The Pictorialist
The Art Of Violent Reading
My grandmother’s name is Imelda. She has been dead for many years now. But not a single day goes by that I do not think of her. I grew up with her. She was the first influential women in my life..
As the perfect wife to my grandfather, Cornelio, who was a lawyer, and as a home economics teacher at the nearby school where I went, she took joy in teaching me many practical things: the proper order of manually washing the dishes (no dishwashers then), the right way to perfectly iron clothes, and how to mend buttons and darn socks. She also encouraged me how to play the ukulele and to start the habit of saving money in a bank. And, it was from her lap where I learned how to read, to care for, and to love books, and from whose guidance and prodding I learned how to use a library card. This is the one thing she passed on to me, above all else, where she took the best pride in.
For sure, she will be delighted to know that her gentle nudge, her loving tutelage, and her larger-than-life influence, has not been wasted on me. All the time she spent on me has not been in vain, has been for naught, that I was able to absorb, and carry on in my own life the many things she taught me, including her abiding love of reading. (I can almost smell the mustiness stoically hanging in the air of her modest personal library crammed with hardbound books, text books, paperback novels, and magazines. In my youth, this little corner has become my sanctuary as much as it was hers. She happily and generously shared the space with me. If I’m not on the attic playing hide-and-seek, I’d be in her library trying to figure out on my own what the fairy tales meant when not trying to understand the jokes from hundreds and hundreds of Readers’ Digest magazines.)
But some things have changed a bit, and almost unexpectedly. My love of books is still there, but the way I read them and care for them and store them is not the same. My grandmother, who tended to her collection of books with amazing care, will surely be horrified, even scandalized, to know how I read and treat books nowadays. She who constantly admonished me to handle books with gentleness, to rightfully bestow respect on them, and to cultivate them as loving friends, as I should, particularly books that are borrowed for a brief time from the library, she will surely be displeased and disapprove to see how I literally and typically manhandle, but not willfully or maliciously, the books in my possession. I wouldn’t, of course, dare to desecrate the books I borrow today from the New York Public Library for fear that they’d confiscate my library card and suspend my book-borrowing and book-reading privileges, even if it leaves me unrequited and thirsting for more, but when it comes to my own books, let’s just say that I’m not a model reader or model book reader.
I treat my own books as possessions that must be truly possessed. Though the years, my way of reading and manner of handling books has devolved into some kind of rabid possession, to the point where no one in his or her right mind will buy anything that I’ve laid my hands and eyes, and devoured, not even if I put it up for sale on eBay or Amazon. By the time I’m done reading a book in mint condition, it will look anything but mint.
I sometimes read books, cover to cover (yes, including the acknowledgement pages), not once but twice or even thrice. And once I’m done with a book, it invariably ends up looking like an unrecognizable heap of a mess. The once pristine book, prim and proper, smelling of freshly pressed paper and glue, ends up looking like a tired trash, as any trash looks like, after read it. I’m not proud of this, but this is the only way for me to truly and deeply engage and burrow myself into the author’s mind. When reading, a bookmark is not enough, as most people might require. I have this compelling need to slash it to its core, with several highlighters of yellows, greens and blues, and pens and pencils to underscore and violate with thick lines, and to argue or appraise points by sullying its white margins, dirty with hastily and barely legible scribbled notes. Add to that the heavy encumbrance of loose sheets of paper with more scribbled scrawls and illustrations painfully wedged between virginal pages in more than one place, straining its spine. If the concept of personal property is physical ownership of a book, my concept, as you can see, goes beyond that—I like to own not just its physical nature but I embrace its essence with punishing fervor. I chain my soul to my books.
Indeed a strange, strange way to read a book, my friend, Jennifer, might have said to me, to whom I felt compelled to apologize (although probably needlessly so), when I lent her one of mine, a heavy reference book on a very technical subject. Wisely, my friend breathed not a word for the book’s unusually dilapidated condition and sorry state, out of necessity perhaps, grateful enough to have borrowed and not paid for a copy, but perhaps more so for when she read it, because in pages, she will come upon the mind not solely of the author but of mine as well, a discourse probably made more rich and so much more interesting because of what I’ve done to it.
