The Last of This Summer's Water Collections

James K. Russell, Long Beach, Washington

I asked my father to make a drawing in the sand. He found a stick from his yard and packed it in the car. He had no idea what he would make and neither did I. He thought this was much larger than it turned out to be and I envisioned it was closer to the water.  Since my mother was a prominent feature in the Idaho photographs, I wanted my father to be a part of the project too. Note to self: I have skills convincing my parents to do things for my art without any forewarning.

The end product though the "ruffles" kept getting in the way. As with the residency's water photographs from earlier this summer, I am not sure if I will use many of these or what the final outcome will be. For now they are merely a collection and one day when I finish every location, they might transform into something else.

 
More from Long Beach.

Cannon Beach, Oregon (After Gerhard Richter)

Posing as we all do, Haystack Rock, Cannon Beach, Oregon

I will return to Cannon Beach to photograph on a day when it isn't so crowded and warm (yes, warm!) at some point in the future. The two images above document the location where this came from...

... (wishing it was completely full but knowing I can take it back).

You know what this means? I finished everything above the line on the list I made in April. Add a few locations I forgot from Idaho and last year's trip to Texas (which produced this and this) and I am over the half way point in the autobiography of water series (I need a real title, damn it). I hope to complete the final destinations by Summer 2016. Yet another long term project in the making.

Reacquaintance with a Very Special Box

It held fishing tackle until it was cleaned in 1993 when the interior was spray painted red. Ever since then, it contained my art supplies. About twice a year, I rifle through searching for drawing pencils. I wish I had time to use the contents more. Today, I rummaged to the bottom and dug out my father's ART 111 Drawing slides from Boise State University. Several of these I used to learn anatomy. Once a very long time ago.

"Flatfoot"

I anticipate a lot of unearthing of the artistic past in the coming months. First up is Flatfoot (since we were on the subject of shoes and skates in a previous post). I've collaborated with a number of artists in my life but this piece is from my first collaborative exhibition in 1995 with my father. After receiving it in the mail, I photographed it quickly at school today and noticed that it had a long drip of white paint running across one of the photographs in the top right corner. I couldn't remember if it was there before so I hunted down the documentation from Focus magazine below and found that it was a new addition since its creation two decades ago.

It's embarrassing to look back at this artist statement (certainly undergraduate material). I don't even know whose signature that is since it's legible and so far from its current scrawl. The images come from four semesters of undergraduate photography classes and are also collaged alongside of the box that supports the shoe in the center. It's the only piece I have left from this exhibition. Many of the other works were sold or buried in the backyard before leaving Boise.

I'm thinking more about objects these days - where my interest comes from and how I can make my photographs more three-dimensional. Still tying up a few loose ends before I have the time to work on that in full force. Soon.... I hope... soon.

Instagram Vacation: Oregon

JKR Workspace 1

JKR Workspace 2

JKR setting up the photo shoot

The Ghost House Revealed, Astoria

Astoria

Graduation & birthday cupcakes travel disaster, Neskowin

View from the rental house, Neskowin

The Rock, Neskowin

Trees at low tide, Neskowin

Last July I spent three days watching this rock in Italy...

... this July I spent three days watching this rock in Oregon.

One of those Gerhard Richter clouds.

Outdated information, Astoria Column

Last walk along the Columbia River, Astoria

Adios, Oregon (my mini travel photography brochure)

The Inherited Interest in Objects: A Conversation with My Father

James K. Russell's promo photo taken by yours truly for his exhibition at the Bay Harbor Avenue Gallery in Ocean Park, Washington next month.

I was having a conversation with my Dad last week about his interest in objects, knowing full well that my love for photographing them also comes from him. As a painter and assemblage artist, he knew what his answer was immediately: 1) He loves the quality of the objects and how well they were made. The old adage "they don't make them like they used to" fits in well here.

2) The "hunt" or thrill of finding them is also very important. Since I don't find my objects (and he does), the aspect of this that I can most relate to is the search for earthworks. The excitement of finding this often elusive artwork with vague directions out in the middle of nowhere is quite gratifying.

3) The third part to his answer is "the process of transformation." How he alters the object to create a new narrative and meaning holds his interest. I don't do this literally but am always hopeful that the story behind it changes the way it is viewed.

 
Dad's latest work revolves around his interest in old toys and secondarily, male/female relationships. I photographed a dozen of them in his workspace while I was visiting and these were some of my favorites. His use of plexi-glass boxes as a receptacle to carry all the broken down parts (including an airplane) and how it comments on age and disrepair fascinates me.

Death of a Heel caused me to laugh out loud when I heard the title. The detail of the assemblage is above.

Either way, our interests revolve around nostalgia. His is more open ended while mine usually chronicles a direct experience I've had with the object.

This was one of the first sculptures in the series which had been hanging out in the window of my school office for the past four years. I photographed it before all the wood chips fell off the paintbrush. Now it currently resides in my living room.