Part 1. Team-building
I spoke to some students the other week, as they came to my museum exhibition.
I tend to lecture the way I write, (off the cuff, spontaneous,) and soon found myself pointing to one of the photographs on the wall.
“People think artists work by themselves, as individuals,” I said. “They envision the lone wolf, quiet in the studio, but that’s not the way it works.”
“Just to get this print on the wall,” I continued, “takes an entire team of people. It requires tons of help.
No one does it alone.”
Now, you know this column is getting strange when I start quoting myself, (be forewarned,) but the message is important, and I’m going to lean into it today for a few reasons.
The biggest of them, (and the one driving today’s column,) is that I just launched a Kickstarter campaign for “Extinction Party,” my very first photo book, which will be published by Yoffy Press in Atlanta.
(Assuming we raise the needed funds.)
You, our audience, come here each week to see photographs, and read my musings about art, politics, food, travel, pop culture, sports, or whatever else is on my mind at a given time.
(Again with the stream of consciousness.)
So I’m here to ask you, directly, if you’d please be willing to help support me, (and my team,) as we’re hoping make an important book that symbolizes how human behavior is leading to planetary destruction.
For the hundreds of columns I’ve written here, this will be my first book, and I’d like to think all the practice critiquing will make it special.
(We also have an original essay by “Crazy Rich Asians” author Kevin Kwan, an expert on over-consumption.)
The project required so much work from other people, including my publisher, Jennifer Yoffy, who edited and proposed the book when she came to ski in Taos last February.
People often wonder how a book gets made, or what to search for in a publisher, and I recommend working with someone you respect and trust. So many people want that first book, it can lead to ethical or financial compromises, and I encourage people to look out for that.
I’ve known Jennifer a long while, and she mentioned several times over the preceding year that she was open to publishing my work, once I had the right idea.
While many artists want a book for each project, I waited 10 years, deciding, (after some great advice from Dewi Lewis,) that I should not make a book until I felt compelled.
Until the idea was strong enough to build the proper motivation.
When Jennifer first came here, I told her I had the raw material for a book, but was too close to make the edit, as there were too many connections for me to focus.
So when she asked to take a stab at editing for me after dinner, (but before we’d agreed to work together,) I said “Yes, please.”
I can’t stress enough, we all need colleagues, friends and collaborators who get what we’re doing. (The age of begging powerful people to take pity on you is over.)
It’s DIY, these days, and having learned a thing or two about team-building, with Antidote, I am starting to get the hang of things.
Work with people you like, appreciate and respect, of course, but don’t forget to look for complementary skill sets.
Can your teammates do things for you that you can’t do yourself?
In my case, my publisher is a master-marketer, a great editor, and has experience executing her vision, so it’s a good fit.
As for my designer, it was my best friend Caleb Cain Marcus, who’s also helped me develop and build our Antidote programming.
Oddly, we met less than 4 years ago, (at a photography festival,) but I’ve found that many of my closest friends are not my oldest friends.
The more we get know ourselves, the better our judgement can be, with respect to choosing friends and colleagues wisely.
In order to make a book, you need help with the making, and these days, with the funding.
As much as I feared having to ask the global photo community for help, (as I’m doing now,) I always tell you that getting out of your comfort zone makes you stronger.
And this about as far out of my zone as I can get, at the end of #2019, the busiest year of my career.
If you’d please be willing to help with our pre-sale and buy a book, a print, or just make a small donation, I’d be very grateful.
Part 2: The Perfect Partner
I’ve mentioned Caleb here many times, and at first, I reviewed his books without knowing him at all.
(He’s super-talented as an artist, digital guru, master-printer, book designer, and editor.)
Eventually, once we became good friends, I reviewed another of his books here, but then, I added a disclaimer.
So I found it amusing last week, when I was raiding my book pile, (which I wrote about in the column,) and came across a package, from early 2019, sent by a PR agent who normally submits good stuff.
I tore open the envelope, and wouldn’t you know it, but Caleb’s recent Damiani book, “A Line in the Sky” slipped out, along with a note asking me to consider another review.
Though we’re super-close, Caleb never mentioned the book had been sent, nor did he ask for a write-up.
He never even checked in to see what I thought.
And then, looking at it, I wondered how to review it, since I’d need to be open about our friendship, but also, I wasn’t sure the book was entirely necessary.
