After a year and one half of intense preparation my installation, Looking Forward opened. Commissioned by the Seattle Center Foundation through life size photos, large scale black and white portraits printed on brushed aluminum and a wonderful video created by Lindsay Martin and Noah Dassel, the installation tells the story of 15 youth social entrepreneurs. It’s up until October 21, 2012 and open daily.
Contact my studio if you’d like to set up a personal tour.
Go to Facebook and search for LOOKING FORWARD: the new heroes. This tells the more complete story AND “LIKE” the page, thank you.
OR
CLICK HERE to go to Facebook page. 
“The first thing you notice about New Orleans are the burying grounds – the cemeteries – and they’re a cold proposition, one of the best things there are here. Ghosts of women and men who have sinned and who’ve died and are now living in tombs. The past doesn’t pass away so quickly here.
You could be dead for a long time” ~Bob Dylan
Lafayette Cemetery, Uptown, NOLA
The Old Heroes
In April another group of heroes will appear in Seattle.
Social entrepreneurs are individuals with innovative solutions to society’s most pressing social problems~Ashoka
In conjunction with the Seattle Center’s Next 50 celebration, I was commissioned to create an installation of portraits and produce a video helping to tell the story of a select group of young social entrepreneurs. In a society where young people are all too often rewarded for their style quotient rather than their societal contribution these young people stand out. All are 30 years or younger. Most are under 25.
Looking Forward: the new heroes
The New Heroes
GO to Facebook and become a friend to the Looking Forward site. And tell your friends.
I hope you all can join this fun group. There are only two spaces available…Let me know if you’re interested in this or a future workshop. Seasons Greetings, Davis
It’s started…
I’m in the middle of the photoshoot and realize no one has been designated to prepare a meal for everyone. Leaving the set and all the participants, I frantically dive into the kitchen to prepare lunch . I begin to panic, OMG, I scream in my thoughts: “who’s taking the photos?”, “who’s dealing with the subjects?” “Why the hell didn’t I hire a caterer ???”….Then I wake up. It’s Sunday morning and the photoshoot is 5 days away…
I wonder, what will I dream tonight?
Recently a former student wrote me:
Hi Davis,
Quick question – what’s a reasonable fee to show in a contest? I’ve seen them range from $15 to $50 per piece…However, some contests appear to be a way to raise money from hopeful artists. ~Jon
Jon’s note got me to thinking.
There are literally hundreds of photo contests advertised annually and many of the offers find their way into my in-box. I’m more and more selective with entering contests. However, when I do, these are the criteria I use.
Four questions guide me in my selection of an appropriate contest:
- Who are the judges?
- Does my work fit with what I know about the judge’s proclivities?
- What’s the venue for exhibiting the work?
- Will the award/honor/inclusion benefit my career?
Who are the judges and does my work jive with what I know of their interest?
I have juried many photography contests often with one or more jurors. I am very open-minded when it comes to photographic images. I’m accepting of new ideas, approaches, styles, subject matter. It’s been my experience we, the judges, know exceptional images when we see them; however, given the choice between a genre that doesn’t resonate and one I love, I’ll lean toward my love. Often this is unconscious motivation but I’ve observed it in myself and others.
As a general rule, if I see a juror whose passion I know to be, say, “wildlife in the Arctic”, it’s unlikely I’ll submit images of botanicals or portraits (two of my interests). Unless the portraits are of Inuit’s photographed within the Arctic circle or botanicals of the deep freeze variety.
I also note whom the juror represents. If it’s someone or an institution I’ve wanted to review my work. This might be a way to make a connection without going through the normal channels.
And I will try to follow up with a thank you note to the juror. They’ve taken time away from their duties for the contest and I do appreciate the effort, winner or not.
What’s the Venue?
It’s important to me where or how the work will be seen. I once considered entering a contest that would be on display for four weeks at a community arts center in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. Not exactly my demographic (I live in Seattle) but it is my hometown. I would have entered but then noted one had to be a Louisiana resident to participate.
