Prisoner Of None

Art / PotD

Prisoner Of None

November 7, 2015

charles i. letbetter - Prisoner Of Nothing

An artist must never be a prisoner. Prisoner? An artist should never be a prisoner of himself, prisoner of style, prisoner of reputation, prisoner of success, etc.—Henri Matisse

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]Here we are at the end of what I hope has been an interesting week. This is one of those times, yet again, when I could easily continue along the theme, but won’t for fear of boring you. In that regard, I am breaking the rule Monsieur Matisse set for not being a prisoner. I fear I am a prisoner of many things, including the hit count for these pages. As we move from week to week, the photos I select are not always the ones I could/should be most excited about sharing, but more often than not are those I think are most likely to have the greatest mass appeal. Sadly, this is a prison of my own making, so only I can destroy it.

We become prisoners easily. We bind ourselves to a specific style, to the rules of that style, to the marketing necessities of a medium, to the limits of what displays well online, to whatever might be commercially appealing, to the opinions of our friends and colleagues, to the demands of family, to the strictures of a specific religion, to the censorship of an art association or publication, to the expectations of a specific genre, to the desires of models, to the demands of publishers and editors, and on and on until we have so thoroughly imprisoned ourselves that we might as well be wearing jail stripes, or at least place them over our work.

Not that we ever intend to become a prisoner. I’ve known of no one with an artistic bent who started out saying they would do nothing that did not follow the rules. I suppose, given the immensity of humanity that such a person exists, but most artists claim they want to become rule breakers, to stretch the boundaries of their chosen medium, or of art in general. Artists desire to be anarchists in some sense, to upset society in such a way as to overturn the present hierarchy. Yet, so few actually accomplish that feat. At the first sign of resistance, we play along and become a prisoner.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]One of the most poignant quotes from Henri Matisse is this:

It has bothered me all my life that I do not paint like everybody else.

Indeed, even from the very beginning, the artist refused to conform to the “rules” of art. He failed the exam for the first art school to which he applied. He was fiercely criticized and derided his entire career. His works were often hung in poor locations where they would be least likely to be noticed, and allegedly were even hung upside down on more than one occasion. When Matisse’s first Fauvist works were exhibited in Paris, people actually laughed while standing in front of the paintings. Not being a prisoner often means not giving in to popularity.

Even one of his closest friends and frequent house guests, Pablo Picasso, was critical of Matisse’s work. Picasso and his friends actually threw suction-cup darts at Matisse’s Portrait of Marguerite (which Picasso had obtained in a trade for his own Pitcher, Bowl and Lemon). When Matisse was contracted for the stained glass windows at Chapelle du Rosaire, Picasso allegedly said that it would have been more appropriate for Matisse to have designed a brothel.

Not being a prisoner sometimes comes at a severe price. If there is a lesson to be learned from this week of discussing Matisse it is that one must be true only to their own artistic vision; everything and everyone else is a sideline spectator who distracts and detracts from the art. As surely as we imprison ourselves, we can also break ourselves free. Do not be a prisoner.[/one_half_last]

Art / PotD

The Function Of Form

November 6, 2015

The Function of Form (2011)

Paper cutouts allow me to draw in color. I see it as a simplification. Instead of drawing the contour and putting color into it–one modifying the other–I draw directly in color.—Henri Matisse

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]Of all the paper designs we’ve done, the one in today’s photograph is almost certainly the most difficult. At least, the design was the most challenging to work into the form. In case you’ve not noticed over the week’s images, there are times that I’ve cut the paper into specific shapes, as Matisse did, while at other times I’ve torn the paper, preferring the rough, uneven edges over anything precise. This design was obviously not only cut, but careful attention, also known as yelling and screaming in complete frustration, was required to create those curls.

Those damn curls. You’ll notice that I only use them this one time; I wasn’t crazy enough to try it again. What created the challenge was not only the fact that the paper was so thin, but that the color, when wet, became translucent. Light pink is not a color that works well in this form! Only by putting another darker shade of red under it is the pink even visible at all. Without some form of backing, the paper disappears causing the skin to look as though it is covered in some very disturbing wrinkles. Trying to create curls that were visible to the camera was nothing short of a nightmare.

Yet, for Matisse the cutouts were a simplification of form, allowing him to direct his energies more directly toward the function of color. As a painter devoted to the intricacies of color, Matisse was no stranger to the challenge of trying to find exactly the right shade and hue to match what he was trying to communicate. Mixing paints and powders would sometimes consume so much of the day that darkness would arrive with only a handful of brush strokes having actually been placed upon the canvas.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Cutouts allowed the artist to bypass the entire color creating process. Matisse often referred to the form as “painting with scissors.” The method of creating the paper was something Matisse left to his assistants. You won’t find this paper in any store, even today. Assistants would brush Linel gouaches onto large pieces of white paper. [Gouache consists of a form of watercolor-based paint, pigment, and typically gum arabic as a binding agent.] The finished papers were allowed to air dry and a stockpile was kept in Matisse’s bedroom as well as his studio. Having come from a family of weavers, working with scissors felt quite natural and the form quickly took over all his work.

What’s important at this juncture is to realize that in changing from paint to paper Matisse was not giving up on his artistic form, but expanding it; he took advantage of his physical limitations to explore color in a different manner, but never did he stop thinking of himself as a painter. Photography has experienced a shift in form as well, having moved quite solidly from film to digital media. Some see this shift as a fundamental change in how they take pictures. Yet, if one considers the latter method merely an extension of the former one is likely to find more cohesion between the two.

The function of form is not to create a rigid box within which all creative interpretation of that form must exist. Form is more of a platform on which expression is displayed. The contents of expression can, and should change on a regular basis. Just as art forms evolve on a global scale, so must our personal form evolve to keep our expressions vital to the current conversation.[/one_half_last]

Art / PotD

The Challenge To Create

November 5, 2015

The Challenge To Create (2011)

Why have I never been bored? For more than fifty years I have never ceased to work.—Henri Matisse

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]Creativity does not always come easily and throughout one’s life there are moments when it seems one is faced with challenge after challenge; distracting matters that inhibit or sometimes prohibit being able to work. I have known more than one artist who had little choice but to completely give up their life’s work because of one challenge or another. Life is not easy for anyone, but there are times when I wonder if the life of an artists, which is so keenly dependent upon the use of nearly all our faculties, does not somehow invite disaster more than others.

For Matisse, his greatest challenges all seemed to arrive one upon another. First came his divorce from his wife of 41 years, Amélie, due in part to the artist’s continued relationship with Lydia Delectorskaya, a young Serbian refugee who had been Amélie’s companion, but more due to Matisse’s own stubbornness and insistence upon being alone. Personal relationships never were exactly his strong point. Shortly thereafter, Matisse became ill with what was later discovered to be cancer. Surgery and severe treatments challenged not only his creativity, but his ability to work, to stand for long hours, to mix paints, and to hold a brush.

Then, in the midst of all the physical challenge, came World War II. Despite the encouragement of his children and American supporters, Matisse refused to leave France. He did move to a more secluded home on the outskirts of Vence, which at least removed him from the most severe activity. Matisse was intentionally unpolitical and deliberately worked to keep his paintings as removed from politics as well. Yet, he could not avoid the challenge of worrying about the fate of his paintings in occupied France and Russia. Another challenge came as his daughter, Marguerite, and younger son Jean were fiercely involved in the French resistance. Marguerite was captured and tortured by the Gestapo, but managed to escape from a cattle car on its way to an internment camp.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]All this trouble and worry created one challenge after another for the artist. He spent most of the period from 1941 to 1946 in near solitude, often unable to get out of bed, and carefully avoiding any social contacts that might be suspect. Yet, during this most difficult period was when he began work on his cutouts. It was while he was confined to Vence that he completed all the cutouts that would appear in his book, Jazz, in 1947. Where socializing with people held unknown dangers, he turned his attention to nature, his two cats, and caring for an unknown number of doves, all of which influenced his cutouts. Through every challenge that was thrown at him, Matisse never stopped working.

Life is nothing without challenge and one never knows in advance how a challenge might affect an artist’s work. Matisse met challenge with a renewed energy that carried him through his later stages of life. His work in the face of both physical and personal adversity becomes inspirational when one realizes all that the artist had to overcome in creating those latter day works. Illness itself is a significant challenge, even with modern treatments that alone might be enough to sideline someone. Combine that with the complete crumbling of life’s other structures and most of us might just stop.

When I first get up of the morning, while making that first cup of coffee, I look at the weather forecast to see what challenge I may face in the coming day. Dry days are good, wet or cold days not so much. Schedules create a challenge that can be quite distracting. Family needs sometimes conflict with my ability to sit down and edit. Some days, just finding a sense of creative motivation is a challenge. Yet, we must go on. Challenge itself fuels our creativity. This is the reality of art.[/one_half_last]

Art / PotD

A Soothing, Calming Influence

November 3, 2015

chales i. letbetter - a soothing, calming influence

A Soothing,Calming Influence (2013)

What I dream of is an art of balance, of purity and serenity devoid of troubling or depressing subject matter – a soothing, calming influence on the mind, rather like a good armchair which provides relaxation from physical fatigue.—Henri Matisse

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]There are connections in art defined by all things that influence us. Some influences are significant, others are more subtle, but whether we like to realize it or not, we all have some image in our mind that comes from something else we’ve seen and that image, in turn, becomes the thing that drives our creative endeavors even if they’re not within the same media.Presumably, if one had the time and resources, and could rely upon the authenticity of written testimony, all artwork, across any genre or style, could likely be connected through the artist’s shared influences.