Unlike me, Caleb has made a book for each project, (more or less,) which means he’s many books into his publishing career, and doesn’t have to use crowdfunding to publish them.
Eventually, most established publishers will provide funding, when they’ve worked with an artist multiple times, and have a proven track record of selling the books.
I also helped Caleb a bit on this one, provoking him to think about how to approach the writing.
Looking through the book, nearly a year later, I was struck by the raw, tranquil beauty of the images. A rift in blue, a set of skies torn asunder by gold leaf.
Though there is a nice dance among the rectangles, from page to page, the repetition of form, and the very-slight subtlety, made me think the work would be more powerful as an exhibition.
I could see myself surrounded by the images, like in the Agnes Martin gallery at the Harwood Museum here in town. (It’s octagonal, and all her paintings are slight variations on a theme.)
He opens the book with a lovely poem, which is cool, as he studied poetry years ago, but wasn’t using that skill set lately.
And in the end, a brief, super-clear statement of intent, discussing the sundering of America in the Trump era.
As a metaphor, I love it.
But then, I know Caleb and his life.
I’m aware that only a few months after this quiet, personal book came out, his own life was ripped in two, when someone in his family developed a serious illness.
Context is key, as I always say, and I found it creepy that I could only understand the book, now, as the calm before the storm.
Even if it was meant to represent the chaos.
(Life was easy for him, when this book came out, compared to now.)
“A Line in the Sky” is certainly worth showing here, as it’s a beautiful, sad little object, and also demonstrates the range of Caleb’s talents.
I’m lucky to have him as a friend, and a charter member of my “art” team.
Part 3: Supporting your community
It wouldn’t be my column if I only made it about me and my buddy.
Having to blatantly self-promote is so hard, given that I try to collaborate, and help out my photo community whenever possible.
It’s the reason I made Antidote a group teaching endeavor, rather than naming it after me, and trying to do it all myself. (Again, doesn’t work.)
So last night, even though I was launching the Kickstarter today, and was tired to the bone, I went to a fundraiser at the UNM Art Museum in Albuquerque.
I even gave them some money, even though I need raise so much myself.
It was important to squeeze it in, as the museum’s new Director, Arif Khan, wrote me a personal email, asking if I’d come support the institution.
Not only that, but the event was on behalf of the new Diversity and Equity fund, which he recently launched with curator Mary Statzer, and the first recipient was photographer Jess Dugan, who was in town for the night.
The UNM Art Museum has been exhibiting her major traveling exhibition, “To Survive on this Shore,” which was done in collaboration with her partner, Vanessa Fabbre, who’s trained as a social worker. (Like my wife.)
They interviewed and photographed 88 (if I remember right,) older transgender or gender nonconforming people, in particular many who identify as Trans.
In order to be down with the proper nomenclature, I asked Jess how she identified, and she told me “non-binary” or “queer,” and that she did not primarily use the pronouns they/them.
But one of the images being acquired, from a separate series, heavily implied that Jess has had gender-related chest reconstruction surgery, so the entire subject is personal for her, as well as political.
Arif gave a lecture in which he projected certain statistics about the paucity of women, and people of color, who are represented in museum collections.
The numbers were stark.
Then he asked people to support the fund, and put up a goal that was only slightly higher than we need to make our book.
I felt a pang of guilt for asking people to support my work right now, as a Jewish-American man, given my demographic is the one that’s supposed to have all the opportunities already.
I quickly shook off that line of thinking, though, as I work hard each week to support other people, and my photographs, with their strong environmental commentary, bear messages that also need to be disseminated.
But hearing from students and faculty, and listening to flamenco guitar played by one of Jess’s trans photo subjects, everyone was so proud to be a part of an endeavor that was righting an obvious wrong.
The energy in the room was deeply positive, and made me glad to have driven five hours to spend two at a museum fundraiser.
As I told someone last night, Northern New Mexico is one big community, from Taos to ABQ. Hell, our Colorado cousins come down a lot too, so maybe it’s one big Rocky Mountain happy place.
The truth is, I need other people for guidance, and conversation. For inspiration, and challenge.
We all do.
So if you don’t want to support my Kickstarter, I’ll certainly understand.
Hopefully, though, you’ll go out of your way to help someone this week, and then they might help you back.