Not right now

I just realized something. As eager as I am to do so, I cannot tell my David Alan Harvey Loft story right now. I know there are many fans of David and Burn who have been waiting to see what I might post and will be disappointed, maybe even let down.

I have thought it out from beginning to end. I have composed words in my head. But the circumstance is just not right for me to tell it right now. It will just have to wait for another time.

It was a great experience, with many highs and lows. It began excellently, then I careened through one calamity after another, headed for what looked like disaster, but, at the very last moment, it all came together. The finish was excellent for me and I believe for all those who I shared the experience with.

Thank you, David Alan Harvey. Thank you, Michelle, Thank you, Michael and thank you, my fellow dozen students.

Pictured are two of my fellow Loft workshop students, Mark Bennington, who, if things work out right, I might get together with in Mumbai in the not-distant future, and Isabela Eseverri from Caracas, Venezuela.

I doubt that I will post at all tomorrow. Too much to do in too short a time. It would be nice if I could get some real sleep.

I wonder what that would feel like?

No car, computer going down at worst time - but that kid George has talent!

I am now in my third day without a car. Once again, Margie has gone off to town to help take care of Kalib and Jobe, this time because Jobe fell a little under the weather for awhile and Jake's job took him out of town. I am a person who likes to drive, but, whenever Margie has gone to town for a few days I have not really been bothered by the lack of a car.

I have my bicycle, and this time of year I bike every day, anyway.

So I just get on the bike and go.

When I get to Metro Cafe, that means I go inside instead of through the drive through. I suppose I could go through the drive-through and then drink my coffee as I pedal my bike, but I don't want to.

So I go inside. And once there I shoot serious, brilliant, studies like this one:

Looking out the Metro window from the inside, Study #3671: Claudia pays for her coffee with a credit card.

Within 8 minutes of posting this, I expect to receive a call from MOMA in New York, offering me $42 million if I will just let them hang a print of this in their hallway for three days. That ought to take care of a few problems I face, and allow me to blog full time and make my new electronic magazine.

Branson always wants to ride my bike, but he is too small for it. Today, Carmen told him to stay off it because he might scratch it. "This bike is already scratched up," he answered.

It's true, too.

Yet, today, I absolutely needed a motor vehicle. I had to take this computer to the shop and see if I could get it fixed. I have been working on layout and writing tasks lately, but now I must switch gears and get into photo processing for CMYK offset reproduction.

My computer has lost all its power and speed. When I am working in Lightroom and in Photoshop, It grinds to a near halt and the Mac color ball spins and spins and I just about go crazy waiting for it. And I will be working with large, high-resolution files - 100 mb each.

This morning, after drinking coffee and working through the night, I went to bed at 6:40 AM, then got up at 9:53, borrowed Caleb's truck and hauled my big, heavy, Mac Pro over to Machaus.

Then, after my afternoon coffee at Metro, I pedaled my bike back home, exchanged it for Caleb's truck once again and headed back toward Machaus.

I had to be there before six and I thought it would be no problem, but then I came upon this cop in the road, directing traffic because the stoplight was out. Maybe that lineman in the background above is trying to fix the problem.

The cop was not nearly so efficient as the light is, when it works, and after five minutes, I was still sitting there. He had sent the oncoming left-turn traffic through twice and everybody else at least once, without even letting us move. So I was worried that I would not get to Machaus until after 6:00, but I got there at 5:55, so it was okay.

Bruce at Machaus did find one thing that he fixed and it helped, but he did not charge because he had a feeling the overall problem was not yet fixed.

He was right. This computer is still dragging like crazy, especially when it comes to Lightroom and Photoshop. And I have over 300 images to prepare for offset. And if this computer malfunction costs me an average of 10 or fifteen minutes wasted time for each image - which, in fact, it is doing and sometimes more... well... make that times more than 300 and you see the problem that I am up against.

I do not know how I am going to deal with it.

It is time for a new computer, I think, but I don't have the money at the moment and even if I can find it soon, which I believe I can, rumor has it that Mac is about to release a brand new, top of the line, powerhouse computer with the pending Lion operating system and it would be stupid to buy a new computer just before that one comes out.

What do I do?

