looking at appalachia

Roger May's project, "Looking at Appalachia" is getting some well deserved recognition and praise. I'm very proud that I have some work in the exhibition. Roger is the real deal and is extremely earnest and honest and passionate about what he's doing. The show is just beginning its tour, and the Lens blog at the New York Times is featuring it today. Kudos to Roger and to all the photographers involved.

You can read about it here.

(I'm thrilled that one of my photos is included in the article!)

no guggie again

This was the second year I applied for a Guggenheim Fellowship. This was the second time I didn't receive one.

We artists are a curious group for many reasons, one of which is that most of us are constantly setting ourselves up for rejection of some kind. Like the writers, painters and filmmakers I know, in order to get my work "out there" I have to put it in front of curators, editors, gallerists and the viewing public on a regular basis. Sometimes that's fun and successful, and other times it's kind of like hearing your parent say to your younger self upon presenting a paper or drawing about which you feel really proud: "Can't you do any better than this? Sorry, but it's just not that good!"

Of course, most of us do have jobs that involve rejection: getting passed over for a raise or promotion, getting fired, not receiving any slaps on the back for a job well-done, etc. I know artists aren't alone when we feel under appreciated for the work we do. Perhaps it's just more public and more regular. As well, if there is no support from publications, galleries, fellowships, etc. the artist is compelled to find other means of financial support. It's kind of a shame that the woman who wants to be a dentist can to school to study it, can get a degree and then get a job looking into the mouths of her patients, while the woman who wants to be an artist goes to school to study it, gets a degree and then, more often than not, waits tables or, worse yet continues to make art, but in a "lowest common denominator" kind of way to make it mainstream and accessible. Many teach and have little or no time to make their own work.

Of course, there are exceptions to this rule. I'm always excited to meet an artist who has managed to make his/her way on the artwork alone, especially when highly personal projects are involved.

As I said in my emails to those who wrote letters on my behalf for the Guggenheim, I will continue to plug away at this goal, as I'm not one to give up easily. In the meantime, I'll continue to be passionate about and grateful for my "job" as a photographer. 

I just wish there was a different way to go about this career, one that didn't require such a herculean effort to attain enough acceptance letters to keep moving forward.

(Oh, did I mentioned all the requests for donated or pro-bono work?)

I'm eager to hear who did get the Guggies in photography this year. I'll certainly offer each of them a hearty congratulations. 

And hope for the best next year.

lenscratch

I am honored to be featured on Lenscratch today!

photonola

Magoffin County, Kentucky, 2014

I’ve spent the past three days at PhotoNola, the Crescent City’s annual festival of photography. Organized and run strictly by volunteers, I thought it was an extremely successful event.

I got to spread my work before from some impressive portfolio reviewers, including curators, directors and editors from highly respected places like New Yorker magazine, the Getty Museum, Tom Gitterman Gallery, Pier 24, Aperture, The Harry Ransom Center and Crystal Bridges Museum. 

I got to see some inspiring work being done by my peers, my fellow reviewees.

The highlight of the event was hearing Emmet Gowin address us all in his keynote presentation – one that moved many to tears.

And speaking of tears, let me tell you how emotional an experience like this can be.

Making photographs is my job. Marketing the photographs is also my job (I wish it wasn’t), so that is why I attend events like this every couple of years. It is up to me to get the work “out there.” It is helpful, as well, to get feedback from professionals whose opinions I respect.

The opinions can and do, of course, run the gamut. Looking at art is a highly personal matter.

I was really happy to get positive feedback on both bodies of work I schlepped to PhotoNola: the pictures I’ve made in Uganda and the newer work I’ve been doing in eastern Kentucky. It was the first time I’d shown the Kentucky portfolio, so I was especially eager to get reactions to it.

Responses like “pure”, “terrific”, “poetic”, "resonant”, “textural” and “edgy” are important to hear when your project is in its infancy, when you are flooded with self-doubt and fear.

