Archive for May, 2009

Odin Stone: Plates 12 – 15

Tillman Crane - Odin Stone Plate 12: Fursbreck Pottery, Harray, Orkney, 2005

Odin Stone Plate 12: Fursbreck Pottery, Harray, Orkney, 2005

Plate 12: Fursbreck Pottery, Harray, Orkney, 2005
Andrew Appleby (a.k.a. the Harray Potter) is both a potter and amateur archeologist. Although not an academic archeologist, he has spent uncountable hours in the fields studying the Neolithic sites of Orkney. Drawn to the pottery fragments of this era he has figured out how to make pottery virtually identical to the pots made thousands of years ago. It is no surprise then that Andrew has on his shelves not only contemporary ceramic mugs, jars and goblets but Neolithic-looking pots and urns that he fires in the way he imagines the ancients did.

Orkney has a vibrant and exciting art community and I wanted to include some of this in ODIN STONE. Of the many images I made of Andrew and his studio, this one speaks to me of the vibrancy I felt around him. Andrew is the blur in the background, making a new cup from the mound of clay on his wheel. The foreground is filled with cups in progress. Here is an artist, working in a medium, which spans time from the Neolithic to the present. I can’t help but believe that the standing stones were erected, just as pots were created, for practical as well as spiritual and artistic purpose.

Tillman Crane - Odin Stone Plate 12: Fursbreck Pottery, Harray, Orkney, 2005

Odin Stone Plate 12: Fursbreck Pottery, Harray, Orkney, 2005

Plate 13: Sam MacDonald Studio, Kirkwall, Orkney, 2006
Sam MacDonald is a sculptor born and raised on Lewis who moved to Orkney after art school. He is a scuba diver and sculpts the Marine wildlife he finds below the surface. Sam explained to me that the predatory side of sea life influences his work. Life under the surface is tough and harsh, but this battle inspires him to create. I saw his work in several locations around Orkney and in my own pursuit of photographing artists’ studios I boldly called him and explained my project. He graciously invited me to come by and see what he was doing. On this day he was making metal fish for a large sculpture that was going to be a triptych inspired by a recent dive on the wrecks of Scapa Flow. He let me wander around his tight studio observing and photographing him work. These metal fish were laid out on a plank in preparation for installation and at a glance appeared to me to be swimming among the wreckage of the German Fleet.

Tillman Crane - Ramsquoy Barn, Stenness, Orkney, 2004

Odin Stone Plate 14: Ramsquoy Barn, Stenness, Orkney, 2004

Plate 14: Ramsquoy Barn, Stenness, Orkney, 2004
If the house is Mona’s domain, the barns at Ramsquoy Farm belong to her husband, Jim. On a very windy and cold day I wandered into the barns to photograph out of the elements. For me, this image says everything there is to say about the beauty of north light on the ordinary arrangement of everyday work materials. I noticed the round patterns of the spider wheel, hoses and wires hanging on the wall. The white buckets in the foreground lead the eye across and to the front of the image. I enjoy the demon head of the power sprayer edging in from the right edge. On one level this simple image speaks to me of everyday farm life. On another I realize it is about the soft north light, which defines and brings interest to each of the implements. This is a found still life, one in which I didn’t move a thing and yet it’s very ordinariness seems extraordinary by the beauty of the light.

Tillman Crane - Odin Stone Plate 15: Nightgown, Corrigall Farm Museum, Harray, Orkney, 2006

Odin Stone Plate 15: Nightgown, Corrigall Farm Museum, Harray, Orkney, 2006

Plate 15: Nightgown, Corrigall Farm Museum, Harray, Orkney, 2006
The light, in this image, seduced me. I admit it – I am a sucker for window light, particularly diffuse light from a cloudy day. Neal Leask, curator of the Corrigall Farm Museum, arranges objects in the croft in such a way that a visitor feels more like a guest and not a tourist. Perhaps part of Neal’s ability comes form his personal history, as his grandparents lived in a house much like this one. Neal remembers the warmth and comfort he found there. At Corrigall, Neal recreates for us his own memories of his grandparents’ home. The croft museum is warm and welcoming, a small peat fire with bare bannocks on the hearth. This beautiful gown hands on the door of a wardrobe. Illuminated by a small window, the light falling on the gown is rich, almost buttery. The gown seems to glow with the warmth of fond memories.

