Dunn Quite a Lot

Guess what? Turns out I can do a blog post this week. And next week. Yay for me!

As I think I’ve mentioned at least once in the last week, I am back in Queenstown to continue work on my photo story about Q-West Gallery. While I’m down here I am interviewing artists who work and exhibit at Q-West Gallery. I’ve done two interviews so far and I have found that there is a great amount of depth behind the artists here. So much so that I felt I had to write about it. But I don’t want to rabbit on too much because, well, photo story. So what to do, what to do?

I think I’ll talk a little bit about James Dunn (He prefers Jim, and I know he’s going to be reading this, so there’s this evil little voice in the back of my mind saying ‘call him James!’. But I’ll defer to the fact that he’s bigger than me and call him ‘Jim’).

Now there is a hell of a lot about Jim that I can talk about. I can talk about the fact that he is a blind sculptor and quilter and wood carver. I can talk about the fact that he has worked in television and radio and healthcare. I can talk about… man! There’s a lot to talk about! But I’ve decided to talk about the impression I got of the man during the interview.

Jim is a 53 year old man with Autism. Don’t get the significance of that? Then let me explain. Jim was an autistic child during a time when there was no distinction between autism and ‘mental retardation’, to coin the term of the day. And not only was he an autistic boy, he was a blind autistic boy. Imagine the nice little cubby hole that would have made for him in the welfare system of the day!

Jim made it plain that, for much of his formative years and into his adult life, the things people were most interested in telling him were what he couldn’t do. The focus of family, social services, educators, everyone was on Jim’s limitations, not his capabilities. And I honestly believe that was the best thing that could have happened to him. Because it motivated Jim to prove them wrong.

This blind autistic boy, at the age of eight, completed his first ever artistic work; a quilt sewn on his great grandmother’s Singer sewing machine. Crafted by a child supposedly ‘mentally retarded’ and incapable of just about anything, as decided by a fresh-faced young psychologist straight out of school with a book of definitions.

So what else has Jim done to prove the system wrong? Well there’s the 30 years of community radio, including production and hosting late night talk back. There’s the television where he was a technician, a cameraman (no joke! According to Jim he just worked the focus until it was at its least blurry. And it worked!) And he was producer/director of his own show.

Now, in Queenstown, Jim is the secretary of the local Men’s Shed, and key in the recent acquisition of funding for that shed, he is an active member of the Friday afternoon Quilting Group and of the Q-West Gallery (funnily enough). And at home he carves wood.

And this is all very interesting and makes for a compelling story and had absolutely nothing to do with why I chose to tell you about Jim. You see, when organising this interview I asked Jim to bring in some of his pieces so that I could capture images of Jim with his work. During the interview, I asked Jim to talk to me about the quilt he brought with him. It was during this description that I saw the complex and subtle mind that lay behind all the history and all the labels. I saw someone with a deeper understanding of himself and his autism than any supposedly ‘normal’ and apparently ‘healthy’ person could hope to achieve. His description of the quilt, the meaning of the colours, the nuanced design and construction, the intentional disparities all served to paint a picture for me, not of the autistic blind man, but of the highly intelligent man, the highly skilled artist, it had been my pleasure to talk with.

And that is the point I want anyone reading this to take away; look beyond the surface. Ignore what you can see, what you are told is there and what you expect to be there. Do that and you will see what is there. Jim the Autistic Blind Man is far, far more than those labels convey, but many people have allowed those labels to define him. And man, have they missed out!

Communication

As I mentioned in Wednesday’s post, last weekend saw the start of work on my photo story about Q-West Gallery, Queenstown. I had been assured by my super-secret contact that all individuals involved had agreed to participate in my little project. All was in readiness for my arrival.

Said arrival occurred on the day before the opening of the gallery’s latest exhibition – a collection of sculptures by regional artists. I headed to the gallery to get a few shots of the final stages of the preparation for the opening event. I stepped in, greeted those people I had already met, was introduced to others, and prepared to shoot. I surveyed the scene, found my first shot, raised the camera to my eye and *CLICK*.

“Did you just take a photo of me?” came the indignant cry.

