The art world is dominated, for the most part, by a fanatical adoration of subject (so work can be easily promoted and blurbed about) and object (as in the actual salable print or sculpture, etc.)  So basically, art “projects” tend to be about some “interesting” subject, in a series of a manageable length, lets say 10-20 pieces, which can be split up and sold as singular objects with assigned value.

Photography is about the individual vision, whether it’s concerned with controlling context, aesthetic interpretation, etc. It’s not really about the subject, at least it can’t be just the subject that’s interesting.

These excerpts come from an interesting article at IAA Blog, On Ambition and the Photographic Lifestyle, regarding the nature of photographic projects vs. the idea of photography as a “way of life.”  This juxtaposition questions the motives of both ways of making photographs and distinguishes the differences each approach generally follows for picture output and marketability.  On one hand, working via the Photographic Project can fall prey to or be too heavily influenced by art market expectations, while on the other hand it provides viable means of cataloguing one’s vision and interests into a cohesive body that can focus a photographer’s efforts into something that is more condensed and marketable.  The “way of life” approach is described as a more altruistic endeavor.  It is organic and unconcerned with market whims but also vulnerable to falling into outmoded means of seeing, as well as being drowned by the sea of mediocrity and irrelevance saturating so many flickr portfolios and blurb books.

Last night while en route to Rouses for groceries my girl and I noticed huge swarms of insects flying around the street lamps of the Garden District.  We discovered that the insects were termites, and they come out around the same time every evening in early summer here.  They swarm about the bright lights for an hour or so, then disappear back into everyone’s walls where they eventually eat away at the structure until the entire house has to be covered in giant tarps and bug bombed for weeks.  It is all quite a sight, and just one more thing that makes New Orleans unique.  

This is from our courtyard, tonight:

My first day on the search revealed a nice set of clues. During a walk to the Walgreens on St. Charles my girl and I found a disposable camera lying in the grass near the sidewalk. I felt it had the potential to be something special despite the fact that the counter said “39″ and the interior was fogged with condensation from the day’s thunderstorms.  Perhaps one of the Muses left it for us.  After having the film run through the 1hr. processor, I found there to be only a few spots in it that were unreadable.  Otherwise, it seems to describe a boy’s trip to the Barataria swamps down at Jean Lafitte.  I’m sorry the boy lost his camera, but I’m also quite happy that he and I could collaborate and that the first images for the project aren’t entirely my own. 

Feb 23, 1989

Dear Mr. Springsteen—

This is a fan letter—of sorts. I’ve always been an admirer of yours, for your musicianship, and for being one of the few sane guys in your field.

The immediate occasion is that my favorite nephew, Will Percy, has even a higher opinion of you. He is a level-headed perceptive young lawyer and generally knows what he is talking about.

Of particular interest is from learning—from an article in America, the Jesuit weekly—that you are Catholic. If this is true, and I am too, it would appear that the two of us are rarities in our professions: you as a post-modern musician, I as a writer, a novelist and philosopher. That—and your admiration for Flannery O’Connor. She was a dear friend of mine, though she was a much more heroic Catholic than I. The whole time I knew her, she was dying of Lupus Erythematosus, a fatal and extremely unpleasant disease. A prime example of her faith: she was participating in a seminar with some modish ex-Catholics like Mary McCarthy. Mary, thinking to be generous toward the church, said something like: “Well, it is true, some of the Catholic rituals, like the Eucharist, are good symbols.” To which Flannery, who hadn’t said a word, responded with a single sentence: “I say that it it’s only a symbol, to hell with it.” You will recognize Flannery’s tone.

This is to say only that I am most interested in your spiritual journey, and if there is any other material about it, I’d be obliged if you will tell me.

Unfortunately, I have cancer and am taking radiation for it. I am far from well and am not able yet to receive visitors.

Since I don’t know your address I am handing this to Will who says he knows where to send it.

All my best wishes for your superb career.

Sincerely,

Walker Percy

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2/8/97

Dear Mrs. Percy,

This is a letter so long in coming I’m almost embarrassed to write, but I’ve gotten to know Will a little bit and he’s encouraged me on, so here we go.

A few years back when I received Dr. Percy’s letter, I wasn’t very familiar with his work…my memory is that [his] leter was written on a yellow legal pad and, as is mine, his handwriting was not the easiest to decipher. It was a passionate letter about the comforts and difficulties of reconciling the inner life of a sophisticated man, a writer’s life, with the Catholic faith. I recall Dr. Percy’s explaining how one had brought depth and meaning to the other for him. He was curious to know how I handled my issues of faith….

It is now one of my great regrets that we didn’t get to correspond. A while after receiving Dr. Percy’s letter, I picked up “The Moviegoer,” its toughness and beauty have stayed with me. The loss and search for faith and meaning have been at the core of my own work for most of my adult life. I’d like to think that perhaps that is what Dr. Percy heard and was what moved him to write me. Those issues are still what motivate me to sit down, pick up my guitar and write. Today, I would have had a lot to put in that letter….

I hope this letter finds you well and that someday when I’m down in your neck of the woods or you’re up in mine we can meet. I’d love to have you come to a show, you might like it!

Best,

Bruce Springsteen

P.S. I’m in Australia at the moment and I’ve just begun “The Message in the Bottle.”

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to follow up, goto Rock & Read: Will Percy Interviews Bruce Springsteen from DoubleTake Magazine

It is probably quite unlucky to go on about a title for a project that has yet to truly begin – probably as equally unlucky as changing the name of a boat – but I seem drawn to it, as if finding the right title will help shape what this project is to become.  Or, if I’m lucky, the first title will be so good that not only will it stick throughout the course of the project but that it will grow a subtitle, or be the sort that uses the even sexier “comma and/or” device like that used by Conor Oberst for his album Lifted or The Story Is in the Soil, Keep Your Ear to the Ground.

Here are a few ideas:

Where Happiness Costs So Little

The Sickness Unto Death

Diary of the Last Romantic

A Life Without the Old Longings

The Possibility of a Search

How To Harness Your Secret Powers

As of now, and as you can see from the probably temporary title for the blog, I am leaning toward “Where Happiness…” and “How to Harness…”  We’ll see how it all flushes out, or how quickly I’ll come across some other flash of a phrase in the next chapter I’m soon to be re-reading.

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Update: more ideas

Everything Is Going To Be Alright

Our Name Is Increase

So Ended My Thirtieth Year To Heaven, As the Poet Called It.