to an actual large city, and my own neighborhood’s sudden and dramatic gentrification. For the most part though, my photos are really about the arrangement of shapes and underlying geometry of the image and the ostensible subject is just an interesting prop. I like to have fun with titles and may give something a faux-serious documentary title, like Endangered Surface Parking Lot and include a sober analysis on urban land use patterns in the caption, but the reason for making the photo was primarily aesthetic value; not documentation.
While I still take vacation pictures – and some of my favorite photos are from places new or unfamiliar to me – when I return home I usually say to myself, “Damn. You shoulda at least got a few street shots of what the place looked like, but this photo of a pile of dirty snow you did take will look great alongside all those photos of piles of dirt you already have.”
There are several interesting quotes on your Flickr page regarding photography and seeing. There is one from you: “The memory of it is better than any picture could have been.” Can you talk about this? And can you explain your moniker, Blinking Charlie?
I’ve left that quote up even though I now have no idea now what it refers to. Too bad I didn’t take a picture. So often looking at a photo from years ago takes me back to the otherwise unmemorable time I took it. As far as my “brand name” goes, some time before I had joined Flickr, after locking myself out of Yahoo! Messenger by not being able remember whatever fake birthday I had used to create my account, I just looked around my cubicle and took a new user name the last two words from this piece by Maureen Dowd I had pinned up, mocking former Republican vice presidential candidate Sarah Palin’s interview with journalist Charlie Gibson:
“We must not, Charlie, blink, Charlie, because, Charlie, as I’ve said, Charlie, before, John McCain has said, Charlie, that — and remember here, Charlie, we’re talking about John McCain, Charlie, who, Charlie, is John McCain and I won’t be blinking, Charlie.”
What’s your state of mind when you’re taking good photos? Do you think there’s any connection between your mood or mindset and the results you get?
My worst photos are created reliably when I go somewhere with the intention of taking some great photos. I do much better when I keep my mind clear and just notice what I’m noticing. The low cost of digital and social media’s endless appetite for content are a trap I can easily fall into where if I haven’t taken any photos I like lately I start to feel like my “productive period” is behind me; no small matter in a place with over 300 cloudy days a year. On the other hand, being able to learn how to take photographs by taking photographs and then reviewing them critically happens much faster now than when I was using film. I feel a lot freer to experiment.
The peer review offered by Flickr (as opposed to automated appreciation from an endless series of like bots on Instagram) has helped a lot. I can’t tell you many times a photo I post thinking “this is a modern masterpiece!!” draws little interest where one I worry is somewhat cliché, or am just on the fence about gets quite a bit of attention. If I just kept my prints in a shoe box and entered the occasional contest, I would never have to accept that fellow photographers whose opinion I care about see right through some not-happening image I just really want to happen or perhaps that I need to be stubborn, conclude sometimes everyone else is wrong, and take the road less traveled.
Do you like the region or city you live in? Do you like your home? Do these affect your photography?
I live in the Central District of Seattle, as the name implies, right in the middle of the city. For generations it was the city’s ghetto for Black, Jewish, and Asian residents. We moved there right after September 11th because my wife wanted to be with her people, but today it is the kind of place where a white man who just recently moved to the area feels entitled to walk up to her standing in front of our house, ask her what she’s doing, and tell her she looks like she doesn’t belong there. The city’s rapid growth has been dislocating and alienating. It’s not unusual to feel lost in a part of town I haven’t been to for a while because so much has changed. On the flip side, I’ve always dreamed of living in a big city and didn’t have to move to one. The city came to me. If nothing else, boom times are interesting.
I haven’t made any effort to comprehensively document these changes. Partly that’s a free-time limitation but also an endless series old buildings with Proposed Land Use Action signs on them followed up with holes in the ground with rebar and tower cranes growing out of them followed up with a 4-over-1 with unleased retail space on the first floor or another glass tower is really not that interesting. I do recognize that the record of the scenery of my day-to-day life at this time may be of interest later and have been careful to record the location for every photo. My wife has been much more invested in this process with her work at the Seattle Public Library; funding a team to record interviews with remaining long-time Central District residents, which will preserve the memory of it better than any picture could.
If we mean inspires as in influences, seeing Walker Evans’ photography for so many years growing up created some paradigms for me. Houses and Billboards, Atlanta, 1936 is for me a perfect photo and lies underneath a lot of my better images. I also had a lot of exposure as a young person to historical architecture photography and vintage picture postcards. Often, my favorite shots consciously imitate the utter deadpan of a 1960’s motel postcard or commercial real estate flyer.
Stephen Shore’s photo Horseshoe Bend Motel, Lovell, Wyoming, July 16, 1973 – essentially a frame around seemingly random elements (in other words, a photo of nothing) with some underlying special harmony – I saw at a crucial point where I was trying to figure out what I wanted to do creatively. I knew immediately I wanted to take photos like that – photos of nothing.
As I try to break away from that, I’ve found some of Kahlil Joseph’s very magical motion picture work (https://vimeo.com/66703600 and https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4fLKcHu-LJo) along with a variety of other people’s still work that is about feelings rather than things is probably my next “Horseshoe Bend Motel photo” or at least I hope so. Taking pictures of nothing is easy. Visually representing something that makes you feel some kind of way is a mystery to me, especially as I make an effort to avoid photographing people.