So I was feeling pretty high until I sat across the table from someone who, after looking at the third picture, called the work “caricature-ish.” He tapped into my aforementioned self-doubt and went on to say that it was obvious the subjects were “stone-faced” and “walled-off” in front of a Kansas City Jewish woman with an expensive camera - an outsider on every possible level. While extremely complimentary of the Uganda work and of me as a photographer in general, he questioned the Appalcahian pictures even to the extent of asking me "is this really how you want to spend your time photographing now," implying that, as an older woman, there's not a lot of time left! Whoa.

Two reviews prior to this one, I had tears in my eyes. That was because the reviewer called my work “exquisite” and wondered why it had not gotten more recognition outside of the Midwest. This man (someone I respect very much) was deeply moved by and impressed with the work and wants to help me find a way to move forward on a more national level.

So the tears that rimmed my eyes just an hour later came not necessarily because of what this next reviewer was saying, but because of the cracks that exist in my sense of self-worth as a photographer and the questions I have about what I’m doing and why. This young man was absolutely entitled to his opinion, and I respect him for feeling confident enough to express himself. What brought the tears were the age-old ghosts of insecurity and self-doubt, demons all artists have to deal with at some point or another.

The weeks leading up to this event were filled with shooting, printing, editing, assembling “leave-behind” packets, making travel arrangements, etc. Now comes the sorting out of the feelings with which I’m left. I'm looking forward to following up on the good reviews I had, which was essentially all of them except one. 

more new work from appalachia

I'm putting in long hours preparing for PhotoNOLA, the portfolio review I'll be attending in New Orleans beginning later this week. I'll be showing both the Uganda and Kentucky work, as well as my Grandma book (looking for a publisher!) and will attend a couple workshops and lectures. I'm looking forward to showing my brand new work, all of which I am just now printing for the first time. I'm also eager to meet the other photographers who'll be converging on The Big Easy for three days of nothing but photography. We'll all be sharing our work with the public during a "PhotoWalk"at the Ogden Museum from 6 - 9 PM on Friday night. If you're in the area, please come say hello.

I met some really good people on this most recent trip to eastern Kentucky and am appreciative of their willingness to be part of my project. In particular, I'd like to give shout-outs to the Perkins and Cole families. I'd also like to thank Vickie Ducette and Tonya Caudill for taking time to show me around.

Here is my second batch of new images from Appalachia.

Magoffin County

Magoffin County

Magoffin County

Magoffin County

Magoffin County

Magoffin County

Powell County

Magoffin County

Magoffin County

On this trip I went to Inez, Kentucky. I wanted to see the house where Lyndon Johnson had crouched on the front stoop to discuss the lack of jobs in Martin County with the home-owner, Tom Fletcher. It was fifty years ago, and Johnson was generating support for his proposed War on Poverty. At that time 60% of the population in Inez lived below the poverty line. Johnson was helicoptered into the small mining town for some good photo ops; this image became an iconic picture of the War on Poverty.

The Fletcher cabin is still standing, and I did get to see it. There's a metal fence with a "no trespassing" sign posted. It looked abandoned, but there are plenty of Fletchers still living in Inez (Tom and his wife had eight kids). The roads in Inez are now well-paved, there are some new, bigger homes similar to those seen in any town in America. The people to whom I spoke said the schools and hospitals are much  better than they used to be. Still, however, Martin County is one of the poorest counties in the country, with a poverty rate of 35% (more than twice the national average). Jobs are very hard to find, and only 9% of the adults living there have a college degree.

There's a nice, new community center in the middle of town. That's where I found these young men. They had been playing basketball. Turns out they'd never heard of Lyndon Johnson or the War on Poverty, but they said life in Inez is pretty good for them.

Martin County

The stats in Inez aren't much different from the other counties I've been visiting in eastern Kentucky. The poverty levels are highest in the areas tucked away in the hillsides - in the "hollers". Here the unemployment rates are very high, few people attend college and there's an incredibly high percentage of people collecting disability. A substantial number of people smoke and consume unhealthy food and soda, and there are enormous problems with drug and alcohol abuse/addiction.