“Yes,” I replied, somewhat nonplussed. “It’s for my project. You do know about my project, don’t you?” (Okay, so it’s not verbatim, but its close enough. I’m only misquoting myself, the other line is 100% accurate!)

The reply to my question came in the form of blank stares and puzzled glances. It turned out that no one had seen my proposal nor did they know anything about it. Upon investigation I discovered that my contact had run it briefly past one person who thought it was an okay idea.

It was about this time I popped my cork.

I had sent the proposal through to my contact and asked that he share it with everyone involved specifically so that everyone was aware of what was going to occur and could decide whether or not they wanted to participate. My contact assured me that he would do exactly that. He didn’t do exactly that, or anything like that. So... POP!

But I am a big boy and knew that it would not be appropriate or dignified to throw a tantrum in the middle of the gallery. Instead, I went for a walk and muttered under my breath, gesticulating wildly. Having people think I was a lunatic was okay, so long as I didn’t lose my dignity.

On my walk, once I managed to calm myself, I realised that the whole situation was my fault. So where did I go wrong?

Point 1: I made assumptions. I assumed that my contact understood why I had written the proposal and why I required all relevant parties to read and approve my proposal. I assumed my contact had passed on my proposal and, when he replied that there was agreement, I assumed that he had done as I asked. And, rather foolishly, I assumed that the rapid response (one to two days – I know! I know!) was due to excitement over my idea.

Point 2: I didn’t create a paper trail. I should have included a disclaimer or form or something for those who read the proposal to sign and return, acknowledging that they had read the document and agreed to participate in my project.

Point 3: I should have taken model release forms to Queenstown with me and had them available should the need have arisen.

I got back from my little walk, put my camera away and set about helping with the final set up and clean of the gallery in preparation for the exhibition. After a while the number of people at the gallery lessened and, importantly, the person who had objected to being photographed left. I took out my camera once more and, careful not to photograph anyone, I set about documenting the gallery and the art on display.

Later in the day, when the opportunity arose, I sat down with my super-secret contact and we discussed why the proposal was so important. I outlined for him the ways in which the images would be used, why such usage might require informed consent and the potential legal repercussions for me if such consent was not explicitly given, even if only verbally (I’m going to do some research into Australian laws that apply to photography and write a post about that some time soon.) At the end of the conversation my contact agreed to take a copy of the proposal to the gallery in order to get some explicit consent coming my way.

The next day I went down to the gallery to see if anyone had seen the proposal and what their responses were. Happily, everyone that read the document agreed to participate, even expressing a level of enthusiasm or excitement at the prospect. Just in time for the opening event of the exhibition I had verbal, explicit consent to start my photographic project. I got some great images of the crowd attending, the art on display, and the artists themselves (I’ve shared some of them here). And only 36 hours after I intended to start shooting.

I suppose the problem, ultimately, stems from the fact that I assumed I could bypass best practice, dodge all the paperwork and just shoot. I figured the identity of my super-secret contact (if you don’t know read my post about Queenstown) and his position within the gallery was a neat work-around. Nope! I should have done it right the first time.

So where to from here?

I’ll be heading back to Queenstown around the end of this month; ostensibly I’ll be there to dog sit for my parents, but I’m also going to use the time to get some one-on-one time with each artist. Hopefully I’ll get to interview them, get some nice portraits and some shots of them at work on some project or another.

Before then, I have some work to do. I’m going to get online and find a model release form I can tailor to my needs, as well as an appropriate document to get signed by the gallery officers, thus giving me official permission to shoot. I’ll take these with me on my next visit and start making a paper trail for myself.

I’m going about this all backwards, I know. And I am paying for it. I mean, think about this; because I don’t have anything in writing giving me permission for my project, the gallery is well within its rights to say “We changed our minds, you can’t do it.” and then I’ll be sh*t out of luck. Time, money and effort wasted.

So how am I going to sum this one up? What am I taking away from all this? I guess it comes down to one word:

COMMUNICATION

If I had communicated my intentions clearly to my super-secret contact I wouldn’t have had to go through all the drama that stopped me from shooting. But it’s more than that.