What can I do?

Nothing but slog through it, I think.

Day and night. Slog through it until its done.

All the time, wondering why I have to get stuck inside during the time of long light?

This is George Rasputkov, the aspiring young photographer, and I first met him when he was a boy and I would be out walking our now deceased dog, Willow. George was one of a group of children whose parents were immigrants from the countries of the former Soviet Block and they all loved Willow.

"Willow!" they would shout when they saw us coming. Then they would come and pet Willow and wrap their arms around her and she loved it.

She was an attention hound, that dog.

Tonight I met him again as I was out pedaling my bike home from the Little Susitna River.

Now he is grown and he loves photography and wants to become professional.

He showed me a few of his pictures  on his LCD and his iPhone and he is good. He has the talent. I complimented him on what I saw. "I give the credit to God," he told me. He said he is Christian. I do not yet know the history that brought his family and so many others here from the old Soviet Block, but I think that has a lot to do with it.

Now we are Facebook friends, so, when I get the chance, which won't be until I get this project out of the way, I will give his work a good study. Surely, I will look at it right away, but study will have to come later.

Yet, generally speaking, it really only takes me a glance to determine whether or not I like a photograph. My first glance at George's work proved pretty positive.

View images as slides

On my way to see Larry Aiken's miracle smile, I saw many other things

 

I had thought that I might wait a day or two or three to go back to town and see Larry. His pre-surgery prognosis was that afterward he would be in ICU for two weeks, would not be able to talk and for most of that time would not even be able to recognize the people who came to see him.

Then, close to 5:00 PM when I was pedaling my bicycle from Metro Cafe, where I shot a nice little series of studies that I will share with you later, my cell rang. I stopped my bike, pulled out my iPhone and the saw the name "Larry Aiken" on the screen.

I knew it could not be Larry and that it was probably his cousin, Percy. Sure enough, it was.

I was kind of scared.

Then Percy told me the surgery had gone extremely well, better than anyone had even dared to anticipate. Instead of moving Larry into ICU, the doctors sent put him on the Fourth Floor. Not only was he conscious and aware of his surroundings, but he could talk. Percy put Larry on. 

I was surprised at how strong his voice sounded.

I told them I would come in, somewhere between 8:00 and 9:00. Percy said that would be good, that Larry would be pretty groggy but would know I was there.

So I finished a couple of small tasks, took a shower, ate dinner and hit the road about 7:30.

There were mountains in front of me, but I could go around them, easy enough.

I saw a lady who I do not think was very happy.

I saw soldiers, marching across an overpass. I wondered if any or all of them had been to Iraq or Afghanistan, or if not, might yet go.

The odds seemed pretty high. Fort Richardson has sent many soldiers into battle.

Just before I left home, Margie had the news on and I was a little startled to see coverage on a book signing that was at that moment taking place at the Anchorage Museum of History and Art. It was for the newly published Epicenter book, Eskimo Star - From the Tundra to Tinseltown: The Ray Mala Story, authored by Lael Morgan. 

Ray Mala was the first Native American international film star and first gained his fame in the film, Eskimo. Along with Igloo and Last of the Pagans, it is being featured in the Mala Film Festival at the Bear Tooth this evening.

When I entered the museum, I saw the star's son, Dr. Ted Mala, grandchildren Ted Jr. and Galena being photographed by Rob Stapleton. 

Dr. Mala practices both western and traditional Iñupiaq medicine and is director of the South Central Foundation, supplier of health care to Alaska Natives and American Indians in this part of Alaska.

Mala's wife, Emma, joined her family for a Rob Stapleton shot.

I took advantage of the situation and shot a family portrait myself.

Rob with Ted Jr. Rob is one of Alaska's more outstanding photographers and he is a friend. It would take a signficant amount of space for me to adequately relate all the ways he helped me and my family make it through our early struggling days in Alaska.

He is also a pilot and an aviation and ultralight aircraft enthusiast.

Lael Morgan signing copies of her book. Lael began her career as a journalist who came to Alaska by sailboat a few decades back and then roamed the entire state. She is the author of Art and Eskimo Power: - the life and Times of Howard Rock and Good Time Girls of the Alaska-Yukon Gold Rush, about the prostitutes who took care of the lonely and desperate men who roamed the north at that time.

