A dedicated photographer in the fullest sense, George Post has documented 21 consecutive years of the wild annual gathering Burning Man, which takes place in the harsh and surreal Black Rock Desert.  He commented for High Contrast Review on  the social aspects of photography, desert party shooting gear, night & multiple exposure photography, and community in general, and told about his current endeavors.

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Q1.) As a first time participant this year, I was struck with the stigma about photography. Over the years, has this always been the case, that people are encouraged to forgo photography? Or did it develop (no pun intended) as time went on and the event grew? How has your place as a photographer of the incredible event evolved over the years?

SCAN OF 35mm SLIDE, 20-SECOND TIME EXPOSURE OF THE 2011 MAN'S ARMS BEING RAISED (I call these images “Neon Angels,” because they remind me of the Snow Angels we used to make as kids. . .)

A1.) I don’t think all that many people “forgo photography;” in fact, with the proliferation of inexpensive digital cameras and camera-phones in recent years, more photographs are being taken by more Burners than ever before. But the social convention of “ask before shooting” has become more evident, and especially we professional Playa photographers have tried to abide by that. Many times it doesn’t even need to be verbalized; I frequently approach a photogenic person or group, hold up my camera and just raise my eyebrows questioningly. Usually the response is positive, but now and then people will shake their heads and hold up hands to block their faces, in which case I just turn my lens elsewhere.

It seems to me that Burners, like the general population, fall into three categories: “hams” who love to have their picture taken and are often in outrageous costumes; those “NoPixPlease” types who distinctly don’t want their picture taken; and those who don’t feel strongly either way. As the event has grown and the demographic has been swelled by 20- and 30-somethings, I think the number of NoPix people have increased proportionally, so it may seem that there’s more stridency there nowadays.

Many young Burners seem to think that the longtime “No Spectators” ethos extends to image-makers, but frankly, without us documentarians, Burning Man would never have achieved the world fame it enjoys today. A couple of years ago I was photographing an art piece with my digital SLR, on the open Playa way out near the perimeter fence. Some young guys were standing near it, and suddenly one of them came over to me and said, “Were you just photographing me and my friends?” I told him that I was not interested in them, that I was just photographing the art piece; he demanded that I delete the images, and when I refused he said, “I’d better not ever see that image in print or on the Internet.” I told him that, if I ever published the image, I would just crop or Photoshop him out. He accepted that, but grudgingly. So, yes, there is sometimes a “stigma” and anti-imagery sentiment.

In particular, many Critical Tits riders are upset about having to “ride through a gauntlet” of ogling men and especially cameramen in order to complete their annual topless female bicycle rally. There has even been a proposal to make it a women-only, no-cameras-allowed event. My reaction to that is simple: If you don’t want to attract guys and guys-with-cameras, put on a shirt! If a Theme Camp wants to hold no-camera or gender-exclusive events behind the flap of their teepee, that’s fine, but out on the open public Playa, it seems to me that there should be no official exclusionary constraints or restrictions. In small group situations, “ask before shooting” works, but in mass events such as Critical Tits or the major art burns, there is just no way to obtain prior consent from everyone who may appear in my images. In those cases I fall back on my role as documentarian and just take pictures at will, while trying to remain sensitive to privacy issues.

In the early years things were much more open. It was expected that attendees would be photographed, filmed, or videotaped; in fact there used to be language to that effect on the backs of the tickets. That all changed a few years ago when a video crew shot telephoto footage of naked female Burners without their knowledge or consent and put it up on a commercial porn site. In responding to that clearly sleazy invasion of Burner privacy, the Burning Man organization clamped down very hard and began requiring registration of professional cameras and the signing of a lengthy legal document which essentially gives Burning Man “veto power:” a 50% interest in the copyright of every still or moving image shot at the event. And in keeping with Burning Man’s long tradition of non-commercialism, the organization categorically does not allow the use of imagery from the event to be used for advertising. That part’s fine with me, but I do sometimes feel frustrated by the strictness of the contract. Suppose I get an email from, say, a magazine in Germany wanting to use one of my photographs in an editorial article. Often such sales are on a tight deadline, and if I were to wait until I receive official written permission from Burning Man, I would lose the sale. So I have sometimes just made the deal, provided the image to the publisher, and then later made Burning Man aware of it and sent in my 10% “tithe to the Man” when I receive payment. And the Burning Man staff are, in practice, much more flexible than the official language of the Contract would suggest. Last year they even held several meetings with image-makers about the whole privacy vs. copyright question, and they softened considerably the previously strict legalese wording of the contract.

As to how my place as a photographer has changed, in the early years of Black Rock City I was one of a mere handful of professionals documenting the event, nearly all of us male. As the event has grown, more and more freelancers, serious amateurs, and working-press image makers have joined the fray, including a great many women. Many of the younger shooters working at Burning Man are producing unbelievably beautiful and creative imagery, sometimes with inexpensive point-and-shoot cameras. So now I’m really just one of many—which is a good thing, since no one person can now even see it all, let alone document it. And we’re not the least bit competitive; we share information on techniques, equipment, and events. We laud each other’s imagery and projects and successes and publications. We’re colleagues united by a common goal: to document an ephemeral world-class event and create images-as-Art. For all of us, Black Rock City is simply a fantastically photogenic place where we can create unique images unlike anywhere else on the planet.

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Q2.) What kind of gear do you use? Is it always with you or do you sometimes leave it behind and just roll the point and shoot? What’s your shooting rhythm like at an event so long compared to a day-long or afternoon shoot in the outside world?

A2.) I like to camp on the outskirts of Black Rock City, around 4:15 on the next-to-outermost ring road. But I can still bicycle from my camp to the Man in 7 minutes if I pedal hard. I’m a lifelong early riser, and I like to get up at 5am and be out on the Playa by first light at 5:30 and work dawn, sunrise, and early-morning light for a couple of hours. Then I go back to camp for tea and breakfast, camp maintenance, and socializing. Throughout the middle of the day the light is fairly boring, but I ride around and do some straight documentary shooting of camps, art installations, and Center Camp events unless it’s too hot or dust-stormy. In late afternoon when the light begins to be rich and warm I will go out for “golden hour,” sunset, and twilight shooting, sometimes bringing a tripod on my bike so I can transition to long exposures for awhile after dark when Black Rock City really comes alive with colorful subject matter. I know that a lot of wonderful things are happening throughout the night, but at age 64 I just can’t do all-nighters anymore, so I generally try to have a late dinner and hit the sack by 11pm or midnight.

