my opening

Thanks to everyone who made it to the opening at Leedy-Voulkos last night. It was great to see you and feel all the love. I so appreciated all the nice feedback on the work.

You can click here to see the show.

the heart is a lonely hunter

My body of new work, "The Heart is a Lonely Hunter," is now in the capable hands of Joel at the Leedy-Voulkos Art Center. I've taken the pictures, printed them, framed them, cried and sweated and smiled and bled over/on them, and this morning arranged them in some sort of visually pleasing order. I think the selected wall color compliments the tonal ranges of the prints really well, and I'm happy with the way the installation is going.

Friday night is the opening reception. It's supposed to  be a pretty nice day and evening here in Kansas City, so I hope to see lots of you out and about. I'll be at Leedy-Voulkos from 6 - 9 PM.

Along with 38 pictures, you'll also find a show catalogue and my older books, all for sale in the gallery store.

On Saturday I'll post the images on my website and in an email blast to everyone on my mailing list. Those of you who are out of town will be able to see the exhibit that way.

Now pardon me while I go catch some zzzzzs.

richard

Richard

I've known Richard for a couple years now. He's seems much older this summer, suffering from a bad hip among other physical ailments.

Richard lives on the street with his dog. He gets around in a wheelchair now, and often I see his dog pulling him down the sidewalk. Richard hangs out in my neighborhood. Some mornings I practically stumble over him on my way to the gym.

I made this portrait in the park next door to my building. Jamison Square has a really cool fountain that attracts families, especially on hot summer afternoons. Kids squeal with delight as the water fills the basin, then recedes. Yesterday I found Richard sprawled on the grassy area in front of the fountain. His dog was lying next to him, the wheelchair at their feet. Kids dodged them as they scampered to and from the flowing water. Parents set up their blankets so they wouldn't get too close. Richard smelled like beer. And his dog wan't tied up. And there was leftover food and trash all around him. He was passed out for awhile, oblivious to the delightful sounds offered up by kids enjoying one of the last lingering days of summer. When he woke up, he climbed into his chair and sat for this picture.

The homeless and the families of Portland coexist at this park, just as they do at most of the other urban outdoor spaces. I don't think the families do it very happily, but they do it just the same.

When we parted, I told him I hope he gets the hip replacement he needs. Richard told me he hopes I find what I'm looking for.

what am i hunting for?

“Deep in the heart of Summer, sweet is life to me still,

But my heart is a lonely hunter that hunts on a lonely hill.”

I've spent a lot of time hunting for and making pictures in New Orleans and Portland this summer. Soon I will be in Uganda doing more of the same.

It's what I love doing more than almost anything else in my life. 

Jane Aspinwall, Associate Curator of Photography at the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art, used the above quote from a late 19th century poem titled "The Lonely Hunter" by Fiona MacLeod (which was the pen name for William Sharp) to introduce a short essay about my work a couple years ago. Little did Jane know that the book by Carson McCullers The Heart is a Lonely Hunter (written in 1940) and the subsequent movie starring Alan Arkin had a meaningful impact on me when I was a teenager.

I reread the book this summer (Cartier-Bresson did the cover photo - a portrait of McCullers herself!).

With my camera in tow, I am a lonely hunter of sorts. It's kind of become my mantra this summer.

I am making new work for an exhibition to be held this December at the Leedy-Voulkos Art Center in Kansas City. I've decided to call the show "The Heart is a Lonely Hunter."

So often, the hunt ends right back where I started, or more precisely, in my own backyard. After walking the city streets for most of the afternoon, I came upon this fair haired beauty wrapped up in a towel right next to my Portland home.

haircut and a shave

I stopped by Mike's usual hangout spot today and felt like I had come upon someone 10 years younger than he was just a couple days ago. He beamed hello when he saw me, called me by name and told me he'd been to the beauty salon for a $9 haircut.