Along with Kent Sturgis, she founded Seattle based Epicenter Press and, beginning with the best-seller Two Old Women by Gwich'in author Velma Wallis, they have had several good success stories.

I believe Epicenter was the first of the two dozen or so publishing houses that I tried to interest in the work that became my book, Gift of the Whale: the Iñupiat Bowhead Hunt, A Sacred Tradition. She took a good look at it, told me was very impressive but that if Epicenter published it, "we would be bombed by Greenpeace."

Still, it is not impossible that we could publish a book together in the future. I don't know what the odds of it happening are - ten percent, maybe?

I would have liked to have hung around and talked to Lael, Dr. Mala, Rob and others, but I was in hurry to get to ANMC and see Larry, so I headed for the door.

As I neared it, I came upon Vic Fischer, who was a State Senator when I first met him almost 30 years ago. Before that, he served in the Territorial Legislature and was a delegate to Alaska's constitutional convention. He has remained active in Alaska's political and cultural life and I am pleased to say that whenever I read an editorial that he has written, I tend to agree with him.

He has deflated some absurd nonsense and claptrap in this state, but the purveyors of it have gone on purveying nonsense and claptrap, anyway.

Just as I was about to go through the door and back to my car, I saw that Rob had just got done taking a picture of Elmer, the Yup'ik actor, Galena, and Ossie, Yup'ik musician, poet and actor. They looked altogether too beautiful for me to pass by without taking at least a snap myself, so I did.

Then I stepped through the door and saw a face I had not seen in at least ten years, maybe more: Tom Richards, Native journalist and activist who worked with Howard Rock at the Tundra Times before I showed up.

Can you feel the Alaska history that I passed by in just a few minutes time? One day, my friends, one day... I will figure out how to make this blog and my as yet-to-be created online magazine work and then the stories that I will track down...

I will never get them all. There are too many, and all the authors and photographers and bloggers and facebookers and whoever that are working in Alaska combined to tell stories of this place can never tell them all.

But I will tell a few of them.

A very few. But even that will be something.

Remember... Larry was expected to in ICU, suffering, so heavily sedated that he would not even recognize me if he saw me at all.

This is how I found him - smiling big, and talking in the strongest, deepest, voice that I have heard come out of him for a long time. The terrible pains that have kept him awake at night had eased off.

What happened was a miracle, he told me. And this why he believes that miracle happened: his physican, a woman from Phoenix whose name he could not recall but I will add in later, was not only skilled, but before she operated on him, she prayed, and asked for help. In Barrow, about 20 members of Barrow's Volunteer Search Rescue got together before his surgery, prayed, and sang, "Amazing Grace."

The night before, right after I left, a man came and prayed for him and when he raised his hand Larry says he felt a strong power. There were all the people who had sung for him the night before - and so many who had prayed.

Larry invited me to take this picture so that he could express his thanks to all those who have prayed for him and helped him in anyway. You are too numerous to name, but you know who you are.

Larry said many visitors had already come by. While I was there, he was visited by Harry Ahngasuk and his wife, Sarah Neakok-Ahngasuk of Barrow. That's his cousin, Percy, on the right. Percy has been with him the whole time.

For me, these past several months have been rough - very rough.

But when I visited Larry last night, I just felt joy. Pure joy. I felt so glad. So, very, very happy.

It was excellent to see his story take such a positive turn.

At about 10:30 PM, I left Larry and his guests, stopped to chat in the parking lot with a lady from Anaktuvuk Pass and then drove home. As I came down Lucille Street in Wasilla, I saw that the police K-9 unit was active. Someone was not having a very good time. I know nothing beyond that.

View images as slides

Clark James Mishler posted a daily portrait each day in 2010; Ranju - three studies

Earlier in the day, before I drove to the Anchorage Museum of History and Fine Art to see a 165 image slideshow edited down from Clark James Mishler's "2010 Portrait 365," I took my usual walk - now part of my preparation to get fit for this summer's upcoming Brooks Range hike.

As I walked, this raven flew overhead.