I almost always take at least one camera with me whenever I leave my camp. One year my girlfriend and I went “out on the town,” and she had talked me into not taking a camera. I found it quite frustrating. For example, dozens of Burners were gathered within the encompassing light and warmth of the Flaming Lotus Girls’ “Serpent Mother” piece and I felt helpless not being able to document photographically the magical sight.

Regarding photo gear, for many years I was using two complete Nikon film-camera systems. First, two manual-focus F3 bodies (one motorized and one not) and an assortment of prime-focus lenses from 24mm to 400mm. Also, an N90s body with autofocus 24mm and 85mm prime lenses and 35-70mm & 70-200mm zooms. I used the N90s system in a fanny-pack for most of my Playa shooting, but I distrusted the zooms for many nocturnal subjects such as illuminated art and big burns, due to their tendency to capture “ghosting” or internal lens-element reflections of bright objects and flames against dark backgrounds. So I preferred to use manual-focus lenses for those situations. My film of choice was Fujichrome Velvia 50 for its rich, saturated colors, fine grain, and crisp contrast.

I was a bit slow to switch from film to digital on the Playa. Even when I was making the transition in my commercial studio work, I didn’t want to expose my expensive digital SLR to the dusty conditions of Black Rock City, so I continued working with my Nikon film cameras. But once I had upgraded to a newer Canon digital camera system, I began taking my older Fuji FinePix S1 to Burning Man. I immediately embraced the advantages; digital is just so much easier, more flexible, and more immediate. However, I discovered that film holds better detail in very bright subject matter such as flames and sunsets, so I still shoot a few rolls of film at the Man and Temple burns.

MY CAMERA BAG AFTER THE 2010 BURN, SHOWING DUST AND ALSO CAMERA-REGISTRATION TAG

A couple of years ago I asked several of my DSLR-shooting colleagues about dust problems and was eventually convinced that it was manageable. The main danger, of course, is dust particles on the sensor chip, resulting in lots of dark specks on each and every image. After I bought a Canon 5D MkII for studio work, I began taking my older Canon 20D and 5D bodies to the Playa with a 17-40mm zoom and 50mm & 100mm lenses. I never change lenses in dusty conditions, but even so the Playa dust is so sneaky that I have to have my DSLRs’ sensors professionally cleaned every year after Burning Man. It’s not so expensive, actually; $50 for the 20D and $65 for the 5D, and in 2010 I also had to have the 17-40mm zoom disassembled and cleaned ($135). Compared to film, 20-40 rolls of slide film at $25 a roll for film, processing, mounting, and imprinting, even with sensor cleaning digital turns out to be much cheaper in the long run.

I see the world through wide-angle eyes, so nowadays I usually just take the 5D with the 17-40mm zoom for most of my Playa work. Sometimes I also take a Canon G-11 compact for quick snaps and telephoto shots. For the big burns of major art pieces, the Man, and the Temple, I used to take three big camera bags and two heavy tripods on a home-made trailer behind my bicycle. Eventually that just got to be too much, so for the 2010 and 2011 Man and Temple burns I just used the 5D with 17-40mm zoom and the Nikon N90s system for a few rolls of film, and just one tripod and no bike-trailer. What a relief to be traveling lighter!

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Q3.) Your work I’ve seen thus far makes it clear you have an unusually sharp sense of movement and stability, particularly in low light. Can you describe one of the more involved or experimental shots you’ve attempted on the playa? Can we see it?

A3.) I always say that “the tripod sets you free.” Once the camera is on a tripod, there is really no limit to exposure time, and moving subjects often produce wonderful blur effects, especially if they’re colorful. The stability of a solid tripod also allows for registered (aligned) double-exposures; for example, I have sometimes exposed entire rolls of film just for the neon of the Man, then carefully re-wound and re-loaded the film to double-expose the flames of the Burn over the earlier neon image. In 1991, my first Burn, I even shot double-exposures with my 4×5” Horseman view camera by putting film holders into the camera twice. That was the only year I’ve taken that big, complicated, and unwieldy camera, though.

SCANNED FROM DOUBLE-EXPOSURE ON 4X5" SHEET FILM FROM 1991

Several times I have also captured time exposures of the magical moment when the Man’s arms are raised, traditionally signifying Readiness to Burn. I call these images “Neon Angels,” because they remind me of the Snow Angels we used to make as kids by flopping on our backs in the snow and flapping our arms up and down. I first became aware of this potential back in 1994 where I captured a partial “angel” quite by accident. Several times since I have managed to record the entire arm-raising sequence on a single frame of film, but the best yet is the 20-second exposure I shot in 2011 with the Man in his first-ever “striding” position.

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Q4.) As a burner of many a man, no doubt you can remember the days before dub step was a mainstay. What is your personal, impulse reaction to the impressive popularization and transformation of the event over the years, especially in terms of community and collective intent? What are your most optimistic musings on its future?

A4.) I see the organic growth of the event as an obvious development of its alternative-society potential. As a once-a-hippie-always-a-hippie rebel, I think American culture has become so banal, so crassly commercial, and so devoid of true Earth-based spirituality that an event such as Burning Man has vast appeal to anyone not distracted by the everyday opiates of mainstream media, big-box-store shopping, fundamentalist religion, and reality television. Sure, it’s hard to get to, tickets have become absurdly expensive, and it’s hot, parched, dusty, and noisy. But again and again I hear the phrase “life-changing experience” in reference to Burning Man. There’s a reason the Greeters say “Welcome Home” when you arrive at Black Rock City; it’s a place apart, where the screwed-up priorities of the Default World are replaced by something true and free and right. Put plainly, Burners know how to pitch in, help out, get things done, and still party hearty afterward. And I think that the annual commemorative Temples, begun by David Best in 2000, have put a spiritual bass-note in the experience.

Burning Man is certainly rather illusory, and it only lasts a week, but Burner Culture has begun spreading its positive message outward, with organizations like the Black Rock Arts Foundation, Burners without Borders, Black Rock Solar, and the various Regional Burn groups doing positive and beneficial work and creating amazing art throughout the world. (And for the record, I actually kinda like dub-step and all the other pounding techno music which pulses through Black Rock City all day and all night.)

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Q5.) When I attended this year, I learned that all the hyperbole I’d heard was true. The event is impossible to describe. It can be everything you want it to be. Cliches all prove true. How has being an observer and documenter of one of the more powerful gatherings in history changed and shaped you as a citizen of the earth? What have you learned?

A5.) A human figure in flames is a powerful metaphor for life richly lived. I think that’s why, from the very first Burn in San Francisco in 1986, a group of enthusiastic individuals has repeated the ritual again and again. But that’s just the molten core of what Burning Man is about.