Outside of a museum or important gallery, I think inclusion in a well respected art magazine is perhaps the greatest venue for display. These magazines are seen by tens of thousands of people and tend to hang around for months or years, establishing an historical record of the event and your work.
How might the contest benefit my career?
A few years ago, I entered an international contest for botanicals. I wasn’t familiar with the judges, the contest was fairly new, but the pay off was a group exhibition in a well known Paris gallery. I entered and as it happens came in first place with my work. There was a fun opening night, and my first Paris exhibit. This honor led to a gallery noting my work and picking up my photographs. In the end, I believe a good contest choice.
It’s important to note, even with my process my work often is not included among the final selection…Contests are extremely subjective.
Oh yes, and nearly all contests are offered to make money…
Paris, the 1930s, a new perfume is about to be launched and a new bottle design must be created. The Perfumer, contacts a preeminent Paris artist. After a discussion outlining the nuances of the new fragrance, the artist grabs an art pad and with a flourish sketches a perfect bottle design. The Perfumer is stunned at the design’s grace and beauty. A perfect bottle design created for her soon to be famous perfume.
A week later the Perfumer receives the invoice from the artist for his design. “Outrageous,” the Perfumer exclaims and picks up the phone. The Perfumer shouts into the phone, “How can you justify this price given it only took you a few minutes for the design?!” The artist calmly replies, “Ah madame, the billing is for 40 years plus a few minutes.”
Similar to the Parisian artist who called on a lifetime of creativity, passion, and application of his art to provide his client the perfect graceful perfume bottle – the seasoned portrait photographer must develop the artistry that makes up the fabric of their business. The photographer may pull an image from their printer in just a few seconds. Behind that image, however, is a lifetime of experience to provide his clients with the perfect interpretation of their visual desire. These images are priceless.
Firty years ago, 1961, Bob Dylan moved to NYC an unknown “folk singer”,
The Beatles were playing in Hamburg an unknown band, and the top 40 was dominated by Fats Domino, Roy Orbison, Chuck Berry and Lawrence Welk. I was a kid attending a summer camp in south Louisiana when one of the counselors pounded out “Take Five” on the piano.
I remember the upright piano sat in a corner under a high ceilinged outdoor covered pavilion.
My counselor a young man in his twenties tickled the keys and I was spellbound. “What are you playing?” He said something like, “It’s jazz. A tune called, ‘Take Five’ by Dave Brubeck, cool, huh?” Cool yes. I was in love with something new.
Twenty-five years later, I was the chief photographer for the University of Washington (UW)
where Dave Brubeck was to play a concert on campus. More importantly, for me, he was going to be interviewed on “Upon Reflection” a UW cable access interview program. A short time before this I had approached the interviewer/producer of the show with a proposition. If he gave me 10 minutes of studio time with his guests, I’d give him glossy 8x10s of his guests and him. That became a very creatively fulfilling partnership.
In the 1980s Dave Brubeck’s music had taken him around the world and back.
My idea was to evoke the mood of late night on a fog soaked deck of a trans-Atlantic steam ship complete with lights streaming through the soup.
Brubeck Fog Test (dig the cool 80s hair)
Brubeck Fog Test (dig the cool 80s hair)
I tested the set a few times and it was great. However, without the fog, it showed it’s very low production values, in other words, to my eyes it was rough and ugly.
Nervously anxious on the morning of the photoshoot, I checked and rechecked everything to guarantee session perfection. Life, however, has a way of offering it’s own twist on perfection as I was to soon discover. About 30 minutes before the portrait, I walked to the campus concert hall to escort Dave Brubeck to my studio.
As I waited in the wings, I watched him practicing on the piano and observed all the pre-concert preparation. A stage hand suggested I speak to Dave’s manager and pointed him out…
I walked over introduced myself and laid out the plan.
The manager countered that Dave was “really busy” preparing and wouldn’t have time to amble over to my studio. He, the manager, suggested I take a few snaps while he played.
I was discouraged but determined. I thanked Mr. Manager and walked out on the stage to take a few photos. My mind searched for a solution to this hurdle. How to salvage weeks of preparation and get him into my studio? Then the idea hit me.
