Back in mid-June I had to change meds, which radically changed my life. I couldn’t drive a car or ride my bike for three months. Holy crap. You don’t realize how important this is until it’s gone. I asked my doctor, “What about hopping, can I hop? Can I use a pogo stick to work? What about dogsled? Canoe?” Nope, nope, and nope. Hopping was ok, but none of the others. Dang.

I could relate to Curious George and his health issues.

But the Gods of Wheels were smiling down on me. My son, who was about to turn 16, just finished Driver’s Ed and he became my chauffeur for the summer. He did a fabulous job by the way, taking me wherever I needed to go all summer long. Thank you T’naa, you did a most excellent job! Well done, my boy, you are a true McNeil team member.

Teenager Rite of Passage: Today was our son's first day of driving a car... I really liked the facebook feedback from friends by the way.

At any rate, we both did exceptionally well, and yesterday marked the three month freedom date, and I’m now free to bicycle commute again! I thought a good way to celebrate was to have my favorite cycle shop “George’s Cycles” do a pro tune-up on my wheels. I named my bike “My Private Jet,” by the way. When people ask whether I can make it to their art openings, I tell them, “I’ll just have to see whether My Private Jet is up to it.”

Man, there's nothing like a professional tune-up; it means the universe is spinning with attitude.

This is a true thing of beauty, almost like a new lens or laptop right out of the box. The gears are beautiful. I'm so easy to please.

My first bike ride in 3 months was awesome. Ok, so it was a bit slow & I got winded, but it felt good. I have a feeling it'll take a few weeks to get back into bike shape. This is the front of our house. Let's ride, man.

This bike is cool because it’s an all-weather machine. I pack my laptop in the canvas saddlebags along with a change of clothes for when I get to school. In my opinion, it’s worth investing in a cool commuter bike because of all the money you save on gas. I noticed that it costed $63.00 to fill up my gas tank in my little Forester this summer. Dang!

Want to know the coolest part of being a bicycle commuter? I get to spend the money I save on gas on fun stuff! Yeah man.

Today I’m a bit sore from my first ride in three months, but am ready to hit the road again, it feels good. Get a bicycle and spin. For the good of the land, for the good of the air and for the just plain good. This is part of my Boise State University Arts and Humanities Fellowship by the way, because it has to do with helping to minimize the carbon dioxide emissions belched into the atmosphere from our automobiles.

Sometimes you've just got to stop and ask about the meaning of life.

Have fun and be safe.

Story Copyright Larry McNeil, 2011, All Rights Reserved.

X’áant xwaanúk Tléil yee ushk’é, I’m angry you are bad is from my body of work about the global climate crisis.

Artists try and make sense of the world. It doesn’t always work because sometimes the world simply doesn’t make sense. So we end up capturing the lunacy.

I assembled this collage around two core images. Raven was first. I was looking for an authoritative, stately posture that would be an iconic black silhouette with a rich, pure charcoal feel. This raven went through the heat and was slightly carbonized, so he was perfect for a cheerful black day at the power plant. Our creation story involves raven and carbon emissions.

I'm Angry you are bad.

I’m Tlingit and we take shit from nobody. If it weren’t for us, Siberia would extend into North America. Either that or Canada would extend west into what is now Alaska. We drove both groups of colonists out of our homeland at the loss of many lives and I mention this only because it is this warrior philosophy that drives nearly everything I do, especially as an artist. The triangles on the right are stylized Killer Whale teeth and there is a faded Chilkat robe pattern in the decayed wall.

Stylized killer whale teeth. I am from the Tlingit Killer Whale Fin House, and the teeth have their origins in some of our ancient spruce root basket designs.

Chilkat robe pattern chipped into an eroded wall with a white raven peering into the empty head of a human.

I felt filthy from photographing coal-fired power plants around the country and actually got a nasty nasal infection from being around them. I feel bad for the people who have to live on the same planet as these thousands of massive coal-fired power plants scattered all over Earth. I also feel bad for the home planet and how badly humans have brutalized her. It makes me rethink the definition of humans and whether it is natural for us to ruin our environment because we do it so well. In that sense, it also has me rethinking the definition of the term “nature,” especially when describing humans and what we make, how we treat our environment and each other. It may mean that a Styrofoam cup is as natural as a buffalo, which kind of scares me.

Earthscape #31 is from the Rocketship Chronicles series. When the Apollo astronauts viewed Earth from the moon, they had a profound revelation. Earth was magical. It also had no borders. They knew from a glance that humanity, all the life there, and the planet were one. This is precisely what every Native tribe has been saying since long before they first met White Man. We are all one; you cannot separate just one element and treat it differently. If you pollute the land and the air, you pollute yourself and all other life, we are all connected. It almost seems gratuitous to say this until you look around and realize that most people don’t get it, especially political leaders and industrialists who only care about their most recent earnings statements.

My Earhscapes are about strengthening the notion that our home planet is indeed all we’ve got to live on and we’ve got to start treating it like it’s a home planet and not a colossal waste heap. It’s a little playful in that there is a quasi- yearning for finding another planet where we can find refuge. Then we come to our senses and think, “Wait a minute. This is OUR home planet. It’s the polluters whose damn asses should be on rocket ships out of here, not ours…

Earthscape #31. I made this photo last year from my rocketship, over the coast of southern California after assisting MFA Photography students at Brooks Institute.

Hasselblad Moon film back from a NASA camera. For real. This is so perfect for my Rocketship Chronicles photos.

I have a portfolio of photos regarding my Rocketship Chronicles on facebook. What’s really cool about it is the feedback I get from friends.

My Rocketship Chronicles portfolio on facebook.

Kimowan’s Journey

One of the most profoundly beautiful, sad and mysterious experiences I’ve had this year was when our sister Hulleah and I went to say farewell to our brother in art Kimowan Metchewais up in Alberta late this summer. I’m reminded that we meet many gentle spirits on this journey of life and the journey is so short, painfully beautiful, and so damn hard sometimes. We ease the journey with each other, at least this much is clear.

After Kimowan started his journey into the spirit world that morning, a series of peculiar events started to unfold. Hulleah and I tried to be unobtrusive as Kimowan’s family went about taking care of Kimowan’s passing in the hospital that morning. Antje was beside herself with grief, as was everyone else. Kimowan’s mom was so gracious and offered to ride with Hulleah and I up to Cold Lake later that morning.

In a moment of silence, Kimowan’s hospital room was vacant, even as people gathered in the guest suite next door sipping coffee and talking quietly, giving each other hugs and tender assurances. There was a feeling of peace and calm amongst the sorrow. Someone laughed gently and gave us the Cree translation for “strong coffee.” I wish I could remember those Cree words. I stood at the window looking out at the view as his family went about taking care of business. I noticed a few young ravens playing right outside his window. One in particular was hopping on the roof, doing what was obviously a shadow dance. He was very taken with his shadow and was clearly enjoying it’s presence. It’s shadow looked like a rocketship. Without even thinking about it I pulled out my camera phone and shot off a bunch of photos, smiling at raven’s oblivious playfulness. It made me wonder if perhaps Kimowan was having a bit of fun on his way, and nature couldn’t help but play along. Kimowan would’ve smiled at the camera phone too, I’m sure. We don’t need no stinkin’ fancy pants cameras, we wing it quite well, thank you.

"Raven Rocket from Kimowan's Window." It's stylized a bit, but is essentially what the scene looked like outside Kimowan's window. Raven loves rocketships even more than me I think.

I have a portfolio of photos that I made on that journey, including many other instances of nature living it up that day. Way more than usual. Here’s to you Kimowan, we miss you.