As soon as I learned about Burning Man back in June of 1991, I felt it was Something Special. I determined to attend it that year, loved it at first sight, and I’ve gone back every year since. In the early years we knew we were onto something powerful, but only gradually, as the event grew and evolved, did we realize its potential for suggesting a new and different way for humans to be, live, and work together. We all take that with us when we return to the Default World. And really, I think of myself as something of a dabbler, as Burners go; I am self-employed, with a very busy work schedule and intergenerational family commitments, so the amount of time I can devote to Burning Man is limited. But those dedicated folks in the Burning Man organization and the many volunteers who live it 24/7/365 and pull the whole thing together year after year are a source of constant amazement to me, and I am extremely grateful to them.

Personally, in this era of global warming, I am not thrilled about the carbon footprint of the ever-larger Burns and the ever-increasing motor-vehicle travel involved in getting 55,000 people to Black Rock City for a week—and then getting them back home. There was an attempt back in 2007 to make it a carbon-neutral event, but I think that’s faded out. Frankly, it’s probably no worse than the NASCAR car-race circuit or huge outdoor music festivals such as Coachella. But the Burn itself has become very much a pyrotechnics display, with the Man himself often nearly invisible among all the fireworks. So sometimes I contemplate the eventuality of a non-Burning Man that could be recycled year after year. But that’s the whole point, isn’t it: to see the Man burn and collapse into a bonfire, and then to madly leap about the flames until they dwindle to embers, and then to return in the morning and help scrape up the ashes.

I took a friend out to Black Rock City in 2002, and as soon as we found our campsite and unloaded our bikes we rode out to the Man. She just kept saying, over and over, “Oh. My. God. I really had no idea! This is just SO COOL!!!” Her mind was being completely blown by every art piece, every costumed Burner, every weird and surreal and fantastic sight we saw as we bicycled across the Playa. And that was even before we reached the Man himself, perched atop a huge surreal white lighthouse in the middle of 400 square miles of absolutely flat alkali desert…

SCAN OF 35mm SLIDE OF THE 2002 MAN AND LIGHTHOUSE

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BONUS QUESTION.)  What’s up with the book you have coming out? Where will it be available? When?

ABQ.) My book is all laid out for the years 1991-2007; I’m currently working on the 2008 pages and hope to finish the last three years by the end of the 2011. My working title is “Dancing with the Playa Messiah: 21 Years of Burning Man Photography.” I do anticipate some legal discussions with the Burning Man organization; I will have to sign a long legal contract with them, and I may have to eliminate some photos which include nudity unless I can identify the subjects and obtain model releases from them.

Once it’s complete, I plan to pitch it to a few possible publishers, but if none of them bites I will self-publish. I have looked into Kickstarter as a possible source of funding, or I may just dip into my retirement fund. In any case, I hope it will be available early in 2012, well before the End of the World (as foretold by the Mayan Calendar). I am also considering both print and electronic versions. Many people have said they love the tactile experience of looking through a real book and wouldn’t want to give that up. But my book also looks great as a PDF on an iPad, with the ability to easily finger-flick from one page to the next and the ability to zoom in with the reverse-pinch screen gesture. So I hope eventually it will be available in both forms, probably both in bookstores and online.

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George Post lives and works as a professional photographer in the Bay Area.  Have a look at his work from this world at GeorgePostPhotography.com or try to find him around 4:15 on the next-to-outermost ring road in that one.

An interview with a ceramic artist who enjoys firing guns at his work.

High Contrast Review: How did you come up with the idea of incorporating firearms into your work?

Jay Pastorello: Well….I was lil intoxicated and thinking about high speed photography… I was wondering if it was capable to freeze a moment in time permanently with a medium besides photography. I loved working in clay and believed my visions could be brought to light under the right conditions.

HCR: What types of firearms do you use for this process? Do you have a favorite?

JP: I work with a wide array of firearms ranging from pistols to assualt rifles. Choosing a favorite would be very difficult, it’s constantly changing depending on my mood. I most commonly use a shotgun and have begun to work with a ballistics specialist on creating our own ammo.

HCR: What role can these pieces play in other peoples’ lives?

JP:I have been surprised at the roles these pieces play for other people. I have talked with individuals that see so much physical functionality in them (ie, planters, fountains, candle holders, etc.) that I myself totally overlooked. Others love the pure science that goes into the process and always ask the question: “what if you tried….?”. Each piece is the final result of an experiment in their eyes. Then there are some that relate to the work on a more personal level. They see that these pieces have been through quite a struggle and are still standing tall. For them, the pieces become symbols of resilience, beauty and even hope.

HCR: Is it hard (physically and mentally) to shoot your pristine ceramic pieces? How does it make you feel?

JP: For me, definitely not, but for some of my peers in the ceramic community it definitely was. I can’t tell you how many times I heard, ” If I could throw (make work on the potter’s wheel) like you I would never ruin my work like that!” I personally enjoy the process and find it very therapeutic. The concentration and thought that goes into each piece pushes all the lil problems in my life far, far away (at least for a little bit).

HCR: Can you please reveal some history about your relationship with art?

JP: Art and I go way back! When I was little, my mother would wheel me around in a stroller through the many galleries of NYC’s SoHo area. In High School, art classes were the only thing that kept me in that place. I was way more interested in skateboarding and wanted to document the tricks my friends and I were accomplishing. Since then photography and ceramics have been my major creative outlets. I graduated from the Art Institute of Boston with a BFA in Photography while also taking as many clay classes as I could. After college I was directed to further my studies in the ceramic medium at Harvard’s ceramic program where I work/teach today.

HCR: Is there anything you dislike about your work?

JP: Yep, I don’t get to make enough of it.

HCR: What’s in store for the future?

JP: A lot! Get ready for a video game to drop early fall! My brother and I have been working hard to give everyone the chance to shoot at some pottery from the safety of the homes and offices.

HCR: Do you have any dream projects?

JP: Oh Yeah! They’re top secret though…

Jay Pastorello was born New York, raised in New Hampshire, studied in Boston, and currently lives/works in Cambridge, Ma. Since 2005, he has been working off and on out of Harvard’s ceramic program and has recently started teaching undergrads at Dunster House (one of Harvard’s residential houses). You can see more of his art at jaypastorelloceramics.com

Kip Sikora is a photojournalist, multimedia producer and digital artist based in Missoula, MT. Prior to moving to Montana he was quite sure he had left a large part of his heart in Latin America, but after five years, Big Sky country seems to have made a compelling argument for sinking roots. Aside from art his interests include dogs and music. Check out his website at www.kipsikoraphotography.com

Intro – Basic info / Personal history?