Not everything that influences an artist, or a photographer, is art, or artistic. In the realm of full disclosure, I must admit that I am writing this morning under the heavy influence of a very good night’s sleep. I’m only half-way through my first cup of coffee and the influence of the sleep is that I’m not quite as focused and am having a little more difficulty finding the words I want. Imagine trying to get around without your eyeglasses; that’s what is influencing my writing at this moment. If I were to pick up the camera, to capture a picture of Kat lounging on the couch next to me, that same influence would pour over into my image, probably in terms of a soft focus and a higher key on the lighting.

Henri Matisse was born in a most modest home of a weaver in the very North of France, right along the Belgian border. Winters there were extremely cold and the young Matisse was rather thin and frail. His mother influenced his early vision of women, with a full bust and hips, narrow waist, slender legs and small feet. We can see that influence remaining in his work all the way through to his cut outs. She also provided influence in her work with color, mixing house paints and helping customers decide what combinations would look best in their homes.[/one_half]

[one_half padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]All his early surroundings stayed with Matisse even after he moved away from the region. The stern discipline of his father, the pigeons that roosted in the loft, the sunflowers, and the seeds were all things that would influence his painting. Then, as Henri became more serious about his study of art, his work was influenced by his teachers, William-Adolphe Bouguereau and Gustave Moreau. One can attribute Bonguereau’s training in the classics for that fact that, regardless of what other angles may be present, Matisse kept a true plumb line on all his verticals. Moreau was more progressive and pushed the young Matisse away from traditional styles.

John Peter Russell may have had the greatest art-world influence on Matisse, however, for it was Russell that introduced him to the concepts and works of Impressionism. One can see an almost immediate change in Matisse’s work. He went from dark toned still-life to brighter, more colorful settings. Not that this pleased the established art world. Matisse’s first masterpiece, The Dinner Table, was completed during this period and when first exhibited was given poor placement because of ” what they considered its radical, Impressionist aspects.”

So, the chain of influence goes on and grows long. Could we dare begin to count the number of contemporary artists, photographers, and designers who have in some way been influenced by Matisse’s work? Certainly, unapologetically, the work we are displaying here is a direct derivative of his late-period cut-outs. And, we can hope to assume, what we present here has a soothing, calming influence on someone else, who interprets in yet another fashion And so, the art moves forward.[/one_half]

Art / PotD

Fruits of Labor

November 2, 2015

Fruits of Labor (2011)

I have always tried to hide my efforts and wished my works to have a light joyousness of springtime which never lets anyone suspect the labors it has cost me.—Henri Matisse

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]I couldn’t even begin to count the number of times I’ve had someone say to me, “I wish I had your job.” What we do seems quite easy: hold a box, tell a model to pose, snap the picture. That’s all there is to it, right? Now that we don’t have darkrooms into which we disappear for hours at a time, and instant filters that help cover mistakes, the number of people attempting to be photographers has exploded, and the overall quality of work has diminished. There’s no appreciation for the labor involved.

Sure, anyone can take a photograph, and anyone can slap paint on canvas and call it art. The very nature of contemporary visual art makes it appear easy. Sometimes it feels as only those who are themselves involved in the struggle understand what it takes to put together a truly unique and memorable image; the hours spent planning and experimenting, the failed attempts that no one saw, the disasters the occur when we get something wrong. We think that art is supposed to be easy, but it so very seldom is.

During Matisse’s Fauvist period, roughly 1904-08, the artist’s frequent subjects were nudes, one of the most popular being the hedonistic-looking scene of Joy of Life (1906), which depicts nude women lounging in an open field. Because of the nudity in his paintings, many people just assumed that Matisse, like Picasso, engaged in a very open and active lifestyle. Yet, nothing could have been further from the truth. Matisse lived by the concept that art is life by another means. There was no play, it was all labor. Nothing was easy.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]What’s more frustrating, though, is when people fail to understand one’s work. When Matisse first exhibited his painting, Woman in a Hat, as part of a fauvist exhibition in Paris in 1905, people laughed out loud and scratched at the canvas. In 1907, a painting he had sent to New York for the Armory Exhibition, Blue Nude, was burned in effigy! The affect all this negative response had on Matisse was personal. His health was affected to the point that the doctor insisted, on more than one occasion, that Matisse completely step away, leave town for a couple of months, so that he might recover.

Herein lies the difference between one who is an artist versus one who is merely playing a game: artists live their work. There is constant study, not merely of their craft, but of life and how it can be expressed. There are periods where no one understands what we are doing, nor why we would even attempt such a thing in the first place. Work that is new, different, and experimental is ridiculed, derided, and perhaps even destroyed.

When I first showed someone a photograph from the torn paper concept several years ago, their response was, “Well, that’s … interesting.” They’ve not been invited to be exhibited. None of the images have sold. Perhaps it seems silly that I would return to the concept at all. But, these are the fruits of our labor. We work through the frustration, through paper tearing, through conditions that dry the paper too fast. We hide how much work it is.

Easy? No. Worth the labor? Yes.[/one_half_last]

Art / PotD

Nothing But Paper

November 1, 2015

The Super Hero (2013)

There is nothing more difficult for a truly creative painter than to paint a rose, because before he can do so he has first to forget all the roses that were ever painted.—Henri Matisse

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]I really thought I had done a week of these torn paper designs before, but upon a thorough examination we discovered that no, I hadn’t. So, I think it is time to do so and, as it turns out, it has been exactly two years this week since we last engaged this concept. I’ve been playing with it off and on for over 14 years now and the methods have changed dramatically since we first started. Unfortunately, I no longer have copies of those first attempts.

The concept is based loosely on the late-stage work of French painter Henri Matisse. By the time he was diagnosed with cancer in 1941, Matisse had all but stopped painting. After treatment and a couple of surgeries, his creative sense came back with a surge. The problem was that the effects of cancer left him in bed for sometimes days at a time, not a position exactly given to using a paint and brush. So, he began working with scissors, saying:

“Only what I created after the illness constitutes my real self: free, liberated.”

Ultimately, these works would be the ones that define Matisse’s career. The special paper he used would be prepared in large sheets by his assistants so they would be ready for him to cut whenever he felt like doing so. From this period come his most prestigious works, such as the stained glass at Chapelle du Rosaire in Vence, Negress, The Fall of Icarus, the Blue Nude set, and his 1947 book, Jazz.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Trying to adapt Matisse’s concept for what I wanted to do in applying it to the human body was far from simple. For starters, the paper Matisse used was far too heavy and stiff to conform to the contours of the human form. We tried lighter weights of construction paper with no success. Finally, after many failed experiments and more than one outburst of complete frustration, I settled on color tissue paper as the medium for our work.

Even the tissue paper wasn’t easy, though. There were three significant problems we had to overcome. The first was that tissue paper, being extremely light and thin, tears easily, especially when wet. We needed the paper to be wet to adhere to the body. Second was the fact that some colored tissue paper bleeds. When it bleeds, the skin is stained and it doesn’t just wash off. After some searching, we were able to find no-bleed paper. Our final problem came with how to get the paper to stick. Again, several failed experiments occurred before we finally created a diluted gelatin solution that works.

What we will present this week are newly processed versions, different from the originals. I pulled three photos, including today’s, from the shoot two years ago. The other four are older but among my favorites. Along the way, we’ll talk about a variety of things, such as illness, that impacts an artist’s, work. We hope you’ll enjoy the week.[/one_half_last]

Art / PotD

Shadows of Yesterday

October 31, 2015

Autumn Illusion – Shadows of Yesterday

A fresh mind keeps the body fresh. Take in the ideas of the day, drain off those of yesterday. As to the morrow, time enough to consider it when it becomes today.—Edward G. Bulwer-Lytton

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]We’re done; the last day of October is here, cool, wet, and cloudy. I like it when months end on a Saturday and the new ones begin on Sunday. There is, for me, a sense of completeness in that small detail, as though the months have been packaged with a touch more neatness than usual. Yesterday’s worries and toils are placed in a mental scrapbook. Time for us to move on.

Our garden is now completely gone. I walked through it the last time yesterday and it seems even the pepper plants have finally given up. This year’s garden was immensely better than the year before, but we already have ideas for how we want to improve. For starters, we’ll be much more careful about where we plant those crazy squash plants, and we’ll give the tomatoes a better dose of sun. Hopes. Dreams.

