The Rain in Davenport Falls Gently on my Tent

I head back to Davenport this weekend for the Riverssance Festival of Fine Art at Lindsey Park in the Village of East Davenport (September 21 & 22). Rain is in the forecast for Friday night, Saturday night and Sunday.

It rained last year on Saturday night. I had sat down to eat a piece of pizza when my phone rang. It was an unidentified number with a local area code so I picked it up. Someone from the Festival called to tell me that I might want to come down to the grounds to check out my tent, which had partially collapsed under the weight of the rain.

One corner of the tent hung low because a truss bar on the heavy-duty popup tent wasn’t so heavy-duty. With the help of the Festival team, we stored my art inside my dry road case and secured the corner of the tent by tying it to a parked side-by-side. In the morning, we splinted the broken truss - again, thanks to the same Festival team member - and I worked the second day of the Festival with one eye on my customers and one eye on the repaired truss.

I eventually relaxed among the warm conversations about my art with enthusiastic supporters and, fortunately, buyers. It reminded me why I like art shows so much. They allow me to talk about the art with people who love art.

So, if you’re on Iowa’s east coast this weekend, I hope you’ll come down to the riverfront, stroll among the artists booths, and let’s talk art.

Oh, bring your umbrella.

Self Portrait (2024)

Road Trips

My love of travel was fueled by the time spent in small and large cities alike as a trade magazine editor in the furniture industry and later small towns and rural areas as a writer for custom publications covering agricultural topics. The photos taken on those trips were made to illustrate the article—manufacturing plans, farmers, more farmers—and that documentary approach informs my images still today.

Several years ago, I discovered that I had travelled to 39 states, so I put it in the back of my mind to look for opportunities to hit those other states at some point in my life.

Two years ago, I travelled south to meet up with a college friend in Oklahoma, see what captured the heart of Georgia O’Keeffe in New Mexico, and make photos of what I se there. 40 and 41.

Early last summer I had the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to go to Hawaii on a cruise with my wife, Kelli, and see the deep blue waters of Kona, and capture photos, several of which are not going to found in your typical travel book. 42.

In the heat of last summer, I took off for Wyoming and Montana to capture cowboy culture and some big sky on a solo photo trip. 43 and 44. Trying to avoid the 100-degree temps, in Wyoming, I compared Google maps to the three-day weather forecast and figured Butte, Montana was my least blazing choice. I didn’t find cowboy culture, but the town is known for its mining industry. Butte is home to the largest historical district in the United States, and you couldn’t walk a block without reading a brass historical marker. The front door to my little guest house opened onto an alley, and I spotted the window in the garage next door (photo above). Across the alley, was a crossbuck barn door that drew my lens. Eventually, I’d also make a series of black and white abstract images of one of the many headframes that dot the landscape. These were the structures that stood atop the mines and held the lifts that took the miners deep into the earth.

Head Frame No. 1

Head Frame No. 7

Headframe No. 6

I sometimes capture these road trips in magazine format. If you’d like to buy a copy of “True Road Trip: Out West”, you can do so here. The Hawaii trip is captured in “True Blue Hawaii”, which you can purchase here. Other Road Trip magazines can be viewed and purchased on the ‘Zines page on my website.

I am blessed to see these compositions and make images that are pleasant to my eye and attractive to other. It’s very affirming to be told “you have a very good eye” by those who see my work. It helps me keep making this kind of art when they purchase a piece for their homes or offices.

Later this year, we’ll be headed to Maine, Vermont, and New Hampshire to see what I can find and photograph there. Stay tuned for 45, 46, and 47.

Empty Promises: No More Art Fairs

This image will not be on display at any of my future art fairs. It draws too much negative attention.  

I made the image when I came across a pile of retired turbine blades piled near the Elsworth exit along a Interstate 35. The repeating shapes intrigued me. They also drew art show visitors into my tent throughout 2023. At each event, I had to explain what they were and what they weren’t. Recylable. The technology to make them light and strong also made them practically impossible to recycle.

By the middle of last summer, one visitor told me a company in Louisiana (Missouri) has started recycling the pieces. He also told me another company was “making money hand-over-fist dumping them into a canyon” near Casper, Wyoming. It ends up that they were burying them. That same conversation came up whenever someone asked about the image. A lot of people knew the empty promises of wind turbines.

By naming the piece “Empty Promises”, I clearly communicated my disappointment with the technology when I found out why they were piled up along that interstate. At first, I had no problem talking about the turbines, getting visitor’s views and experiences with the giants that dot the Iowa landscape. The piece is also part of my “Still Standing” exhibit, but I never anticipated that it would dominate art fair conversations the way it has.

In an art fair environment, it detracts from the stories behind my other work. It brings people down, and keeps them from considering the majestic Chariton grain elevator that a local man is making plans to use as the backdrop to a new gathering space and food truck stop. When they see the turbines, they can’t see Sprung #2 and fondly remember sleeping on old exposed box springs. When they’re angry at empty promises, they aren’t in the right mindset to smile knowingly at the lone cow on a hill, silhouetted against a golden Iowa sunset.

