Homage to Saltzman

L. Paul Saltzman and I have been corresponding for some four or five years. We have never met and it’s a very unlikely alliance. Paul lives in the Bronx, a typical liberal New Yorker and I am cornpone country conservative—neither are likely to change. What we have in common is photography and discussing photography. If everything goes as planned, in October we will actually meet and take a road trip photographing rural America—or rural Texas in this case. That is a subject matter that I greatly enjoy and Paul has considerable curiosity about. I am greatly looking forward to seeing how it turns out.

 

Yesterday, Alcy and I spent the day shooting at will in Galveston. If it gets in front of our cameras it is likely to become a photograph. Not saying that it will become a good photograph or even an interesting photograph, just a photograph.

 

In the process we were driving along Seawall Boulevard and I noticed a row of purple beach rental umbrellas and decided that I wanted to photograph them. On getting out of the car I discovered that there were no patrons—no one had rented any of the umbrellas and the shot immediately became an homage to Paul’s photography.

 

As you might have ascertained—I am a great believer in themes when I am shooting. I carry dozens of them in my head and am always looking to add to the collection. Paul also has a theme. Where Paul and I differ is that Paul is much more concentrated. Where I am likely to jump between themes in the course of a shoot, Paul’s theme seems to dictate that he stay relatively focused in his choice of subject matter. Neither approach is right or wrong, simply different.

 

I understand Paul’s theme. I understand where it comes from and why it is so important. I understand because he has shared a great deal of his private life over the course of our correspondence. I suspect that his theme will to some degree dominate the images of rural America that we hope to take. It should. Photography without personal input is simply picture taking. Paul’s photographs are almost always personal, some very personal. That is what I enjoy about his work, about knowing Paul.

 

Paul’s theme is loneliness and it matters not what is in front of Paul’s camera that theme is there. Early in our correspondence Paul had not mentioned his theme, but in the photographs he sent of one of his favorite shooting areas, Cooper Lake, which is in the vicinity of Woodstock, in the photographs he took along the sea shore, even from photographs he took in around his home in the Bronx—the theme became evident. One of the first photographs is saw that solidified the theme was a shot of a swimming pool—I assume it may be the pool at the condo where Paul lives although we have never discussed where the pool is located. Along the far side of the pool is a row of lounge chairs. As I recall they had a Adirondack chair style—something I would expect to see in New York. Along the bank of the pool was stenciled the depth at that point. I believe the first stenciled depth was “3 feet” and I believe Paul had titled the photograph Three Feet Deep. I read the title to be subversion. It would imply that the photograph was about the depth of the water, the depth of the pool. This is a very common thing for photographers to do, or attempt to do—throw the viewer off by implying a message that is not really what the photograph is about. We all like to be safe. We do not like revealing things about ourselves that we wish to keep private. However, photography is very good at thwarting our subversions. A photograph makes two statements; one about the subject matter and one about the photographer. If you ever get beyond the point of just picture taking you will have to deal with photography revealing things about yourself. On a subconscious, or maybe even on a conscious level, Paul, knew what the photograph was about and because it was something that he did not wish to confront in the image, he gave the photograph a title that would make it seem that the photograph was about something else.

 

What was the photograph about? Loneliness.

 

Now, if that was the only photograph you had ever seem from Paul, you most likely would have accepted the fact that the photograph was about the swimming pool. But as part of a body of work it because very clear that it wasn’t. There was a long line of the deck chairs and no one was in any of them. It was clearly a photograph taken by a photographer that was making a statement that he was at this swimming pool where you would likely find other people and there was no one there, at least no one there that attracted the attention of Paul’s camera or no one that related to Paul. The photograph was about the lack of people or lack of involvement with people,  not the depth of the pool. When I confronted Paul about the meaning in the photograph he agreed that the title was subterfuge. Almost all of Paul’s photographs with the exception of his photographs of his family lack people. They are from a person either searching for or excluding from his life—other people. Since then we have discussed a larger number of his photographs and their true meaning.

 

Anyway, yesterday, seeing the line of empty rental umbrellas quickly brought to mind Paul’s photograph of the swimming pool. I shot this as an homage to Paul and that single photograph.  And for that, I thank him for letting me steal his theme. Thank you, Paul.