At a break from his practice, I walked over to Dave, introduced myself and said that I was there to escort him to my studio.
He seemed a little puzzled and asked if the manager knew about this. I, truthfully, replied yes, “Your manager knows we have a studio appointment”. Dave smiled and said, “Sounds like fun and anything my manager wants is OK with me. Let me just finish up here; just a couple more minutes.”
I walked over to the manager and informed him that Dave was looking forward to the photo session, technically the “truth” and the manager said, “Anything Dave wants is fine by me.”
Dave and I left shortly after that for the studio. My young heart was pumping as I envisioned the session. On the way out, Dave asked his close friend, colleague and UW music faculty, Bill Smith, to join us in the session. No problem, roll with the situation.
Once in my studio, I eagerly laid out my idea and waited to get started. Dave queried, “Are you using oil based fog?” “Yes,” I replied. He quickly informed me of that oil based fog often constrited his vocal chords leaving him literaly speechless. Outwardly I was cordial, thoughtful, and attempting self-assuredness. Inwardly stunned and paniced I thought:
“What do you do now? He’s in the studio and the clock is ticking. Think, think, what to do?”
Dave Brubeck set without fog
I began with shots of him and his pal sitting on the trunk. Then asked for a few minutes with Dave alone. Shooting with my ever present Hasselblad, I slapped on the 60mm, slightly wide angle lens, and moved closer and closer finally filling the entire frame with his head. Perhaps bemused or cautious of losing a tooth, he moved his fingers to his chin. The right shot.
Dave Brubeck 1984
Then our time was up and he was gone.
That evening at the concert he played a knock out set including “Take Five.”
Postscript:
I sent Dave a couple of 8x10s from the shoot and about a year later I received a call from an album designer who wanted to use one of the photos for Dave’s then soon to be released album cover art. After some price negotiating we closed the deal.
I photographed Jacob Lawrence numerous times.
Although, there are three that stand out. Once for the University of Washington, once for the New York Daily News, and finally Jacob and his wife Gwen for my 1999 photo exhibit. Each time is was a pleasure to work with such a giving gentleman.
1984. I had been at my job as the university’s photographer for a few years.
Still green in many ways when I was assigned a location photo session with Jacob Lawrence, I was both excited and nervous. Added to my trepidation was the fact I knew Jacob had been photographed in the late 40’s by Irving Penn and in the late 50’s by Arnold Newman. Arnold, is considered the ”father of the environmental portrait” and he was a mentor of mine. Arnold, of course created a delicately framed beautifully executed portrait. Penn’s a striking studio portrait of Jacob and his wife, Gwen.
Excitement is an understatement as to how I felt prior to the session to meet and photography one of our countries artistic legends. I prepared for the assignment by,
Jacob Lawrence, 1984
cleaning my lenses, making sure I had enough film, light meter, tripod. Jacob Lawrence had a small studio on the University of Washington’s campus. I walked to the session from my campus studio, high on the expectation of working with him and hopeful to create at least a decent, if not memorable, image.
When we met, we shook hands, Jacob Lawrence, 25 years my senior and east coast formal, said, “How are you, Mr. Freeman.” To which I replied with southern rearing politeness, “Very well, Mr. Lawrence, and you?” I placed my camera on my tripod, made sure I had film loaded, then pulled out my meter.
Most of my early career, I used a hand held meter, a Gossen Luna-Pro. I never trusted the “averaging” light meter of the camera and my a few of my early cameras didn’t have a light meter. I preferred to assess the lighting, make multiple readings, and decide on my exposure.
The Luna-pro, a delicate instrument, was about the size of an electric razor and housed in a beautiful leather case. To keep the light meter secure in its case there was a leather strap across the top that snapped into place.
Unfortunately for me, before I left my studio, I had neglected to make this final snap.
Nervous, fawning, faking confidence, I flipped open the case to watch the light meter fly out of the case, from my hand, bounce off the wooden desk and crash to the concrete floor with a crack. Jacob, commented, “ Mr. Freeman, that’s not very good for your light meter.” I replied, “Yes sir, you are right.”
