Friends,
I hope this finds you well in the holiday season, or as well as can be. It’s been a lousy month for the world and it’s been a real test of will resisting the urge for doom-scrolling. Let’s all do our best to focus on our families and friend and enjoy moments of quietude over the next few weeks. We’re in for some trouble, but we’ll get through this too.
After a decent run of (mostly) monthly missives, this is my first newsletter in four months. There are several reasons for my pause. Most importantly, it’s been quite difficult to find the proper time to reflect and compose these letters. So I want to send my respect to those who manage to do it monthly (and to those who do it weekly, wow!). I wish I could be so committed, but beyond the work I need to do, there is a home to take care of, a son to raise, a dog to walk. I’ve not read as much as I would have liked this year and it’s harder to gather the energy to watch a film after my son goes to bed (so much more tempting is eight hours sleep). Diversions are a great thing— so important for our well-being— but they’re usually the first to go when life accelerates. Having “all the time in the world,” is something you don’t really hear anyone saying anymore. But I’m grateful that the free moments I do have are going into projects that engage my imagination and challenge my craftsmanship.
Anyways, this is a good-news letter. So let me offer a little bit of shelter from the storm.
Paris Photo: I was quite fortunate to show my prints at the Grand Palais at Paris Photo with IBASHO Gallery in early November. The gallerists, Martijn and Annemarie, and I decided to show work from my first book, Sunlanders, along with some prints from Japan that might compose an eventual sequel (as they have a similarly bewildering and surreal atmosphere). We showed 14 works in all, cleverly arranged by Annemarie to attract the viewer’s eyes. I was present at the booth for most of the five days of the fair, and indeed many paused at our station (and it was always interesting to witness the patterns of attraction— who responded to what kinds of work, some photos getting more love than others). It was really lovely to talk to people (some of them collectors, some of them fellow photographers and printers) who were enthusiastic about what I showed.
Unlike last summer when it was prohibitively expensive and logistically difficult to attend my show in Santa Barbara, I was able to visit France for 16 days. It was my first time abroad since returning from Europe in mid-February, 2020, right before the pandemic really took off. I was a bit concerned in the days leading up to my flight, but once abroad, I committed myself to the journey and really enjoyed the experience. Besides Paris Photo, I was able to see a Georgia O’Keefe show at the Pompidou Center, visit the Rodin Museum, and spend five days wandering Burgundy’s countryside, doing misty peregrinations around remote villages and castle towns with my friend, Glenn Burney. In Paris, I caught up with a number of close friends and made some new ones. (I’m especially thankful to an old friend (and fellow photographer/ printer) Takeshi Miyamoto for putting me up at his flat in Paris and keeping me healthy with Reiki sessions and delicious Thai cooking.)
The timing of the trip could not have been more fortuitous— just two days after returning to Japan, Omicron’s discovery was announced by South African scientists. I have friends now who are supposed to travel for the holidays and conferences in December and January and have had to strongly reconsider intentions. No doubt, this is a difficult point in the pandemic we are entering, but it too will pass, and when it does and we are able to travel again, it will feel terrific. Hang in there, everyone.
Sunlanders at the Victoria & Albert Museum: Because of Covid restrictions, I was unable to visit London to see the inclusion of my photo book Sunlanders in a major show at the V&A Museum. The year-long exhibition, “Known and Strange: Photographs from the Collection,” consists of fifty prints and twenty books from the 1970s to the present day. With so much great stuff and beautiful books out there, it is a true honor to have Sunlanders included in such an esteemed show.
Books: This week I’m receiving some copies of The Sniper Paused So He Could Wipe His Brow. Many thanks to everyone who has requested a signed edition— your patience will be soon rewarded. That’s the good news. The bad news is this new variant has disrupted international postal lines and for the moment options to ship to the US are quite limited (seems I can still post to Europe just fine). The situation is fluctuating, so I’m hoping soon I can send books to North America via regular airmail soon. If you’re keen on ordering the book, please be in touch and I can reserve you a copy. If you might be interested in the Special Edition which includes one of eight limited edition prints made by hand, please contact the publisher or the gallery.
I have a few copies of Amoeba still available, as well as some of Sunlanders. If you think you might want to order either book, please be in touch and I’ll save you a copy. If you’d like to know more about Amoeba (a photographic memoir of marriage and parenthood companioned with a long essay) I write more about the book in prior newsletters here and here.
The Photo Book as Object: If you find yourself in Belgium, specifically Antwerp, Sniper is part of a really wonderful exhibition at IBASHO Gallery called The Photo Book as Object. The show presents a collection of books they published in their collaboration with the (M)éditions, as well as framed prints. It’s outstanding photography plus innovative design and the result is a very immersive experience. Design aesthetics are unique to each project’s content, so you really feel like you’re seeing (feeling!) something special.
I wish I had more time to write about what I’ve been reading and watching lately, but I have some other things I need to finish before my son starts winter break in a few days. However, I would like to give a shoutout to a really beautiful children’s movie I watched with Tennbo called The Point. I learned about it from a documentary about the songwriter for the film, Harry Nilsson. I’m a longtime fan of Nilsson’s playful lyrics and uncanny song range, so I was thrilled to learn he composed the music for this animation film from 1971.
The story is about a village where everything— buildings, people, animals has a point. Into this society a boy, Oblio, is born with a round head. Oblio wears a conical hat to fit in, but because of his physical difference he (along with his dog, Arrow) is banished to the Pointless Forest, where he meets all sorts of characters, who while they do not have pointy shapes nevertheless live a pointed existence. And, of course, Oblio finds a point in his adventures. There are a number of themes explored that are good to discuss with your little ones, including tolerance for others different from you, and that we might need to make a long (if not difficult) journey to find what our point in life might be. Beyond the genuine benefit (and point!) of exploring these ideas with your children is just enjoying Harry Nilsson’s remarkable music. I particularly love the theme song and this song about the long journey our tears might take, “Think About Your Troubles.” The full movie is available on youtube (a version narrated by Alan Thicke, whose voice many of my American peers who grew up in the late 1980s will recall from the TV show Growing Pains.)
Take care and stay well, everyone.