There’s no excuse, for sure, for such a bad habit, as I am perfectly capable of being very civil with books that I borrow, specially those from the New York Public Library, in which case, I note passages by snapping photos of some pages with my iPhone and storing these images on a fancy notation software along side photos I’ve snapped of my illustrations and diagrams, as well as typed notes, thereby all neatly depositing all of my scrambled thoughts. It’s like behaving civilly whenever in a public place where others are watching. I tried to read a book once, the normal way, without my usual involvement. And I was miserable. I didn’t understand what I was reading. I can see the words but the string of it was incomprehensible to me. I cried. I don’t know how many others out there are like me, when it comes to reading books this way. As for myself, I can’t read a book as fully if not like this.
This is my art of reading. If not, I wouldn’t have read about photography and become one, which, after all, is really all for the love of it. And so, thank you, Imelda.
–Dominique James
Contact Dominique James at djphotographer@mac.com
Visit his fine art photography website at Zatista
3.1.10: Trying my hardest best to love Bob Dylan
It’s no secret that Steve Jobs loves Bob Dylan. He said so himself, publicly, a number of times. Also, this fact has been mentioned in some of his unauthorized biographies. And in some of his company’s events (that’s Apple, in case you don’t know), Bob Dylan songs are often piped in before and after, and even figuring out prominently during the actual presentations.
But Steve Jobs is not the only Bob Dylan fan I have come to know. Recently, I came across an entry in one of my favorite blogs about graphic design, culture, and art, “The Daily Heller,” where the author, Steven Heller, cofounder and co-chair of the “MFA Designer as Author” program at the School of Visual Art in New York, admits to being a Bob Dylan fan. Heller’s entry was prompted by Dylan’s acclaimed performance recently at the White House.
You see, I’ve always known and believed Bob Dylan to be an icon. And perhaps like many others, I’ve naturally grown curious about him. The fact that Steve Jobs, who happens to be my idol, and now Stephen Heller, are both big fans of Bob Dylan, there must really be something about Bob Dylan—something I felt I’m missing but can’t afford to miss.
And so, I got hold of a Bob Dylan album. And I tried listening to it. Really listen. And then … nothing.
Despite my great expectations, Bob Dylan didn’t connect to me, the way, say, John Mayer connects to me. I was fully expecting to really be hit hard, to be blown away, but then, nothing of that sort happened. It was like a rocket that fizzled out.
Still, I was unconvinced with my non-connection to Bob Dylan. That can’t possibly be! I have to like Bob Dylan, I tell myself, trying really hard to convince myself. I have to love him! I know that Bob Dylan is an important artist, like John Lennon or Michael Jackson, and he should be one of the few who’s is worthy of my admiration and adulation. But, sadly, very sadly, despite several attempts, I’m really not connecting with him.
As I write this, I give Bob Dylan another spin. He’s plugged into my ears right now. And … you guessed it, he’s still not connecting with me.
I try to figure out what’s wrong. Is it possible that there’s something wrong with me and my taste in music? Could it be that, as a member of the MTV generation, that I don’t like the way he looks?. And it is also possible it’s because his music is old? I quickly dismissed these ideas. It just doesn’t make sense.
I look at myself: I appreciate a wide swath of musical styles. I like the fact that Bob Dylan has got the look of an artiste. And I’ve managed to collect a lot of old music that I love and enjoy listening to, to the point where my friends would tease me that I belong to a bygone era.
So, I’m in this strange situation where I’m trying to love Bob Dylan. Over and over, I’m being told he’s one of the greats. Everybody I’ve asked and everywhere I turn says they love Bob Dylan. So, what is it that I’m missing? How come he’s not connecting with me?
And that is when it hits me. I should have known early on that I was needlessly forcing myself to love Bob Dylan. I was trying my hardest best to love Bob Dylan. Music, just like most other art forms such as painting, sculpture, photography, is an intensely personal experience. Its real appreciation and true enjoyment is something that must be allowed to happen, usually over time, and not forced by anyone else to happen. Sometimes, like love at first sight, it can happen in an instant. There’s that overwhelming connection that happens right away. But that’s not the way it often happens. Sometimes, admittedly, it takes quite some time to grow.
I’ve made a conscious decision no longer force myself to love Bob Dylan. I have decided to just keep him in my radar. I decided that I will bide my time. If one day I wake up eventually loving him, then that would be really great. I would be very, very happy. But if that doesn’t happen, I’ll try not to make a big deal out of it, not even if Steve Jobs or Steven Heller loves him. There are others out there to love anyway.