One final question: Can you tell me briefly about a couple of photographers I may not be familiar with yet but you would recommend checking out?
There are number of people on Flickr whose work I greatly admire but I would say in that environment we probably travel in the same circles. Probably the exception would be Cameron Schiller whose work is nothing at all like mine.
I follow a whole different group on Instagram: Joonbug, and Jenoris Caba (monday.monday on Flickr) are both film photographers I always look forward to seeing. Ibán Ramón Rodríguez, Sam Kelly, and Carlos Bravo do the clean and spare landscapes I wish I was doing as opposed to the cluttered and too-close shots I am actually doing. Phoebe, Tony Gum, and Yagazie Emezi remind me I don’t have a very well developed appreciation for color juxtaposition or management on digital, and probably ought to work on that; and I’m always happy when a non-photographer I am following for reasons of general interestingness is in the right place at the right time, manages to avoid typical amateur pitfalls, and posts something really terrific.
Many thanks to Jeff for doing this interview. I’m so appreciative of his thoughtful answers that provide insight into his work. Be sure to check out his work on Flickr and Instagram.
The selfie is more popular than ever, but it is hardly a new phenomenon. Rembrandt painted self portraits in the 1660s “to keep himself busy in between commissions and because of his ongoing fascination with the aging process,” says Nigel Hurst, CEO of the Saatchi Gallery, in London.
The first known photographic selfie was taken by American photographer Robert Cornelius in 1839. Although selfies were popular with photographers and artists throughout the twentieth century, they didn’t become mainstream until the invention of the smart phone. In 2010, a front-facing camera was built into the iPhone 4. By 2013, the word selfie was so popular, it was included in the Oxford English dictionary.
My interest in self portraits started in the late ’70s when I got my first camera. I had been fascinated by some fantastic self portraits Lee Friedlander took in the 1960s. These were far from the typical smiling, head-and-shoulders shots with a famous landmark in the background. Friedlander appeared as a shadow, or as reflection in mirrors or windows. There was a deadpan sense of humour in the photos that attracted me. Over the years I’ve taken many of those, most often trying to emulate that quirky sense of humour I admired in Friedlander’s shots.
Taking a selfie can wake up plenty of the uneasiness that can be stirred when others are photographing us–that feeling of whether we look good enough, whether we’re aging well, whether we’re fashionable or geeky or cool. As a father of two teenage daughters (as well as the partner of a woman I’ve been married to for more than twenty years), I’m keenly aware of how remorselessly photography tracks our aging selves. In a society that persistently judges and comments on women’s looks, perhaps it’s helpful for girls and women to grab the camera back and be in charge of it.
One of my daughters takes dozens of selfies; the other takes very few. My wife puts up with being photographed, but she’s nowhere near as comfortable with it as I am. I think it would be a mistake to read much into these habits. For instance, is the daughter who photographs herself vain, and the other one modest or self-conscious? I see no evidence of that. I like being in my photos, but do I think I’m better-looking than my wife thinks she is? Does she feel less attractive than I do? Possibly not. (Both of us are ordinary-looking people, neither splendid nor ugly, now in our fifties and thus pretty much invisible to society at large.)
Like a mirror, a camera is one more way we can engage with ourselves. The surface is only a tiny bit of who we are–but it’s the only part of us the world can truly see. Who is this person, out walking around in the world, with a head stuffed full of unique thoughts and ideas? A camera can be a doorway though which you get outside yourself–a rare and valuable thing.
Czech Republic photographer Pavel Pětroš documents suburban and industrial areas near his home. His strong use of colour, line, and graphic elements make his photographs memorable and give them a strong sense of place. He finds beauty in the everyday world giving a sense of nobility to neglected areas. Be sure to check out his website and Tumblr for more photos.
I asked him eight questions about his work and his current projects. Our online conversation has been lightly edited for clarity.
Tell me a little about yourself. Where are you from, and where do you live now?
I come from the Czech Republic. I live near the border of Slovakia and Poland in the industrial region. I have always lived in this region since I was born.
You have been blogging for some time now. Is a blog important for articulating your thoughts?
I used to blog to write and post my photos. Now, I am posting only photos. I use it just as a photo sharing platform.
Who or what inspires you?
I am inspired by my surroundings. I work in Ostrava city. This is where I take most of my photos. When I travel, I photograph what I see around me. What attracts me.
What’s your state of mind when you’re taking good photos? Do you think there’s any connection between your mood or mindset and the results you get?
My mind set always same. It is that feeling that I need to photograph.
Can you tell me a bit about your exhibition “No Constructive Conclusions”?
There is a little backstory. I got to know Piotr Kaczmarek through Flickr. Last year Piotr suggested having a joint exhibition in AMI gallery in Wroclaw, together with Wojtek Mszyca (Poland) and Ian Nutt (UK). I knew Wojtek from Flickr, too. We met once in Katowice where we were photographing together. Based on this, we decided to show our photos from this location in the exhibition. Ian also knows Wojtek and was shooting in the area, too. Later, this exhibition moved to Frydek-Mistek (Czech Republic), where it is displayed until the end of June 2017. Perhaps, if it works out, the show will move to UK later. Regarding the name of the show, we just didn’t have anything constructive. No constructive conclusion was made.
Many thanks to Pavel for doing this interview. I’m so appreciative of his thoughtful answers that provide insight into his work. Be sure to check out his work on his website and on Tumblr.