The War on Poverty has helped improved lives, that's for sure. Some of the people in Inez, though, say it was just a skirmish, and that there needs to be another declaration made - the sooner the better.

eastern kentucky

I've spent the last four days wandering in eastern Kentucky and thinking of Jane Aspinwall's line about my heart being a lonely hunter (she made this reference in the essay she wrote for my mid-career retrospective). It is indeed a lonely process, but one that nourishes and enriches me.

Here are some of the images I made the first two days. More to follow.

Powell County

Powell County

Magoffin County

Magoffin County

Magoffin County

Magoffin County

Magoffin County

Magoffin County

the glamorous life of a photographer

Being a photographer. I love it and wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Being a photographer. Well, we’re all photographers now, aren’t we? Everyone has a camera in his/her back pocket or purse. So, maybe I’m not much different from anyone else these days.

Which probably makes me press harder and dig deeper.

Or maybe it’s just me. Jane Aspinwall wrote in my most recent exhibition catalogue:

“When I think of the work of Gloria Baker Feinstein, I am reminded of the title from

one of Carson McCullers’ best known novels: 'The Heart is a Lonely Hunter.'

The personal, never-ending search for truth and beauty is a large task. At this point in her mid-career retrospective, Feinstein continues to look at the formidable world and to see the possibilities it offers. Often, the beauty is small and goes unnoticed by all but the very few who dare to look closely.

‘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.’”

This past Tuesday morning I sailed into Salyersville in Magoffin County, Kentucky. Didn’t know a soul. My brother had kindly, kinda hooked me up with someone who promised to take me around the hollers and introduce me to some folks I might like to meet and photograph.

The guy bugged out at the last minute.  Said he’d been robbed the previous day and was working to sort things out. He gave me the name and number of the County Clerk.

The County Clerk hooked me up with the Executive Judge, who promised to take me around the next afternoon. (The clock was ticking; I only had four days before I needed to head back to Lexington to observe Yom Kippur with my family.)

The judge bugged out at the last minute. His father had taken ill.

Shooting as an outsider (though I am from KY, I am not from Eastern KY) is a challenge. It’s a roller coaster of frustration and joy. It requires patience and perseverance. And some alone-time in the Ramada Inn lounge mulling it all over.

The County Clerk, who I grew to adore, suggested I go over to the drug store and talk to the pharmacist. The pharmacist knows everyone in town. (Yes, he does… his place was hoppin’.) The pharmacist was a great guy. We talked at length about my project, and he was really interested in what I’m doing. He walked me next door to the Radio Shack, thinking the owner might be able to help me.

The Radio Shack guy was awesome. His store was like the nerve center of town. He held court behind the counter (which displayed handguns, along with electronics) with the steady stream of folks coming and going. He, like the County Clerk and the pharmacist before him, kindly took the time to read my project proposal. He gave it some thought and then reached for his phone to call his good friend Vicky,

Vicky is the daughter of a coal miner and a retired social worker. She was born and raised (the youngest of eight kids) in Magoffin County. She knows a lot of people there. Within ten minutes she and I were sitting together at the Radio Shack. She, too, took the time to read my proposal. A half-hour later, we were in her car heading out to meet a family she knew I’d love. Vicky is a stylish woman – a ball of energy with a huge amount of compassion for others. She couldn’t have been nicer to me. We talked and talked, pausing our conversation only when it was time to step out of her car to greet yet another family she wanted me to meet. She was a tremendous connector for me (and a new friend).

Most of the people I photographed on this trip, though, were folks I simply met on the street. I’m a friendly and curious person by nature, and I love approaching people, asking questions (I get that from my father) and learning all I can about them: where they live, what they do, etc. My interest in people is 100% genuine; I must admit this serves me well as a photographer.

People in Eastern KY are cautious and protective. Those who live in the mountains have been burned time and time again. Portrayals of them in the media range from “hillbilly” to, well… “hillbilly.” I totally get that they don’t rejoice when they see a stranger coming toward them – especially a stranger who’s carrying a camera the size of Cleveland.

So, when people do take me in, I am so grateful and appreciative I want to cry. Really.