I was born in Victoria, BC, shortly after raised till thirteen in Japan, then eight years in Hawaii, all over. All over. Growing up in Japan, just that being my formative time as a human shaped my views, it’s different, I hold that with me, and run into a lot of things within myself that I find conflicting … I’m thirty now. I have a deep love for Missoula, find it a great place, but I’m not attached here. I’m definitely attracted to bigger cities, because of more extensive art communities, and excitement. That might be overwhelming but I find that I’m now more than ever prepared to be there with a new series, a new body of work, see where I can take it.

Noah Ptolemy - 'Time clock heart beats' - 24.5" x 18.5" - Acrylic ink and India ink on paper - 2009

1. Time clock heart beats - A content and properly detached non-working class, though some dig graves, sits in the flowers while the factory dudes with tools wear crowns and wave balloons in the haze…  Seems nicer outside the fence to me.  Will you tell me a bit about your work history aside from making art, what jobs you’ve done hourly?

Oh man. I currently do a dishwashing job at a Thai place. I’ve had like thirty two jobs in my past, it’s almost like you name it. Mover. Hospital courier. Dairy queen. Hospitality. I think in the beginning, when I wasn’t painting and didn’t realize the creative part I would always have a job and look at it like a possible career, get raises, get a decent life. But once I started painting and knew that was my direction, every job became something to support my painting. A room. Some paint, a couple drinks and some food. I think that painting in particular to me speaks of brutal time spent in jobs that I really did not enjoy but had to be there. One was working in a jeans factory in the hills of North Carolina, totally secluded, looks like a prison. Twelve hour overnight shifts, miserable, but my situation wouldn’t allow me to quit. That painting speaks of stress and people who can’t find any other way aside from what they’re perceiving to be stuck in. The people flying out of the chimneys are examples of people wanting to be free, not being told what to do. Follow your own instinct. It’s funny you see the other side as positive but I meant they were digging their own graves on their lunch break. Can’t take it anymore.

Noah Ptolemy - 'Many times my lies' - 55.5" x 32.5" - Acrylic paint, Acrylic ink, and India ink on wood panel - 2011

2. Many times my lies - This question may seem strange – I think I get the picture’s meaning, what with the dudes crawling up for wealth and promises, falling in pursuit of jewels, or ending up in a loan monster’s belly. My question would be, what would those little characters have to do to get out of the cage? And why did they end up there to begin with? Who are the loan prisoners?!

That’s interesting… I have to bring up the topic of loans. The word loans. It’s got a lot of financial ideas behind it, owing financially but also to me represents friends or peers you owe non-monetary things to. You can owe thing to people, and people can perceive you as owing to them without you even agreeing to it. It can end up with an imbalance. They say closeness breeds animosity. The guys in the cage symbolize personal debt and debts that are unaware to you – how do they end up there? I place all my characters in such conditions and situations so they are all sort of telling their own version of reality. The caged ones, they are examples of people that are carrying around way too much baggage, stuck in the past, can’t move forward, stagnant, but not willing to make a change. It goes beyond the financial. Everyday weight you can’t really get off you. How to get out of the cage?… You know, I guess all my pictures are ultimately always triumphant. These characters I created are trying to come to terms with something larger than themselves, set in this certain environment. To get out, my hope, would be to say that you can pull that out of you, that inner strength, switching that certain way of thinking and turning it into something more positive and productive, not necessarily as physical as it is metaphysical.

Noah's Brushes - SK

3. All the way through - At first I was going to ask some question about social studies stuff like economics and politics and all, but really now that I look at this piece I’m way more curious about technique. Can you kind of talk me through your process for a piece like this?

Noah Ptolemy - 'All the way through' - 48" x 72" - Acrylic paint and India ink on canvas. - 2010

Absolutely. Sure. At this point, I have a completely down-packed process. It’s taken years trying this and that, different tools, what pops, all these things. Point being, I’ve reached a point where my tools are: A quill pen; India ink; Acrylic inks (in a variety of colors), I use HW brand, seems to be the best, the most pigmented; And acrylic paint with smaller to medium size brushes. Every piece starts with a sketch, then I might use graphite paper to transfer it, but usually larger pieces (especially ones that are gonna end up on canvas) I just draw right on the wood or canvas, right to scale. I don’t bother with the whole blowing up thing. Basically what happens is that the drawing informs the painting. This means what colors I’m going to use and where I’m going to use them. I don’t use a lot of shading, just straight colors and start filling it in.  This consists of the acrylic inks and paints. Once all the color is down, which generally takes three layers a piece to get the color I want, then I go in with my quill pen and outline everything. That’s where the graphic nature of the work comes in, but it’s slight. Just using a small nib. I can’t say it’s unassuming but it gently lifts everything up to where it needs to be without making it erratically graphic. The India ink is what I use to do the faces with of the little guys, the details, the buttons. It took me a while to find my tools and process but they are very simple. Good things should be simple.

Noah Ptolemy - 'Jessica' - 36" x 36" - Acrylic paint, Acrylic ink, and India ink on wood panel - 2011

4. Jessica - It could be too easy to ask a question about who Jessica is here. It would be more proper to ask something deep about radiance and beauty. But really, just tell me all about Jessica the person. Can’t resist.

(Laughs) So like, she’s an ex girlfriend of mine. I obviously don’t paint realistically, so I can’t do a normal portrait, so I came up with the oldschool method of placing a light on a model and getting her profile as a shadow. So Jessica though, Jessica was basically the first portrait I was able to do in relation to the new idea of making a larger portrait not just cut off at the neck, having their bust, and also using a larger surface. I blurred the lights to make her shadow proportional to the square I was working with. Hers was the first example I was able to complete and use and say, “This is the type of portraits I do.” Everything in there, even when I do a portrait in general, all the actions in there reference the person, and in one way or an other, have to do with the person. It could seem vague to somebody on the outside but those actions being depicted by the characters inside are indeed being carried out.

Noah Ptolemy - 'God Speed' - 10" x 10" - Acrylic paint, Acrylic ink, and india ink on paper - 2011

5. God Speed - Have you ever drawn, or do you have plans to draw a set of your own designer playing cards? Anything like this?

You know what, I’ll tell you this: As long as I have complete artistic freedom, I have no opposition to putting my work on clothing or luggage. Apparel. I have no qualms with it. I think it would look beautiful. I guess I should add that it would have to be something good, not on any cheap little trinket, but more something associated with absolute quality and ingenuity. Playing cards, belts, mugs, I would not want. I want Louis Vutton luggage. Serious.

