In the Lab

RED AND BLUE DAYS (Experiments on the Banks of the Danube)

Greetings from Central Europe, where we’ve begun a year-long adventure  that will have multiple components, including a photo/video Fulbright project, learning about and reporting on contemporary life in Central and Eastern Europe, reconnecting with family, and exploring family origins.

Our first stop is Chl’aba, Slovakia, the hometown of Gabriela’s mother, and the site of a joint project we’ve pursued for almost a decade. Called “Returns,” it’s a very intimate account of village life along the Danube, with chapters that dwell on different generations and try to come to terms with the tragic and unexpected loss of Gabriela’s father and other family members in recent years. We’ve collected a voluminous amount of photographic and video documentation of Chl’aba over ten years, so much that it’s hard to fit on a burgeoning array of hard drives. One key goal is to turn this material into a book, and we hope to make progress on that this month. It’s also likely that Returns will never come to a complete close as we continue to visit, document, and improvise.

In terms of the latter, Chl’aba has become ground zero for experiments on our documentary approach and our aesthetics. On the one hand, when we get here, we’re usually ripe for relaxation on the pebble beaches that line the Danube River. On the other, we quickly get itchy about image-making. While sitting on the banks of the river the last several years, we’ve explored a plethora of new approaches to image capture, many of them centering around alternative (and sometimes found) lenses and alternative surfaces. That process is continuing this year, with a burst of new images that we hope are pushing the boundaries in terms of what one expects to see in a photograph or a video. We’re living in a world that gives birth to more than a trillion photographs per year, so when planning to gestate new ones, it’s a good idea to make sure they have something new or special to say.

We’re sharing a few of the latest experiments today, in keeping with the spirit of Atlantika, which embraces transparency on process, and also in the hope of getting some feedback. We’ll share more as the summer continues, and it will be interesting to see if they influence our approach to the Fulbright in Ukraine (which will begin in mid-September) and our work more generally. We invite you to react, reply and become a part of an “Open Circle” of collaborators who are informing our work in the coming year and beyond.

 

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The Faces of Music on the Inside

Gabriela Bulisova & Mark Isaac

“We shall overcome. We shall overcome. We shall overcome, some day….” This song always tears on the heartstrings, no matter who is singing it. But when it’s sung by musicians inside a maximum security prison, desperate for a taste of freedom and a link to the outside world, it becomes plaintive beyond words.

We’ve both spent many years working on issues related to mass incarceration. But recently, we worked for only the second time inside a prison. We were invited to join a program called Songs in the Key of Free, which is conducting a series of workshops at State Correctional Institute-Graterford, about 45 minutes outside Philadelphia. Philadelphia-based musicians, some from the Curtis Institute, are working with musicians at Graterford on improvisational songwriting and musical performances inside the prison. Later, the songs will also be performed in a public concert in Philadelphia, and our job will be to represent the men on the inside through a multimedia presentation.

One of the imperatives in working on incarceration is to represent the humanity of those who are incarcerated, since the criminal justice system does so much to deny them their dignity and individuality. But this is made more difficult by prison regulations that forbid showing the men’s faces. Our task becomes that much harder, and we have to use a variety of unusual techniques to capture their warmth, humanity, and encompassing love of music.

Songs in the Key of Free is focused in part on the healing power of telling stories in song. As visual storytellers, we are honored to be a part of the team that is helping participants use the power of their stories to transform and heal their lives. We’ve witnessed firsthand the enormous potential of those who have made mistakes to make a fresh start and bring talent, skill, and passion to helping others.

Here is a first glimpse at some still images from our work with Songs in the Key of Free, which will also rely heavily on video. We’ll have more work to share soon, since we travel to Graterford again in early March. We welcome your feedback.

How’d You Get a Gig Like That? - Part I

Music at a photo festival
With two collaborators I did a live music set at FotoweekDC. We live-scored a projection of photography from New World Voyage, my music-photo hybrid project that came out over the summer (see mistochord.com). It’s a story of sorts of the first space colonists at the moment of leaving Earth, knowing they won’t come back. It was interesting how the balance of photo and music components jostled for attention and importance. Is it a slideshow, a concert, an art project? The album download comes with a PDF booklet of images, but in some ways the live format better integrated both elements into an immersive whole.

