the large and small of it

i made a solid trip north this past weekend, and i feel like i'm finally starting to hit a stride. the film is in the mail, but things went well this time around. my head is swimming with photos, made and unmade, and the possibilities. there is one aspect though that i'm still fiddling with.

i first began this project shooting 35mm, digital. although i made a few strong photos i really wasn't feeling it. i wasn't representing the space as i wanted. this quiet, lonely, enormous space seemed small in my photos, cramped. so, i went across to using a 4x5 and started over. it's exactly what was needed, but one older image has still haunted me (from a previous post). it's a photo i took of the road from inside my moving car early on. it represents everything i feel in between taking photos. i'm having a difficult time seperating my experience from the viewer's. i can't help but think that the feeling of the road itself has to be part of the equation, and how to do it now that i'm shooting with a larger format. stillness and motion; the two feelings are actually polar opposites, but both an indispensable part of the feel of the road.

on the one side, there are the immensely vast spaces and characters. the landscape is so lonely and humbling. it a big space, that calls for a big camera. the 4x5 seems more respectful of the setting. however, the other side is the time spent in the car. time spent hurtling though this vast wilderness. i have a need to make this project just as much about the road as the landscapes and people, but without making traditional photos of the road itself. i can't seem to do it justice.

truth is, the road still scares the shit out of me. it makes me anxious. claustrophobic. as many times as i've been on the Dalton, that instant that my tires his the dirt as they leave the pavement of the Elliott Highway for the Dalton gives me chills.

so, as i drive, i've been carrying my trusty 1N with a 50 in my lap, shooting from the car. i'm not sure yet that it works. i'll need to see how some fit once i have produced more solid images- both 35mm and 4x5. can they reside together? larger landscapes and portraits, broken up by smaller, more abstract prints? it's still too early to tell, but these are some rough scans of the attempts so far..







listening to Ryan Adams

granted!

i'll cut to the chase - i got word yesterday that i won a Rasmuson Project Grant!

i find it difficult to articulate how honored i am to be recognized by the Rasmuson Foundation. their commitment to Alaskan art, culture, and community is monumental, and i'm humbled to be acknowledged by them.

now, my Dalton project can get some serious legs. it's life of fits and starts will be replaced by a serious focus and priority. my desire is stoked even more by this grant, and the limiters of access and economics are being abated considerably.

the pressure of expectation is a wonderful feeling. thank you to the Rasmuson Foundation for affording me the opportunity to move forward with a more accelerated conviction.

beautiful failure

i've been anxiously waiting to get the first sheets of film back from my last trip North for a week now. i've fully committed to shooting this project in large format, but the absence of any lab in the entire state to be able to process 4x5 has been an issue. i've bit the bullet though, and am moving forward none the less. ultimately, i'll be shooting less, but i'm confident in the approach.

so, a few weeks ago i bought a used 4x5 with my PFD. this trip would produce the first images from my new rig. brilliant.

so, i received my film, and...and? light leaks!

chalk this one up to inexperience. i was gutted at first, but the reality is that the trip was, in a strange way, still a success. i met some great people in Wiseman and Coldfoot this time around, and with each trip the immersion gets easier. my vision was crisp, and the bigger picture is becoming more focused. it won't happen again.

from a blog standpoint, my intent with the Dalton project is to keep the images under wraps more than i am accustomed to. those of you who frequent this spot regularly have probably noticed a shift in the last few months; i've shown less of my work and spoken more of others. this trend will most likely persist as i find some traction in my own process. an evolution of sorts is underway, and i'm unclear of the outcome. it's exciting.

so, in the meantime i'll continue to speak what's on my mind and show photographs by others that move me.

i won't be showing many keepers for a while, but failures are still fair game. so, for now, light leaks are the order of the day:


Luke in Coldfoot


laundry in Wiseman


listening to Midlake

control

i've been without an internet connection for the past two days, and i'm ashamed to say it almost broke me. not being able to check my email, blogs, and such makes me anxious and not a pleasant person. it's sad. the truth is, there wasn't an email that couldn't have waited, the blogosphere went on without me, and it appears that the race for president is no less ridiculous than when i last tuned in.