These are the three prints that I have in our 2011 Biennial Art Department Faculty Exhibition today at the Visual Arts Center. Come and check it out, I’m in some most excellent company.

Story Copyright Larry McNeil 2011, All Rights Reserved

The world is going to hell, but stop, get out of your car and ride with me. On a bike . Or if you can afford it, something with green power.

I’m a glass half-full kind ‘a guy who’s kind of scrappy, but also tries to offer solutions to current challenges. This is a story about how energy efficient cars are essentially for the wealthy and the CO2 bomb of a car is relegated to us middle class bums. Fight back, become a bicycle commuter (if you can, that is)!

We Love our Big Cars

In my opinion, one of the epic challenges of our times has to do with simply driving our cars. How can anything so innocent be so awful for the planet? If you’re like me, you’re tired of hearing about it, and just want to get in a big 1950’s convertible and go away somewhere fun. Don’t get me wrong, I love cars, and my all-time favorite is the 1959 Cadillac, the one with the huge fins.

Yep, I lust after this car, knowing full well how awful it is for the planet. If I were a millionaire, I'd buy it and convert it to green power like Neil Young did with his big old hog of a 1959 Lincoln car. It was parked at a local school, where the young man who owns it uses it as his everyday car.

I think it’s cool what Neil Young did with his team of engineers to make this Linc-Volt one of the greenest 1950’s cars on the planet. Part of what drove him (besides the cool wheels that is) is the notion that there had to be a guilt-free energy efficient way of driving his favorite car. Well, they pulled it off. It demonstrates to the car manufacturers that the technology exists to make a dramatically greener car than exists today.

Anyway, one of the realities about the Linc-Volt was that it’s currently cost-prohibitive to convert your car to go green. You have to be a millionaire in order to drive responsibly. How stupid is that? Anyway, it’s at times like these that I just want to go to Detroit and kick some auto-executive’s dumb asses back to the 1950’s. Dang.

Auto manufacturers need to build an affordable car like Neil’s. There is a void where a car like this should be dominant. If I were Obama, I’d make it mandatory that all cars have a carbon footprint smaller than Neil’s Linc-Volt; it’s not something that should be voted or debated, we’re pretty much out of time for niceties like that.

Becoming a Bicycle Commuter

If you’re a poor boy like me, you have fewer options of going green. I sure can’t afford to convert my existing car to green fuel consumption. It seems that the only people driving green powered cars are the wealthy. February marked my third year of bicycle commuting. I like avoiding the vultures at the gas station. I always get the feeling that the oil companies are the worst drug dealers of all time and I’m there to score my fix. Shut up and do me up, man. Don’t mess with that low octane stuff, gimme the real goods.

It’s pretty clear that not everyone can bicycle commute either, especially if you live somewhere only accessible via the freeway, or in a state where winter makes it oppressively hard to get around. Or if you have kids who need rides across town nearly every day. I had to give my son a ride nearly 20 miles across town for him to play sports, and I definitely drive my car when we have bad blizzards or if I’m sick. I’m clearly not a purist when it comes to bicycle commuting, but do pedal to work most of the year.

I decided that since I was going to become a bicycle commuter, I deserved to buy myself a high-quality commuter bike that was up for the task. You can buy a good used commuter bike for the price of two tanks of gasoline. Or if bicycle commuting is going to be serious for you, there are some really cool high-tech electric versions out there that can speed up your trip dramatically, or assist with pulling a load (bike trailers). I notice that some of these are over $1,000.00, but this is dirt cheap compared to the expense of a car and the rising cost of gasoline. I’d say that these are bargains that are also good for the planet with reducing the CO2 in the atmosphere, not to mention getting you healthier with the daily workouts.

I’d emphasize getting a helmet for the chance encounter with any of those idiot drivers out there. Cars still pull right in front of me when I have the right-of way all the time, many times missing me by mere inches. Get the helmet, even if it messes up your purty hair. I’m still surprised at how many people I see bicycling without a helmet.

This is what my wheels looked like in late March on my bicycle route here in Boise. It was still chilly, but the snow was all melted and it felt great to ride. I have panniers that are great saddle bags to carry my laptop, lunch and fresh clothes for when I arrive at work.

It does feel pretty sweet to be clean. No track marks, I’m off the Bozo gasoline. Well, almost.

Pointers for getting the stuff to bicycle commute

1. Whichever bike you get or use should be checked out by a bike mechanic or yourself if you’re good at it. You want something efficient and there’s nothing as self-defeating as a crummy bike that breaks down or is hard to pedal. Do your research for finding the best bike for yourself, including making sure it’s a good physical fit. Mountain bikes are sometimes a literal drag for road commutes, but the main thing is to just get moving with it and find something that fits your budget and works well.
2. Be safe, know the rules of the road and follow them. Some bike riders are a bit on the rude side and make a bad name for all of us. As mentioned above, wear a helmet.
3. Get a bike with all the gizmos you need to make the commute practical, like saddle bags, extra inner tubes, tools to change a flat tire, compact tire pump, water bottle, headlight, bike clothing for the weather where you live, etc.
4. Have fun.

The perfect lightweight jacket for wet and stormy weather. It's waterproof and designed for extreme activities like kayaking in the Arctic Ocean in a blizzard. By Maria Abraham; it's likely the most expensive extreme activity jacket out there, but also the best, leaving modern clothing light years behind.

If you're going to bicycle commute, you've got to splurge on a good seat like this leather Brooks version from the UK. It's still one of the best ones out there, way better than any of the contemporary high tech seats. It eventually conforms to your behind and will literally fit the contours and become a the most customized part of your bike, which is just plain too cool.

From the bike trail on my commute. Hey, isn't that a pot of gold down there on the bike trail?

Get a bike and have fun with it! Ride with me…

PS: Part of my Arts and Humanities Fellowship has to do with Bicycle Commuters and I’ll post more information about it soon.

Story by Larry McNeil, Copyright 2011, All Rights Reserved

Work-in progress, Earthscapes. Inspired by Marcus Amerman’s comment about sharing new work with our artist friends on facebook. View from my rocket ship window. Sorry for the low quality, but the window got a few smudges on it from liftoff.

I love our home planet.

I included the photo file info so you could see it was taken with my Canon G9 infrared camera. It has the settings I used & date, & as you can see, this was 10-10-10, a very auspicious date indeed, my friends.

Story and photos Copyright Larry McNeil, 2011, All Rights Reserved

The past couple months have been occupied mostly with production work. I’m always a bit surprised at how labor intensive digital photography can be; I timed my Fellowship work so that a first wave of shooting could be done by early winter and I could spend the cold months holed up in my studio office doing the editing work on my computer. I kind of feel like the proverbial reclusive monk and am only missing the shaved head and robes.

One of the reasons I shot a few of these scenes with Kodachrome is that if you shot this with a digital camera, you'd get a lot of noise from the fog and the nuances of the feel of the winter fog would be minimized. Part of the global climate change project includes what could be perceived as mundane scenes of power lines. It's these seemingly ordinary scenes that we take for granted that is having a dramatic impact with changing our global climate.

From the Power Line series, which has to do with CO2 emissions and the global climate crisis. The other photos I'm working on right now are of coal fired power plants and the largest coal mine in North America in Wyoming. It's a sight to behold.

My biggest reality check with working on this Fellowship project is simply not teaching this semester. This is the first time that I haven’t taught for two consecutive semesters since 1991. Don’t get me wrong, I love teaching  and even miss some of my students, but having the opportunity to work full-time on this Arts & Humanities Fellowship is pretty nice too.