Noah Ptolemy - 'Shoes' - Men's Size 10 1/2 - Sharpie on shoe - 2011

Outro – Thematic cues / Most hopeful views?

I’m poking fun at the hierarchy of society, using lots of royal colors, gold, purple, striping, elegant. But the content is sometimes more dismal. Quite serious and not what you’d think about when you talk about a royal conversation. I want to show this new series when I’m done.

What could come of my work? You know, I hope it continues to evolve to where it needs to be. If that’s never having a finish line, so be it. My biggest hope? I feel like a lot of people might be afraid to say this type of thing but I hope that I find channels and ways within my life and time as an artist to spread my images to the farthest reaches of the world. That’s what I want.

Ptolemy rolls a cigarette in his studio - SK

See more of Noah’s work at his website.

Special thanks to UPRISE, the Berrics, Erin Blinn & Josh Russell

“i thought, that’s the most stupidest idea i ever heard.  but fuck it, i’m down.”

was the first thought of 18 year old angel alvarado when he heard the plan.  the plan was to get out of the city, as far out as they could, across the country… by skate board.

..determination.

it started with a literal run in with the cops.  a smashed leg and a new metal rod.  alex got smoked by thecop.  but as life often goes, this set back made a great thing possible.  the settlement that ensued gave alex the opportunity to set sail across the country with a group of pals.  fresh out of high school.  on the fifteenth of june, 2010 six kids set out from chicago fueled with determination on their skate boards.

they skated from chicago to san diego.  literally, and when they weren’t skating they walked.  mostly along route 66.  walking up the mountains, skating down them (crashes were plenty), skating across deserts and plains towards san diego.

but before the courageous boys had even escaped chicagoland, mike was struck by an oncoming car. (getting hit by cars seems to be a bit of a theme in this story).  don’t worry though, they’re both up and skating towards san diego at this very moment.  but this blow leaves mike back in chicago for a couple of months.  another one of the boys took the opportunity to catch a ride back to town in mike’s rescue car, leaving four for the trip.  angel, pawel, alex and andy redistributed the 90 pounds of equipment between themselves and set out again, undaunted and determined.

..motivation.

it was an escape. in one form or another for each person on the mission.  an escape from what life as they knew it had to offer to them.  and a chance to see what else might exist.  each skated away from perpetuating misery in some fashion.  some of them skated away from the unrestful ideals of the city; “the coffee, ties, suits and hating life”.  others had used skateboarding as an escape from gang life.  “if it weren’t for skateboarding, i’d probably be gangbanging.”  skateboarding was not only angel’s first love, chances are good that it was his saving grace.  Having the support of his older sister and a few friends he continued doing what he wanted, facing heavy opposition.

so standing opposed to what they knew to be true, the young men set about to do something bigger. their weapons of choice included 16  63mm. wheels, 4 decks, 1 set of new bearings each (reds will apparently last 18,000+ miles), a portable grill, a crappy hand held GPS and some camping gear. they skated for the most part straight across route 66 and on a good day they would get about 60 miles.  when it was raining, or they were climbing up a pass, they walked.  as the daylight hours decreased with the onset of winter they made about 40 miles a day, avoiding anymore car accidents.

by the time they made it to colorado mike had healed enough from his run-in to jump on a board again.  he set out in his pick up truck and met up with everyone.  another friend was acquired for the trip in colorado.  ryan joins the crew, catching a train and escaping his own troubles at home.

to overcome life with the vigor and determination of an 18 year old involves much.… countless crashes,  snake holes,  lots of canned food,  walks up mountains,  police run-ins,  a yellow ball,  a grandma in the desert,  turning 19,  meeting heros, and most of all continuing to do what you want, no matter who’s telling you, you cannot.  this is precisely the ingredients these young men mixed for the adventure.  they stopped together in the deserts of Arizona and visit a friend’s grandma.  the vortexes of sedona are a more spiritual stop on the journey… maybe not as spiritual though as the berrics.

the berrics is a small private skate park, owned by and for the most part reserved to skate board professionals.  the guys at the berrics opened their widely reputed, and highly exclusive doors for the boys.  giovanni reda even said that these kids deserved to be skating there more than any pro and skating the berrics “felt like a dream” angel and mike tell me while holding their heads in disbelief.  they got to meet skaters they had donned their heros as children.  they were invited to come back and skate the next day.  and beyond that they welcomed the guys to camp out that night.  not much sleep was had.

they are hoping to make it home before christmas & surprise their families.  this trip is something that angel and alex are planning on doing again. they are working on getting some sort of sponsorship in order to raise money for a cause.  no one had taken much interest in the group to begin with, not believing they would actually skate across the country.  (now impossible to deny though with proof of daily footage), the skaters are hoping to be able to attract more attention next time around.  the cause is to be determined but may possibly be to create a skate park specifically for troubled youth of chicago.  chicago is one of the most violent cities in the u.s. for children and students with much of this violence stemming from gangs.  skate parks are located scarcely through the city to date.  most of those that do exist are a luxury and few cater in any way to kids who cannot pay a fairly hefty price to skate.  angel and his brother-in-law are also in the process of starting up their own skateboard company.  keep an eye out for ‘first love’ boards in the future.

An interview with painter Luke C. Lamar
by Sam Kulla

When Luke asked me to interview him, I hesitated.  I’ve known him and checked out his work for way too long to ask any unbiased questions.  I said no.  Then I went on my way, thought about it, and decided to just go with biased questions and see if I could provoke him a bit.  But he managed to keep his cool.  One thing to admire about Luke is innate ability to tailor his style to his purpose.  You see, even his answers are a compelling display of style.

Court of the Golden Bough, part of a series titled "Why I Love Carmel" by Luke C. Lamar

You now live and paint in a ubiquitous spot: The Court of the Golden Bough. From Salvador Dali to Aleister Crowley, the name and location evoke an array of surreal and mystical images in my mind. What do you know of the court’s actual history, and to what degree do you feel your work is influenced by this infamous locale?

Looking down into the Court of the Golden Bough, Carmel, CA. by Sam Kulla

I have had the opportunity to learn more and more over the years about this interesting courtyard. It seems to be a consensus at this point that Dali was working above the old Sade’s bar where Restaurant PortaBella is now. He was invited to come here during the Second World War by the founder of the Carmel Art Institute, which was located where my studio is now. This courtyard was also the location of Carmel’s first Theatre In The Round, which was right below us. It burned down twice in the 1940s, I think it was, ironically during the same show. This area, to me, represents the culmination of all the architectural styles that were being used early on to create the unique look of this town. I have been inspired by this area and the courtyard in general for nearly eight years or so when I first started dreaming of some new kind of art emergence.