Hey, that sounds cool, how does one get a gig like that?
Well, in my case, doing the hard work over an extended period of time, against all odds and battling through all kinds of uncertainty and limitations. Doing things and building on them to do other things. I recommend remaining flexible, open, and yet stubborn in your creative approach. Have ideas and chase them, but don’t be afraid to go where the path takes you. I’ve always played music in bands, but this is material that is totally new for me, ideas I didn’t have twenty years or five years ago. I left a good and successful indie band, Dot Dash, to pursue those ideas. And yet for a fair stretch of time it really wasn’t working, until finally it was. So that’s what I mean by stubborn.

Bringing it to the micro-local level
The next night we had a cool listening/watching party in my DC neighborhood, Petworth, in the small venue called Third Floor above a diner. This was a different 40-minute video version (that I finished editing and exporting about 30 mins before doors opened, I think I got a ticket on the way back to the venue...) accompanying the full recorded album, plus Q&A at the end. Nice little turnout and very grass roots, some people lying on the floor on pillows for the screening. The event again made me realize (along with the live version) that the material is most powerful when all the elements are together - the music, photos, and even the writing I did to flesh out the story, in the form of the crew’s communications back to Earth. Now I’m thinking where else to take both formats, live and prerecorded. I’m thinking the whole spectrum from living-room listening parties to theater-scale projections with live score. Some new possibilities are already in the works.

How did you hook that up?
By being active both in my work and in the community, and a bit of karma. I’d become friendly with the guy that owns the Third Floor and a number of other local establishments. A while back I took some photos when his family closed their long-running art space downtown and moved their various businesses to Petworth. I took them for myself, but gave them the photos gratis as I knew how momentous it was for the family. Recently he offered the Third Floor as a venue for a listening party so I came up with ideas on how to do it. Not really a quid pro quo in the sense of either side expecting anything, more like what goes around comes around. Which might not get you ‘into the art world’ but is not a bad approach to building *your* art world.

You work for months and even years on projects that have no guarantee of coming to fruition. But then suddenly, sometimes they do. I can remember asking for creative advice in the past and would often hear, 'stick with it, do the work’. Now I'm seeing why that's the best advice of all.

Bill Crandall

Watershed Project: Installation weekend!

One of the most satisfying moments in the exhibition process is when installation time arrives. This weekend, Atlantika Collective members converged on the Boyden Gallery at St. Mary's College of Maryland to finally put the Watershed Project into motion. After 15 months of conversation, collaboration, development, evolution, and planning it's an exciting and nerve-wracking moment to see all the work, the words, and the objects together. Will the projects hold together like we envisioned? Will all the work play nicely in the space? Are our ideas and intentions as clear in real space and time as they were in our heads? And maybe most importantly, can we turn it around in just a few days? 

Check out the photos below, highlights from our installation process, including Atlantika members, gallery staff, and some sneak peeks of work in the show. We're pretty excited with the results - it really has a cohesion and interplay that comes from the consistent level of sharing and collaboration that got us to this point. We're worn out, but really looking forward to finally sharing it with other folks! Come see it if you can, and check back here - we'll be posting project galleries, the final work, installations and more.

Exhibition Opens: Tuesday, October 18

Community Reception: Friday, October 21, 6-8pm

The Watershed Project: Testing the Installation

Mark Isaac

Part of what makes Atlantika different as a collective is transparency. As our inaugural blog post made clear, “We’ll offer a more public view of our creative process than is typical, to provide some insights into our methods for shepherding work from idea to completion.”

That’s not always so easy to do. It offers a peek behind the curtain to moments of uncertainty, chaotic experimentation, and even outright failure. It risks having the veneer of a poised, highly skilled, confident artist stripped away and replaced with something a lot more fallible and human.