As I retrieved the meter I noticed it was broken beyond use.
Without loosing a beat I began to meter the room, with the non-working Lunar Pro. At the same time I desperately began to recall past similar lighting situations. My thoughts raced, “fluorescent lights, Tri-x film, f-2.8 @ 1/60, open up one f-stop for dark skin. Or is it 2.0 @1/60, open up two f-stops; no one f-stop; no two…” The final exposure decision: f2.8, 1/60 and a compromise, by opening up 1.5 f-stops. This internal thought process took only a few seconds and they came fast and chaotic. My exterior was calm as we engaged in conversation.
I smiled and proceeded with the shot. We chatted about the east coast, the west, and art for about 30 minutes. He was most giving and I felt at least compositionally I had something really good.
My heart was beating as I hurried to the darkroom to see if technically I had the shot. I did.
1987. A few years later I was on assignment for the NY Daily News Sunday Supplement.
I meet Jacob at his off campus studio, which was then the attic of his home. Paintings were stacked up and down the stairwell leading to his studio and piled high on the floor and elsewhere. He said he was thinking of moving back east and couldn’t figure out what to do with all the artwork. I suggested I would take any he thought to toss out. He never made the move.
For this session, I had my sea legs and an extra light meter (as well as two cameras, extra cords, and other essentials). I have found that life often gives us barriers that one may choose to go over, around or be stopped by. I choose always to find away to use these as learning opportunities. The lesson from our first meeting was, redundancy, bring back-up of essential equipment. Thankfully things went smoothly at least technically. I had a few good shots but nothing particularly interesting.
Jacob Lawrence, NY Daily News Sunday Supplement
We wrapped in the studio and headed downstairs to chat and to take a few more casual shots. Jacob sat on his sofa relaxed, discussing life, art, and politics. As he became comfortable with our conversation, he stretched his arm over his head and I yelled, “don’t move!” It was the shot. Another lesson: spend time with your subjects; don’t be satisfied with the easy solution. The art director was delighted with my efforts.
1999. The last time I photographed Jacob was in the late 90’s. I had a show introducing my Illustratype images and wanted an experimental shot with Gwen and Jacob.
Jacob and Gwen had moved from their home near the university to city center apartment living.
Now retired from the university and in failing health. He still graciously allowed me into his home to create some art. My intention was to photograph them as a couple. However, he was frail and not able to sit comfortably with Gwen, as required for the shot. I shifted gears and decided to create individual portraits. As always he was generous with his time and involving himself in the process.
The final image ended up on the poster for the opening.
The next year Jacob Lawrence passed (1917-2000).
Jacob Lawrence, 1999
Gwendolyn Knight Lawrence, 1999
I felt very privileged to have had an almost two decade professional friendship with a man who through his art and personality gave so much to so many.
Footnote: Years after our first meeting, he commented to me that 1984 image of him was his personal favorite. I have to agree it’s one of mine as well.
Before I meet London, I had an image in my head from the 19th Century of a portrait by Julia Margaret Cameron of Alice Liddell. This led me to the be reminded of an earlier Alice Liddell shot by Charles Dodgson. You may know him by his pen name Lewis Carroll for which he wrote Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland for the amusement of Alice Liddell .
When I was introduced to London, she wouldn’t come out of the closet. I heard quiet crying and caught a glimpse of red eyes. I sat on her bed covered in stuffed animals. Surveying the collection, I asked her mom which was her favorite. “I like this one. A lot. May I keep it?” The four year old slowly peeked around the corner and looked chagrined. “Well perhaps I could just borrow it?” I said. She leaned around the corner and slowly eased her way out.
From there it was a slow but sure movement from her bedroom to the botanical gardens. We played and ran around for 20-30 minutes. She was exhausted; I was exhausted! In that time I captured so many expression.
I’m not sure if I made a friend that afternoon, but for about 30 minutes we played and played and played. At the close of the day, the experience was suggestive of falling through the looking glass.
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