A New Home

I've always been curious about what awaits just beyond the horizon. So here's to new discoveries, little pleasures and whimsies as we explore The Vision Thing.  

I'm pleased to announce that The Vision Thing has a new home. I've launched a new website to feature my writing and moved this blog there so everything will be in one place. So my new posts, and the old ones too, will be at danbailes.com/blog. I hope you'll join me there. And thanks for reading and sharing.

Time, Place and Purpose: The Identity Art of Jorge Rodriquez-Gerada

Maria Tudela (all images from Jorge Rodriquez-Gerada website)

Some artists like to work big.  And then there's urban artist and former culture jammer Jorge Rodriquez-Gerada, and his Identity Series.  

Aurelio Monterrey

Concepcion Buenos Aires

Emma Barcelona

For his Identity Series, he portrays everyday people who have a strong connection to their community and then finds a suitable space for their portrait.

The artist at work on Julio Granada

But these images are only part of his story.  For Jorge creates all of these portraits in charcoal. And as they gradually fade away, they encapsulate identity, memory and the tenuous nature of our existence.

Maria Barcelona

Here's a short video showing the creation of Maria Barcelona as Jorge explains what he's working towards.

If the video doesn't play you can watch it here.

Jorge began the Identity Series in 2002.  His vision? It's about "how the person depicted fades into the wall over time. The memory that is left confirms the importance and fragility of every existence. My intent is to have identity, place and memory become one."

But there's also another dimension to his work, which  

tries to counter the political and advertising images that permeate the cultural landscape. "I believe that our identity should come from within, not from the brands that we wear. We should question who choses our cultural icons and role models as well as our values and our aesthetics." 

David Vitoria

This portrait of local resident David quickly became a political statement when Jorge created it in Spain's Basque country. The video below explains:

             

If you doesn't play, you can watch it here. 

There is so much we take for granted about the impact of art and the artist. We assume the artist has uncommon skill and talent and that great art is a creation that lasts for the ages.  

Of course I'm oversimplifying, but in Jorge's work we have a strong visualization of what the winds of change both create and destroy. And I think there's something at once inspiring and humbling about his work, as it celebrates our common humanity and points towards the impermanence of everything.

There's more to his story that you can check out on his website. And here's a link to an interview he did last year. And I'd like to end this post with two images from his Terrestrial Series. 

He created this homage to a beloved Spanish architect from colored sand:

Homage to Enric Miralles

Here's a link to a video showing how he did it. 

And then there's the image below, made from 650 tons of sand and gravel, just before the 2008 US election.

Expectation

a girl in salt lake city, Street Art & 300 Curators

This is how it was billed on Kickstarter:

"A public spectacle essay. Multi-city letterpress poster installation—curated by project supporters."

Well, that sounded interesting: a street art concept proposed by "a girl in salt lake city."
Here's her pix:

She describes herself as:
"Writer+printer+lives in a white house with a small desert." 
Sounded intriguing. And when I read the pitch, I was hooked. Here's an edited version of what a girl in salt lake city wrote:

This past summer, my best friend and I found ourselves crying in public for various reasons and in various places (multiple sidewalks, a gas station, an auto parts stores, a concrete bench outside a law building). We made total spectacles of ourselves. 

People who cry in public force everyone to witness—it's completely embarrassing and also sort of awesome. We want our essay to perform this kind of spectacle. 

So! We're printing our essay over four 11 x 17 broadside posters and posting the edition of 350 (that's 1400 posters!) You'll choose 3 posters to display somewhere in public (on a top-secret designated day in November) and keep the fourth as a thank you prize. 

Help us out. It's going to be rad.  

Well, if it's going to be rad, I wanted in. So I became a supporter/curator. And started getting updates and photos:

You can see each poster required three runs, one for the header, one for the QR code and one for the essay at the bottom.  More updates,  and we caught a glimpse of a girl in SLC.

Each poster quartet would be placed in a "gigantic 
envelope" and mailed out to the supporter/curators.

And soon, each of us would be posting her broadsides and offering random passersby the opportunity to reflect on acceptable reasons to cry in public. I liked it. 

I also liked that, by connecting with us via Kickstarter, a girl in salt lake city was able to conceive her art in one part of the country and export that vision to people from all over the place. 

And soon my envelope arrived, with instructions announcing that the top-secret day to put up the posters was at hand. After thinking about possible locations and a little trial and error, here's what I did:

This place gets a lot of foot traffic as people walk back and forth to the Metro.  And I like that it's kind of tucked away. You can see the tiny figure of a policeman observing the poster installation - he's standing on the island in the center of the street by the intersection.

That's the side of the Supreme Court on the left and the Capitol dome peaking out above the poster. Honestly, I kind of chickened out on this one, so I went back at night and moved it.

There was a Capitol police car about 20 feet away from me when I posted this. But I figured, what with free speech and all, it would be cool. And, if busted I could always claim, "art project!"