So in the interests of taking this goal seriously, here’s a rare glimpse behind the scenes to the very first test of the collaborative installation I’m creating with Gabriela Bulisova. In this video -- that somehow managed to become partially corrupted, adding to its charm -- you’ll see us testing our first concept of the installation using, what else? A baby pool, a mirror purchased at Target, and droppers left over from Trader Joe’s liquid stevia drops! If that doesn’t lead to great art, I don’t know what will!

If you come out to the opening at Boyden Gallery of St. Mary’s College of MD on October 21st, you can gauge whether we managed something a little more polished and sophisticated…and better yet, see how the early test informed the final vision.

Importantly, the final work calls attention to the way in which the entire Chesapeake Bay Watershed, comprised of 150 major rivers and streams, is interconnected. And as an interactive installation, it offers you a way to personally participate and demonstrate that anything that happens to part of the watershed has ripple effects throughout the entire ecosystem.

We’re hoping it’s a lot of fun to play with the water. But we’re also hoping the installation will convey that the Watershed, which supports innumerable life forms, including 17 million humans, is severely threatened and now relies on us for essential interventions that will restore and preserve its vibrancy for the future.

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Life Support, an interactive installation by Gabriela Bulisova and Mark Isaac, includes an IV bag, drip pan, beakers, droppers, projectors, water from the Chesapeake Watershed, and sound. It is on view at Boyden Gallery from October 18 to November 22.

 

Atlantika Collective Inaugural Exhibition: Installation in Progress

The exhibition is coming together at the Boyden Gallery, St. Mary's College of Maryland! Check out Gabriela Bulisova and Mark Isaac in this video working to install a site-specific piece. As you can tell, you'll want to see this interactive, water-based work when it's in place.

Below are selections from Gabriela's photographic project in the exhibition - a few of her images and a shot of work as it's printing, always a satisfying moment in the production process. 

We hope you can join us for the opening of The Watershed Project at Boyden Gallery at St. Mary's College of Maryland on Friday, October 21st, 6-8pm. 

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Mashup - A Curator's Text Feed

Cristin Cash (+ her smartphone)

Preparator: Shit. Call me when you can
Curator: Can u talk?
Preparator: Sorry, I can’t talk right now
Curator: No worries…we’ll figure it out 😀
Preparator: Hey, call me when you have a chance
Preparator: Or, just meet me at Buffalo Wild Wings. I’ll buy you cheese curds.

Artist 1: ...Anything I can do to help?
Curator:  Nope. Just keep creating 😀

Artist 3:  Do you think that is doable?
Curator: Sounds good! Give me an update when you have a budget
Artist 1: Thanks for the credit card info, I’ll order tomorrow
Curator 2: Note to self: never, ever, ever commit to a due date that coincides with the beginning of the semester!
Artist 3: Hey, so which email do you prefer again?
Preparator: Next thing is to install water-monitors on floor
Curator: That’s a thing? How much $?
Preparator: Amazon it…If you get fancy – it emails or texts you!
Curator: Will do. Do I need to pick up the Beast today?
Preparator: Nope. Something went wrong there…strange
Curator: My whole life is strange. I’ll give them a call
Preparator: lol
Curator: Paint color email coming at you in a second…
Curator: and no attachment…sorry! That kind of day already. oy
Artist 2: Maybe it would be better to try a totally different design actually?
Curator: I really need to get a couple of images for the poster
Artist 3: Well, shit, blew past that deadline yesterday for PR images... will get on it...
Artist 1: Goodness! We too...sorry! What sizes and how many per person? Grrrr, insane times
Preparator: We could replace the entire gallery with LED, including angle lenses for under $2000
Curator: Sounds good, who pays?
Preparator: HAHAHA…the LED TV OFFSETS the energy costs for the projectors
Artist 2: Hi all, it is unfortunately confirmed now that I will be in Finland for a work conference
Curator 2: so…more poetic, less descriptive?
Artist 3: Sorry I'm so addled, what did we settle on for meeting time/place?
Curator:  😱😬😐😵
Curator: Need cheese curds
Preparator: Awwww, So do I…but no time