Come evening, I did not want to drive to Anchorage. I just wanted to stay home and edit pictures. I am so far behind on editing pictures, I don't know what to do. I could spend all day, every day, for the next couple of months editing pictures and I would still be far behind.

But I wanted to see Clark's pictures and to give his project a plug in this blog. As for Clark himself, he needs no plug. I doubt that there is a better known or more successful photographer working in Alaska than Clark James Mishler. In fact, I think I can say almost without a doubt that he is the most successful editorial and commercial photographer in the state. He is a hard-working, intelligent, superb shooter and a good business man. He has earned every bit of his success.

Clark, btw, is the fellow that the sharper focus is on. But don't let the fact that Bob Hallinen of the Anchorage Daily News is in the blur mislead you into thinking that he is less of a photographer than anyone. He isn't. 100 years from now, when someone figures out what photojournalist created the most powerful and important body of photojournalistic Alaska work from our time period, I predict that Bob's name will top the list.

He'll be dead and it won't do him any good, but people of the time will study, ponder, and be amazed.

And Bob loves ravens.

It's just that this night the focus was on Clark's "2010 Portrait 365" Project, so I put the focus on Clark. One day, when the opportunity presents itself, I will put the focus of this blog on Bob.

From my own experience as I stuggle to make a post on this blog every day, I can tell you what Clark did was absolutely amazing. Each day in 2010, no matter what he was working on or what he was doing, Clark shot at least one portrait and every day posted a new portrait on his blog.

He did not miss even one day - and he is carrying the effort over into this year.

There were times when the day was drawing to a close and Clark had nothing, but he would always make the effort, if neccessary, to go out and find someone, stop them, get the picture, or shoot an assitant, or perhaps even himself.

At least one day came to an end when the only portrait that he had was of a dog. He wondered if it was right to include a dog in the project, but decided it was.

Of course it was right! Never mind that the dog's tongue was a bit gross and slobbery - it was an excellent image and that dog deserved to be in the project - and that dog would not be the only one to be portraited in this project.

A cat would have been good, too.

Hey! That gives me an idea of project for my own! 

2012 Cat Portrait 365 project!

It is already too late to take on such a project for 2011. The problem is, sometimes I will go into a village and there will not be a single cat living there (yes, I always ask). I will want to spend some of my time in 2012 in villages. I can't discriminate against a village just because no cat lives there.

Speaking of which, I did not succeed in posting an image in all 365 days of 2010. I think I would have, but I got into places that the logistics made it difficult or even impossible to post.

Even under the best of circumstances, it is a huge challenge to post an image every day - especially when you it must be one specific type of image, in this case a portrait - but Clark did it.

Even more challenging is to post a good portrait every day. Clark did this, too - and many, many, many of the images are simply excellent. The breadth and depth that he has captured is phenomenal. 

After he showed us the 165 selections from his 2010 project, Clark put on a quick demonstration of how he often uses a very small, compact, portable lighting system that he can carry just about anywhere.

Clark likes to play light against dark and that is what he did here, on the spot, with his simple lighting system.

While our fundamental subject is the same - Alaska and the people in it - Clark and I approach our work with philosophies that are in many ways the exact opposite of each other.

Clark is a sharp-shooter, and I am a quick-draw artist. I can sharp-shoot, and Clark can quick draw - as his photo of Joe Miller taking his one glance of the debate at which he otherwise refused to even look at Senator Murkowski so deftly proves. But basically, he shoots sharp and I quick draw.

Clark shoots with strobe and artificial light not only in his studio and at night but in broad, bright, daylight. In this way, he effectively creates a style that subdues the background and puts the emphasize sharply upon his subject. His colors are rich and vibrant, his contrast strong. He looks at a scene with an eye to making it look better and more visually interesting than it might appear to be at first glance.

While I have made a few exceptions, it has been almost dogma to me that I work only with the light that I find, as that is the light that the life I am photographing is taking place in. When the light grows dim and dingy, then my pictures grow dim and dingy and sometimes very noisy, too, because if I cannot properly expose an image at my highest ISO rating of 6400, then I will underexpose by one or two stops and then do what I can to recover the image from out of the dark frame.