This is the film from the Fuji TX Panoramic camera. It makes a photo that is twice as wide as a regular field of view.

I did a lot of the shooting in late fall and early winter. My most recent journey was to California to photograph power plants and wind farms in East Bay. I'd do the research on the power plants prior to my trips and map it out on Google Earth and plug all the coordinates into my GPS.

This GPS has been one of my best tools for this Fellowship project. Many of the sites I've visited were in obscure places that were challenging to find, and this GPS unit always took me directly to where I needed to go. I'm totally amazed at their accuracy.

I got this GPS in Aotearoa (New Zealand) two years ago when I was traveling the country via automobile. It did a splendid job of getting me around the country so I could concentrate on driving on the opposite side of the road and not have to navigate. It’s cool that these GPS units talk to you and tell you where to go so you don’t have to take your attention from the road. It has a most peculiar woman’s Australian accent and became a “She.” One of my stops in Aotearoa was at Massey University, where I spent a couple of days as a visiting artist. While having dinner with Robert Jahnke, the Head of the Maori Visual Arts Program, he suggested that perhaps it should be named “Matilda,” which is the name she now goes by.

At any rate, Matilda has been my guide on these Fellowship journeys, some of which were quite stormy and gloomy, which ironically enough, made for some excellent photographs.

This was my journey to Eastern Wyoming, where the largest coal mine in North America resides. It's run by the Peabody Company and it runs trainloads of coal around the clock, 24-7 to coal powered power plants all over America. It's quite the iconic place for the start of the 21st Century and the global climate crisis.

It was pouring rain most of the time, but I liked the look of the photos and appreciated tough cameras. This is one of my favorite digital cameras, the mighty Canon 5D MKII. It has a full-sized image sensor and shoots as fast as my pro film cameras. It kept right on shooting even though it got instantly drenched in just the few moments I was in the driving rain.

This has got to be my favorite camera ever. It's a Hasselblad medium format camera and I've used versions of it for over 30 years. It's still relevant in the digital age because of the impeccable negatives that are in turn scanned into the computer, so it's really a hybrid tool that crosses over to digital photography.

The cool part of the Hasselblad system is that it's likely the most modular camera system out there. I found this film back that is the "Moon Version" that was released to celebrate Hasselblad's contribution to the NASA Apollo missions. From a practical standpoint, I can tell at a glance that this is my film back that is loaded with infrared film.

Film processing is still fun; I'm splitting my work between digital photos and film. Each has its own distinct look and I like both for different feels conveyed. I don't have to pick one over the other and can take the best of what each has to offer. I really love the tactile nature of film and processing it by hand. In my opinion, it is important to turn off the computer and get away from the constant online buzz & image processing programs, and to give yourself quiet time to contemplate what's going on with not only your project, but with life in general.

Scanning negatives is definitely a high art, and I offer my thanks to the photo gods often... usually with coffee. This is a custom-made negative holder that holds the film flatter than the one that came with the scanner, which is so critical for sharply defined images.

Darth Scanner (play ominous soundtrack here). It's a workhorse of a scanner and does a fabulous job, especially with medium format negatives.

Part of the digital editing has to do with applying various filters to the photos. It's necessary because photos straight out of digital cameras are generally a bit soft and need to be sharpened, among other things.

Coal Fired Power Plant in MIchigan; the late afternoon light was surreal because the emissions put a thick haze in the atmosphere and the smokestack took on a gritty appearance. In my opinion, light is still what makes a photograph with an emotive punch; you don't have to intellectualize about a significant part of the meaning.

Over the winter I’ve been keeping busy with the production work involved with the project. Back in late December, the last rolls of Kodachrome were processed at the lab in Kansas, so I made sure I shot the last 21 rolls of Kodachrome as part of this project. I’ve got a fairly substantial backlog of work to do at the Research Park, where I have a very nice office with an awesome view of the mountains. I was just talking to a friend online about having an assistant. I told her that I actually need three; a minion, a henchman and a yes-man. But in reality, I like all of the aspects of the work, even the more mundane aspects like archiving the work, which can put you in a Zen-like state if done properly. Ommm. It can be very meditative, which is definitely a part of the creative process.

We can't talk about photography projects without mentioning coffee, now can we? I've got a new coffee maker, but it deserves it's own blog entry. I like coffee emissions much better than the CO2 ones on my journeys...

A sincere note of gratitude goes out to the Boise State University Arts and Humanities Institute and the Boise State University Division of Research for the Boise State University Arts and Humanities Fellowship, which grants faculty the opportunity to work on a fellowship project for a year (I am a Research Fellow for the 2010-2011 academic year).

Story & Photos Copyright Larry McNeil, All Rights Reserved, 2011

Kodachrome Fade to Black The life & times of the best color film in the universe

Larry McNeil’s last roll of Kodachrome. Himiona Grace provided the captivating guitar accompaniment. I know, a traitorous Fuji camera was used to shoot my last roll of Kodachrome. Sorry. But it’s only too perfect for Kodachrome, so there.

________________________________________________________

I am a long-time photographer who has more than a technical attachment to Kodachrome. It was my livelihood for a couple decades, it paid the mortgage and made beautiful photographs that digital cameras could only dream about.

Kodachrome and my classic Leica M-6, a killer combination. One more hour to get your stuff to the lab, hustle on over, dudes (photo made with my iPhone camera).

A part of our photographic spectrum fades with the demise of Kodachrome today, December 30^th. Dang.

You had until noon today to jam your film on over to Dwayne’s lab in Kansas, the last place in the universe to process Kodachrome, which was discontinued by our friends at Kodak back in June of 2009. A phenomenal 75-year chapter in the history of photography fades to black.

Why was this film so enduring? We’re talking from 1935 to 2010, a seventy-five year run for a photography product, which was nearly unprecedented for any consumer item, let alone a film. When Kodak announced that Kodachrome was being discontinued in 2009, I dropped everything, logged on to the B&H Photo store and ordered around 40 rolls. It was a good thing too, because by that afternoon none was to be found. After that, the only place left to score Kodachrome was from a bunch of ebay pirates where they were going for twice the price. They saw Kodachrome as a commodity and kept real photographers from getting in on the last few precious rolls. Those bums.

McNeil Review for Kodachrome on the B&H Photo site

Kodachrome from the last batch Kodak made. How cool is that?

Brief History of Kodachrome & insight on why Kodachrome looks the way it does

If you were to sneak into my time machine, you’d have seen that back in 1935 Elvis arrived sans blue suede shoes, which was so fitting, because like Kodachrome, he got us all shook up and the paradigm shifted, like a force of nature. The Great Depression was still in full swing, German psychopaths were coming into power and darkness fell as they built up their war machinery, the first synthetic fiber was invented (nylon), cars were becoming more common and the world was generally in a modernist machine age with new electrical power plants being built for newfangled electrical appliances. There were still no interstate highways, and the most common mode of travel across the country was by train. Photography was popular with over 18 million people using cameras on a regular basis, so there was a ready market for a good color film, even in those tough times.

Kodachrome was targeted for the new miniature 35mm and 828 camera formats, such as the Leica, Contax, Retina and Bantam Special. Young radicals like Henri Cartier-Bresson, Robert Capa, André Kertész, Walker Evans, and later Robert Frank, Lee Friedlander and Sebastião Salgado were all avid Leica users who fully embraced shooting with small, unobtrusive cameras. Up until the 1950's, large 4x5" cameras ruled the day and were the cameras of choice for Dorothea Lange and Margaret Bourke-White, two of the best photographers from the 30's & 40's.