In the meantime, I also came to a decision that there is something I can do about it. I will try to learn more about Bob Dylan. Strange, because this sounds like I’m obsessing about something that I’m not obsessed about. Still, as it is, I’m interested enough to want to get to know more of him and his music. My plan is simple: I’m going to read up on him, and I will listen to more of his music. There must many, many good books out there on Bob Dylan. Since I enjoy reading about the lives of all sorts of people anyway, a lot of whom are relatively obscure, what more with someone like Bob Dylan? And I’m sure there are tons of stuff about Bob Dylan and his music that I have yet to know.
And maybe, just maybe, one of these days, I’ll wake up finally loving Bob Dylan.
–Dominique James
Contact Dominique James at djphotographer@mac.com
Visit his fine art photography website at Zatista
2.22.10: The Fine Art of Investing
What with financial vicissitudes generally labeled as “The Great Recession” that has plagued Americans and the rest of the world in recent times, everyone who has money to invest have become understandably more careful where to throw their money. This is a natural reaction to intense, unexpected or unusual financial uncertainty and risk. People tend to be extraordinarily deliberate or wary when it comes to considering their options as to which financial investments to undertake that not only offer the best reward but also protection, particularly if the sums involved are big. In the realm of financial investments, “risks” and “rewards” are polar opposites. And in times such as this, many people, and wisely so, are being really careful.
One bright spot though, despite the turmoil in Wall Street and the economy in general, and despite the painful crash-and-burn experience that a lot of people have been recently subjected to, many are still at it, building and re-building assets. Investors know that it doesn’t make sense to stop investing even if many of the economic indicators are showing up red. They cannot pull out of the economy just like that. They know they will not fair any better, and that the decision to stop playing the market will result to harm not just to themselves but to the economy as a whole. If everyone stopped, the entire world economy will come to a screeching halt and the result will be a total and catastrophic collapse of the international economic system. In other words, pulling out is not an option. As they say, the show must go on. And because of this, many have learned or are starting to learn from the experience, and the financial anomaly of recent times is beginning to be regarded simply as nothing more than an anomaly, and that the future of financial investing can still look bright, despite the seeming bleakness of the current overall economic situation.
The offshoot of this situation, of course, is for investors to be more discerning when it comes to formulating or reformulating their financial strategies. People are trying to learn more and to understand more, and because of that, they are mapping out new and solid financial investment strategies, properly diversifying their holdings, and seeking out the most sensible of investment opportunities they can find to protect them against potentially unpredictable, irrational or temperamental economic mood swings. The best and the brightest of investors, particularly the young ones, are finding ways and means to hedge their bets with a portfolio that can withstand the wild ups and downs of the market.
In finding their way out of the financial morass, and as they make sense of it all, investors are seeking out solid solutions. In the past, very few investors dared to foray far from traditional investment instruments and vehicles. But recently, and because of the risky market situation, they have started casting their eyes about in looking at other possibilities that they might have missed but have proven track record growth with manageable risk. Many of them, quite naturally, are surprised at finding it in art investment. Yes, art—paintings, sculptures, photography, prints, installations, and all.
Based on available historical information and data, they are only now beginning to see for themselves that investing in fine art is generally a solid investment. For instance, according to the book, “Fine Art and High Finance: Expert Advice on the Economics of Ownership” edited by Clare McAndrew, on the same day that Lehman Brothers collapsed in New York in September of 2008, Sotheby’s held a successful and landmark sale of primary works by Damien Hirst in London. This is one of the signs clearly demonstrating that the art market is immune to prevailing financial crisis. McAndrew writes: “Many sectors of the art market have shown consistently low or negative correlation with financial indices over time, suggesting that their price and return trajectories are often unrelated to other asset classes, and making art an attractive alternative investment in order to diversify risk.”
McAndrew’s “Fine Art and High Finance” is one of the few authoritative books that deals with the economics of investing in fine art. It touches on a full spectrum of art investment, and it surveys the breadth and depth of the art landscape, that potential art investors must know and learn when it comes to art investment. The main target audience of this book, of course, are those who are already playing the financial market games. If you have considerable financial interests and if you are seriously considering viable alternative investment strategies such as in the field of fine art, this is the textbook to read.
With a well defined target audience, it is easy to dismiss McAndrew’s book as only for the savvy financial investors who have bundles of money ready for deployment. This is understandable because the book drills down into hard numbers right away that anyone without ample accounting or economic background will be easily put off by it. Plus, lack of art understanding and appreciation, both in terms of beauty and value, can prove to be a stumbling block. In other words, it’s a hard book to read. It involves a lot of learning. But even if dominating the art market is not your goal, even if you only want to have a little hedge against risks on your modest financial investments, and even if you are only personally interested in investing in a few art pieces that you can enjoy, if it is still important to read this book. It will open your eyes to the possibilities of art as a property investment that you may have not thought of before.