May 2009: Permission to succeed

Dear Friends,

April certainly flew by! Maine has had temperatures ranging from freezing to the 80’s, leaves are unfurling and early plants are blooming. I’ve made some early morning forays out into the fog to photograph as well as evening excursions in the softening twilight with the 8 x 10 and pinhole cameras. Working locally continues to be a challenge but I feel as if I am seeing more in the way of photographic possibilities and spending less energy censoring ideas that I think others have already done before. Giving myself permission to try new ideas, retry old ones and sometimes, just to simply look around me.

Imagine if every time we picked up our cameras we gave ourselves permission to succeed as a photographer? What if we woke every morning and gave ourselves this same permission to succeed as a human being? Such a straightforward thought, such an obviously good idea and yet how many of us do that? If we are going to maintain a creative life it is something we have to do from within because. I think we first have to define what success means and this is going to be different for every one of us. This then, is the tricky part – defining how success looks to us as individuals. If my definition of success is inline with who I am, my personality and the way I work, then success is probably achievable. For example, if my personal definition of success is being the highest paid photographer in New York or LA, then I will fail because I am not working or showing images in those markets. However, if I define success as being able to make the photographs that I want to make, in the manner I choose to make them, have a great family and live in Camden, Maine, then I can consider myself successful. Giving us permission to be successful means understanding “who we are” and the nature of our true goals. To know this we have to ask ourselves: “How do I want to live?” “What do I want to do?” and “Where do I want to do it?”

Years ago when I taught at the Maine Photographic Workshops in the Resident Program, I began one term with an exercise. I asked the students to lie on the floor, close their eyes and listen to their breathing.  A simple relaxation exercise, it would seem, but once relaxed I asked them to let their minds drift to the future. I asked them to visualize and imagine writing their obituary. I wanted them to look into the future and describe their life and career as a photographer. I told them to see the list of major shows and retrospectives, to hold the books they produced, to see what images they made that would leave a lasting impression on other photographers, on students, on the public in general. Was their work journalistic, documentary, fine art, or commercial? What did they want their photography to become? How did the first sentence of their obit read? For example, mine could read “Tillman Crane, husband, father, photographer, teacher” or “Tillman Crane, photographer, teacher, husband and father”? The order of the words is important as it reflects the value we place on the things in our life. Our deeds and accomplishments, our success, will be framed in the context of that first sentence. I was really asking them two things, “What are the important people and things in your life?” and “How do they relate to the context of your life?” I didn’t have the words or concepts that I do now (or think I do), but what I was trying to do was give impress upon the students that by consciously defining the their own unique definitions for their lives they could (and would) give themselves permission to succeed. Though each person’s definition of success will vary and the variations are innumerable, it’s these differences from which we ourselves can learn and grow.

I recently spent a weekend “retreat” with a small group of photographers. We gathered simply to share information, talk photography, and hang out with other “like minded” friends. There was no “teacher and students” construct to the weekend. Rather, each of us was a teacher and each was a student. Most of us brought work to share and I saw work that was as different as each individual. The work came out of each individual’s point of view and personal definition of success. Whether it was getting a book published, trying to work out the trouble spots in learning an alternative process, or just letting new eyes see and re-sequence a portfolio, we were all coming from our own definition of success. We shared common problems and solutions. New ideas abounded and by the end of the weekend I found my energies refreshed and restored. With this time I felt we were giving ourselves permission to succeed, by seeking out community, taking risks in making our work more public, through talking about our successes and failures, in simply carving the weekend for ourselves out of our busy lives. It was also a great reminder to me of how differently we each define success and how absolutely great it is that we are all so different.

I have begun to practice imagining the photographs I want to make before I go out to work. Working on a project in my home territory has been a daunting experience. This area feels overly photographed to me, not only because it is beautiful and quiet, but also because for over thirty years the Maine Photographic Workshops has attracted photographers and filmmakers from all over the world. It still does and for me to venture into not only well know territory (my home town) but to try to bring a different visual voice to it feels intimidating. However I am finding that by visualizing the images before I go out to work, I think I am making new and different images. By giving myself permission to succeed, to find new images, I am more relaxed working than I have been in the past. I see that I don’t have to live up to what others have done but simply make my own images of my hometown. It is a long on-going project but maybe in a few years there will be a book about Knox County Maine.

Perhaps you too have a long-term project underway, one you’ve been trying to give voice to for some time. Try sitting back and relax, visualizing new images or new ideas. Don’t let the practicality of reality bother you. Turn your imagination loose, and dream. Visualize yourself making the images you want to make, going places where you want to photograph, receiving the acclaim you desire. Most importantly enjoy making the work that only you can make.

All the best until next month,
Tillman