The whole process is kind of like a courtship. When I can finally put my arms around my new dance partner, I feel like all is right in the world. Like people really are kind and open. That our hearts really do beat as one. That we can break down barriers, celebrate our differences and marvel at our similarities. I’ve always thought of photography as a collaboration between the subject and me. When the collaboration works, I am truly fulfilled and uplifted.

It worked quite a few times this past week. Thank you to those who opened their doors and their hearts to me. I have many friends in Magoffin County now, and I hope to return to this very beautiful part of Eastern KY one of these days.

In the meantime, I’ll be sending prints to everyone I photographed - and my books to the County Clerk, the pharmacist, the Radio Shack guy and to Vicky. Maybe even to the pastor of the Pentecostal Church who sort of asked me to leave his service after a while (but that’s another story for another day.)

more pictures from eastern kentucky

My trip was wonderful - I met some really good souls and made some images I'm happy with.  Here are several I've been working on. I am grateful to the people in Magoffin and Johnson counties I met who welcomed me into their lives.

new pictures

I'm photographing in Magoffin County, Kentucky this week. Here is what I've done so far.

eastern kentucky

No place is boring, if you've had a good night's sleep and have a pocket full of unexposed film. - Robert Adams

This morning I started a short road trip in Eastern Kentucky with two fully charged Hassie batteries and a pocket full of CF cards. 

There's just nothing quite like it. 

The sky was blue, there was a low-lying fog in the foothills, the beckoning windy Mountain Parkway was glistening and a local country music station laid down the perfect backdrop. 

I'm on the top of the world when exploring new parts of the world with my camera in tow.

clinton 39 years later

It was the winter of 1975, and I was an undergraduate studying photography and graphic design at the University of Wisconsin. I decided I wanted to travel through the mountains of eastern Kentucky to track down and photograph traditional bluegrass mountain musicians.

I drove through the hollers and asked anyone who'd hear me out: do you know any fiddle, mandolin or banjo players who've been playing for a long time? Making their own instruments, maybe?

One of the families to whose cabin I was pointed belonged to the Bailey clan. There was WR and Dahlia, who were in their 70's or 80's, their son Riley, and Riley's kids Clinton and Leon. WR and Riley made banjos, dulcimers and fiddles and played them well. I enjoyed this family so much I returned to their place two more times on subsequent visits to Kentucky.

So, I was on a search for The Baileys last week when I pulled into their town. I asked the first person I saw there if she knew Clinton Bailey. She said: yes, he and Leon live with their mother Ruby up yonder. 

I navigated the twists and turns of the holler, asking people along the way if I was getting any closer to the Bailey place. Up yonder can be hard to find if you haven't been there in 39 years.

Well, I did find them, and I spent two different days with them, meeting their family and their friends. I was accepted with warm, open arms. Sadly, Riley was no longer alive, but the next generation(s) greeted me kindly and were so appreciative of the photos I had brought along to give them.

I figured it would be fun to share the image I made of cherubic little Clinton, who was five or six at the time - and the photo I made of him last week with his granddaughter Makina.

So here they are.

Clinton, 1975

Clinton and granddaughter Makina, 2014

last day in the bluegrass

It's time to hit the road and head back to the midwest. Yesterday I spent time with my dad's caregiver who is from Breathitt County. She took me to her little church for Sunday services and then to her family farm for Sunday supper.

Here are the last of the images from my visit to eastern Kentucky.

Breathitt County

Breathitt County

Breathitt County

Breathitt County

Breathitt County

Perry County

Perry County

another day in my home state of kentucky

I'm feeling really proud to be a native Kentuckian.

I'd like to point out that the landscape here in the eastern part of the state is gorgeous, and the people could not be more welcoming.

It's been a wonderful day making pictures. I've been to a little league tournament and a family reunion/birthday party (the family I connected with after 39 years!) and have driven along the edge of the Daniel Boone National Forest. Can it get much better than that? I'm a lucky girl.

Perry County

Perry County

Perry County

Perry County

Perry County

Clay County

Jackson County

Perry County

Perry County

Perry County