Leaves that were beautifully decorating the neighbor’s tree have not only fallen, but the wind has kindly blown them all over into our yard. Our giant tree has yet to let go of its cover, but will likely do so with the next frost. I’m not one who is inclined to rake; the ground needs the nourishment that comes from the decaying leaves. Yesterday’s beauty becomes the mulch for tomorrow’s growth.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Sometime this next week we will till under the garden and prepare the ground for winter. We’ll spread some straw, maybe put down some black plastic to discourage weed growth. We remember that whole patch was just lawn yesterday, or so it seems. Building on our success means taking care to not let the challenges of another season take over while we’re distracted by the snow.

All the work, all the produce, all the joy and disappointment are now shadows of yesterday. We have pictures. We have memories. “Who can forget” moments, such as letting the little ones help squish tomatoes for marinara, remain firm in our hearts. Our garden produced more than food, it fueled opportunities to teach, to care, and to love. Who can ask more from a garden?

Now, we move on. Try new things, or perhaps different ways of doing the same thing. I pulled my heavy coat from the closet, checked the pockets for wayward cash and found none. We’ll discuss whether buying a new shovel will scare off the snow. Furniture and camera catalogs arrived to fuel dreams. Goodbye to yesterday and the illusions of autumn, hello tomorrow. Enjoy today.[/one_half_last]

Art / PotD

Repairing Fences

October 30, 2015

Autumn Illusion – Repairing Fences

There are three kinds of men. The one that learns by reading. The few who learn by observation. The rest of them have to pee on the electric fence for themselves.—Will Rogers

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]A lot can be said for good fences: they make good neighbors, they keep cattle from roaming into someone’s corn field, they keep out the bad guys if they’re built correctly. Funny thing, fences; some people think we need more of them, like that giant wall built across China so many centuries ago. Yet, as J. R. R. Tolkien wrote:

The wide world is all about you: you can fence yourselves in, but you cannot forever fence it out.

Two of our neighbors have fences. One is a simple chain link that boxes in the back yard, making it perfect for pets, which they don’t have, or children, which are only there every other weekend. The other neighbor has been more definitive about his property, though. He has a tall, eight-foot privacy fence around his backyard. This is because he has a pool around which he enjoys throwing parties throughout the summer. We’re thankful that fence is there not just because it keeps Kat’s little ones from playing in the water but also because we really have no desire to see our neighbor in a Speedo. You just can’t unsee that.

Beyond the privacy fence, though, the neighbor also has a stretch of chain link that stretches to the end of his driveway, establishing a firm boundary. Then, presumably so we wouldn’t have to look at the side of his garage, he has a very tall and full shrubbery. This isn’t the evergreen kind like we have, but is more tree-like with a thick covering of leaves from the ground to the sky; it is very good cover and would likely grow quite tall if he’d let it.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]The shrubbery is thick and there’s not much room between it and the side of the neighbor’s garage. What we’ve liked is that it would also arch over our yard, creating a shaded path alongside our carport, something quite welcome during the summer. We’ve had to prune our side a couple of times, with the neighbor’s permission, to keep the shrub from growing into our carport, but overall it’s a nice, welcome addition to the landscape.

Not everyone in our neighborhood likes the shrubbery, though. We have one neighbor, a fussy little old woman who claims to be close friends with the chief of police, despite the rotating nature of that position. She doesn’t exactly like the privacy fence, either, but there’s nothing she can do about that thanks to the pool. This fall, just as summer was coming to a close, the top-most leaves of the shrubbery began peaking above the gutters of the garage. Our fussy neighbor delighted in calling the city, citing a piece of arcane legislation, and demanded the shrubbery be cut back.

As Tolkien said, fences don’t keep out the world, or even nosey neighbors. We now have a much more boring view along that fenceline. Pruning the shrub caused the leaves to drop sooner than they normally would; they didn’t change color, they just fled the scene. Fences are an illusion, you see. We think we’re protected, that we can create a barrier against the people who bother us. No, while fences protect small children and dogs, all they do for some people is provide a place to pee, figuratively if not literally. Perhaps we should talk about electrifying that fence.[/one_half_last]

Art / PotD

Falling Leaves

October 29, 2015

Autumn Illusion – Falling Leaves

The falling leaves drift by my window. The falling leaves of red and gold. I see your lips, the summer kisses. The sunburned hands I used to hold.—Johnny Mercer

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]Autumn doesn’t mess around once it finally decides to do its thing. Only a week ago, I was able to take pictures of brightly colored trees in the neighborhood, their leaves golden and resplendent in the sunlight. I looked at the giant oak across the street yesterday afternoon and its branches now are nearly bare; a yellow blanket covers the ground around it’s dark trunk.

There are still several hours before sunrise as I write this, so I can only imagine even more leaves are down this morning. Wind howled by my bedroom window all night. Some gusts were strong enough to shake the entire house. Any leaves still on trees this morning are brave souls hanging on to futility; they, too, will fall. A horizon of dark, grey, nothingness is all nature has left us. Those not already prepared for winter had best hurry.

We keep saying we’re going to cover our windows with plastic to help keep out the encroaching cold. We’ve said that the past two winters as well; it hasn’t happened, yet. Like those leaves that still cling desperately to tree branches, we never really want to give in to the fact that winter is coming. We use the excuse of needing to wait for “Indian Summer,” and then find some other reason after that. We really don’t want to cover the windows; we want to be able to see.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Falling leaves are nature’s definitive statement on change. There’s no fudging the line as to whether the season is here or not. Summer’s out the window, winter is knocking at the door, and Autumn is doing its best to give us some kind of buffer so that we’re not still running around half-naked trying to find a way to heat the swimming pool when snow starts flying.

Neither is there any compromise on the plants in our garden. Harvest is done, even if there is one little orange-colored tomato still hanging on for dear life. We’ll leave that for the birds, or perhaps the neighborhood raccoon.

Relationships change, too. We instinctively recognize the need to gather close, to have someone with which to huddle and keep us warm through the winter. Even where there are no drunken Halloween parties to help, couples still manage to find each other lest they freeze alone in their beds. Besides, we need someone to help us rake all those damn leaves in the yard, going from yellow to brown.

There is no putting the leaves back on the trees once they’ve fallen. Brace for impact. Winter is coming.[/one_half_last]

Art / PotD

Thistles, Thorns, and Broken Glass

October 28, 2015

charles i. letbetter - thorns, thistles, and broken glass

charles i. letbetter - thistles, thorns, and broken glass

Autumn Illusion – Thistles, Thorns and Broken Glass

Life is thickly sown with thorns, and I know no other remedy than to pass quickly through them. The longer we dwell on our misfortunes, the greater is their power to harm us.—Voltaire

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]There are thorns around the periphery of our yard. We talk each autumn about cutting them out, cleaning up the edges that we largely ignore the rest of the year, but this autumn we have to actually go ahead and clear them out, along with the thistles and broken glass. Autumn can be as much about cleaning and clearing as is spring; sometimes, it’s even more important to do those chores now.

We don’t employ any yard workers other than ourselves. Our lawn is not one of the trim and neat, well-manicured pieces of property. We do well to keep the lawn mowed and probably wouldn’t do that quite as often if we didn’t have a neighbor who religiously reports us, and everyone else in the neighborhood, to the city should our lawns begin to look a touch unsightly. We wouldn’t give a fuck except for the $200 fine. In the places we can’t mow, there are thorns.

Most the thorns are behind, around, or under shrubbery. Thistles grow along our side of a neighbor’s privacy fence. He has a pool. We’re glad he has a fence. Broken glass can be found alongside the house, where panes from the storm windows didn’t quite get put up on time. None of those things actually bother anyone because we seldom venture into those areas, so they don’t get addressed. Thorns and thistles grow, the broken glass just lies there, a thin layer of roughness.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]This autumn, we may have to address some of that growth. There is an area in one corner where a previous owner attempted to cultivate flowers and decorative shrubbery. We don’t pay much mind to it because we’re not sure exactly what is and isn’t supposed to be growing there, except for the thorns. The thorns grew quite well there this year, to the point they’re no longer hidden. Were it safe to play outside, they might pose a danger.

Playing outside isn’t’ safe, though. There are more human thorns than those of a botanical nature. They run the stop signs, plowing through the neighborhood streets at speeds that would be illegal even on highways. Gunfire peppers the otherwise quiet sounds of the neighborhood, though I find it interesting that no one ever seems to get hit. The human thorns here apparently have really bad aim, for which we are thankful.

Throughout life, thorns are going to happen, whether botanical or otherwise. Some, like those that grow with certain flowers, we can do nothing about. Others, though, need to be cleaned out every once in a while, even if they don’t seem particularly bothersome. Looking across our lawn, or the neighborhood, the thorns aren’t really visible, but we know they’re present, a danger lying in wait. They are yet another of autumn’s illusions and the only remedy is to pull them out by the roots.[/one_half_last]

Art / PotD

A Different Spice

October 27, 2015

Autumn Illusion – A Different Spice

Once you get a spice in your home, you have it forever. Women never throw out spices. The Egyptians were buried with their spices. I know which one I’m taking with me when I go.—Erma Bombeck

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]There’s not much left to our garden. Long vines and huge leaves from winter squash plants have all withered and died, leaving behind a strange, other-worldly array of expired tentacles grasping at the dirt. Beans just disappeared. Cucumber plants shriveled to nothing. Zucchini plants that were once four feet in diameter are now reduced to tiny mounds of memory. The color is gone. A huge square of gray dirt dominates our lawn, looking more like a disappointment rather than the glorious success it was a couple of months ago.