Art, nowadays, is no longer just an eye-candy. It can be a solid financial investment.
–Dominique James
Contact Dominique James at djphotographer@mac.com
Visit his fine art photography website at Zatista
2.15.10: The Value of Fine Art Photography
More or less, you know how much a bottle of Coke, a tin of Altoids, or a can of Pringles can cost. More or less, you also know that depending on where you buy it, whether from Walgreens or Rite-Aid, from a movie theater’s concessionaire stand or from a 5-star hotel gift shop, and what the tax rate is, there will be only a slight variation in the price of each. And, more or less, you pretty much know the value of these items to you in terms of what it can do and the effect it will have on you. That’s the thing about mass-produced and mass-distributed products, the pricing structure is pretty much stable, and its values are generally accepted and understood.
But that’s not the same when it comes to photography as a fine art object for sale. Photography is available and accessible to almost all (what with it’s ubiquity), just like any stuff you can buy, but its price and value are a little more difficult to figure out and understand.
Let’s see if we can break it down a bit.
Most everything that can be had in modern life—there is both a price to be paid and a value to be gained. While it is common to mistake or confuse one for the other, the two are not the same and never equal. The price of Coke may vary by a few cents from one store to another, but it is deemed more desirable and valuable by someone who’s thirsty than by someone who’s not. Such a dynamic of price and value becomes a bit more complicated when it comes to fine art photography, where a more complex interplay of multiple factors underlie every pricing decision and every item being offered in the market. Unlike the multiple common transactions we deal with every day, in which the price structure for commodities are relatively stable and its values easily understood, the financial aspects of fine art photography as objects of desire are often viewed as shrouded in mystery. It is not something that we can all easily understand, and which only a few can fathom.
The business side of fine art photography is so complicated (or convoluted), its market players so diverse and disparate, and its yardsticks of value often without a commonly accepted standard that it requires its own particular expertise, which is separate and distinct from art appreciation itself, in order to begin to fathom and ramify its economic mysteries. Unlike commodities which are largely governed by the generally accepted economic law of supply and demand as well as consumer-oriented regulations devised and imposed by the government, the accounting of price as nothing more than cost plus profit complicated only by tax and shipment or delivery costs, the trade in fine art photography has to contend with translating to tangible numbers a number of intangibles. In order to arrive at a figure, art dealers, sellers and purveyors have to capture portions or even the entirety of a band of essences and then translate, if not convert, them into financial terms in order to make conducting business plausible and possible.
We will probably never come close to totally understanding the pricing and valuation of art photography (though we may be able to afford it), but for sure, we will be able to sense the value of its acquisition and ownership.
–Dominique James
Contact Dominique James at djphotographer@mac.com
Visit his fine art photography website at Zatista
2.12.10: The Value of Fine Art Photography
More or less, you know how much a bottle of Coke, a tin of Altoids, or a can of Pringles can cost. More or less, you also know that depending on where you buy it, whether from Walgreens or Rite-Aid, from a movie theater’s concessionaire stand or from a 5-star hotel gift shop, and what the tax rate is, there will be only a slight variation in the price of each. And, more or less, you pretty much know the value of these items to you in terms of what it can do and the effect it will have on you. That’s the thing about mass-produced and mass-distributed products, the pricing structure is pretty much stable, and its values are generally accepted and understood.
But that’s not the same when it comes to photography as a fine art object for sale. Photography is available and accessible to almost all (what with it’s ubiquity), just like any stuff you can buy, but its price and value are a little more difficult to figure out and understand.
Let’s see if we can break it down a bit.
Most everything that can be had in modern life—there is both a price to be paid and a value to be gained. While it is common to mistake or confuse one for the other, the two are not the same and never equal. The price of Coke may vary by a few cents from one store to another, but it is deemed more desirable and valuable by someone who’s thirsty than by someone who’s not. Such a dynamic of price and value becomes a bit more complicated when it comes to fine art photography, where a more complex interplay of multiple factors underlie every pricing decision and every item being offered in the market. Unlike the multiple common transactions we deal with every day, in which the price structure for commodities are relatively stable and its values easily understood, the financial aspects of fine art photography as objects of desire are often viewed as shrouded in mystery. It is not something that we can all easily understand, and which only a few can fathom.