When I visited your now-defunct field studio in Matilija Canyon several years ago, you were doing incredible things with canvas layering and infra-red painting. Do you feel that there is any room in your current work for this type of innovation? You yourself have expressed a desire to get back into this, though never in specific terms. In other words, are you planning to reawaken and release your phenomenal surrealist tendencies any time soon?

One of Lamar's earlier surrealist pieces.

I really haven’t stopped thinking about what is possible with the obscure, surreal and abstracted views of the world in general. I feel that the more I’ve delved into technical and realist applications I have discovered the surreal, and the abstract hidden in the microscopic areas of the paintings. This has really been the case lately, as my old ideas have been finding new reserves of fuel in all the new tricks I’ve been working with. I often think back to that earlier work, and now I can really see how much of a benefit it is to follow intuition to an end as well as all the ways to get there, in terms of previous and traditional applications. I think that the old and new work are at a tipping point and that perhaps I may fall into a culminated new style like a sudden fire.

Perhaps related to the previous question, to what degree is your current work market-driven? For example, if somebody gave you a pile of money and said “paint what you want,” where would you start?

When I have the chance to fully delve into my own ideas in painting again, I wish to use the new techniques to further explore the realms of painting that elude to something beyond the symbols, objects, and space representing it. I would like to experiment with the gradual abstraction of interior and and figurative themes, as well as the abstraction of natural elements like water with light and depth. In figurative work I keep seeing new things from a private series I’m doing of stretches, that I may come back in with pen & ink, and some brush work. These may later be the beginning of a painting style I’ve been thinking about that would really have references to a lot different styles, and movements from different times. It’s really hard to say what will actually happen.

Dan Herron, one of your studio mates, is a painter, and a clock maker, as well as a recording artist. Can you talk a little bit about yours and his musical history, and how that relates to putting paint on canvas?

Untitled Panorama, Luke C. Lamar

Lately I have been fiddling around more with the keyboard, and jamming with some of the other artists here. Dan has been recording music for twenty years or more, and happens to have a jumble of music equipment we’ve recently put together in the loft area above the front room. We record some of the jam sessions which later gets worked into these collaged songs he’ll work on for months sometimes. The music for me is becoming like a perfect compliment to all the thinking and standing and mixing paint that gets old after a while. Since we started playing music together I’ve been figuring out more about timing and making full chord changes, which has turned the music into a sort of language. It’s something that we all have in common and it’s more instantly gratifying. I seem to get inspiration for painting from music and for music from painting.

Martin Amis, in his short story The Coincidence of the Arts, makes some curious statements about about a painter’s relationship to speech, writing, and silence. When you are in your studio, what is your relationship with each of these three entities?

I find that I listen to things going on or being said around me, but it’s hard to engage in actually talking with people or being a part of a conversation. I used to listen to the radio when I was painting and even now there is a radio or news station on in the background. Sometimes I’ll put music on over the news playing and really go for it. Silence in painting will still creep up on the studio, and I’ve always enjoyed it. Especially when you don’t notice it at first. I’ll notice the sound of the street outside first. Or the conversation of some people walking up the hill into town. I still like to spend time when I can’t paint or do anything anymore in my room just sitting quietly and letting my mind just ease off on everything and anything.

Luke Lamar and Theo Ellsworth stopping on Ocean Avenue. by Sam Kulla

A decade ago, you were collaborating regularly with Theo Ellsworth when you both lived in Missoula, MT. You even make a couple appearances in his book Capacity. Clearly, you played a roll in his journey as a writer and illustrator. How has he, in turn, influenced your work?

Theo was really the one who showed me how to sit and actually work on something without feeling like I had to be somewhere else every fifteen minutes. I learned how to draw and create worlds on paper that sprang up out of thoughts and emerging dreams that would randomly come into mind as I would just start to draw. We were lucky enough to go on a museum tour of Europe at a time when it really sunk in. We discussed art and related queries for years, that time in Europe being like an axis on thought and possibility. I think about our conversation often when I keep up another commission or new project, knowing that eventually I’ll be able to launch some of the original ideas that got me going down this road.

In real life you will never have to choose. But for the purposes of this question, you must choose between saving the collected works of Titian or Corot from a raging fire. Whose would you save and why?

This may be a surprise though I instantly thought Titian. I feel like I still have a lot to learn from his approach to realism, especially on the larger scale pieces he did.

Tell us about the work of your father, Howard Lamar. What is the relationship between your creative works and his, what have you learned from him?

My dad was painting before I was born and from my earliest memories, that is what he was doing. He worked on a lot of sculpture when I was a kid. When we still lived in Arizona I would work with him at his studio on little pieces of marble and alabaster. His career has influenced mine greatly. I grew up in his studio and learned about the gallery world and selling art from him. He sold most all of my first pieces and got a good price for them. I didn’t know it then but he had really set me up. In the near future I think that we may collaborate in some various mediums. We’ve talked about doing some large triptic panels together in the past, though I would imagine our first collaboration would be a unique showing of our family’s work from perhaps one of the event concepts I’ve yet to divulge.

The view from the porch of Luke's studio. by Sam Kulla

What do you do when you can paint, compose or sing no more? Where do you go?

My favorite places here are this one point at the end of scenic drive, where I can watch the waves come barreling in and disperse over the rocks jutting out from that point in the cove. The other place I go more often than not is to bed, and let the sounds of this little town feel farther and farther away.

“For those of us confident that the human condition is boundless, that it strives moves and grows only with the strivings, movements, and growth of those individuals that comprise its global body: No rest can come. No sanctuary can be found or reprieve sought from the fever of that challenge to the infinite, man poses from within our temporal host. An answer seems always within reach and eternally on the horizon and leaves us prostrate and writhing on the rocks of the soul under the harsh glare of the absurd world. So We do not fight because we see even a sliver of victory on the horizon (we make no claim as to what such victory could ever be). We do not fight because we could ever consider it a path to personal betterment. But we do fight, as torch bearers of an ancient caste to neither lead nor to destroy but simply to explore and to indulge, in our failings and our modest triumphs. To condemn certainly, but only through celebration. The limitless can only be seen through ones limits, so we harness our arsenals, broken words, clumsy hands, splintered brushes, cracked clay, tuneless instruments of a slow yet constant change. So that, for better or worse, as the mighty glaciers that carved out great lakes and destroyed mountains 3 inches at a time, we may leave some sort of mark. Be it scar or tattoo; a lasting map of the flesh. Or simply a leaf in the middle of the puddle you splash through car-lessly on the way to somewhere else.”