Kat has taken most the spice clippings inside. We’ll have more than enough oregano, thyme, and basil to get us through the winter. All that remains are a few tomatoes that refuse to give up, and one very stubborn habanero plant. Habanero isn’t really a spice, though that’s the side of the garden on which it was planted; it’s one of the hottest peppers in the world, several times more than jalapeno. Kat wanted to try it. To my knowledge, she attempted to eat one.

Spice did well in the garden this year, for the most part. I’m not sure what happened to the lavender, but everything else on that side of the garden grew exceptionally well. Bell peppers and sweet peppers came in a little late for some reason, but once they started they were abundant. That one habanero plant, though, started early and there are still three small ones on the vine. We won’t pick them; there’s no reason to bother. They’re just too hot.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Spice and peppers are a lot different when they’re fresh versus what one buys in the store. By the time anything makes it to the local grocery, it has had time to mellow a bit, having been picked early so it wouldn’t spoil too soon. Organic spice has a slightly more pungent flavor as well, and we definitely went the organic route with everything. Spice packets in my freezer are pungent and it doesn’t take much to flavor a sauce or a soup to the point the entire house is full of the fragrance.

Those habaneros were just too much, though, which is saying something. Kat enjoys a lot of spice and heat in her food, much more than my old intestinal digestive system can tolerate. She’s one of those people who put hot sauce on hot sauce, leaving everyone else to wonder how she’s not breathing fire. These peppers were too much. Just cutting one open made my throat hurt.

I know that saying about variety and spice and having plenty of spice in one’s life is definitely a good thing. Life is full of choices and to the extent one is curious there is no reason to not to experiment, try different blends, see what works and what doesn’t. Life is not meant to be bland, but full of flavor. When autumn comes, however, some things are best left to die on the vine; another illusion allowed to pass.[/one_half_last]

Art / PotD

Compare And Contrast

October 26, 2015

Autumn Illusion – Compare & Contrast

As a means of contrast with the sublime, the grotesque is, in our view, the richest source that nature can offer.—Victor Hugo

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]Walking through the neighborhood late yesterday afternoon, the contrast of beauty versus the grotesque was on high display. Trees with gnarled trunks and twisted branches standing next to tall, straight oaks and maples resplendent in their color were inescapable to the point that even the young male child, whose attention is more often on things such as dirt and bicycles, couldn’t help but notice and comment.

He called the bent trees ugly, which received immediate correction. Contrast is not ugly. Contrast is our source of appreciation both for what is beautiful and for what is different. We admire more the statuesque oak when we realize that growing so straight and so tall is not inherent, but a gift from nature. We are amazed also at the tree that has fought off challenges of wind and disease, scarred and misshapened.

Contrast also the trees that found enough moisture to color their leaves to those who merely dropped theirs like on might casually toss aside a used tissue. The ground is littered with both. The crunch beneath small feet another contrast to the rainbow they picked up and tossed into the air.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Life is dramatically full of contrast. Being awake is sharp against the desire to fall back asleep. Strong coffee from my own french press this morning is a contrast to memories of over-boiled sludge. 73 is the temperature registering on the thermostat in the hallway. 43 chilly degrees is what the Weather Channel app on my phone warns is waiting outside. Checking an app versus reading a thermometer.

A torn window screen, dirty, cast aside, attempts to cling to its frame to avoid being trampled into the dirt. Practical as the screen once was, beauty was never part of its physical description. Yet, I needed it in front of my camera. I held it up to the sky not for the beauty, but for the contrast. I did not need beauty, for that had already been captured. The screen was different.

I failed geometry. Finding the area of a circle escapes my talents even today. Contrasting shapes and planes of reality messes with my sense of balance. Neither leaves nor lives are well centered. Screens become grids that reach off into nothingness without obscuring or defining. Contrast full versus empty. Welcome, another illusion.[/one_half_last]

Art / PotD

Autumn Illusions

October 25, 2015

Autumn Illusion – In The Sun

My sorrow, when she’s here with me, thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be; she loves the bare, the withered tree; she walks the sodden pasture lane.—Robert Frost

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]Flip the page. Start a new week. No longer are we talking about a once great magazine soon to be relegated to memory, like the formerly dominant titles, Life or Look, neither of which anyone under the age of 50 is likely to remember. Seasons pass, times, change, and their passing isn’t always what we expect of them.

Recent weeks have been dry and yesterday’s attempt at rain did little more than taunt a parched ground with a hope that never came. Not here. Instead, random gusts of wind blew swirls of dust down the sidewalk like a small dog taking its human for a walk; the wind yapped and howled at everything it saw while the dust impatiently meandered along.

Autumn is definitely here. She’s solemn this year, quiet, thoughtful in her actions. While she has moments of being bright and vivid, they come randomly; more are they punctuations of color rather than whole sentences. Drive down a road full of brown and there’s suddenly a comma of red. A little further down the road one finds an em dash of bright orange. The punctuation is glorious and appears in careful spaces just often enough to give one a sense of autumn, but all that lies between is a meaningless jumble of disappointment.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]There is a point at which all the photographs of autumn run together. Maple leaves, so resplendent in their colorful stage show, perform the same act year after year after year. Was that photo taken in 2009 or 2012? I can’t tell. Although, one might argue that it doesn’t actually matter. Photographs we miss this year we can try again when the numbers on the calendar are different. Does it really make that much difference?

Who else feels that autumn arrived already exhausted, like that great aunt who has been traveling for a month trying to see everyone in the family? When she finally arrives at your house, the excitement she once held for her trip is already gone. The car broke down. Her favorite blouse ripped. Cousin George’s dog crapped in her shoes.

Flip the page. Who knows what may happen? Certainly, things will be different than they were last week, and different than ever before, but different doesn’t seem to matter. Will this week be sexy, or artistic, or just a poetic mess that no one really understands? Autumn is full of illusions and today is one of them.[/one_half_last]

Art / Photography / PotD

Losing The Girl Next Door

October 24, 2015

charles i. letbetter - not the girl next door

After Horst (2009)

Everybody always says that I’m the girl next door, which makes me think that y’all must have a lot of weird next-door neighbours.—Kelly Clarkson

When Hugh Hefner started Playboy® magazine in 1953, part of his concept was to represent the “girl next door;” someone whose sensuality was a bit understated, who had a good-girl reputation but secretly couldn’t wait to get out of her sweater. At the same time, though, there has always been a bit of glamor, with popular starlets and celebrities frequently gracing the pages over the years. The blend worked. The celebrities might not be approachable, but perhaps, just maybe, the girl in the gatefold would be. With each issue came the possibility that maybe, just maybe, that spindly-legged girl who was your neighbor might be worth a second look or more.

Over the years, that combination allowed some of those girls next door to become celebrities in their own right. Anna Nichole Smith, Pam Anderson, Holly Madison, Barbie Benton, Carmen Electra, and Jenny McCarthy come immediately to mind, but there have been several others. As the stigma of being nude faded with the sexual revolution, more girls dreamed of being on of Hef’s girls next door. Then, in 1981, the J. Geils Band captured the hopes and fears of every young man in America:

Does she walk? Does she talk?
Does she come complete?
My homeroom homeroom angel
Always pulled me from my seat

She was pure like snowflakes
No one could ever stain
The memory of my angel
Could never cause me pain

Years go by I’m lookin’ through a girly magazine
And there’s my homeroom angel on the pages in-between

The song Centerfold jumped to the top of the charts not because of its musical qualities but because it so accurately captured how we felt about the girl next door. There was no one who, if they were totally honest, didn’t at least once think about opening the pages of Playboy and finding their high school crush on the pages, whether that objective was realistic or not. The ever-elusive girl next door was the heart and soul of Playboy, the thing that made the magazine stand out more than anything else. We loved every one of those girls and wouldn’t have minded one bit had one moved in next door.[/one_half]

So, what happens to the girl next door if Playboy drops nudes? Does the gatefold go completely away? Probably. What about the centerfold questionnaire, you know, that part where the model says she likes long walks on the beach, quiet nights in front of the fireplace, and other likely fictional things that fueled are fantasies? Those are likely gone as well. If Cory Jones’ work at maxim.com is any indication, and there’s no reason it wouldn’t be, what we’re more likely to see are overly-airbrushed swimsuit models who look about as realistic as a Picasso. The entire concept of the girl next door is likely gone.

I dropped over to playboy.com this morning, just to see what Jones has constructed there. He removed nudes from the website, making it safe for work, back in 2014 and their numbers jumped. Why? Did men actually prefer a website with no nudity? Not likely. The reality there is that without nudity on its pages the URL was allowed past corporate filters that previously blocked it. More people were accessing the pages because most people still do the majority of their online browsing from work (though, that is changing rapidly as more people use their smart phones). So, what’s at the top of playboy.com this morning? An article on Indian-spiced cocktails. Below that, an article on overcoats, then one about Transformer toys, then pieces on viral videos, boxing, and remembering loved ones. If you want to even see a female, you’re going to have to scroll. So much for the girl next door. There’s hardly even a girl on the front page at all!