I shouldn’t have left it to my contact to pass on my proposal. It wasn’t his job to communicate my ideas and wishes, it was mine. I should have communicated with each member of the gallery individually and provided them each with their own copies of the proposal to study and consider. Then, before even taking my camera out of my bag, I should have gone to each member with the ‘permission slip’ (for want of a better term) and got signatures on paper. Then I could take photos. But I’d have release forms with me just in case I needed them!

That’s what should have happened from the start, and what is going to happen from now on – with this and every other project from now on.

Has anyone else out there had a similar experience? What did you do? What would you have done in my place? How do you go about preparing for a shoot? Share your thoughts and experiences; I’d love to hear from you...

Shooting in Queenstown

Saturday afternoon I found myself suffering from itchy feet. I’d cleaned the house, taken the dog down to Somerset Beach for an hour and washed the car. There was nothing left for me to do at home and I was bored. So I packed an overnight bag, my camera bag and a doggy bag for Gypsy, my little Aussie Terrier, and headed for my father’s place in Queenstown, a quiet little town on Tasmania’s west coast.

Winding through the forests and mountains that make up the terrain between Somerset and Queenstown, I realised that my recent move to Tasmania had put me landscape photography nirvana. Every bend in the road revealed a new mountain or lake or river or waterfall.

And I do mean every bend. To get this snap shot of a waterfall all I had to do was pull over and wind down my window! A drive down the west coast of Tasmania reveals a cornucopia of photographic opportunities. The undulating, mountainous terrain around Lake Plimsoll puts a perfect landscape image on every point of the compass. Just about everywhere there is a river or lake or stream. Am I repeating myself? Sorry, it’s just that Tasmania’s landscape is so exciting!

Needless to say, I have a lot of shoots to plan.

On arriving in Queenstown I organised an after-hours visit to the Q-West Gallery. Run by members of Queenstown burgeoning artistic community, Q-West Gallery plays host to a wealth of art and artistic styles from the classical to the avant-garde. It was difficult to organise the after-hours access to take photos but my skill and charm got me through the door (‘Hey, Dad!’ ‘What?’ ‘Can I come take some photos at your gallery?’ ‘Yeah, okay.’). And it was well worth the effort. The place is fantastic!

And I don’t just mean the art, but the whole visual aesthetic. Everywhere I looked was an interesting angle or framing opportunity. The image to the right, for example; in the foreground is a fascinating abstract piece, all lines and angles. As I bent to examine that piece I saw very much what you see now and I had to record it. Out comes the tripod, on goes the camera and I shoot away. Now, as I sit and write this post, I look at the image in question and I see reframing opportunities. What if I were to get lower and frame it in landscape instead of portrait, could I give the impression of the Rising Sun cresting the horizon beyond the linear-ness (bad word!) of the industrial? How would I light that? If you have thoughts on lighting that I’d love to hear (read) them!

 

And there were other images that presented themselves. This of a bust framed by, well, a frame just presented itself to me. And all I had to do was sit my butt on the floor and press the button.

 And below the image of the bust is a study in contrast. Against a background of colour and vitality of a living, moving scene we find a construct representing (to my eye at least) the stark angularity of industrialism. And again, all we had to do was sit on the floor and take the photo.

So why am I telling you all this? Am I promoting my father’s gallery? A little, yeah. I mean, there is some fantastic art on display and the artists are happy to discuss their work with visitors so why not? A quick search on Facebook will bring up the gallery’s page if you want to know more.

 But my main reason for sharing my weekend with you is to share that of which my weekend reminded me. There are opportunities everywhere, you just need to keep your eyes open for them and be ready when they arrive. 

So photography is a bit like life, really. Hmmm...

I am not finished with Q-West Gallery, my visit over the weekend was just recon. I am heading back to do a more in-depth exploration of the gallery and the artists who work and exhibit there. At the end of that exploration the plan is to have a photo story up on my portfolio site and a photo book for presentation to the gallery.

I will put the best images from my reconnaissance mission up on my portfolio site on a new page entitled ‘Latest’. That is where I will put my latest good work from each day or week or whenever I get something I like. If I get something great, that goes in the portfolio.

So, share with me. What are you doing at the moment? Where has your photography, or life in general, taken you? What have you seen that has inspired you? How would you light my Rising Sun idea? Leave a comment and share your togging life!