Archive for June, 2009

Odin Stone: Plates 16 – 19

Tuesday, June 16th, 2009

Plate 16: Staircase, Hall of Clestrain, Orphir, Orkney, 2007

Odin Stone: Plate 16 - Staircase, Hall of Clestrain, Orphir, Orkney, 2007

Odin Stone: Plate 16 - Staircase, Hall of Clestrain, Orphir, Orkney, 2007

The Hall of Clestrain was once a magnificent Georgian House that is today in near ruin. Built in 1769 by Patrick Honeyman of Graemsay, the house was left in the care of the estate manager, John Rae, when the family fortune grew and the Honeymans relocated to central Scotland. The fourth son of John Rae, Dr. John Rae, was born there in 1813. Dr. John Rae worked for the Hudson Bay Company and was an artic explorer. He discovered the last link in the Northwest Passage and he is also infamous for discovering that the better-known Franklin Expedition died en route and the last survivors turned to cannibalism in their attempt to survive. For this revelation Dr. Rae was brutally condemned in the British press and never received the recognition he deserved.

Built on the shore of Scapa Flow and poorly designed for the site and the weather of Orkney, the house has fallen into disrepair and been used for several different purposes including a byre. The one outstanding feature still remaining inside is this wonderful staircase. I visited the house on several occasions and each time searched for a different way to photograph the staircase. On my last visit I placed my camera vertically in the widow sill to the right of the staircase. Using a very wide-angle lens and the camera sitting on the windowsill I could not see the exact composition on the ground glass. I thought I knew what I was getting and it turned out the image was almost exactly what I hoped it would be. Looking at the image I feel as if I am inside a nautilus shell with this glorious curve coming right past me.

Today there is a serious on going effort to save and restore the Hall of Clestrain. It has been featured on the BBC program Restoration. It didn’t win the competition but did receive favorable publicity. A local group, Friends of Orkney Boat Museum, has formed to restore the house to it original condition and build an Orkney boat museum nearby. If you are interested in the Hall of Clestrain, John Rae, or The Orkney Boat Museum you may find more information about all three at:www.hallofclestrain.org.uk

Plate 17: Orkney Chairs, Kirbuster Museum, Birsay, Orkney, 2003

Odin Stone: Plate 17 - Orkney Chairs, Kirbuster Museum, Birsay, Orkney, 2003 - Tillman Crane

Odin Stone: Plate 17 - Orkney Chairs, Kirbuster Museum, Birsay, Orkney, 2003 - Tillman Crane

These Orkney chairs are located in the Kirbuster Farm Museum in Birsay Parrish, Orkney. Orkney Chairs are an original Orcadian design. Because Orkney had very few trees and no lumbering industry to speak of, the wooden seat and arms are usually built out of driftwood found on the shore. The backs are traditionally woven barley straw like the chair on the right. The design appears to go back a couple of hundred years but no one knows exactly when the first “Orkney Chair” was made. These Orkney chairs embrace the person sitting in them. The back comes up to neck level and the side come around and form almost a cocoon around the sitter. I am sure the design of the chairs were created to keep the draft off the back of the person sitting in front of the traditional open hearth fire located in the center of the house.  In these chairs you sit back, encased and warm, a good place to share stories or listen to epic adventure tales on long cold winter nights.

Plate 18: Town Park, Finstown, Orkney, 2005

Odin Stone: Plate 18 - Town Park, Finstown, Orkney, 2005 - Tillman Crane

Odin Stone: Plate 18 - Town Park, Finstown, Orkney, 2005 - Tillman Crane

Finstown sits between Stromness and Kirkwall at the junction of the A965 and the A966. It was grew up around a pub called the Toddy Hole in the 1820’s. Today it is a lovely village of stone houses and the Bay of Firth provides shelter for pleasure craft and small fishing vessels. It took several years of driving through Finstown before I took the time to look behind the main drag through town. I “discovered” this park behind the main road through Finstown. I say discovered because I didn’t know it was there so it was a wonderful discovery for me. It wasn’t listed in many books nor noticed on many maps. It sits behind the Firth Church in downtown Finstown I should have realized that behind the busy intersection of the A965 and the A966 there would be a place where the residents could go for a quiet chat and to enjoy the last light of a summer evening. And this park is surely it. Although no one was there it felt like a place where stories could be told in comfort.

It looks like a friendly informal arrangement to me. One bench in anchored, and one is made of stone. I feel as if neighbors brought out the other benches to share a good sit down, and just left them there for others to use. It is almost as if can hear the conversations hanging in the air. The setting sun brings warmth to this neighborhood gathering. The well-worn center tells of its frequent use. Orkney is changing so fast that when I returned to this park in Finstown a year after making this image, it was being redeveloped into a park that no longer included the one suggested by these six benches. I hope the new park is every bit as friendly and inviting as the old one.