I found it hilarious that, when clicking “girls” on the playboy.com menu, the piece at the top of the page is a video of Miranda Kerr jumping around. Clothed. Yawn. Want to see Miranda Kerr naked? You’ll have to pick up a fashion magazine. W magazine, August 2015, is the latest of a long line of fashion nudes Ms. Kerr has done. You can find the editorial online here. But not in Playboy.

By dropping nudes, Playboy is abandoning the girl next door, one of the most basic underpinnings of the magazine. One has to seriously ask what Playboy has left to offer that one can’t find thousands of other places both on the Internet and in print. Cocktails? Seriously? The whole fucking Bartender’s Guide is available. Fashion? Please, every title imaginable sits in front of Playboy on the shelves, and is probably cheaper. What Playboy has always had was the girl next door, naked. Without that, there’s just no reason to pick up a copy of the magazine ever again.

Art / Photography / PotD

A Heart For Sex

October 23, 2015

Curved (2011)

Sex is the driving force on the planet. We should embrace it, not see it as the enemy.—Hugh Hefner

“Ask your doctor if your heart is healthy enough for sex.”

I have always chuckled a little bit at that line from an ad for a major erectile dysfunction medication. I’ve also heard apocryphal stories about Hef keeping a bowl of the little blue pills by his bed. I rather doubt that story is completely true, but the man is now 89. I think we can give him a bit of a break on the subject. I still find it humorous that an amorous individual might need to check with their physician, calling the poor guy in the middle of dinner, with, “Hey Doc, the wife didn’t burn the roast tonight. Ya’ think it’s safe for me to hump her?”

Realistically, though, sex can take a lot of heart, especially when it’s more than a physical act but rather a primary driver of one’s business. Publishing a magazine where sex is the primary motivator is far from being a romp in the park, despite the fact that Hef managed to make it look that way. Playboy® was never about page after page of increasingly raunchy photos, but about a lifestyle in which sex wasn’t something hidden or repressed as it seemed to be in other publications. Hef once said:

I have very strong theories about magazine publishing. And I think that it is the most personal form of journalism. And I think that a magazine is an old friend.

Hugh Hefner, when he started the magazine in 1953, had a heart for sex that wasn’t all that different from some of his contemporaries in the research fields, such as Masters and Johnson or Alfred Kinsey. The post-war period of the late 1940s and 50s took the cover off sex and sexuality that led to the sexual revolution of the 60s. There was a desire to understand and appreciate and experience sex in ways that extended far beyond the physical act. For all the criticism he received, the content mix Hef brought to his magazine perfectly reflected a heart for sex that fueled a revolution.

If Playboy continues to stumble, it may well be because its current leadership fails to have that heart for sex that Hef has. Current CEO Scott Flanders, who interestingly enough is an Indianapolis native, His academic studies at the University of Colorado were in economics, not journalism, and from there he went on to law school. Prior to coming to Playboy, Flanders took a beleaguered Freedom Communications Company and managed it straight into bankruptcy in 2009, whereupon he left. He sees Playboy Enterprises, which he joined in 2011, as a brand management company, not a publisher.

Playboy’s chief content officer, Cory Jones, who had the unpleasant task of telling Hef the magazine was dropping nudes, is a digital strategist who is successful in generating high hit counts and unique views. While he does have some experience working with men’s titles, such as Maxim.com and mandatory.com, he has no relevant experience in print, which, as titles such as the New York Times and Vogue are discovering, cannot be managed in the same fashion as online publications. Jone’s attention is strictly on the numbers, using whatever form of pandering necessary to get there, as is evidenced at mandatory.com.

The people at the top of Playboy’s org chart simply do not have the heart for sex that Hef had when he founded the magazine and through the years that made it great. Without that emphasis, Playboy is set up to fail. Not everyone was meant to be a magazine publisher. Publishing what was once the nation’s leading men’s magazine reminds me of the Richard Adler and Jerry Ross song from the musical “Damn Yankees:” Ya’ gotta’ have heart, lots and lots and lots of heart.

Unfortunately, the people at the top of Playboy seem to be lacking that heart for sex. Perhaps the magazine could use a little blue pill of its own.

Art / Photography / PotD

Relevant Culture

October 22, 2015

String of Pearls (2010)

It’s much easier to be successful than it is to be relevant. The tricks won’t keep you relevant. Tricks might keep you popular for a while, but in all honesty, I don’t know how U2 will stay relevant. I know we’ve got a future. I know we can fill stadiums. And yet with every record, I think, ‘Is this it? Are we still relevant?’—Bono

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]Marilyn Monroe. Jane Mansfield. Elizabeth Taylor. Ursula Andress. Kim Basinger. Linda Evans. Joan Collins. Drew Barrymore. Belinda Carlyle. Bo Derek. Tara Reid. Jamie Pressley. Denise Richads. Dita Van Teese. Tori Wilson. Nancy Sinatra. These are just a few of the celebrities who not only posed nude for Playboy®, but did so at a time that made their presence in the magazine culturally relevant. From the very first issue in 1953, Hef used celebrities as a way of making sure the magazine mattered, that what appeared in the magazine would be conversation fodder for water coolors and bar rooms everywhere.

Having content that was socially relevant took the magazine from something one hid under the bed or in a closet, to one that was regularly discussed at dinner tables. It didn’t matter whether one approved of the content, it was the fact that people were talking about Playboy and its nudes that made the magazine relevant. For a celebrity, being in Playboy was an instant invite to the late-night talk shows, a career booster like no other. In fact, for a set of celebrities such as Pam Anderson, Carmen Electra, and Anna Nicole Smith, their careers would not have existed without their appearance in the magazine; it was just that relevant.

Playboy has long held a very unique and even peculiar place in American society. As hard as the mainstream media tried to demonize the men’s magazine, Hef continually produced content so incredibly relevant that people had to pay attention. The magazine’s interview with Georgia governor Jimmy Carter in 1976 was one of the factors that propelled Carter into the White House. Nancy Sinatra’s spread in 1995 helped rejuvinate a career that had been dormant for two decades but was about to explode again with the Kill Bill movies. Drew Barrymore and other former child stars took to the pages of Playboy to let the industry know they were ready for more adult roles. Granted, the spreads worked out better for some than it did others, but the point is that the nudes, as well as most all the content, were relevant.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Now, ask yourself the last time you rushed to pick up a Playboy because of who was going to be in its pages? When was the last time that anyone actually cared about who was doing a spread in the magazine. While management’s decision to completely abandon nudes happened only a week ago, they’ve quietly been moving away from that format for the past three years with an increasing number of pictorals not going any further than implied nudity and several non-gatefold sets not even getting close to anyone being naked. With the base reason for picking up the magazine dwindling, the rest of the content, such as the interviews and fiction, have been largely ignored. Playboy is no longer as relevant as it once was.

Over the past few years, Playboy has stepped away from the controversy that once surrounded their nude spreads. As the quality of the photorgaphy diminished, so too did their choice of celebrities and models. One of the challenges they now face is that international fashion magazines, such as Vogue Italia, not only have more nudity than does Playboy, but they are more culturally relevant (because of the relationship to fashion) and the level of photography is arguably light years above anything Playboy is producing. Photographers such as Steven Meisel and Nick Knight are shooting the new celebrities, fashion models such as Cara Delevigne, Joan Smalls, and Karlie Kloss in nude editorials that render the mediocre nudes in Playboy almost boring.

Playboy could still come back to a position of being dominantly relevant, but it is not likely to do so by dropping nudes. The success of fashion magazines publishing creative nude spreads demonstrates that the right style of nude photography is still amazingly relevant and capable of selling print issues. Change has to happen, but dropping nudes isn’t the answer now and won’t be the answer in the future.[/one_half_last]

Art / Photography / PotD

A Shadow of Former Glory

October 21, 2015

The Smallest Light (2008)

That though the radiance which was once so bright be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, glory in the flower. We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.—William Wordsworth

The November 1972 issue of Playboy® sold over seven million copies. This month, they will be lucky to see 500,000 copies leave store shelves. What made that 1972 issue so popular? Was there a special interview? Were the articles particularly on point? Where the editorial cartoons especially biting? No, it was the gatefold of Lena Söderberg, shot by Dwight Hooker, that made the issue leap off shelves. In fact, it remains one of the most sought after collectors’ editions to this day. For years, a cropped version of that picture of Lena has been used as the ultimate test for dithering in color computer imaging. The gatefold is also a topic of conversation in the 1973 Woody Allen film Sleeper. Ah, the glory days.