I think it’s cool that Kodak targeted specific cameras for their film, as you can see on the above Kodachrome box on the left. They were very excited about the prospect of various camera manufacturers releasing new miniature cameras that could optimize what the smaller film had to offer. Some of my last rolls of Kodachrome were shot with my own Contax and Leica cameras.

This is one of my oldest Leica cameras; I'm pretty sure it's either from the late 1920's or early 30's. It's one of the precision cameras that Kodak was hoping would be loaded with Kodachrome back in the mid-1930's.

This Kodak Bantam Special was likely the most expensive camera of it's day in the early 1940's. It took 828 film, which was smaller than 35mm film, which meant it could be even more miniaturized than the smallest 35mm cameras, even by today's standards. It's only about 3 inches wide. It has a very hip art deco design by Walter Teague and was a jewel of a camera with controls that are only usually found on very large professional cameras. It was perfect for Kodachrome, a match made in heaven (from the McNeil collection of vintage cameras).

Photography was being used by amateurs to make family mugshots and such, but they were in black & white. Color was much too sophisticated to both use and process for the generally clueless amateurs who didn’t want anything to do with messing around with chemicals, all they wanted were photos of the new baby, or other family events. Kodak targeted amateurs with small cameras loaded with Kodachrome. They envisioned everyday people with small cameras being able to easily make photos to share with friends and family. They hit the proverbial jackpot with how Kodachrome rendered scenes.

Unlike just about every other color film of the day, Kodachrome rendered colors with a rich palette and the world seemed to be enhanced rather than merely photographed. The switch from black & white to color was nothing less than revolutionary. Photography was already about realism, but Kodachrome rendered the world to an almost hyper-reality where colors were vibrant and subtle where need be, such as Adams’ blue sky, beat up red truck, and silver tanks in the photo below. With color photography the past seems more contemporary because of the realism conveyed, whereas black and white infers a moment in the past because of it’s monochromatic tones that replaces colors.

Ansel Adams was on the loose in an oil field with Kodachrome in 1945 and captured this scene.

Ansel Adams’ 4×5 Kodachrome photograph from 1945. Notice the code notches on the bottom left– code notches on sheet film were so that you could tell what film you were loading in complete darkness. Each film had a different code notch and it also allowed you to tell which side was the emulsion side by feel, because you were essentially blind while loading your film into the film holders. Photograph from the Fortune collection Kodachromes made by various photographers through the decades.

Kodachrome thrived throughout the 50’s, 60’s, 70’s and 80’s, which also coincided with the prime baby boom years. Magazines like National Geographic epitomized what Kodachrome had to offer popular culture; beautifully photographed scenes with rich colors and saturation with subtle detail. Kodachrome was the best color film available with no pretenders daring to step up to emulate it, let alone try something as audacious as dethroning it. During these decades, color dominated how photography was represented in popular culture, including not only consumer photography, but also commercial endeavors like publishing, advertising, films being made by the big Hollywood studios, and so on (many of the films were shot on negative film stock). The world was being reproduced in color.

These were the peak Kodachrome years with pros fully embracing it as the film of choice and amateurs buying millions of rolls of film annually. For an example, as a pro in the 1980’s I’d use well over 500 rolls a year, which was likely average for professional use. It was and still is one of the most archivally durable films made, and some Kodachrome film from the 1930’s still look as vibrant today as the day they were processed.

Robert Doisneau, 35mm Kodachrome, 1961. Doisneau was best known for his ironic black & white photographs, and this photograph from 40 years ago looks as though it could have been made this morning with a state of the art digital camera.

From a technical standpoint, Kodachrome was one of the most difficult films to process and you needed specialized equipment, a ready supply of Kodak chemicals with trained professionals keeping it humming properly. It has thinner layers of light sensitive emulsions that didn’t require dye couplers, which caused less light scattering, which resulted in noticeably sharper images. If you look at the emulsion side of the film, you can actually see the various physical layers that almost takes on the appearance of a tiny 3-D topographical map with hills and valleys; the images are in physical relief. This sometimes makes the image take on an almost 3-D appearance with real depth.

In this sense, Kodachrome does have three dimensions, height, width and depth. Even if the depth is only as thick as the film itself, it is a measurable thickness with variable contours, depending on what was photographed. This depth helped give the film a heightened sense of reality and a rarefied luminosity that was enhanced by the fact it was a positive film, and was commonly viewed on a light table or projected via a slide projector. It meant that this film was meant to be viewed with being lit from behind, which also meant that since the image was often projected upon a screen, it had to have rich colors so that they would not appear faded or diluted on the screen.

The tonal separation with Kodachrome was impeccable with razor sharp edges and subtle gradations of color, a characteristic that is extremely difficult to match with pixels and digital technology. A key difference between the Kodachrome film grain and digital pixels is that the film grain is much smaller than even the smallest pixels. This translates to a photographic image that has significantly finer and smaller details and is obviously digital noise free. One of the most blatant shortcomings with digital photography is the noise that appears when you photograph in either low-light or tricky lighting.

This means that digital photographers are generally required to do a notable amount of what is called postprocessing, or correcting the digital shortcomings on a computer after the photograph is made. Many photographers become virtual slaves to digital postprocessing, and ironically enough, many digital photographers love this aspect more than actually shooting photographs and spend most of their photography time in front of a computer instead of doing the actual photography. Go figure.

First Nails in the Kodachrome Coffin (How dare they!)

The first few nails in Kodachrome’s coffin had to be courtesy of our friends at Fuji film in the mid-1980’s. Up until now, E-6 film generally sucked with only average results. For the first time, a company made a beautiful E-6 positive film that could rival Kodachrome. There was a large swing over to Fuji film, because the processing was dramatically easier, cheaper and faster. You could get same-day processing and not have to wait a week to get your film back from the lab (since I lived on the West coast, mine went to the big Kodak lab in Palo Alto). I must confess that I shot a lot of Fuji film. Dang, sorry Kodachrome.

Darth Fujifilm was beguiling and sucked a lot of us pros over to the dark side.

A really cool thing was happening with 35mm film cameras at this time, however. They were going electronic, making exposures way more precise and auto-focus cameras were just over the horizon. The first 35mm camera to have an electronic chip was the Canon AE-1 in 1976, and the first pro camera to have an electronic chip was the mighty Canon F-1N in 1981. I know this because I switched to Canon from Nikon at this time. My Nikons were stolen and when I had to replace them, I learned that Nikon was not manufacturing any pro cameras with electronic components; their stance was that in order to be professional, everything had to be manual. In my opinion, this is why Canon stays a jump ahead of Nikon at any given time. Canon got the jump on Nikon back in the 1980’s and Nikon never really caught up.

Canon F-1N, the first pro camera to have an electronic chip, a forerunner to today's digital slr cameras. This was my favorite camera for years because of it's toughness and speed, way faster than my older Nikon F2's. Photo courtesy of the Canon Museum.

Second Round of Nails in the Coffin (Ouch)

The advent of the 1990’s saw the dawn of digital photography rising on the horizon. Desktop publishing got it going with Apple computers in conjunction with a number of digital image editing programs. Adobe Photoshop was one of many players, and has been the one that has dominated the digital photography scene up to today. Back in 1994 I was setting up a home darkroom with my enlarger of choice, a Chromega D5 XL. I had also recently set up a digital workstation for digital photography, having learned the basics at Kodak’s cutting edge Center for Creative Imaging in Maine in 1993. Kodak was taking the lead with digital technology and invested heavily.