Artist 1: I have a 20 min video ready for your 👀😅
Curator:  😀😀😀😀😀😀😎
Artist 1: The grids are alive!
Curator:  😍😍😍😍😍😍😍
Artist 1: Drip drip drip pan is a beauty
Artist 2: Great!!!
Curator: Lovely and fast delivery! Wheeeeeeeeeee 😎
Artist 2: Shipped: Your Amazon package with Empty IV Container/Bag, 1000ml, 60 DPM Needless IV Admin Set will be delivered Wed, Oct 12. Track at…
Curator: Wooohoo!
Artist 3: Can you take a look at my final edit?
Curator: Hell yeah! Dropbox that shit
Preparator: We can go over the materials list on Monday. All orders are placed.
Curator: Picking up paint on way in
Curator 2: Group post is up! Feel free to repost, push it out there, and what all.
Artist 1: 👏🍷🌟🐠
Artist 3: Yeah man! Go AKA!

#TBT - Fairhaven retreat

Bill Crandall

Photography is a notoriously lonely occupation. You’re out there in the world, trying to figure out what to do, where to go, how to translate the often vague ideas in your head, how to conjure them into reality. You see wonderful things but also depressing things. No one is promising to pay you, or reward you, or even notice whether you do or don’t succeed. You get sick, you get better, or you carry on anyway. You wish someone would tell you what to do, until you remind yourself that’s a fatal copout. The whole point is that it has to come from you.

So no wonder that photographers cherish the camaraderie and insight of their peers. People who get what you’re after and care enough to want to help you ‘get there’. This is the allure of the collective.

Also no wonder that it’s very special and rare when you get the chance to connect your work in meaningful ways with the public, especially with those with concern or rooting interest in the subject matter. This is where community outreach comes in. In Atlantika we made it part of our mission statement to create threads of connection beyond the group. To amplify the power of our work through collaboration with the community.

For one of our group weekend retreats late last spring, as we were pulling our Watershed work together in earnest for the St Mary’s exhibition, we decided to meet at my mother’s house in Fairhaven MD, which is overlooking the bay about twenty miles south of Annapolis.

The simple purpose of these retreats is to work on our projects and help other members work on theirs. The latter reason turned out to be particularly valuable, as Joe took my Bay project - which until then had been a long-running but not exactly coherent set of images from my years of watching my daughter grow up visiting grandma’s bayside world - and brought it into sharper focus by combining the images into diptychs. That new set of eyes helped redefine and shape the work in a way I wouldn’t have thought of.

Here's a few shots the lab sent me as they get ready to mount them on gatorboard for the show:

We also took the opportunity to meet with the community. After a weekend of editing and scraping things into form, local residents and members of local environmental groups came over to the house to have a look, talk it over, voice their own ideas. That feeling of going from detachment to connection was tremendously grounding for our efforts. The idea is that we’ll do Watershed as a series of exhibits, which will change and grow as we go, and bring the work to a variety of bay communities like Fairhaven.

Two Weeks Out! Watershed planning...

Conversation, project updates, space planning...and the 'medicinal' Hungarian liqueur that we'll surely need at some point, with the exhibition opening coming up quick!

Playa Thoughts, Part One

Cristin Cash

 

I don’t think of myself as an artist. Never have.

I don’t “make” anything.

I don’t want to stare at a blank canvas. I’m not compelled by a pile of wood.

Creating something from nothing, who enjoys that?

But I have nothing to say.

 

A blank wall? An empty room? Welllll, that’s another thing.

Infinite potential. Limited capacity.

Stories to tell. Things to see!

 

Just one more…I can fit one more. Nope. No I can’t. Maybe a little one?

That blue just isn’t working. Lose it.

That lime green is too caustic, try it next to something else. Oh, better. Now move that one. I can’t stop looking at that one. It’s a star.

Adjust the lights.

Yes. Yes. I can see it now.

Show me. I want to see.

____________

We look, we shape, we assess, we decide what is worth looking at. What is worth seeing? What is worth our consideration – in a world full of things to see, things to consider.  Show me. I want to see.

What do you think? Is it what you want me to see? Is it what you want to see?

Color? Sure. YES. YES. In this case, absolutely yes.