Much of the glory, however, is gone and the reasons have nothing to do with the magazine’s iconic nudes. There isn’t a printed periodical in the country that hasn’t been severely challenged by the Internet, for starters, and more than a few great titles have completely folded as a result. Online “magazines”, not unlike online shopping, took traditional publishers completely by surprise and even those who attempted to adapt early often did so in ways that were not sustainable. Only a few titles, such as the New York Times and Condé Nast’s Vogue have recently figured out how to make their print and online presence work symbiotically. For Playboy’s circulation numbers to have fallen dramatically isn’t surprising for that reason alone.

Playboy’s circulation problems didn’t begin with the Internet, though. Numbers had been declining long before online publishing was even a thing. Circulation in the 80s was lower than the 70s, and the 90s numbers were dramatically lower than the 80s. Blaming the Internet for the magazine’s decline ignores the fact that the glory that was once Playboy was long gone before live streaming and pervasive free porn ever became a factor. Playboy was already standing on the edge of a publishing cliff. All the Internet did was push it over.

If the Internet isn’t the cause of Playboy’s troubles, though, what is? Where is the luster and glory that made the name so well known? The list of reasons could be long, but overall they can be summarized into two primary categories: 1. Hugh Hefner left the magazine, and 2. the emphasis changed. One of the most seismic declines in circulation came when Hef turned control of the magazine over to his daughter, Christie. There were already some challenges even before than happened, but, inevitably, Christie’s vision for the magazine wasn’t the same as her father’s and it had been Hef’s view of how life should be lived that had driven the magazine since its inception. Sure, his name has always been on the masthead as editor in chief, but once his voice was no longer dominant, the magazine faltered.

More critically, though, Playboy the company became the primary competitor to Playboy the magazine. Special Editions introduced in the 80s were much heavier on photographs and contained extended set not shown in the magazines. Those who were primarily interested in the pictures picked up titles such as “Girls of the Big Ten” rather than the full magazine. The introduction of videos in the 80s also distracted some magazine buyers. Over the years, Playboy the company has become more dependent upon revenue from licensing than publishing, and that distraction has stolen glory from the magazine.

Playboy dropping nudes from its magazine is a reactive strategy that is likely to only hasten its demise. While Playboy’s management is quick to tout the five-fold increase in unique views the website had when it dropped nudes, expecting print readers to respond the same way is foolish and naive. Playboy dropping nudes is like the New York Times eliminating investigative journalism or Vogue deciding to drop fashion editorials. Gutting their primary source of glory is likely to have the opposite effect and may well find its editorial staff looking for new jobs.

Art / Photography / PotD

Abandoning The Revolution

October 20, 2015

String of Souls (2010)

Sexuality surrounds us like a dangerous aura. The same reverence that is given to the spirit is not given to the flesh. We have had a sexual revolution, but the sexual revolution only has made sex more pervasive. It hasn’t granted the level of reverence and respect that it should have.—Gioconda Belli

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]When Playboy® chief executive Scott Flanders defended the magazine ‘s move toward non-nude images last week, he said, “The battle has been fought and won.” Mr. Flanders, the magazine’s first CEO outside the Hefner family, was referring, of course, to the battle that was the sexual revolution. Without question, a lot has changed in our attitudes towards sex and sexuality since Hef started the magazine in 1953. However, to abandon the very thing that has brought the magazine this far is rather like General George Washington defeating Cornwallis then, instead of becoming President, Washington moves back to Britain. Was all that effort for naught?

There is absolutely no question that Playboy® was a major contributing factor in changing the landscape of American sexuality. The magazine’s participation in that movement wasn’t always welcome, either. Those of us who are old enough remember know feminist stalwart Gloria Steinem went undercover as a Playboy Bunny in an attempt to discredit the magazine. Others have criticized the fact that, while the country was struggling with the matter of civil rights, Playboy diverted the attention of white men by shoving the sexual revolution in their face. In the magazine’s defense, their interviews with both Malcom X and Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. were exemplary examples of Playboy’s continual contribution to contemporary issues conversation.

Yet, for all the talk, it was always the pictures that stood out. Sure, the articles were important and timely and informative, but without that famous gatefold, would anyone have bothered reading them? Probably not. Looking at the progression of styles and poses in the photography across the years is almost like a visual encyclopedia of America’s changing attitudes toward both sex and beauty. Hair styles, grooming choices, accessories, backgrounds, and changes in body types are all indicative of the effect Playboy has had on the sexual revolution.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]But is the revolution really over?®® Is there nothing else that should be explored through conceptual nude imagery?

Whether one liked the magazine or not, one of the things I’ve always admired about the magazine is that they didn’t back down in the face of criticism. At first, Hef was demonized for the nudity. People screamed, ranted and raved when Jennifer Jackson became the first black Playmate of the Month in 1965. Mouths frothed when Marina Baker, Miss March 1987, talked about being bisexual and even more when Stephanie Adams, June 2006, came out as the magazine’s first lesbian centerfold. Playboy didn’t back down or apologize.

What’s important to our current conversation, though, is without the pictures none of those women’s contributions would have been relevant or recognizable. They all would have just been one of the millions of women battling against a status quo that shut them out. Photography can do a lot about bringing attention to issues and creative, conceptual, nude imagery is critical to that effort because of its ability to direct our attention when other methods fail. Issues of equality, such as #freethenipple, still remain. Imagine a gatefold who’s had a mastectomy; that would be leadership that Playboy is uniquely positioned to provide.

What Mr. Flanders and others at Playboy seem to miss is the fact that “winning” the revolution is only the beginning. We need a magazine that takes us from the revolutionary aspects of photographic nudity to using that imagery to teach respect for sexuality, especially in the face of overwhelming amounts of porn. Who is better positioned to lead that movement toward reverence and respect than the magazine that helped get us to this position? Now is not the time to abandon nudity, Mr. Flanders. The work has just begun.[/one_half_last]

Art / Photography / PotD

Lighting Matters

October 19, 2015

A Little Light Through A Window (2011)

The great photographers of life – like Diane Arbus and Walker Evans and Robert Frank – all must have had some special quality: a personality of nurturing and non-judgment that frees the subjects to reveal their most intimate reality. It really is what makes a great photographer, every bit as much as understanding composition and lighting.—Caleb Deschanel

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]If Playboy® magazine’s chief content officer Cory Jones thinks that nudes have become passé, perhaps one of the reasons might be that the magazine has dropped their emphasis on creatively and seductively lit images. Back when the magazine started in 1953, the gatefolds were pinups in the classic style, with a careful attention to maintaining a sense of illusion. Lighting was critical. The photographs from the first few years, the ones that caught your grandfather’s or great-grandfather’s attention, look to us now almost like a set of realist paintings. They were carefully shot and carefully processed to portray a specific image that implied luxury and refinement. They were classy, not slutty.

During the 1960s and 70s, Helmut Newton came to the magazine and set the world on fire with his black and white images that were naturally lit. While the concept sounds easy, just show up someplace with decent indirect lighting and shoot where there are no shadows, photography for Helmut was never that simple. He would scout locations and check for the perfect time of day when the lighting was going to be precisely the way he wanted. Then, he was picky as hell about things such as reflection and making sure that poses put shadows precisely where he wanted them. There was never anything accidental or surprising about Helmut’s photos; what you saw was exactly what he intended.

Then, starting in 1976, Arny Freytag pretty much took over Playboy’s® gatefold and did so with highly-specialized lighting schemes that sometimes used as many as fifty flash heads to create just exactly the precise amount of light he wanted across every inch of the photograph. Arney didn’t just make sure the lighting for the model was correct, but he cared about the background as well, whether it was a complicated room full of furniture, or something seemingly as simple as a rumpled sheet. Arny would fuss endlessly over the precise placement of lights, taking endless Polaroids® until the lighting was to his critical satisfaction. [/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Such were the years of Playboy® at its heyday. As Arny got older, he didn’t shoot for the magazine as often and the difference was dramatic. Lighting was terribly inconsistent from one photographer to another. Some insisted on blowing out the highlights and the background. Others, especially once the magazine moved to using digital cameras, created images that were as flat as the paper on which they were printed. Shadows showed up in awkward places. Sunlight glared down on models with no filter or any form of diffusing. Editors and photographers alike seemed to rely more on Photoshop® to fix the errors rather shooting good pictures to begin with. With those attitudes, anything would quickly become passé.

When Hugh Hefner started the magazine, there was an inherent emphasis on quality because he wanted a men’s magazine that would stand out with class and not be like the low-class smut being produced at the time. He knew that was the only way to win over the large-scale acceptance of the men’s magazines necessary to make it profitable. There was no room in Hef’s magazine for bad lighting or poor photography. Even non-nude photographs, such as those accompanying the famous interview portion, were by photographers who knew how to light a portrait correctly.