I noticed that enlargers were selling inordinately cheaply and were the first photographic casualties of the digital revolution in the mid-1990’s. By 1996 I and most other photographers were still shooting primarily film, but the evolutionary change was that darkrooms were being eliminated with the advent of high quality film scanners being produced. The pro camera bodies of the mid-90’s were really hybrid film cameras with digital components nearly nailed to them, and costed upwards of $20,000.00 for marginal quality photos. These first digital slr’s were used mostly by large news organizations that could afford them, and the average pro photographers were still shooting film and scanning the photographs with more affordable scanners. At this time, scanned film made dramatically better photographs than images from even the best digital cameras, but the writing was on the wall about better digital cameras to come.

Chinon ES-3000. A Kodachrome killer? Not likely. I purchased my first digital camera in 1996, a Chinon version that was manufacturing cameras for both Kodak and Apple computer. It was the same model as the Kodak DC-50, or Apple QuickTake 150, and costed just over $1,000.00 retail. It had the stellar resolution of 640 x 480 pixels at around ISO 200 with an equivalent 38-114mm lens.

This was one of the typical digital slr's from the early 90's. It was really a digital back attached to a regular film camera, so it was kind of a hybrid. It was a 1.5 megapixel camera, and the 460 version was the highest resolution camera available in 1995 (6.2 megapixels) and could be picked up for a cool $35,000.00 ($50,250.00 in 2010 dollars). Kodachrome killers? Nope, not even close, but they showed a spark of what was to come in a few short years.

Third Round of Machine-gun Nails in the Kodachrome casket (Adding insult to injury- digital nails)

By the late 90’s and first half of the 2010 decade, amateur digital cameras were starting to become commonplace. They were way smaller than this clunky Chinon (that looked ridiculously like a pair of binoculars with one lens) and made dramatically better images. Autofocus was also commonplace by this time and this generation of digital cameras for amateurs were nearly totally automated, so all the user had to do was point and shoot, which is how the term was coined. It was as if George Eastman’s dream for photography from the 1880’s was finally realized. These new small digital cameras made fairly good photos, but were still only generally from 2-4 megapixels up until around 2000. They made nicely rendered 4×6 prints that could be made from places like Costco or Walmart. This is what finally caused the demise of not only Kodachrome, but nearly all amateur film and film cameras.

Why shoot with expensive and fussy film that doesn’t always work for amateurs if they can shoot digitally for less money and get more reliable results? This more than anything else is what doomed Kodachrome; it was the analog equivalent of a typewriter in the computer age. It was still very reliable, worked well and made beautiful images, but who cares? It is the same reason why we don’t use typewriters today, it simply doesn’t make much sense.

On the professional end of digital photography, high-end single lens reflex cameras were finally coming down in price to be affordable to the average pro and amateur enthusiast. The Digital SLR (DSLR) that finally broke the barrier to become a mass phenomenon was the Canon EOS 300D in 2003. It broke the $900.00 barrier with a kit lens and made beautifully rendered 6 megapixel photos. It was at this point that advanced amateurs and many pros gave up film almost entirely. Other manufacturers like Nikon released similar affordable high-end DSLR’s too, and the floodgates opened for digital photography.

Canon EOS 300D, the first DSLR that became a mega-seller and set the standard for mass produced inexpensive cameras.

The next thing to happen was that literally dozens of manufacturers were making high quality inexpensive digital cameras by the second half of the 2010 decade. Online computing was also becoming a phenomenon and amateur photographers essentially stopped making prints altogether and instead shared photos online via email, portfolio sites and finally social networking sites such as Facebook.

This cool little digital camera has over a million photos made on it since 2006 and is one of the generation of cameras that put some of the final nails into Kodachrome's coffin. Oops. Sorry.

Final ferocious flurry of nails in the Kodachrome coffin… Done in by phones? What the?

The final nail had to be cell phones with better quality built-in cameras. Some people are even forgoing their digital cameras and use their cell phone cameras most of the time. For an example, the iPhone has a 5 meagapixel camera that auto-focuses, makes decent photos, and as a bonus, can easily email and post photos right from the phone without having to bother with memory cards to plug into the computer. Not only is film nearly completely archaic, but so are a lot of other digital cameras.

The final nail in Kodachrome’s coffin. High quality cell phone cameras. And I use mine a lot. It makes better photos than my first digital camera from 1996 that costed over $1,000.00. Ok, so I don’t have the latest iPhone. Mine is an old beat-up one from the first generation, so I appropriated this ad and dropped in my own photo, making social commentary on consumerism and stuff.

__________________________________________________

Part II

Us Kodachrome Die-hards

Some of us apparently never learn. We simply ignore what the other lemmings are doing and go our own way. There are a lot of us, judging from the fact that Dwayne’s photo was inundated with thousands upon thousands of rolls of Kodachrome this week and they unexpectedly had to run their processing machines around the clock to keep up with the demand.

As for myself, I shoot with a high-end Canon 5D, which is my meat ‘n potatoes camera. It’s rugged, fast and nearly as good as scanned film. Yes, you heard right, NEARLY AS GOOD AS SCANNED FILM. Film still has a dynamic range wider than most DSLR’s and sharper detail too. This means that if you’re a photographer with a specialized project that requires images better than what DSLR’s can make, you still need to shoot film. On the other hand, your own Canon 5D may serve all of your needs and more, and you may never need to bother with pesky film again, so just go with the flow, man.

I have an Arts and Humanities Fellowship that I’m working on that requires both digital and film photography. It’s titled Global Climate Crisis and I’ve been shooting with both a Contax G2 system and a Fuji TX-1 wide-field camera that shoots wide panoramic photos and I’m having fun with all of it.

The Contax G2 system uses the classic 45, 90 and 28mm prime lenses to optimize image quality even more. Prime lenses are non-zoom versions. Zoom lenses compromise image sharpness for ease of use, even as high-end pro zooms are improving. Couple this philosophy of impeccable photographic craft with something like a Kodachrome film emulsion and you end up with very high quality photographs, often better than what can be made with pro DSLR's (this film was a gift from a former student, Ross Knapper, who was familiar with my project). These are prime time lenses for us photographic purists; I guess pretenders are ok too, just leave the chintzy glass at the door. I guess this kind of makes my taste in gear a bit on the aristocratic side; I'm spoiled by stuff like Schneider and Carl Zeiss optics. Sorry. When it all gets to be a bit much, I just go shoot with my iPhone for a while, as evidenced by this very photo.

Fuji TX-1 Panoramic camera from the video at the top; this is cool, because it's really a medium format camera that shoots 35mm film. I was looking for a camera that would maximize the Kodachrome quality, so what better way than to shoot a frame of film that is twice as wide as a regular frame? I cheat often and with verve. Don't tell anyone. This is the same camera as the Hasselblad XPan by the way, it just has a different badge.

This is a chart that shows various film sizes relative to each other. As you can see, the Xpan (TX-1) is nearly as wide as a 6 x 7 cm negative size, and just a bit wider than a 6 x 6 cm (or 2 ¼" negative size). I love to take up lots of real estate with my film. I'm not cheap with it.

This is how the film looks from the lab & it's twice as wide as a regular 35mm frame. These are photos from glaciers in Alaska.

When you scan in big negatives, you need to use anti-Newton glass to hold the film flat, or you'll be most sincerely sorry. Take my word.

Scanning Kodachrome is always a challenge, especially these double wide frames of 35mm film. I special ordered some anti-newton glass that works great. Sir Isaac Newton discovered that if you put a fig newton cookie on glass it causes unsightly rings. Wait a minute, that’s not right. He discovered that if two sheets of glass are pressed together, you can see concentric colored rings in the glass. The rings appear because there is a small amount of air between the glass and light waves encounter interference. The anti-newton glass is slightly roughened, which simply prevents the rings from forming. This is one of the most common problems with scanning film. Be sure to have canned air to blow away all those cookie crumbs.