One role of art is to stir up conversations, but those aren’t the conversations I enjoy having at art fairs. How about you? What experiences do you expect at an art fair?

Orange is My Favorite Color

I don’t know why I love the color orange. It might be because I was born in Tennessee, and the University of Tennessee’s colors were orange and white, and the Vols were popular, even in west Tennessee.

My mom taught me early on, however, to listen to the St. Louis Cardinals on the radio and watch for them on the Game of the Week on TV. We once went to St. Louis for a weekend homestand, and I came to like the color red.

Because I liked the Cardinals, I figured I’d cheer for the St. Louis Football Cardinals when I learned about the NFL. It was just easier that way, except when I showed up at the park with my white helmet blazoned with that fierce Cardinal in profile. The Bears, Vikings, and Packers fans in my new hometown of Davenport, Iowa didn’t know what to make of this kid who said y’all and whose favorite football team was a baseball team.

I went to Davenport West High School and cheered for red-clad Falcon sports teams. I had a red and white letter jacket, but never had a red letter to sew on it.

I flirted briefly with going to the University of Tennessee but the stunning campus in Ames, Iowa made me a loyal son, forever true, clad in cardinal and gold. Today, I bleed cardinal and gold. Go Cyclones!

When the Cardinals left St. Louis for the warmer climes of Arizona, I switched my allegiance to another red team from the Midwest and became a Chiefs fan. Chiefs Nation wears red.

Red is everywhere in my life because it was everywhere in my life. Orange athletic shoes are hard to find, but I can usually find some red ones. Red shirts, caps, jackets? Piece of cake. Orange is a rare find. For me, red is orange’s steady, normal cousin. Orange stayed up all night, read underground comics, and listened to jazz.  

In nature, where the setting sun calls out the orange in everything. I fell in love again with orange on my recent trip to Utah and Arizona where orange was the star, red was the understudy. When paired with a sapphire sky, there’s nothing more amazing than orange. In the rocks, in the adobe, orange dances with blue.

Now, if you want to decorate your home, orange is not a common choice. It usually doesn’t go with the drapes. I understand that some art buyers buy art to match the carpet or the drapes or the lamps. That’s the reason some buyers buy art: to match a sofa. Most can find mass produced art in popular colors Hobby Lobby, furniture stores, or even art shows.  

As an artist, I’m interested in making a connection with a slightly different buyer, a buyer who also wants to know the story behind the art and get to know something about the artist.   

My favorite color is orange.          

Peppers

Color My World...or Not

When I first began to sell my work at art fairs, I had people tell me to focus on either color images or black and white images. I struggled with that advice because I approach photography with a bit of a documentarian’s eye. I’ll make a black and white image when it’s appropriate and a color image when color is appropriate. When I shoot senior photos,for example, I’ll deliver a variety of images -- some in color, some in black and white -- with different edits depending upon what the image calls for. I don’t deliver 15 shots with the same edit.

I once took the advice about choosing one or the other and filled my space with black and white images. The very FIRST person that stopped in my booth tht day said “Oh, you don’t do color photography?!” Fortunately, I wasn’t drinking, or a spit-take would have been forthcoming!

 This summer, I plan on grouping my work with black and whites on one wall, color images on another, and sepia-toned images on a third. That classification tends to group subject matter, too. Hard lines and geometric shapes seem to call for black and white….except when they don’t. See the images with this post, the first of which is a bird flying over a rural bridge and the second which is of a Carlisle school bus. Both have solid lines that play a key role in the image, but the color of the bus is essential for meaning.

I’ll use color when I need to use color. Otherwise, it’s going to be black and white.

Are you drawn to black and white or to color? Or does subject catch your attention first? Tell me in the comments.

Confronting Art: How do you complete the story?

Two summers ago, I had the opportunity to visit The Modern Art Museum Fort Worth with my friend, Karla Haynes. I was drawn to this scenario taking place in a side gallery. The young man was slowly moving toward the installation piece on the floor in front of him. The blank walls helped build a sense of isolation and helped me title this piece “Confronting Art.”

I never got close enough to the actual piece on the floor to see who the artist was because I was so interested in the viewer’s reaction. I wondered what he was thinking, if he liked it, and what it meant to him.

One school of artists believes their art makes a statement for the viewer to accept or reject. Others believe that the meaning of a piece is up to the viewer. I land somewhere in the middle. I suggest a story, but it’s up to the viewer to write the ending.

At my exhibitions and art shows, I’ll watch for signs of engagement by the viewer – a smile, a giggle, or a look of surprise or memory, for example – and then I ask what caused the reaction. A couple summers ago, a pair of 50-something women stopped at my booth and smiled broadly while looking at some 5x7 prints of classic cars I had taken at a local car show several years before. When I asked what created that reaction, they told me they used to work in Detroit’s auto plants, and these small images brought back fond memories. They bought the small prints because they completed the stories I began.

For me, that’s the “why” behind my art. I want to hear the conversations. I want to hear how viewers complete the story. I want to hear how they confront art.

Stop by and see me at an art show this summer and finish a story.