Playboy® faces a tough battle ahead if it plans to go up against men’s giant such as GQ and Esquire with the bad lighting some of their photography has shown the past 20 years or so. There simply is no substitute, now or in the future, for a photograph that is lit properly from the very beginning. If an editor wants to capture readers attention, good lighting is an absolute necessity, even if readers don’t recognize it. Sometimes it’s the details that keep a magazine from being passé.[/one_half_last]

Art / Photography / pop culture / PotD

Anything But Passé

October 18, 2015

An Insufferable Desire (2008)

I believe that history has shape, order, and meaning; that exceptional men, as much as economic forces, produce change; and that passé abstractions like beauty, nobility, and greatness have a shifting but continuing validity.—Camille Paglia

Passé. Nudes are passé. At least, that’s the story according to Playboy® magazine’s recently-appointed chief content officer Cory Jones. The magazine announced that this past week that it is initiating a complete re-design and re-branding, beginning with the March 2016 issue. Jones said, as part of the announcement, “You’re now one click away from every sex act imaginable for free. And so it’s just passé at this juncture.” And with that, every male, and more than a few females, around the world sighed the deepest of sighs. There’s no arguing with the prevalence of nudity and porn on the Internet. And yes, it does make the current content of the magazine passé. Such wasn’t always the case, though, and that it is now is partly Playboy’s own fault.

Before I totally give in to ranting and raving, which I have a whole week to do, let’s be very clear about a few facts surrounding the magazine’s decision. First, what you see on the newsstands today is not Hugh Hefner’s magazine and hasn’t been for quite some time. Hef turned control of the magazine over to his daughter, Christie, in 1988 after he suffered a stroke in 1985. So, if you didn’t turn 18 until sometime after that date, you’ve not seen the magazine as it appeared under Hef’s control. Christie started making changes immediately and continued trying to keep the general content of the magazine moving forward until she stepped down in 2008, but even under her, the quality of the nudes suffered.

The magazine has been totally out of family control since earlier this year, and while Hef ostensibly has “approved” the change, his physical and mental condition has deteriorated to the point that one can legitimately question whether he really has a true concept of what’s taking place. The magazine’s website eliminated nudes over a year ago, which may be more understandable given the online competition, but then, the web version never has been anything more than a shadow of what the magazine was under Hef. One might even go back to Christie’s decision to move into video as the beginning of the decline.

Here’s the rub: poor quality nudes, such as what have appeared in the magazine for the past twenty years, have always been passé. Part of what made Playboy® the magazine it was under Hef’s control was the quality of its nudes. Not just anyone could shoot for the magazine and get their work published. Consider the list of photographers who once shot for the magazine. Arny Freytag, Pompeo Posar, Suze Randall, Mario Casilli, Herb Ritts, and most notably, Helmut Newton. The people who were behind the camera for the magazine during its heyday, who were responsible for its definitive look, were not hacks, but well-respected photographers with significant careers outside the magazine.

What happened? Expediency took the place of quality. Video was new and flashy and those early VHS tapes didn’t have to be good to sell well. Before long, the quality that had built the empire was completely gone. Never mind that attitudes about nudes and sexuality were changing, the photography by the mid-1990s came nowhere near the artistry that had existed before. Photoshop® and post-editing took over, lighting and creative posing and staging, which can be expensive, took a back seat. Models began looking more and more plastic.

So yes, the nudes that have appeared in Playboy® magazine the past 20 years are incredibly passé and changing that is a good thing. However, eliminating nudes completely is the easy way out. By going with a more glamour-oriented photography style, the magazine puts itself more in competition with titles such as GQ and Esquire. There, too, they will struggle if the quality of their photography doesn’t improve, and there’s no indication that it will.

Great nude photography will never be passé. However, mediocre magazines always will, and that’s exactly where Playboy® has landed, a fact that makes us all very sad.

Music / PotD

Everybody Has The Blues

October 17, 2015

Most Refined (2009). Model: Samantha Caster

Everything comes out in blues music: joy, pain, struggle. Blues is affirmation with absolute elegance. It’s about a man and a woman. So the pain and the struggle in the blues is that universal pain that comes from having your heart broken. Most blues songs are not about social statements.—Wynton Marsalis

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]Everybody has the Blues. I have the Blues right now because the kids are already awake and making way too much noise, and because this is the end of Blues week. I like next week’s theme of classic nudes, but this week has been rather special and I’m sorry to see it come to an end. My friends have the Blues, one from not sleeping well for several nights, another remembering, and feeling, the passing of a friend on this date some years ago. Blues happens to everyone, everywhere, all the time. There is not a day, nor even a moment that passes but what someone has the Blues.

I don’t think the Blues are something to be avoided, though. If anything, I think the Blues should be embraced, welcomed, and given the time and emotion to be felt deeply. The only way one gets over the Blues is to feel them and then to let that feeling come out in some form. Creative people have an advantage there; they can write or sing or paint or draw their way through the Blues and end up with something beautiful. Some of the most wonderful works of art have come from letting the Blues take over the creative process. When we allow the Blues to be a natural part of our experience, they participate as the balance against which we measure our level of joy. Without the Blues, how would we know how happy we are?[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]The music this week has been some of the best. One of the reasons Blues music is so popular is that the emotions from which it springs are universal; one can identify with the music because one has felt the emotion for themselves. Blues music brings us together in our pain, or at the very least the remembrance of it. For example, as I get older I think of people who were part of my childhood, people whose names I can’t even remember now, and the song, “Do I Ever Cross Your Mind” plays on cue in my head. Or something happens that reminds me how much things have changed in my lifetime and the B.B. King/Bobby “Blue” Bland duet, “Funny How Time Slips Away” comes to mind.

“Everybody Has The Blues” seems like a fitting way to end the week. It doesn’t matter who we are, rich, poor, married, single, young, old, we all get the blues. The song, like today’s picture, is a little more refined than what we normally see from the Blues, with Ray’s orchestra and the smooth voice of Tony Bennet joining him. Yet, there’s still that tone of melancholy in the bridge. There’s no escaping the Blues. They’re going to get you. Might as well accept them and go on. Enjoy the song.[/one_half_last]

Music / PotD / Uncategorized

Got My Mojo Working

October 16, 2015

charles i. letbetter - got my mojo working

Portrait in Blue (2011). Model: Rebekkah Perigrin

I think I believe a little bit in the power of people to really cast a bad energy on you if they want to. If the bad mojo wants to come your way, look out.—Dileep Rao

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]Maybe it’s just me, but I hear the word mojo and it’s almost impossible to not immediately think of Mike Meyers in the character of Austin Powers. Then I inevitably wonder whatever happened to Meyers and why he didn’t pursue the whole Austin Powers thing more aggressively while it was working for him. The only answer I can find is that he must have lost his mojo, too. That happens, it seems. Mojo has this ability to just get up and walk away whenever it damn well feels like it. Rather sucks when that happens.

Of course, not everyone has mojo to begin with. I can’t say that I’ve ever had a particularly strong mojo of any kind. If I did, it was when I was too young and stupid to recognize it and put it to work for me. Mojo seems to involve just a bit of arrogance on top of a healthy dose of self-confidence and there have been few times that my confidence has been sufficient to tip the scales in that direction. Although, now that I’m sitting here typing this, the times that I’ve been able to pull off large nude shoots almost certainly have required a bit of mojo working. [/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Mojo is such an elusive thing, though. I think most people don’t have mjo more often than they do have it. Maintaining mojo is hard work; it requires being at the top of your game, not letting your guard down, having everything together no matter what happens. How many people can realistically do that day in and day out? Sure, two or three days a week, maybe, and almost certainly a couple of times a month, but all day every day? I don’t think so. Not unless you’re someone supremely cool like Sir Ian McKellan or Patrick Stewart; they never seem to lose their mojo, at least not in public.

And then, like the song says, there are some people on whom no amount of mojo works. There’s nothing one can do when encountering such a person; they’re just immune to the stuff. And just because the mojo works on someone once doesn’t necessarily mean it will a second time. Perhaps there’s a little bit of deception in mojo, making ourselves out to be more than we are. Rebekkah had her mojo working the night we shot this portrait. Or maybe it was the wine. Maybe wine is mojo. Wait, scotch is mojo! Maybe. Enjoy the song.[/one_half_last]

Music / PotD

Baby Grand

October 15, 2015

Steal The Moment (2013). Model: Loren Hawk

Sometimes I can only groan, and suffer, and pour out my despair at the piano!—Frederic Chopin

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]I’ve never owned a baby grand. I’ve played countless numbers of them over the years, but for a variety of reasons I’ve never owned one and that makes me a bit sad. Not all pianos are created equal, you know. Even when they’re in tune there is a significant difference in the tone between a studio piano, which is what I had growing up, and a baby grand. Of course, when I was much, much younger I thought I’d have a twelve-foot Steinway sitting in the middle of my living room floor. Perhaps, had life taken a very different turn 30-plus years ago, that might have happened, but there’ve been many times when, moving logistics aside, twelve feet was longer than any one side of the living room. A baby grand is five-foot to five-feet, four-inches long, which fits in just about any room. I still don’t have one, though.