Sh Kahaadí Kutí, It's crazy weather, 2010, Digital Print, 23"w x 8.5" I thought that a gas mask was perfect because the air is so nasty around the coal fired power plants. I felt bad for the people who have to live on the same planet as all this junk. Hey, wait a minute... This is one of the largest coal fired power plants in the midwest. From the series on the Global Climate Crisis.

By the way, I never cared for Paul Simon’s Pop Kodachrome song. It seems too whiney and shallow, nearly delivered with a whimper, not befitting anything as subtle or sophisticated as Kodachrome. If it were to have a theme song, I’d pick something with vibrancy and verve, like Gato Barbieri’s Encuentros, or if from mainstream Pop, the Door’s Light My Fire. Screw that milquetoast stuff, pass the passion, deliver it with heat, man.

Dwayne's Kodachrome Tee

That's all folks. Well, nearly. I've still got 21 rolls of processed Kodachrome coming in the mail!

Ax dayéen áa yax haan, Face me

I only have one question for all you billionaire industrialists of the world who own the coal fired power plants. How are you going to enjoy your wealth when the world is too ravaged for you to spend it?

Isn't it kind of idiotic to live in a digital age where our so-called intelligent devices are run by coal? Hey Apple Computer and Microsoft, coal is a 19th century technology, right?

Larry McNeil’s Global Climate Crisis Photography

I just updated my website with new art, and it is exhilarating and vitalizing in every sense of the words. It reminded me of Terry Gilliam’s film The Adventures of Baron Munchausen, whose favorite quote was, A modicum of snuff may be most efficacious. Only with me, it’s A modicum of Art may be most efficacious.

It’s fitting that I got it done on the first day of Autumn since I’ve been fully immersed with it all summer. It is the most new work I’ve been able to make in years and have been going at a breakneck pace with everything since May.  At any rate, I am very, very thankful. I realize how lucky I am to be able to be making new art, especially in these tough economic times.

This is the splash page that offers a quick blurb about the site.

The Organizations and individuals who have made this new work possible:

My own school, Boise State University has led the charge with this new work by selecting me as one of the three Arts and Humanities Fellowship recipients. This is a truly visionary Fellowship research opportunity that pays your salary and benefits for the year-long fellowship. They offered a generous amount to help defray expenses, but I have learned that my project is quite expensive, and other people and organizations are stepping in to assist in various ways, which is great.

The Longhouse Education and Cultural Center at Evergreen College awarded me one of their National Native Creative Development Program grants, which was immediately allocated towards making new frames. Why new frames? For the new art, which is going to be shown at an opening next week!

The C.N. Gorman Museum at UC Davis is exhibiting my first batch of new art from this work, scheduled to open next week. It is a two person exhibition with my artist nephew Da-ka-xeen Mehner, who is also a Professor of Art at the University of Alaska. Having this exhibition planned for four months after I started the Fellowship work was a simple act of brilliance, because it meant that I had a solid deadline for showing new work. It did indeed light a fire under me to go at a much faster pace with my research. I already work at a brisk pace, but this was added incentive.

A Donor who wishes to remain anonymous, who purchased two prints to apply towards my additional Fellowship expenses (He’s donating the prints to a non-profit museum for a tax deduction, as explained below)

This is what the first image looks like. You just use the drop down menu items on the top right of the page to navigate to the various portfolios and so forth.

The fantastic news is that this is only the first batch of new work. A quarter of my fellowship year has gone by and I am energized at the prospect of continuing the work on this art until August of 2011. I’ve got a murderous pace set up here and am squeezing nearly every minute I can out of each day for this fellowship work. I really love it that it is an honorable endeavor with the subject of examining the ramifications of the global climate crisis.

One of the realities with my research is that I need to travel to make more photographs for the project. This is where the media of photography is distinctive; one actually needs to be in the presence of your subject, as opposed to researchers who can get their information from more traditional places, such as libraries. This means that I have an open call for people and organizations to buy my art to assist with my upcoming travel expenses.

How you an assist with the creation of this new art:

I am going to phase in a couple of fundraising strategies in the immediate future, including a grassroots community endeavor, where individuals can contribute smaller amounts in exchange for a small print. This was inspired by Karen Bubb’s innovative Send Bubb to China project. I met with Karen recently to ask her about how she pulled off this remarkable community driven art project. I don’t have time to get it going right now, but look for it soon.

My own website has a timely new feature that allows viewers to purchase prints via Paypal. My art sells for $3,600.00 per print, which is actually quite the killer deal for all you museums and collectors out there. I am dedicating the sale of each print towards the expenses for this fellowship project, so I am investing in it too. The sale of one print will allow me 1.5 trips to make new images. It is expensive being on the road, and it also covers material costs.

The fabulous news is that I have a person who bought two prints for this project! I am beyond excited. It means that I have my travel paid for a  few more forays to make images. The good news is that we figured out how to make it a legitimate tax deduction too, but only if he donates the prints to a non-profit museum. Everyone wins in this scenario; me for being able to make new work, the donor, who got a nice tax deduction, and the museum, who was able to acquire two prints of mine.

Now it's easy for potential buyers to acquire prints online with hardly any fuss via Paypal.

One of the realities with this new work is that lots of people are interested in the subject of our global climate crisis and want to assist with the project in some manner. This tells me that it goes beyond a surface desire for art and goes deeper towards helping to figure out how to beat the seemingly overwhelming threat of this crisis. I can say in all truthfulness that this new work is the will of the people, and again, I am grateful.

I offer my sincere gratitude to everyone who is helping make this work possible. It is clear that I could never have done this alone, it is a true community driven endeavor. Thank you, Gualsheésh.

Larry Xhe Dhé Tee Harbor Jackson McNeil

Click Here to See the New Art!

Tee Harbor Jackson interviews Larry McNeil about the Lunacy of the Climate Crisis with his Arts and Humanities Fellowship

From the photo-collage "Winter in Juneau," regarding Global Climate Change. Larry is looking through an ice lens.

Part One, The Creative Process and Global Climate Change

THJ: I see that you’re busy in the midst of making new work, congratulations; you must feel pretty good about it.

LM: (laughs) Don’t congratulate me yet, there are less than eight of them so far. I’m still never sure how the public is going to respond to the work, but I guess we’ll see soon enough with an upcoming exhibition in a couple of weeks in California.

THJ: What exactly are you doing with your new work? Is it a continuation of your Fly by Night Mythology series?

LM: No, it’s about Global Climate Change. I just received an Arts and Humanities Fellowship from Boise State University, where I take the year off from teaching to dedicate to a new body of work. I think the advantage of this new work is that nearly everyone on the planet is aware of the subject, because it has already affected her or him in some manner. I can’t seem to get it out of my head. Some days it makes me either angry, a bit depressed or incredulous at how remarkably stupid we humans can be, especially here and now at the start of the 21^st Century on planet Earth. If a subject is stirring up that many emotions and thoughts, one should definitely make work about it.

THJ: What can you share with us about what you’ve learned so far?

