I am sitting on a plane after having seen a group of exhibitions over the past few days and got to thinking that if I did not step onto my soapbox and rail at the cultural winds I would never be able to sleep for the rest of the flight. So at the risk of coming off like the Andy Rooney of the photo world, I would like to vent about the current state of exhibitions….not so much about WHAT is being shown (though that may be the fodder for subsequent missives), but more about HOW things are being shown. Continue Reading »

My Grandfather died when I was three. I have always logically understood that my memories of him were at the very best, shadowy. I do, however have images of him in my head…bald-headed, in a scratchy brown suit, carrying a hat, standing very tall, and a very proud look on his face. My memories of him are not of the smell of his skin or the taste of his breath. I cannot recall the sound of his voice or the way his hands felt as he held me–though I am told he often did. If I ever had any recollection of my grandfather or of any of the incidents and personalities that populated my toddler years they were quickly superceded by the pictorial traces which existed as our family photographs. Images that were recorded by my mother’s cameras escalated from mnemonic devices into the actual substance of what I remembered. Continue Reading »

It seems crass to begin a “blog” with a memorial, but unfortunately, the only way I can share the opening of this site with a great friend is through remembering him, here. He would have been excited that I have finally acceded to cyber-demands and launched this…he was as gratified by the successes of his friends as he was sometimes mystified at his own.

Beware the Ides of March, Pirkle Jones died today. Continue Reading »