Summer Heat in Prescott, Arizona

There is a heat wave in the Southwest. At noon, temperatures are around 105 degree Fahrenheit (41 Celsius) in the small cowboy town where I live. So everyone walks their dogs around sunrise and then slow down in the afternoon. The desert is always cool at night so people and dogs come out again under unbelievably vast and starred skies.

Downtown Prescott has tall trees from the past century.  The shade they provide makes the square perfect for concerts or just to bring a folding chair and a book to beat the heat.

So I brought my 1954 Canon rangefinder along to capture a few moments. People, shades and unexpected moments make a street photographer happy. But most of the fun is in the darkroom. I exchanged my enlarger lens for a 1950s Ukrainian camera lens –a 1.5 aperture Jupiter 3. Back in the golden age of B&W photography (1940s), it was common to use Leica 39 mm lenses both on the camera and then on the enlarger. But camera lenses are not plat-field as enlarger lenses are – that means light from the enlarger light will pass through the camera lens unevenly, and edges can be distorted.

But for me, such unpredictable outcomes make the darkroom work even more delightful.

I chose two frames from my trip downtown to describe the day. The first is about a woman and her parrot. She was in deep shade and I used an f4 aperture with 1/125 speed (ASA 100 film). The Jupiter lens on my enlarger made the moment even more fluid with its random exposure. The result is a photo that reflects what I had in mind –a suave moment in the heat of the day. I can almost feel the heat even if the tree gave plenty of shade for comfort. Perhaps it is the "Lemonade" stand that connotes summer best?

The second one is less focused and captures a general mood. I wanted to blur the background and focus on the guitar player. So used a 5.6 aperture and 1/125 shutter speed. In the darkroom the blurring became more pronounced and that is even more pleasing.

… After 50 years of photography, I have not changed my tools or attitude to capturing a moment – it all comes down to intuition and lack of total control. In that sense, I often think about darkroom work with an enlarger that is older than I am, as watercolour painting: the joy of the final product is in letting the colours run and surprise you with forms and ranges you did not anticipate.

June 25, 2017

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2017

Unissona

I had not seen butterflies mate. Until this morning when I sat on my balcony to have my first cup of coffee. I saw one butterfly flutter it wings and soon another one landed next to her (I assumed it was her, initiating the nuptial dance.)

So I watched.

Given the diametrically opposed posture, I wondered if they would recognize each other after all was over. Would she have noticed the scar on his forehead? Would he remember her smile?

But perhaps butterflies do not worry about such things.

… Of course, this made me think of some photos I had taken.

Ferrara, Italy. I am quite certain butterflies would not recognize this posture…

Baltimore, Maryland. Nor this one, for sure

Lake Anna, Virginia. My favorite relaxed mood of my dogs next to the lake.

Somewhere in Arizona. How would one explain this to butterflies?

And then, I thought of a photo I took while kayaking on the Chesapeake Bay. From the minuscule butterflies to the enormous war ships.

And I recalled lines from Rumi:

                                           “It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder.”

June 21, 2017

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2017

Anachronism: From China to Europe

The definition of anachronism (derived from the Greek anachronous) is a depiction of running against the grain of time. If for example, an artist paints Julius Caesar holding an iPhone, it would be anachronistic.

I recently saw a scene (or a frame as a photographer sees all around him) which immediately made me think “this is anachronistic”. So I pressed on the shutter of my 1954 Canon L3 rangefinder. In some ways, many think of me as anachronistic—I carry a Smartphone, the frame of my spectacles was made in the 1940s, and I use B&W film in 1950s mechanical cameras.

But I always make the point of clarifying that I use lead-free gasoline in my 11 year old car….

Here is that photo. The Harley Davidson sign is the iPhone that would made a painting of Julius Caesar anachronistic.

… This intrigued me to look into previous photos I had taken. There are quite a few. Here is a sample:

China. When I saw this man, I immediately noticed his earplug.  Was he a monk listening to transcendental music, or secret police? No matter, he was against time.

Austria. This street sign in Vienna could not escape my vision. Anachronous?

Morocco. I saw this broken bottle embedded in the parched desert sand. Did an Italian rosso belong to the time frame of the changing dunes?

Italy. A street mime in Florence. The stones, the toge, and the angel wings connote a moment in history. Yet he was smoking a Marlboro and wearing high-top sneakers.

… Which made me thing: is anachronism a purely literary and artistic notion? Do we ever let the past go? Therefore, is painting Julius Caesar chatting on an iPhone so unreasonable?

June 16, 2017

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2017