 

What is the line between creation and curation ?

We see patterns, we make connections, we tell stories through things, framed and presented just so. For your consideration. Make sense of it as you can, it is only what is there to see.

The world is infinite, beautiful, treacherous, full of limited potential and boundless restrictions. We frame reality, present a vision that elevates and keeps us grounded.

Color. Light. Line. Texture. Depth. It’s all there. It changes every day.

Show me. I want to see.

RETURNS (Chapter 1)

Gabriela Bulisova

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Gabriela Bulisova

Returns is a personal project I’ve been working on since I first returned to Slovakia with a camera in my hands. It’s the most personal project I’ve ever worked on, painfully so.

I have lived in the United States for two decades now. Returns home are never easy; they never fail to expose the profound geographic divide that expresses itself in (often repressed) emotional and physical pain. My camera functions as a tool to hide behind, as a way to observe, relate, communicate and bridge the times and moments that were lost, gone, and never experienced…by me.

The project, perhaps never truly innocent, ultimately turned into an identity search; a search not only for myself but for my parents and closest relatives, and for people who are not there anymore. And it became not just a search for the past but a search for the present moment on two different continents.

I got up and walked away from this post many times, every time hoping it would be gone when I came back, hoping I would not have to continue remembering and thinking and making sense of the work and my own self. But the more times I abandoned it, the more the thoughts in my head gained in volume, mocking me in a loud voice: “We are here to stay; deal with us!”

I don’t want this post to be about my childhood. I don’t want it to be about the time that led me to decide to leave everybody and everything. I don’t want to think about the years I missed seeing the lives of my loved ones. And, I certainly don’t want to talk about losing some of those who are irreplaceable and dearest to me.

But I must write down some words that will help me with editing and sequencing my pictures, words that will inform viewers about my intentions and my way of seeing. And inform them of the people and places I want them to meet and experience. So I stay and write and delete. And I delete again…

And that’s Returns. It’s about me and my parents and my home and my loved ones and the village and the country of Slovakia and me again and the changing relationships I have with each and all of them. It’s about finding my way there and to them and to making memories. It’s about the many past and future returns.

The photographs are grouped in three chapters. The first chapter portrays my grandaunt and uncle; Gizela and Julius. Chapter two is about my mother and father and brother and life in the village, and later, about the absence of my father. And (for now), the last chapter focuses mainly on mother as she navigates through being alone, living without a man with whom she shared 49 years and then lost without warning. I am there, in each one of the images, trying to breathe life into moments past…

Thumb notes and photographing the invisible

Bill Crandall

My good friend and collaborator Craig Czury is doing a poetry event at Upshur Street Books on Feb 16th, if you're in Washington DC mark your calendars. Craig is an old school poet-warrior with the soul of a documentarian, with an enigmatic way of looking at things. We've been working together on an ongoing fracking-related project combining his words and my pictures from around where he lives in rural northeastern PA - fracking ground zero, the Marcellus Shale region. This event is for the release of his latest book, Thumb Notes Almanac, docu-poems he made by hitchhiking up and down the rural highways and back roads and chatting up locals and fracking workers alike. He creates a humanistic, nonpartisan mosaic of voices from a region under duress.

We’re planning a book of our joint work too. I think our visions meshed well, since we both like getting at a story indirectly, through the side door. I remember an intro to a Josef Koudelka book that calls Koudelka a ‘secretary to the invisible’, which always struck me as a noble guiding principle. How to illustrate an issue that is mostly invisible (fracking happens two miles underground)? For me, it wasn’t about shots of fracking towers as much as a feeling for the land. I consider it a landscape series.

I’ll probably make one or two more visits up there to keep the project going. Fracking activity, and the ripple effect on the community, is constantly in flux. Below is a photo I took of a well pad that seemed fairly innocuous. I couldn’t tell if it was under construction, or deconstruction, or was simply a dormant former drilling spot. (On a tragic side note, the family across the road who owns the property got a big windfall for signing off on the land rights. They spent part of the money on a four-wheeler for their teenage son, who promptly crashed it and died.)