-Taber Maine

photo by Erin Blinn

Shan Driscoll: First off…. are you an outlaw? And if so, how? Or might you be a descendant of outlaws?

Taber Maine: My Great Great Uncle was a fairly influential lawyer in the Jewish community in Detroit in the 20′s and would often be called upon late in the evening by members of the Purple Gang, the Jewish mafia in Detroit at the time. Nobody in my family really knows what his role was exactly but my Great Aunt Merriam doesn’t think it was much, so probably not really.

SD: Who and what are your influences?

TM: A lot of old stuff. I’m from the mid-west so straight country isn’t something I’ve ever known much about but folk, country-blues, Appalachian, all that stuff has been big for me for a long time. I was really into hop hop forever but I it never felt like a musical avenue that I could work in real comfortably. But the real direct language of hip hop was my favorite part and I feel like that is a common thread through all folk music. And hip hop is folk music.  Track: The Hustler’s Way

SD: How did growing up in the mid-west affect your musical sensibilities?

TM: I think, completely. The sound I always associate with the mid-west is a lot of dissonance as opposed to like a lot of aggression or rage or something. I never knew any bands that had any money and we all used just the shittiest stuff so things felt real stripped down a lot. I also play drums in a band called Bullet Teeth and I’ve never had a legit ride cymbal so there’s never any sustain in the drums. So much music my friends make is full of those kinds of little idiosyncrasies. Also, the winters are a huge part of most artists’ lives from the north, I think. It forces a little isolation in so you eventually run out of shit to do in your room and you just have to focus. So I feel like I’m struggling with that in the South because the winters have been my most productive times.

photo by Erin Blinn

SD: And how are they receiving you in Austin? Do you see any differences between the audiences of the south and the mid west?

TM: It’s going alright. I think there’s a progression starting to form. Ha, I hope so. The audiences are similar and different. Neither one seems to ever be paying attention to me but It’s for different reasons. In Austin everybody just comes out to dance and in the mid-west everybody just comes out to drink.

SD: There’s a solid amount of political/socioeconomic topics brought up in your music. What is the message you are conveying to us?

TM: I don’t feel like there’s too too much of that. I just think it’s stuff that not a lot of people know about. I stay pretty specific to where I’m at when I write it so it’s reporting in a way but it’s story telling too obviously.

SD: And who is your audience?

TM: Right now, mostly my friends.

SD: Word has it that you’ve got a new album. Tell us about it…

TM: I’ve recorded a ton of songs but I think I’m going to go back in in a few weeks and get a few more out. I’m hoping to have money up and design and everything done to put the thing out by February.

SD: The sound is awesome… Where did you record?

TM: Hey thanks. I recorded the electric stuff with my friend Jon Parfitt in his house and then the acoustic stuff was all recorded at my buddy Brian Hummel’s place. Those guys both mixed em as well. Really really great guys.

SD: How can we obtain it?

TM: Unless you know me it’s probably hard. I think I’m going to change a whole lot from what I sent you so “it” is still kind of far from existing. Track: Chestnutt’s Lament

photo by Erin Blinn

Taber Maine is Corey Baum. Originally from Ohio, he now lives and performs in Austin.  His new album, El Nudo se Deshace, should be out this winter.  His first album, The Ballad of Holt LaHoya, is a down and dirty gem worth finding too, if you are up to the challenge.  (Though it’s entirely possible you may fail, sadly.)  With luck, we will bring you more news about him as events progress.  Until then, more of his music and photos are available here.

I drove through the valley watching the sprayplanes and in awe of the rowcrops as far as the eye could see in the endless valley. Up over the grapevine with all the trucks. It’s an ugly god forsaken freeway, I stopped to pee at a place that had water for busted radiators, the trash collects where the wind deposits it. . . My first of many post apocalyptic visions while in southern Cal.

She is someone with qualities to admire. She’s not comfortable being assertive, but knows how to get what she wants. She is very important to me, I told her once that without her I would be facedown in an empty swimming pool somewhere. I was joking, mostly.

When I saw the mountains for the first time in 6 months, I was overcome with that forgotten but familiar feeling of coming home. The payphone at the Caltrans station that I used to call my ma from on the side of the highway really does it every time. Am I too young to be nostalgic for that simplicity? No cell phone, no facebook, no texting 3 different females at the same time, putting them in an unknown unfair contest against each other.

::

Zoe Aparicio is a photographer and emcee from Guanajuato, Mexico. See more of his ethereal work and read an in-depth interview with the artist about his process and visions, in two languages, in High Contrast Review’s print edition. (The perfect holiday gift for people as suspicious as yourself!)  And please, keep the anonymous tips coming.

Das Racist Photo by Zandland

Hip hop conveys all sorts of life’s truths – truths that run the gamut from “More money, more problems,” to “Hey shorty, it’s your birthday,” to the general observation that one in three people are assholes.

Das Racist, of Brooklyn, NY, champions as an absurdist hip hop act, employing danceable beats with repetitive hooks, as catchy and mind-numbing as most of today’s top forty hits, but without all the money, guns and bitches nonsense. The band’s sly wit and satirical edge opens their content up to a humorous dialogue of social commentary, easily seen in their name alone. Their first internet hit to gain recognition, Combination Pizza Hut, Taco Bell, illustrates a perfect example of their style and humor . . . though one could argue the song lacks commentary and is simply a commercial jingle for the nation’s corporate, industrialized food machine. Either way, the song spawned many a fan video of suburban white girls singing along to the catchy tune.

When asked to interview Das Racist, I thought it would be fun. It was a perfect fit, considering, for several years, I rapped in the comical hip hop band Inhumans, under the persona Ivory Coyote; in homage to my mixed Native American (Miami Tribe represent), and European ancestry. I felt I knew where Das Racist frontmen Himanshu Suri and Victor Vazquez, along with their “hype man” Ashok Kondabolu were coming from. I got it. Their absurdist style, humor, diversity, and way of deconstructing social norms spoke to me.

I was wrong. Or maybe I wasn’t. I don’t know. Maybe I should have lived a privileged life, attending a private liberal arts college. I don’t know. Maybe the interview, as a whole, sheds light on my question of language; it’s inaccuracy for communication, conveying observations or describing truth; something I find all the more curious with art like hip hop where language is in the forefront. Whatever the scenario, the interview left a bad taste in my mouth, as if I spent all night eating a combination of Pizza Hut and Taco Bell.