I'm also happy to report that he does wear a shirt and pair of pants under his blanket.

mike

Of all the interesting people I see regularly on the streets of Portland, the guy who walks around wrapped in a blanket has always intrigued me the most. I’ve seen him in our neighborhood each summer since we started coming here in 2008 and have always wondered what his story is.

As far as I can tell, he doesn’t wear much/if anything underneath the blanket. His feet are jet black from dirt and grime. His hair is unkempt, and he has a scraggly beard. I usually see him coming from the corner ATM machine with cash clutched in his fist.

Eddie heard from a woman who works at the Starbucks across the street that his name is Mike, and he’s a millionaire. I finally decided to approach him.

I’ve asked him several days in a row now if I can make his portrait. He’s had the same response each time: “I’m OK.” Then he goes on to say he needs to shave and get a haircut, and then he goes off from there about how he needs to “get motivated” and he’s planning to get his driver’s license and also go to the library. I tell him each day that I think he looks rather royal in his “robe” and that I will ask him again the next day if I can take his picture. He smiles sort of boyishly and reiterates that he needs a shave.

Yesterday I saw him hanging out in front of the Safeway. I greeted him and asked if I could take his picture. He said it might be OK. So, we talked for a long time. I asked a few questions, but mostly he conducted a monologue about a variety of topics, hopping seriously and unpredictably from one to the next. I learned, among other things, that he is 43, his father was adopted, he thinks Steve Martin is funny, he sleeps on the sidewalk near the train station each night, he gets to withdraw $20 from the bank every day except Sunday, he was in the military and he’s traveled to many places, including Puerto Vallarta. The monologue was periodically interrupted with each passerby, when Mike would wave his hand and say, “have a good day”.

I photographed him while he was talking. He was fine with that. I told him I’d bring him a picture, but he didn’t seem too interested. I’m not sure where he’d put it, really. He just has a blanket, after all. He was childlike and sweet, and he seemed really happy that I stopped to chat. Actually, once he got used to me, it seemed like he didn’t want me to leave.

I told him my name early in the conversation and asked him before I moved on if he remembered it. He lowered his head kind of bashfully and said “Gloria.” Then he told me that sometimes he knows certain things when he goes to sleep at night but can’t remember them the next day.

I told him I’d look for him tomorrow. He was happy about that and waved to me as I walked away. He gathered up his blanket and turned to face the people who were filing out of the grocery store.

“Have a good day” I heard him say.

early morning

While in Portland each summer, I try to shoot every day. Often I wander the city for hours, observing, appreciating and sometimes photographing the many colorful characters who inhabit this city.

Yesterday, for example, I walked 9 miles with my photo gear in tow.

Two mornings ago I had to take Eddie to the airport at 4:30 a.m. When I got back to our neighborhood and was a block away from our place, I noticed a couple sleeping on a bench. It's very common in Portland to see people sleeping on sidewalks, in doorways, under bridges and in the parks, but this couple really moved me. I'd seen them there before on one other early morning walk I had taken. They sleep sitting up, one leaning on the other, and they drape themselves in a blanket. One of them must use a wheelchair, because it is kept very close by.

Friday morning, having just said goodbye to Eddie for a few days, I was particularly moved by the love these two share and the obviously challenging circumstances under which they live. It was still pretty dark out, and the only camera I had on me was my iPhone, but I really wanted to make a picture of them.

So I did.

I took two frames and then decided to run up to my place and fetch my bigger camera before they awoke and moved on their way. When I returned a few minutes later they were still under their blanket, but they were starting to rouse, and it was clear they would be waking soon. So I left.

The picture from my iPhone just didn't feel like it did justice to the beauty, sadness and poignancy of the sleeping couple, so, while I did have that, I really wasn't satisfied. For the next two mornings, this morning included, I set my alarm for 5:30 a.m. and walked back to the bench with my Hasselblad to make the picture I really wanted.

But they weren't there.

This morning I even walked a couple miles around the neighborhood searching for them. I never found them.

So, the picture I already made will be the one.

People often ask me which is my favorite camera, and I always tell them it's the one I have on me.