This is right up the road from where Craig lives in an old rural schoolhouse converted to artist studios. Here’s a night shot he sent more recently of the same spot:

If you want to see how our project is shaping up so far, take a look on my website.

Water Near Water Street

Mark Isaac

New work-in-progress, using satellite imagery of the Chesapeake Bay watershed

Water, Water, Everywhere

Water is essential to life on earth. It covers more than two-thirds of the Earth’s surface. More than half of our bodies are water. 

Water is beautiful. It falls from the sky into puddles that reflect the world above. It freezes into snowflakes of endless crystalline complexity. It flows, always downward, sometimes plunging over perilous falls. It crests into waves and crashes against the shore incessantly. It changes faces constantly, spanning the color spectrum, and transforming freely from liquid to gas to solid. It evaporates in one of the world’s most sensational disappearing acts.

The Ever-Changing Face of Water

Water is always different. It is wind-whipped, emerald green, and cresting with little waves. It is calm and almost flat and very dark. It is brown but in a variety of shades, giving evidence of strikingly different depths. It is black but with innumerable colored stars in its firmament, as if the night had fallen from the sky and plunged into the saltwater. It is filled with arresting highly saturated reflections in geometric patterns. It is sliced by the wake of boat traffic. It reveals the tracks of humans traversing water on bridges. It exposes the impact of dredging and dumping. It cascades along rocks in tributaries. It always demonstrating exceptional diversity, but it is also pointedly reminding us of the threat against that diversity – the human activities that call into question the Bay’s long-term existence.  

Water in Crisis

Water is scarce. It is polluted. It is poisoning children in Flint, Michigan. It is causing fish to mutate. It contains Viagra and Tylenol and Prozac. Wars will be fought over access to water. Water is in crisis.

Water From the Sky

Because of water’s centrality to life, innumerable artists have sought to portray it from many different vantage points. One of the artists who has captured both water’s beauty and the environmental catastrophes it faces is Edward Burtynsky, who captured his expansive images of water from far above, in airplanes. These images are majestic and sweepingly beautiful at the same time that they call attention to the many ways in which human intervention is damaging this vital natural resource and threatening the future of the planet.

We are also living in a time not only of air travel, but of satellite surveillance of the entire surface of the planet. As an artist, I have been deeply intrigued by the extent of this surveillance, which is at the same time threateningly comprehensive, endlessly fascinating, and intensely beautiful. I decided that one vantage point from which to view the Chesapeake Bay watershed should be from the vantage point of surveillance satellites in outer space. 

Water Near Water Street

In the accompanying work, titled Water Near Water Street, created recently in the experimental spirit that Atlantika is seeking to cultivate, I have appropriated satellite imagery of the Chesapeake Bay Watershed. I have also sought to connect the water to the land and the world of human workplaces and domiciles through a simple construct: searching for images of water that are near streets named after the water. In the Chesapeake Bay region, these streets are everywhere, named for the most important feature of the surrounding landscape: Water Street, Chesapeake Avenue, Bay Parkway, and on and on. These streets appear throughout the bay region, and often within steps, there it is: the water. 

Water Near Water Street is still very much in an experimental phase, so I invite your comment and input. Also, Atlantika Collective is planning an exhibition related to the Chesapeake Bay watershed in October to November 2016. I will post more about this upcoming exhibition and our joint efforts, as a collective, to approach the challenges that the Chesapeake Bay faces from an artistic vantage point.

A brief conversation...

Cristin Cash

This is important. 
How can you not see that?
I’d prefer you did something else. 
But this is about people’s lives. Their stories. Their voices. Our community.
Isn’t that what we are supposed to be doing?
Perhaps something without any risk?
Your risk is my mission, and my mission is their social engagement.
But what will people say? What will they think?
I don’t know. That’s what makes it exciting. That’s what makes it important.
The data shows art isn’t relevant anymore. 
It’s just art, no one cares. 
Resources are better spent where there is greater demand.
Then why are you trying to shut the exhibition down. 
I’m not. I’d just prefer you did something else. 
Perhaps something without any risk.

I think my blog post is going really well… but I’m checking with the lawyer.