Nonetheless, kudos to Das Racist. They’re doing it. They just released their second mix tape, Sit Down, Man and I expect the world will be hearing more of them in the near future . . . I simply hope we hear more from their front men ( KOOL A.D and HIMA) and less from their hype man.

QUESTION
First I’d like to say you guys all have a sly, intelligent, left-field sense of humor that works; it’s fantastic. What’s Das Racist’s philosophy of humor in music, or humor in general?

KOOL A.D.
Everything is stupid.

HIMA
There’s no place for humor in music.

DAP
if there’s grass on the field, am I right?

QUESTION
Is time travel possible? If so, how?

KOOL A.D.
It is possible. Time dilation from high gravity or high velocity.

HIMA
I think if we look into how Tivo works more we can figure it out.

DAP
LIGHT TAKES AWHILE TO TRAVEL “INCREDIBLY” LONG DISTANCES, SO THAT’S LIKE PERCEPTUAL TIME TRAVEL WHEN YOU LOOK AT SOME STARS, RIGHT? Nah, just kidding, interesting question. If there’s grass on the field, am i right?

QUESTION
Hip hop is a culture, ever changing and mutating into various definitions. In every venue of every city from Atlanta, Georgia to Bozeman, Montana, there’s an emcee boasting about how he IS hip hop. The Definition, absolute. Where does Das Racist fit into the wavelength spectrum of hip hop culture?

KOOL A.D.
We are hip hop.

HIMA
Definitely. We are hip hop.

DAP
I’m sure the astute (possibly effete) reader of this interview has heard the intro of Mos Def’s “Black on Both Sides?” THAT THING FROM 11 YEARS AGO THAT EVERYONE KNOWS KINDA LAID THIS CORNY QUESTION TO REST.

QUESTION
Through technology, music is larger, bigger, brighter; everywhere. Technology has been a colossus in bringing about a whole new way the industry; and art, works. How has technology aided or impeded Das Racist on its musical quest?

KOOL A.D.
Everything we touch is technology.

HIMA
The most important music program is GMAIL.

DAP
Let’s talk more about the etymology of the word “colossus.” Language experts say it was first used by a friendly “magazine guy” from High Contrast. I have my suspicions, though. Let’s just say, if there’s gr…

QUESTION
Somewhere I have a question about language, it’s power in all of it’s abstraction, but I forgot the question. Any thoughts?

KOOL A.D.
You from another country or something?

HIMA
Vanguard.

DAP
Is this some sort of “you guys smoke weed” type thing? Cause I do not smoke weed. When I’m in Andhra Pradesh for awhile I start thinking in Telugu, which is awesome. Let’s just say, if th…

QUESTION
Who is the most racist race all the other races can point to and say, “They are the most racist race of all.” (Disclaimer: Answering this may sound racist.)

KOOL A.D.
White people.

HIMA
White people.

DAP
Question is stupid and divisive garbage, pretty angry about it. Sounds like these questions were written to ‘solicit specific responses’ from us and that’s just boring/uncreative journalism.

White people. Was considering putting quotation marks around either white or people, but that would be “playing ball” with this stupid question.

QUESTION
Anything else you’d like to add?

KOOL A.D.
Naw.

DAP
Language is an inefficient way to communicate but we cannot “Vulcan mind-meld” yet. www.dapwell.com

::

You can check out Das Racist, watch some clips, or download their mixtapes at DasRacist.net.

It is a hard place. You live on the same land for generations and never really know it. It can turn against you. Everything is under the weather, the weather will always win; it is a Big Sky. You can live there all your life and hike over every inch of the ‘foot hills’ (mountains out here) that make up your back yard and they will surprise you. You call yourself well traveled; but how many rivers do you know? How many ranges of those mountains and foothills can you name?

Say them to yourself: Absaroka, Bear-tooth, Tobacco Root, Wolf, Swan, High Wood, Teton, Sawtooth, Mission, Seeley, Pintlar, Anaconda, Cabinet, Cascade.

It is a place founded on blood and iron, a lust for gold, silver; desire for mastery of the untamed wilderness. Even now, we are its mercy, or lack thereof. You asked me why I wanted to leave, and I say I felt walled in, mountains on all sides. You ask me why I want to leave here, and I say ‘because I feel walled in’. You say you want to be nearer to the water, I say I want the real sea. You wonder what there is to do for a living. I say, you can raise livestock, you can fight fire, you can cut down trees, you can teach. You can write when you have the money, or you’re broke.

Pioneer, Rattlesnake, Bridger, Blackfoot, Gallatin, Clark’s Fork, Marias, Powder, Tongue, Mussel Shell, Clearwater, Missouri, Sun, Thompson, Kootenai, Madison, Bitterroot.

I explain that while the teachers teach, in the summer they will fight fires. Cutting down trees is something you will end up doing regardless. And fighting fires. When the writer is not teaching, he or she is a sometimes a river guide.

Say their names, Yellowstone, Bighorn, Milk, Poplar, Flathead, Boulder, Big Hole, and Wise.

We have some of what you have; the meth, the cops, the bankers (though they’re likely raising livestock also), even a skyscraper or two if ten or twenty stories count. I should have said something about the construction worker. Blood and iron; only it isn’t in the mountains. I say the mountains are not big, two or three thousand feet nearest to town, twelve thousand at the tallest, taller than here.

Sapphire, Ruby, Judith, Red Rock, Two Medicine, Crazy Mountains, Granite, the Big and Little Belts, the Gravely, the Snowcrest, and Glacier.

You ask me if money were no object where would I go. I say Norway, Ireland, Patagonia, Peru, and Morocco. I did not say Australia, or Hungary, and maybe- and I do not remember how you replied. Except that the sound of your voice, overpowered by the cut-time tempo of the subway tracks, was far away.

Flathead, Lewis, Whitefish, Jefferson, Smith, Dearborn and Beaverhead.

You wonder if I am homesick, I say maybe so. You are wondering about the things I miss, the space: how the walled in feeling vanished for a while the first time I returned after living here, and you speak as if it is an alien thing. I try to explain how spring – but I wonder for an instant if maybe you don’t know more about it than I do.

A.Sønju works with various mediums; light, glue, paper, pigment, noise and language, generally leaning toward the practices of film making, photography, and writing. As of autumn 2010, he will be pursuing a Masters Degree at the Centre for Digital Media in Vancouver, BC.