The final installation site was Peter's Tree. 

  

Peter Bis was a street person who cheerfully sat under this tree for years, greeting people on their way to the Metro at Union Station. As we passed by, he'd shout out "two days to the week-end" or "no skinny-dipping" or, to me he'd add "how's the puppy?" I looked forward to those little encounters as a way to mark the start and end my work day, and often saw him in conversation with others, charmed by his friendliness. He died suddenly a few months ago and his tree was festooned with remembrances.

The morning after I took this photo of Peter's tree, there was a single yellow rose affixed to the poster. Just another reminder of how many of life's events and experiences we all share. And I'd like to thank a girl in salt lake city for reminding us about the random ways we connect with each other. 

If you want to see the efforts of my fellow curators, you can follow them on her site here. If you do, make sure to check out the twitter feed on her site. 

Capturing a Cover for the Ages

The day after Hurricane Sandy devastated New York, this was one of the images captured by photographer Iwan Baan, on assignment for New York Magazine.  And here is the one that made the magazine cover:

Baan specializes in aerial and architectural photography. You can read about his assignment as their Director of Photography describes it, here. New York Magazine was working frantically to publish an issue about the storm, hoping for a 72 hour turnaround, and they hoped Baan's skill would yield a "Cover for the Ages." 

As you can imagine, it was a challenge finding a helicopter for the shoot, and even getting there was difficult. In an open cockpit, it took him an hour to fly to Manhattan. He had half an hour for the shoot and then an hour to fly back to base. You can see a slide show of other images from his shoot here.

Now you may know that nature photographer Ansel Adams would often spend all day waiting for the light to get just so, in order to expose one photograph. Baan only had one chance to capture a good image, so in the half hour over Manhattan he shot between 2,000 and 2,500 exposures.  

Here's why: he was dealing with the vibration of the helicopter as he hovered in the air, so he was in constant motion. Plus, to capture a blackened city, he had to shoot at a very slow shutter speed. That's the opposite of what you need to do to get a sharp image. So 80% of his photos were blurry and only 1% (20-25) were really sharp. You can read his account of the shoot here.  

NYT Photo

It's not surprising that New York Magazine chose Iwan Baan for their cover.  He's perhaps one of the most celebrated and widely published architectural photographers in the world.  A few years ago he was featured in a NYT article.  And here's a link to Baan's website.  
If you explore his work, you'll find a real variety there.  And he clearly has a very dynamic sense of framing.  

So whether his subject is landscape, architecture or people on a beach, you'll see a strong eye for composition working there. 

And beyond that flair for composition is a love of unusual angles.

So just when you think you know what his eye will reveal, there's something new in his work that surprises. Still, that image of storm-ravaged Manhattan is one for the ages.

Where There's a Will: Homeboy Industries

All photos are from the Homeboy Industries web site

We like to think of America as the land of opportunity. We're captivated by self-made men and women with their Horatio Alger-like stories of rags-to-riches. But what about those Americans born into bad luck and trouble? People trapped in the spiral of poverty, crime, drugs, prison and worse? What about them?

What about children who gave up on hope when they were just little kids. Or never saw any way to go, outside of life on the streets and the gangs that ruled them.  Where's their shot at opportunity, or even surviving to the ripe old age of 30?

One person saw the misery and destroyed lives and insisted, "there must be a better way." 

And he decided to try - to build a pathway toward opportunity and hope. Of course he didn't do it all by himself. But he had the drive and vision. The people he's helped call him "Father G." He's also known as Father Gregory Boyle, founder and guiding light of Homeboy Industries.

As Father Boyle put it, "The fact that I was burying kids as a pastor at a very poor parish, simultaneous with the fact that we had lots of middle school-aged gang members who had been given the boot from their schools and nobody wanted them..." was how it all started. First they set up a school for at-risk kids, then a jobs program and soon, Homeboy Industries was born. 

Homeboy started with making and selling chips and salsa.

Creating change isn't easy and there were many obstacles to overcome - for Homeboy and the people who asked for its help.  

But almost 25 years later they're offering high-risk kids, ex-offenders and former gang members a host of services, training and jobs. Helping those we've cast off find their way back to rebuild their lives. 

For example, there's Rasheena.  After a life of turmoil, gangs and prison, she found her way to Homeboy and recently got her AA Diploma. As she puts it, "I've broken through my barriers victoriously and these victories define the woman I am today."

Others at Homeboy are baking, cooking, catering and running food shops and farmers markets. They're silkscreening and embroidering clothes, selling merchandise and training for green jobs, too.

Homeboy Industries opened its doors to 15,000 people this year and 70% will stick with it. 

It's now the largest gang intervention, rehab and re-entry program in the United States.

You can find out more about Homeboy Industries and what they do by clicking here.  

I'm inspired by their story and what they've been able  to help people - who started with such a limited horizon - accomplish. And it also reminds us of our better angels. And the resiliency of the human spirit.