The photography store has moved to
DaveBeckerman.com
Reasons: More flexible; can hopefully integrate the idea of the blog and the current site (meld this); faster to post and make changes; idle curiosity.
I’m slowly porting the interesting entries from this blog to the new one. Even though both blogs are wordpress, one is self-hosted, the other at wordpress.com and it isn’t all that easy to do the porting.
The black and white photography store AND the new photo blog have moved here:
DaveBeckerman.com.
Where the model sailboats rule.
(Hexar AF, Tri-x) I was surprised at how well the Hexar lens treated the specular highlights in these shots.
Early 1990’s.
The question is asked of me in different ways - but it is asked often: who or what inspires you?
Most questions I can shrug off with a canned answer. But this question often haunts me. Who or what inspires me? It knocks around the inner cavern of my soul like a — well - it knocks around. I can remember when I was young - the idea of inspiration. Breath from the muse. Maybe a favorite author. What would Henry Miller have written? Melville?
It’s all very a-musing. You sit at your desk and just before you write the great short story a misty hand touches you. You are embraced by a feverish but invisible presence and you suddenly have an epiphany and greatness follows you all the rest of the day until the next creative roadblock.
Am I inspired by great photographers? Can I find anyone inspirational about anything? I don’t know - Madame Curie? There’s an inspirational life. Yeah, I think the scientists - the inventors - the Wright Bros. can be inspirational. But not in the artistic sense.
I wish I could cite some American idols as inspiring me. But I can’t.
If inspiration does make an entrance it happens when I walk around.
That’s all it is. The impressionists waltz out into the plein air and are impressed with nature. Or with the ballet dancers. Or something actual makes an impression on them and gets translated in some mysterious way into art.
I’m just the same way. I walk out of the house and without looking (if I’m doing it right) for anything in particular - something with specific particularity and with very specific qualities inspires me to try and capture it.
That instant of inspiration can be thought out to a greater or lesser or degree - but it usually not fully understood at the moment. Inspiration can be remembered - but there isn’t enough time to analyze it at the moment of shutter depression.
So there you have it. I am inspired to some degree - all the time - but it is by something that I think or feel about the specific external thing - which could be anything. People places objects leaves bricks juxtaposition of forms, a touch of light. If this were 200 years ago - it would be called nature. Now it’s just called - I don’t know - there is no word for it that I can come
Mindfulness. Breathing. Window on 80th street.
Metropolitan Museum, Statues from the Roman Empire, 2007
I first ran into L. Mendes at Coney Island, several years ago. He was taking portraits with a speed graphic with a polaroid back. The idea of instant photography has long since turned into a computerized booth in Times Square or wherever - but I’d still rather have my portrait done by this guy.
Canon A640
This morning.
Yesterday, Times Square.