when i'm in the 'city' i get accustomed to certain things. my trips north seem to have a way of falling at perfect times. or is it me that grows weary of the bustle and expectations of real life, and subconsciously plan them accordingly?

regardless, friday i'm heading north for a few days. no phones. no radio. no internet. just me, sleeping in the back of the car and making photos.



also, ADN ran an article about a trucker on the Dalton last Sunday - read it here.

quick trip to the Yukon River

it was a busy weekend around here, but i managed to get up north on Saturday. just as i was getting into a groove with the 8x10, Dennis let me barrow his Linhof for a few weeks. it's, without a doubt the finest piece of metal i've ever had my hands on. i was inspired, and the pull of the Dalton was too great. it's been too long since i've been up there. we didn't have much time, but Dea and i headed up to the Yukon River on Saturday morning.

getting to the Yukon feels good, but it's but a sliver of the Dalton's length. the road doesn't really begin to get interesting until after you cross the river, but the familiarity of the road was soothing.

moose hunting season is still on, and i met several hunters coming off the water. Dea and Pella walked down the river, saw grizzly tracks, enjoyed the sunshine, and i made portraits. Dea has come along on a few shooting expeditions over the years. she's the only one i feel comfortable shooting around.

she took this photo of me listening to Dave as i set up. he's lived in Fairbanks for 20 years. every year he takes three weeks to boat down river 210 miles to his homestead camp near Tanana. he, his dad, mother, and wife came back with two moose.

© dea

listening to Modern Skirts

truckers

the truckers own the Dalton, or the haul road, as they call it. built in 1974, the road (whichever name you prefer) was employed for getting supplies to Deadhorse and the oil fields on the North Slope, and was closed to pleasure traffic until the mid 90's . only 200 vehicles a day, at best, pass through this 414 mile corridor in the summer months.



mile 175, the trucker room at Coldfoot Camp



"Dalton Highway Truckers,
Thank you for slowing down
& pulling to one side
as you passed our pick-up.
We very much appreciated
your courtesy & professionalism.
We know you make your living
driving this highway & must find
all the tourist traffic trying,
so thanks are in order even
more so"


listening to Dinosaur Jr.

back at it

i'm back in Fairbanks in one piece after an insane amount of driving up on the Dalton this weekend. as always, that stretch of road delivered- stellar views, midnight sun, wildlife (a grizzly among others), interesting people and unusually mild weather. we, my good friend Martin (UAF biologist and writer), and I got as far as Galbraith Lake on the North side of the Brooks Range where we camped for the night. all in all a good trip.

photos? i completely lost the plot. it became grimly obvious well into the first day the enormity of my task, and my sheer ignorance to believe that i could even begin to make solid portraits, any images really, with the amount of time i was allowing myself. too much time in the car, and not enough behind the glass.

so, i'm back in town, back to the day job, and know that there are images up there that i need to make. frustratingly, i'm back from a trip having really gotten no further than before. although, i do feel a bit like a successful thief- one who has just 'cased the joint'. i know the road a little better. i can see the photos that i want to make. i can see the people, their expressions. their love, fear, misunderstanding, need of the Dalton. in large part i failed, but i take some solace in recognizing the next steps.

i haven't begun to cull through the images yet, but i know what's there. i'll begin posting some images later, and more thoughts on the Dalton. if for no other reason than to get my head straight.

one more thought- Jen Beckman has an inspiring post today which features video of Alec talking about portraiture. it's the last thing i wanted to see this morning to be quite honest, but after watching the videos.... is it possible to feel disappointed and energized at the same time?

heading north

i'm packing this morning for a trip North to make photos. the plan is to get as far as Atigun Pass this trip, but, as always, we'll see how things unfold. my nerves always go berserk on the the eve of a trip up the Dalton. i'm hoping for scores of truckers, a small handful of tourists, a cooperative scientist or two, and a team of successful hunters. too much to ask? regardless of the folks up North though, the backdrop is always breathtaking.

the last time I went just as far as the Arctic Circle. the weather was abysmal, but it was late in the year and i had expected a hostile environment. the sun will be with us this time - the sunrise is at 3:01am and sunset at 12:42am right now in Fairbanks, but will slowly grow to 24 hours of light as we approach Coldfoot

November:


Finger Mountain - east


somewhere north of the Yukon River

listening to Pavement