The business side of fine art photography is so complicated (or convoluted), its market players so diverse and disparate, and its yardsticks of value often without a commonly accepted standard that it requires its own particular expertise, which is separate and distinct from art appreciation itself, in order to begin to fathom and ramify its economic mysteries. Unlike commodities which are largely governed by the generally accepted economic law of supply and demand as well as consumer-oriented regulations devised and imposed by the government, the accounting of price as nothing more than cost plus profit complicated only by tax and shipment or delivery costs, the trade in fine art photography has to contend with translating to tangible numbers a number of intangibles. In order to arrive at a figure, art dealers, sellers and purveyors have to capture portions or even the entirety of a band of essences and then translate, if not convert, them into financial terms in order to make conducting business plausible and possible.
We will probably never come close to totally understanding the pricing and valuation of art photography (though we may be able to afford it), but for sure, we will be able to sense the value of its acquisition and ownership.
2.5.10: Put a Little Art in Your Life
I have yet to come across statistics that will conclusively prove that engagement with art will make you a better person or will make your life better. Who knows, there might just be some such attempts at quantifying people’s experience with art, but I doubt if such numbers has ever been popularly espoused.
But with the way many people seem to be carrying on, and with the countless anecdotal pronouncements to that effect, engagement with art is simply one of those things in life that everyone generally accepts to be good and true, even with the noticeably stark absence of irrefutable statistical proof. The mere existence and proliferation of art may in itself be the proof. And an unscientific overview of the many point of growing and surging interest with art may also be offered as proof. Of course, in breadth and depth of the rough and tumble sphere of human experiences, I imagine there must be certain cases where dabbling in art can more trouble than its worth, but in general, there is this unspoken consensus that our lives seems be all the better because of the uplifting inspiration that can only come from it.
If you happen to be one of those who’s not into art, did you ever wonder what you might be missing? At one point, were you ever baffled or curious at least to know and understand why is it that so many people are enamored with art?
Well, there’s one way to find out (and never too late): jump into a pool of art.
Art today is wide, open, diverse, accessible. Art is no longer the exclusive domain of the few who are so inclined towards the esoteric realm of its intellectualized beauty. Art is something that we can all partake, understand and enjoy.
It is understandable how you might feel intimidated by the grandness of all that art. And yet, once you get started, there’s really nothing to it. To get you started, here are five things you can do today:
- Thanks to the Internet, you can begin your journey into the world of art right from the comfort of your own home. For starters, do a search and check out the numerous art museums and galleries online. Almost all of the world’s major museums today as well as majority of the leading art galleries have a web presence. Look around and see what might interest you.
- As you look around, and little by little, try to learn the “basics” of art. It’s actually very simple. Knowing the basics will lead to better art appreciation and helps you develop and refine your taste. You should know that learning art is a never-ending lifelong process. We are all forever students of art. For sure, there is always something new and interesting to learn. Just keep your mind open, and always curious. All you have to do is to learn one thing at a time, building on your storehouse of knowledge.
- Take your time with art. There’s no point in rushing it. Savor the experience of discovery. Give yourself the time and the opportunity of exposure to all sorts of art: paintings, sculptures, installations, photography, music, theater, opera, among others. There’s no wrong or right way about how to immerse yourself into it—simply go in and enjoy.
- Nobody can tell you but yourself what to like about art. Trust yourself when it comes to which particular art works and which particular artists will appeal to you. The true magic of art is how it wraps around you. From the things you see, discover what you like. In the same way, do not worry about ignoring those that you don’t like. You can focus only on a few things that interest you instead of wanting to like everything. That’s how a lot of people usually deal with art. However, this doesn’t mean that you should close yourself to further and even unexpected explorations. Simply keep an open mind to the other forms of art, let things flow, and allow yourself to be seduced by it. In time, you’ll know what you really want.
- Make it an enjoyable journey or adventure. Other than the Internet, you can learn about art from newspapers and magazines, as well as from books and catalogs. With friends and family, you can schedule regular visits to nearby museums and galleries. You can attend art show launches or listen to artists when they talk about their art. You can explore art fairs. And also, you can try your hand at art by participating in workshops and seminars.