LM: I traveled to quite a few coal fired power plants earlier this summer and realized that it is one thing to read about them, but quite another to be right there with them in all of their immensity. On a very critical level, the problem of coal powered power plants is a simple issue of money. As long as there are billions of dollars to be made from burning coal, it will continue. A simple clarity doesn’t mean solving the problem will be easy however, it just means it is easy to comprehend. It’s kind of like saying if you want to build a pyramid you just have to get millions of truck-sized bricks and place them according to your engineer. It’s a simple concept, but an overwhelming task. It’s the same here; it will be nearly impossible to get an entire industry to give up their multi-billion dollar cash cow (actually it’s more likely a multi-trillion dollar, Euro or Yen industry internationally), which unfortunately, is the burning of coal to make electricity. Easy to say, but nearly impossible to accomplish.

Yei ayaguxdatée, It Will be Stormy

I started this work with only a broad idea of how I wanted it to look, but knew I wanted a white raven to start things off. He is a signifier for being rebellious against corrupt aristocrats. I think that in order to climb out of this global climate melt-down, we have to rebel against the status quo, especially against wealthy industrialists who pollute our Earth with impunity.

THJ: So tell me about the look of these new photographs. Why the gas masks?

LM: It was definitely a visceral response to the coal fired power plants. When I got home from photographing the coal fired plants, I had a nasal irritation that turned into a nasty infection. When I was walking around them, the air definitely felt acidic, like you were breathing something that stung your nasal passages. I was in the thick of it for nearly ten days and like I mentioned, it started irritating my nasal passages. After a week, it was a gross infection and my doctor prescribed a topical antibacterial for my nasal passages. While photographing the coal fired plants I literally wished I had a gas mask and was dreading breathing the air in their vicinity. It was nasty and I felt bad for the people who have to work around them or live nearby. I especially felt bad for the people, plants and animals that had to live on the same planet where hundreds of millions of tons of coal waste go up in the air every year. Very bad indeed, and that is no joke.

"...It will be Stormy" detail. Global Climate Change.

THJ: What can we do if the electricity industry has no incentive to stop burning coal?

LM: To tell the truth, I’m not sure. Becoming informed about how truly nasty it is may be the first step. There are links all over the internet regarding the Climate Crisis, including http://www.climatecrisis.net/ and our own Environmental Protection agency at http://www.epa.gov/climatechange/ The irony with the federal EPA is that in reality, they’re just as helpless as the rest of us when it comes to protecting the environment from the harm of these coal fired plants. Unfortunately, that is not a cynical opinion, but rather a stark, hot reality. I think that in order to really solve the problem, we simply stop using the electricity from the coal fired plants and stop the demand. We can’t do that though, because we need our electricity and there is no other viable alternative right now. Believe me, I think about it nearly every time I turn on my lights or watch a program on our big-screen television. So I acknowledge myself as being a part of the problem, because I’m buying the power derived from the burning of coal.

"...It will be Stormy" detail. Global Climate Change.

THJ: How does that make you feel?

LM: It’s one of those demented paradoxes. Here I am making work that has to do with informing what the issue is all about and yet I’m increasing its usage while doing it. It could drive you crazy, but I guess we have to start somewhere. Part of the reality is that burning coal is the easiest and cheapest route for us consumers to take right now. It would be very expensive to try and switch to wind and solar energy right now for our house. If I could make the switch right this moment and pay the same utility bill, I certainly would make the switch. But we can’t, the infrastructure is obviously not there. When we built our house back in 2005, it was prohibitively expensive to install solar panels on our house. We have the ideal setup for it too, with near constant sunlight with a southern exposure in a desert. It’s truly stupid to burn coal when this ideal situation is right here, but we can’t afford to make the switch, especially in this economy. This is the insanity that nearly all of us face. In the meantime, we continue to pump ghastly amounts of carbon dioxide into our atmosphere every day around the world. Wouldn’t it be ironic to knowingly kill ourselves in our own wastes? I think that the punk term Sewercide fits perfectly.

"...It will be Stormy" detail. Global Climate Change.

THJ: What about your actual work for the series? Can you tell us what you were thinking about as you started working on it?

LM: Starting new work is kind of like a first date when you’re single. You’re a bit nervous about saying the wrong thing and wonder if you stink, either literally or intellectually. In the end (or the beginning) you just have to get over it and dive in. Because I’ve been working on various projects over the years, certain practices kick in kind of automatically, like getting the creative process humming. For an example, it is generally a good practice to make work that stirs something passionate deep inside you; I believe it’s at the core of the creative process. You should always make work about the passions you have and not ignore them. This is one of my key challenges as an art professor too by the way; that is, to help students get in touch with what is relevant in their lives. It’s always very rewarding to see that proverbial light bulb go on and have them discover the possibilities and potential of their own work.

THJ: Can you talk about the creative process and how you get started with new work? That seems to be a common challenge with artists; how do you approach it?

LM: It seems that at some point, you’re clear about the core idea, like I was with Global Climate Change. It’s not always like that though; sometimes it’s more nebulous, enshrouded in fog, but you know instinctively that there is something good in there to pursue. Sometimes it’s a mix of both. It seems to me that the creative process can be a slippery state of being that sometimes seems to be part subterfuge, part conscious strategy, and part intuitive act, all mixed together to figure out as you go along. As for myself, I get the feeling that part of it comes directly from my personality without much filtering, and yet other parts seem to be gifts from the creator; pure happenstance that I can’t really claim. I suspect that the creative process favors those whom constantly push it, but who knows? It’s that slippery aspect that remains a mystery, which I suppose is likely a good thing, because if we had all the answers, it would likely be a bit predictable and bland, so here is to the creative process (raises coffee mug).

THJ: Can you be more specific? What about advice for young artists trying to figure it out?

LM: I think an essential part of the creative process simply involves rolling up one’s sleeves and getting busy. In my opinion, the magic of the creative process simply lies in the act of doing. It is fairly common knowledge that the brain gets very adept at whatever it does the most. I would put forth the assertion that if you spend enough time learning something and perfecting it, you not only get accomplished at it, but you may also start doing something entirely new and unique that may be altogether your own, especially with a sense of style or visual aesthetic. Lots of artists start to make their own visual vernacular, which is when art becomes very interesting.

THJ: Can you give me an example with your own work?

LM: Maybe. I’ve been working with photography for about thirty years and when I envision a project, sometimes I have a general idea of what I want to say with the work, and how it may look, but the nitty-gritty essence of it only unfolds as I actually do the work. This means that the essence of the art happens more as a journey where one sometimes charts a general course, but a substantial part of it has to do with discovery and being open to what you find along the way. Maybe it means having the ability to notice things that other people don’t pay much attention to and emphasizing it with your work in some manner, but who knows?

This is snapshot of me working on the new print made in January at the Te Tihi artist's gathering in Rotorua, New Zealand, sponsored by Toi Maori Aotearoa. I started the print there, but couldn't finish it because I hadn't made the journey to various coal fired power plants yet. The only part not completed was the power plant, which was a critical component of the print, so the middle was blank for a number of months.

"X’áant xwaanúk Tléil yee ushk’, I'm angry you are bad."

THJ: Can you tell us why the above print looks the way it does?

LM: The new print “X’áant xwaanúk Tléil yee ushk’, I’m angry You are bad” is about Global Climate Change and has a foreboding looking set of smokestacks at the center of the print. Nearly every country in the world has these nasty coal fired power plants spewing their carbon dioxide (CO2) into the atmosphere, which is what makes them universal. Ravens also appear on nearly every continent (except Antarctica, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they were there too), but only our own Northwest Coast people have the legend of a white raven, so far as I know. It’s meant to be kind of satirical with the white raven looking into the empty head of a human wearing a gas mask. To me, this print feels like an old crumbling wall with ancient tribal crests and designs in the background, among other things. The white raven has to do with overcoming evil and being transformed from white to black along the way. It was vital to have the coal fired plant in there, because it is the international problem that hopefully will not be our undoing.