Still, no matter what size piano or keyboard one has, they make for incredible friends when one has the Blues. A baby grand is the perfect outlet for the widest range of emotion. Sometimes, one is quiet and contemplative, and a gentle touch on the keys produces a soft tone that is reflective and peaceful, full of thought. When one is sad, all it takes is shifting to a minor key and what would be tears fall into beautiful melancholy streams of emotion. Angry? The piano has been the outlet for my anger more times than I care to count; it can not only handle the power of the emotion but sends it back with a musical force that is satisfying.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]The problem with relying on a baby grand as one’s emotional outlet is that often one feels those emotions most deeply and strongly in the middle of the night. Timing tends to be an issue for anyone not actually playing the piano. No matter how skillful the playing or how beautiful the song, people tend to not be too terribly receptive when it jars them from their sleep at 3:00 AM. I’ve even had one neighbor threaten violence over what he considered to be the inappropriate timing of my playing. During the quiet moments of the night, even the softest tones are too much for most people.

Perhaps it is better, from a relationship perspective, to put one’s worries into a good book, divert the energy toward more physical pleasures, or at least some activity that doesn’t wake the entire neighborhood. I can tell you right now, though, even taking pictures of beautiful women, such as today’s photo, as much as I love doing it, is not as emotionally satisfying as sitting down and becoming one with a baby grand. Nothing else responds to the Blues in quite the same way, personally, deeply, as though it were a part of your body, as does a baby grand. There is no better therapy.

Ray understood. Enjoy the music. [/one_half_last]

Music / PotD

What Kind Of Woman Is This?

October 14, 2015

Blue All Over (2015)

Being jealous of a beautiful woman is not going to make you more beautiful.—Zsa Zsa Gabor

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]I’m going to go off script this morning, because, with a title like What Kind Of Woman Is This? I feel the need to do some explaining. We tend to look at the Blues as a way of working out something challenging to us. No, not always. There are times when all it takes is the presence of a beautiful woman. Here are the lyrics:

The gates of Heaven must be open
I think I saw an angel just walk by
Hey, the gates of heaven must be open
I think I saw an angel just walk by

I heard a blind man screamin’, say
Now there goes a sight for my sore eyes
There goes a sight for my sore eyes
Now there goes a sight for my sore eyes
What kind of woman is this?

You should be locked up, pretty girl
In my bedroom with me
Hey, you should be locked up, pretty girl
In my bedroom with me

So we can do the same thing that Adam
Did under that old apple tree
What he did under that apple tree
What he did under that apple tree

Well, well, well, well, well, well
Choke out
Here I come again

There’s always some good lookin’ girls
Hangin’ ’round this famous place
Well, hey, there’s always some good lookin’ girls
Hangin’ round this famous place, talkin’ bout legends now

Aww, but this particular one
Looked like somethin’ from outer space
She looked like somethin’ from outer space

What kind of woman is this?
Hmm, what kind of woman is this?
What kind of woman is this?
Ooh, what kind of woman is this?

Look at that, she shakes all over when she walk
She made a blind man see
Made a dumb man talk
What kind of woman is this?
Hmm, shucks

[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]What Kind of Woman is This? is the only original song on Buddy Guy’s 2005 album, Bring ’em In. That would mean he was 68- or 69-years-old when he wrote the song. Considering the fact that it really is not much more than one long pick-up line, one might think that the Blues comes from knowing he’s not going to be the one to get her. I would have to challenge that, though. Blues musicians seem to get better with age, like so many other things, and I’ve not seen one yet that didn’t have groupies waiting at the stage door.

One might also question whether the song’s title is sexist, patronizing, objectifying, or possibly even misogynistic. I think the song is actually more appreciative than anything. We’ve all been in that crowded room when a particular woman walks in and turns every head in the place. Maybe she’s wildly attractive, or maybe she’s a strong, confident woman who doesn’t put up with the bullshit she gets from men; perhaps she’s both.

So, where do the Blues come in? What’s the cause for the emotion? Can there be such a thing as a happy Blues song? Yes, there are happy Blues songs, and in some aspects this may be one of them. But what I think Guy is talking about is a distraction. Perhaps the woman’s presence was unexpected. Maybe she sat a little too close to the stage. One thing for sure is that everyone in the room, including the blind man, if more interested in the woman than in the person on the stage. Any musician will tell you, a distraction that compete’s with your performance is plenty of reason to sing the Blues.

Here’s to the women who can distract whatever is going on in any room, and here’s to the musicians who have to endure the distraction. May you both manage to keep your composure. Enjoy the song.

[/one_half_last]

Music / PotD

Dust My Broom

October 13, 2015

INTENSITY (2012). Model: Cole Prosper

You may write me down in history with your bitter, twisted lines. You may trod me in the very dirt, but still, like dust, I’ll rise.—Maya Angelou

[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]There comes a time, or two, or more, when one has to look at their life, their circumstances, and maybe even the people in their lives, and decide to make some changes, or “dust my broom.” An exact etymology of the phrase was difficult to find, but it seems to go back quite ways, which seems to make sense. I can just imagine some poor woman of the 15th or 16th century stepping to the door of her humble little house and shaking out all the dirt the broom had picked up while being dragged across the floor. Dusting the broom was just a natural part of cleaning house. “Cleaning house” is a natural part of our lives as well.

We see people dust their brooms today when they prune their social media friends lists. We collect names because they make our numbers look good, but over time we realize those names and numbers are not only doing us no good, but may even be causing some of our problems. When we hit that realization, often in a fit of frustration, we clean house and dust our broom. I did that very thing back at the beginning of the year, culling over 1,000 names that were little more than numbers. Fewer than ten asked to be re-instated. Those numbers were obviously little more than dead weight.[/one_half]

[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]If one digs down and examines the phrase, we realize that dusting the broom is the final act of cleaning house. When cleaning house, you need the broom handy to get all the dust and muck and dead spider skeletons out of all the corners and from under all the furniture. You gather everything up in a pile, dump the bulk into the garbage, and then dust the broom. Get rid of the big stuff first, and then shake off the little stuff that wants to cling on and cause more trouble. Who knew there could be such deep, introspective meaning to a Blues song?

Tuesdays seem like they might be a good time to dust the broom. Monday delivers a lot of garbage and we tend to let that mess just accumulate and stack up. Time to get rid of it all. Sweep out the nonsense, tidy things up, and put everything back in order so you can get on with your week. Dusting your broom is an act of empowerment, you taking action to put your life back in balance, being done with yesterday’s dirt, and moving on. So grab that broom, shake the dust out, and then put on some blues. We’ll all feel better for having done so.[/one_half_last]

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An artist must never be a prisoner. Prisoner? An artist should never be a prisoner of himself, prisoner of style, prisoner of reputation, prisoner of success, etc.—Henri Matisse

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Paper cutouts allow me to draw in color. I see it as a simplification. Instead of drawing the contour and putting color into it–one modifying the other–I draw directly in color.—Henri Matisse

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Why have I never been bored? For more than fifty years I have never ceased to work.—Henri Matisse

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What I dream of is an art of balance, of purity and serenity devoid of troubling or depressing subject matter – a soothing, calming influence on the mind, rather like a good armchair which provides relaxation from physical fatigue.—Henri Matisse

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I have always tried to hide my efforts and wished my works to have a light joyousness of springtime which never lets anyone suspect the labors it has cost me.—Henri Matisse

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There is nothing more difficult for a truly creative painter than to paint a rose, because before he can do so he has first to forget all the roses that were ever painted.—Henri Matisse

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A fresh mind keeps the body fresh. Take in the ideas of the day, drain off those of yesterday. As to the morrow, time enough to consider it when it becomes today.—Edward G. Bulwer-Lytton

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There are three kinds of men. The one that learns by reading. The few who learn by observation. The rest of them have to pee on the electric fence for themselves.—Will Rogers

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The falling leaves drift by my window. The falling leaves of red and gold. I see your lips, the summer kisses. The sunburned hands I used to hold.—Johnny Mercer

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Life is thickly sown with thorns, and I know no other remedy than to pass quickly through them. The longer we dwell on our misfortunes, the greater is their power to harm us.—Voltaire

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Once you get a spice in your home, you have it forever. Women never throw out spices. The Egyptians were buried with their spices. I know which one I’m taking with me when I go.—Erma Bombeck

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As a means of contrast with the sublime, the grotesque is, in our view, the richest source that nature can offer.—Victor Hugo

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My sorrow, when she’s here with me, thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be; she loves the bare, the withered tree; she walks the sodden pasture lane.—Robert Frost

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Everybody always says that I’m the girl next door, which makes me think that y’all must have a lot of weird next-door neighbours.—Kelly Clarkson

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Sex is the driving force on the planet. We should embrace it, not see it as the enemy.—Hugh Hefner

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That though the radiance which was once so bright be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, glory in the flower. We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.—William Wordsworth

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I believe that history has shape, order, and meaning; that exceptional men, as much as economic forces, produce change; and that passé abstractions like beauty, nobility, and greatness have a shifting but continuing validity.—Camille Paglia

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I think I believe a little bit in the power of people to really cast a bad energy on you if they want to. If the bad mojo wants to come your way, look out.—Dileep Rao

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Sometimes I can only groan, and suffer, and pour out my despair at the piano!—Frederic Chopin

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Being jealous of a beautiful woman is not going to make you more beautiful.—Zsa Zsa Gabor

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You may write me down in history with your bitter, twisted lines. You may trod me in the very dirt, but still, like dust, I’ll rise.—Maya Angelou

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