Plate 19: Hearth, Kirbuster Museum, Birsay, Orkney, 2007

Odin Stone: Plate 19 - Hearth, Kirbuster Museum, Birsay, Orkney, 2007 - Tillman Crane

Odin Stone: Plate 19 - Hearth, Kirbuster Museum, Birsay, Orkney, 2007 - Tillman Crane

The Kirbuster Farm Museum is an Orcadian blackhouse that has been in continuous habitation since the16th century. Tax records tell the story of all the families who lived in it over centuries. This house was only slightly modified over all that time. I was told that when the last owner died, the surviving relatives deeded the property to the Orkney Council. The council decided to turn it into a living history museum in order to preserve a history of this quickly passing way of life. The interior stonewalls were at some point wallpapered over but nothing else had been done to them. By stripping off the wallpaper this central room was returned to the way it had appeared for centuries. The centrally located hearth contains a traditional peat fire. Early croft houses had no chimney, merely a hole in the roof to vent smoke, so the peat smoke blackens the walls. I loved the smell of being in this room. It became one of my favorite locations in Orkney.  On a cold wet blustery day, it was very inviting to be in a room warmed by a wonderful smelling peat fire. On each visit I would photograph throughout the house but each time my interest returned to this central room. I made many photographs where I tried to capture the feel and smell of the room. This one comes the closest. It was a long exposure, 25 minutes or so. The fire glows and the smoke fills the air and no one enters the room during the entire exposure. I had it all to my self. And I smelled of peat the rest of the day.

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June 2009: Do your work

Tuesday, June 2nd, 2009

Dear Friends,

I was recently asked to be part of two separate panel discussions. The first panel related to the Portland Museum of Art Biennial (Maine) where I was lucky enough to have an image included in the show. (To say the jurors were selective is an understatement. They chose 27 works by seventeen artists out of almost one thousand applicants.) The discussion questions centered on our art and how we go about making it. When Mark Bessire, the museum director, introduced me he started by saying that “I was so conservative I was hip”. This was a first for me, to be considered either conservative or hip.

The second panel discussion was sponsored by the Center for Maine Contemporary Art (Rockport) in conjunction with a show of work by Peter Michelina, a friend who died recently. The topic of this panel discussion was the state of photography today. Again, I was the dinosaur on the panel. Towards the end of the discussion this question was asked: “Why do we still make photographs? With the public bombarded by images every day in ways we never before considered possible (cell phones CTV, email, web-based images, etc) over and above the traditional presentations of images, what could there possibly be left to say visually?”

For me both panels dealt with the same idea: “Why do I make the images in the way I do?” The answer I gave in both cases was the same: “I do it because it’s the way I understand the world”. It is what I do, arcane, conservative, what have you. My process of making images is important to me, as are the images I make and present.

I think an underlying idea behind the questions in both discussions is whether photography practiced as both an art and craft still makes sense today? I think it does. Just because most of the images we see today are made with little thought to either craft or artistry, doesn’t devalue those that are. Museums and galleries are still filled with all sorts of photographs and people flock to see them. In the Midcoast area alone, this month there are at least three shows where well made, thoughtful photographs are being displayed: Chris Pinchbeck has his large pinhole work at the Farnsworth Museum, On and Off the Midway (curated by Bruce Brown) at the CMCA and The Art of Seeing, Photographs by Peter Michelena at the Camden Library.

Let’s assume there are reasons for us to continuing to make photographs. How do we know if we are getting better at making them? My assumption is that if you are reading this you are in some way engaged in photography. It is an interest or passion for you. You do it because it makes sense for you to do so, whatever type of photography you pursue.  This is the key. You do it because it’s important to you. It will always be more important to you than to anyone else. This is the only reason for making it. You don’t do it because it will make you rich or famous (although we might harbor that hope). You make photographs because by doing so the process makes you whole. You enjoy the process as well as the product. Whatever your process you have to enjoy doing it in order to continue making photographs. You also have to like the product of photographs or you wouldn’t continue to produce them. This doesn’t mean you are satisfied with what you are producing. Most of us want to make our images better, more readily accessible, more fulfilling. We want to make work that speaks to our experiences, that allows others to understand what we’re trying to say with our photographs.

Is your work saying what you want it to say? Is it interesting to anyone beside you? It is easy to get lost in the morass of self-doubt or trying to follow the lead of others whose work we admire or see getting into shows or rave reviews. Making photographs like theirs and not doing your work in your way is, I believe, making photographs for the wrong reasons and will only lead to unhappiness. Do your work the way you want to because it fills a need in you. It makes you happy. There is no other reason to do your work. Do it for yourself. Practice your craft. Be honest with yourself about why you are making images. Do your work. Hang it on your walls, don’t hide it under your bed. Do your work because it’s how you want to express yourself; in a way you want to do it. There is no reason to go to the effort of making photographs if you don’t enjoy both the way you are working and what you are producing. If you are not getting shows or sales or recognition, keep doing your work. Eventually the world will catch up to you. And if you have been doing your work you will be ready when it does.

At the Monday morning lectures at Maine Photography Workshops David Lyman used to tell people to make a wall where they could see their work in progress. It was great advice when I first heard it in 1981 and it is still good advice today. I would add to this that you judge your work on an annual basis, not on a daily basis. I find that sometimes my images are ahead of my thinking. By that I mean sometimes I will make an image, print it even though it is nothing like the current work I am doing, and keep it to look at. I am learning not to dismiss it because it is different or unfamiliar or uncomfortable. Sometimes the image is simply ahead of me. Once a year pick your best work of the year and see if it is growing from what you did the year before. Has it changed? Are you making the same image over and over?  Are you trying to push your own limits and definitions? What about the unexpected images? The mistakes? The ones you like but have no idea why? Are they trying to lead you somewhere else? If so follow them. If they are just different, keep looking at them, they may have something to say.

My advice to you is this: Do your work. Do it with all the honesty you can. Listen to your inner voice. If you never get the recognition from the world you think you deserve, at least you have made honest work that made you happy. And isn’t that really what its all about?

Until next month,
Tillman

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