THJ: Does this mean that your work is targeted towards an international audience?

LM: Yes, definitely. One of my very conscious strategies with this work was to make art that has a broad audience, because the work is ultimately about humanity and not any one group. For an example, some of the key layers of meaning with the above print are for all of humanity, not one narrow demographic. We’re all faced with the nastiness of coal fired power plants.

The other element that helps to make the new work universal is my use of photography. In my opinion, photography helps to break down artificial barriers between cultures just because every culture knows what photography is and how to easily navigate it. You could say the same thing about other media too, including painting, sculpture, literature, video and music, which is the value of what the humanities have to offer.

I was looking for a dark, gritty feel with a bit of trepidation and subtle unease on the side. Some ravens are naturally regal and project a real air of aloofness, seemingly above us mere mortals.  I hardly ever have to look very hard for them, it’s the look they project when I’m around.

THJ: What about your specific cultural identity as a Tlingit and Nisgaá person? Doesn’t that influence the content and visual aesthetics of your work?

LM: By all means; this is the part of the discussion where our life’s experiences and historical background enters the fray. One’s interpretation about the meaning(s) of life, if you will. In my opinion, one of the basic truisms with humanity is that you can’t escape the culture in which you were raised; it will always be a part of your character. This is true regardless of whichever culture you are from in the world. I once had an audience member at a museum comment that she wished she had a culture to draw from for her work. I laughed at the silliness of the comment, but assured her that her culture from middle America was just as teeming and vibrant as any other in the world, all it took was acknowledging that it exists and that it has its own quirks, strengths and distinctiveness. By the way, I’m also a fully entrenched member of middle America with all strings attached, especially as a University Professor who helps teach young students how to become better humans via the educational system.

You can try and run away from your background, but it’s like trying to shake the DNA out of your body. In the end, this effort will only make you dizzy, annoyed and maybe indignant, so why deny it? If you’re in touch with the content of your art, you’re generally tapping into your life’s experiences and using them as momentum for your work; it is who you are and it is a rarefied strength to be nurtured and tended to, so that perhaps a bit of wisdom may become an element of what one is producing. I’m pretty sure this is right.

I love how everything kind of blends in together on this thrashed out wall, from our ancient Chilkat designs, to the filthy coal power plant, to the basket designs of Kéet, or Killer Whale teeth.

THJ: How does this apply to artists from other cultures trying to succeed in the world?

LM: I think it just means that you need to be true to yourself and use your natural strengths, experiences and ways of interpreting them, regardless of your demographic background. The key here is the act of interpretation with your work; this is what makes you unique in the universe and you can’t hold back. If you hold back, I think that mediocrity may sneak into the fray. At its best, this becomes a journey of discovery for both yourself and the viewer, where we have the opportunity to learn new things, which is perhaps what humanity is all about; that we do have the ability to better ourselves, whatever that means. This sensibility is essentially what I bring to the art academy as a scholar and artist for young artists.

THJ: I have a lot of questions about your other work too, including a discussion about photography, but it appears we’re out of time.

LM: I’d like to add that this body of work is having its inaugural showing at the C.N. Gorman Museum at UC Davis, where my nephew Da-ka-xeen Mehner and I are having a two person exhibition. Hulleah Tsinhnahjinnie (Director of the Museum) and Veronica Passalacqua (Curator) have graciously invited us to exhibit together, Gunalshéesh, thank you.

Arts & Humanities Fellowship sponsored by Boise State University

Exhibition sponsored by C.N. Gorman Museum from September 28 – December 5, 2010

With additional funding from the Evergreen Longhouse via their National Native Creative Development Grant

Part Two: Photography, How Process informs Meaning

All images are Copyright Larry McNeil, 2010, All Rights Reserved. You must have permission of the artist in order to reproduce any of them.

This year I earned a Boise State University Arts and Humanities Fellowship from our enlightened school. Thank you so much, I have a heartfelt gratitude for being granted the year away from teaching to make art. My Fellowship project is about Global Climate Change, as viewed from the Humanities. After a few months of concentrated research on the subject, it’s become ever clearer that a large part of humanity is either in various degrees of denial about climate change, or are cashing in on the things that are bad for the environment at an accelerated pace, which of course is quite insane. But one example are all the new coal fired power plants that America and other countries have been building over the past year, knowing full well the overwhelming negative ramifications of their actions.

The above has also made it clear that this Fellowship is likely going to be significantly more controversial than I’d originally envisioned it. The reality of global climate change seemed to be very plain and uncomplicated, but the cover-up actions of wealthy industrialists has made this stance murky and seemingly questionable. More on this later, but the effect on my work has been to make it more direct and hopefully, enlightening for the viewers.

I’ve been very busy with doing the travel, photography, editing and all of the other creative challenges linked to the Fellowship . For the first time in over a month I have an opportunity to come up for air as they say, and reflect on the work for a moment. This is a critical part of the creative process, because it allows me time to stop and absorb what’s going on with the work, let it soak in and make any changes with how it looks, what it’s saying, and the ever crucial next step.

Ravens have been a part of my visual vocabulary for a long time and I thought I’d lock him out of this work. I find it to be a bit perplexing how I made a conscious creative decision and raven snuck back in, nearly all by himself. Perhaps it is the intuitive part trumping conscious decisions. Blackbirds. They’re everywhere.

Anyway, just one of the prints has a blackbird for now. I call it the leveraging piece that set me free for all the others. It had some of the visual aesthetics I was looking for, including a gritty feel in black and white that I really like for part of the project. I like the reality of grit and the metaphor of black and white, whatever that means. I’m still figuring it out, but keep going back to it.

Desktop sneak preview of new Fellowship work. That sly raven is everywhere; this is a small part of the larger print.

Part of the dialogue has to do with the traditional role that raven has played as a transformer or changeling, and the reality that human beings play the role of transformers quite well too. After all, there is no other animal that has transformed our home planet as much as humans, at least in recent memory. My work retains its focus on changelings, only there is an obvious shift to the two-legged variety.

One of my favorite creative devices is this simple little pocket journal. It’s small enough to just fit in my pocket and as I think of ideas, they go into the notebook. It’s not really a journal, but is literally a finely crafted miniature version, made of splendid Italian leather with heavy archival paper. When one is in the midst of an ongoing project, ideas come in unpredictably sometimes, and it’s good to try and capture them before they fly off to wherever they came from. So in a way, this is my own version of a dreamcatcher. I am also in love with words and wanted a worthy place for them to gather strength prior to powering up my art, if that makes any sense.

This is a miniature version of a finely crafted, handmade journal that I use as a part of my creative process.

I keep thinking about the juxtaposition of human responses to various experiences and why they are either visceral or intellectual. For an example, this morning a friend posted a photo of a large centipede and I related a story of how I instinctively and instantly killed one that was running under our baby’s crib. You can’t get much more visceral than that, especially to an overt threat. In my opinion, we humans are lax with our response to the carbon dioxide emissions that are a key cause for global climate change because we simply can’t see it. It’s invisible, so we don’t have the fast and instinctive response to it as we may have if it were visible. Anyway, this is simply a theory that is already finding a visual manifestation in the Fellowship work.

I’ll post more entries as I progress, including some about process, because it has been accentuated with the work. Some artists just gloss over this aspect, but I find it compelling because process is such an essential element of my visual strategies, and is why the work looks like it does. In the meantime, it’s off to make a pot of sumptuous morning coffee. Pull up a chair and give me your mug, it’s pretty good.