You may not realize that even if you think you’re not into art, you may in fact already be enjoying art. Anything and everything all around you that’s man-made, from the things you buy to the things you do, may already be somehow connected to art. You may not see these connections and you may not exactly think that you are actively engaging in art, but our society is so constructed that the richness of art actually permeates all aspects of our day-to-day experiences. When you learn more about art, you will begin to recognize just how integral and important it is in your life.
Contact Dominique James at djphotographer@mac.com or visit his fine art photography website at Zatista.
1.22.10: When is a photograph art?
The straight answer to such a question is: it is art when the photographer says it is. If you have a problem with that answer, you might want to consider the fact that that’s how artists generally label their work—whether it is a painting, a sculpture, a drawing, an installation. Whenever a piece is created and presented, it is the prerogative of its creator to label it any which way he wants to label it. If he wants to call it art, then art it is.
However, you also have the prerogative to accept or reject the piece, not on the basis of whether it is art or not, of which you certainly cannot dispute (believe me, it’s a lot of trouble arguing this point), but in a way that is unquestionably personal to you (in this case, nobody can argue with you)— in such cases as whether you like or it, whether it appeals to you or not, whether it makes sense to you or not, whether it has value to you or not.
Three to four times a month, I hang out with artist friends whose pastime is to religiously scour what’s on at the museums and galleries of New York. In these rounds, we hit the big ones such as the Museum of Modern Art, the Metropolitan Museum, the Guggenheim Museum, the Whitney Museum, among others. We also check out the famous and not-so-famous galleries in the Chelsea area in Manhattan as well as the other art enclaves from the other boroughs. And every now and then, we make sure to attend openings and receptions of artists whose works we know and like or adore.
While my artist friends focus their attention on the art that interests them, such as paintings, sculptures, drawings, installations, and even performance art, I tend to check out the photographic arts.
And whenever I go to one of these rounds, or whenever I scan photo books that surveys the work of a certain photographer or a group of photographers, I make sure to empty my mind of anything and everything, and I try to experience the art, specially if I’m seeing it for the first time, from a non-judgmental perspective. I try not to exert any effort in categorizing it or labeling it or studying it. I just look and see if I like it. If I do, I try nothing more than to enjoy the experience of viewing it.
To a certain degree, each and every photograph, whether hanging in a museum or a gallery or viewed in family albums or computer monitors, can be defined as art. These pictures may even serve other more practical purposes. But really, to a certain extent, each photograph is art simply because it is.
Contact Dominique James at djphotographer@mac.com
or visit his fine art photography website, Zatista
1.16.10: Hey, look! It’s a picture book!
Of all forms and methods and styles and materials and construct of communication, I think pictorialism is truly the most universal of all languages. It doesn’t take much to recognize whatever is being pictured (or communicated). Usually, one look is all it takes. Really, not much translation is needed for anyone to see, know and understand whatever it is that may be in the pictures.
The visual language of pictorialism (which today, is dominated by photography) has an immediacy of recognition that perhaps written or spoken language cannot rival. It is almost immediately understandable by anyone from anywhere all over the world. Although in some cases, pictures may require that a viewer possess a body of knowledge to sufficiently recognize its context, or for its meaning to be fully appreciated, in which case, often necessitating the construct of written or verbal language, pictures for the most part speak for itself.
If I’m not mistaken, the discovery of the many technological aspects that makes photography possible goes a long, long way—as far back as the 5th century B.C. But it was only sometime in the 1820s, with the development of chemical photography, that the process became usable. Since then, we never stopped snapping shots or looking at pictures.
Nowadays, photography is so ubiquitous that we no longer really stop to wonder anymore about the wonders of photographic pictorialism. We are so used to it that we probably cannot count how many pictures we actually see in a day, and we don’t really make a fuss about snapping a few pictures ourselves. Looking at and making/sharing pictures has become part of our everyday lives.
In today’s digital age, more and more people carry cameras with them and can take pictures at any time anywhere. And sharing these photos have become instantaneous. With our wireless highways of communications, we can send and share pictures we’ve just snapped, literally, in a snap.
As we are all now willing and happy participants in the art and craft of mostly digital and mostly popular forms of photography, it is not surprising that in recent years, our collective interest in learning photography has fueled the explosive demand for photography books. I am under the constant and happy threat of being buried under a growing collection of these fine books.
But that hazard is something I would not on you. So, from here on, I’d be happy to pick out and share with you some of the most interesting photography books that I think you might want to know about, and learn from.
–Dominique
email Dominique at dominiquejames@mac.com
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