Clark's images all seem to be perfectly exposed. He must blow one now and then, but it sure doesn't look like it.

As he showed his slides, I wondered just how wise I have been to stick so closely to this philosophy all these decades. The fact is, Clark had many excellent images in his slide show that, under my basic philosophy, I simply could not have taken.

I have this little project that I have begun on Iñupiat artists. I am thinking maybe I should artificially light much of it - but I do not want to carry big studio lights around. I think I will go visit Clark and see what more I can learn about his portable lighting system.

In this self portrait with me, Clark and Bob, I am reminded of western movies that depict the time period between 1890 and 1910 - you know, the movies where the cowboy, sheriffs and gun slingers that made their reputations in the days of the wild west have passed their prime and are headed toward old age.

But they don't know it. They don't accept the idea. They keep their guns loaded and woe be to the young hotshots who live by different rules and underestimate them.

A few minutes after the post-show conversations had concluded, I found myself sitting and waiting at a red light. My mind was elsewhere. I was unaware of my surroundings. Suddenly, I realized that this grader was about to flash through the intersection, ice flying.

Oh no! I was too late! There was no way I could get the shot! But I grabbed my camera from my lap and fired anyway.

Quick draw artist.

I would have hated to have missed this moment.

It was just too damned exciting.

And these three with Ranju of India:

I will stick to the theme of portraiture for my India pictures today: Sri Ranjani "Ranju" in the arms of her aunt, Sujitha Ravichandran, at the Bangalore wedding of Soundarya and Anil.

Ranju gets a better view of the world, thanks to Manoj Biradar, Suji's man.

Also in the picture is Bharathi Padmanabhan, Ranju's mom, and, at the right edge my daughter Melanie, who looked so beautiful in her Indian saree and, just barely, Brindha Padmanabhan. 

There is an event scheduled to happen between Manoj and Sujitha on February 28. I want to be there. Right now, it looks pretty impossible, but I am not ready to give up the hope just yet.

Bharathi and daughter Ranju.

View images as slides

Little genius Mariah Ahgeak captures me

During the singspiration, two-year old Mariah Ahgeak, one of Warren Matumeak's great-granddaughters, walked up to me during a moment when I had taken a seat in a pew, had set my camera down and had pulled out my silenced iPhone to check the time.

Mariah was very interested in the phone and she knew that it was also a camera. I thought that she wanted me to take a picture of her and show it to her - as so many children do. So I activated the camera, took a picture of her and showed it to her - but that was not what she wanted. She wanted to take the camera and take a picture of me. 

I was reluctant to let her take my iPhone, because I feared she might not want to give it back - and it can be hard to explain to a two-year old why she must, but she was so determined and enthusiastic that I relented. I let her take a picture of me with the iPhone.

A bit later, she popped up in front of me again, this time holding a tiny red camera, which she also used to take my picture. She looked so cute and determined with that little red camera, but I could not photograph her because I had a big lens on my camera and it would not focus that close and my iPhone was  buried in my pocket.

Two nights later, the family invited me to dinner and she was there.

Again, she wanted to take my picture.

I gave her my iPhone. Here she is, studying her subject before she shoots.

Here she is, photographing her subject.

Now she studies her work.

And here is her subject - me - in the picture that she took during the singspiration for her great-grandfather at the Utqiagvik Presbyterian Church.

I almost want to proclaim her a natural-born photographic genius, because in this simple snap, I can see everything that I was feeling - the deep, unrelenting sadness coupled with my joy and delight at seeing her determination and enthusiasm.

Soon, there will be no need for people like me because people like her are going to cover everything from the inside to a depth that has never been achieved before. Even so, I am glad that I arrived upon the scene in time to be of some use with my camera.

I think Mariah is a genius. I really do. Go back to the top, look into her eyes and tell me otherwise.

Jacob Kagak with his little niece, Theresa Cola Luafulu, Warren's granddaughter.

Darlene Kagak with her little niece, Theresa Cola Luafulu. Dorene took note of the fact that little Annie begun her life's journey at the same time that her grandfather's came to an end.

"The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away," Darlene said.

And here are the iPhone images that I took of Mariah during the singspiration:

Mariah!

View images as slide show