Harold Davis's Blog, page 23

Under the Bridges of Paris

As I’ve previously noted, I seem to spend a lot of time photographing underneath bridges. The beauty of the scene from the deck of a bridge is often pretty self-evident. On the other hand, the elegance and grace—in a “form follows function” kind of way—of the practical constructions that are under and hold up the bridge are not always so clear. But I find myself moved by the humble engineering that holds the weight of the bridge span on its shoulders. I think what is underneath a bridge is often visually very sexy.

Pont D’Arcole © Harold Davis

In Paris, it is very easy to access the under parts of the bridges across the Seine from the paths beside the river. In previous times, I’ve made images in this way of Parisian bridges, including the Pont Solferino and the Pont de la Concorde.

Under the Pont de Grenelle © Harold Davis

This April’s collection of Parisian under-bridge spans began with the Pont de Grenelle, photographed from the Île aux Cygnes. Next, on a bright and breezy day we walked along the right bank starting near the Île Saint Louis past the Pont D’Arcole and the Pont Notre Dame, emerging from the river side just past the Pont des Arts.

Beneath Pont de Grenelle © Harold Davis

Pont D’Arcole © Harold Davis

Pont Notre Dame © Harold Davis

Pont des Arts © Harold Davis

I had a great time photographing these bridges, and am glad I can share my images with you.

From a general perspective, next time you are photographing something structural, consider how it works and what is holding the structure up. Often, visual analysis stops at surface appearance. But I also like to think about the under carriage and the mechanism, as this can be as profound and significant as the face that is presented to the world.

Florista

I’ve been experimenting with creating images that look a little like a wall of flowers one might see at a florist shop. From a set design viewpoint, an important challenge is how to establish multiple vertical “levels”—because a single row is basically boring, and not a good way to create a three-dimensional wall.

Florista (on white) © Harold Davis

With the version on black (below), I dealt with this issue by adding supports behind the black velvet background. I think this works pretty well, but if you consider the image there is a certain “I’m floating in air” aspect to the composition.

Florista (on black) © Harold Davis

I like the version on a white seamless background best (top). With this setup, I decided to try a “form follows function” approach, and use visible supports to raise the height of some of the individual floral arrangements. To achieve this, I used spine-side-out books, notably the large collection of New Yorker cartoons shown on the right side (Charles Dickens and Mel Brooks are somewhat hidden in the background).

Harold Davis Water Lilies Poster

Browsing the Internet, I came across a copy of my Water Lilies poster for sale. The poster dates to 1980, and the image was probably my first widely published photo (it was also in American Photographer magazine, and used by Nikon). 

The poster was created using offset lithography, and advertised an exhibition of my work at Arras Gallery in New York City. It was published by Modernart Editions. The original retail price was, as I recollect, $25. I think there were about 2,500 printed (a few are in my flat files to this day). In this case, the seller is asking $150 for a copy that is in “Good/Fair Condition—[with] imperfections from age and handling (i.e. creasing, discoloration).” So I think my poster has basically kept pace with inflation!

Of course, being from 1980, this was an analog image. It began life as a Kodachrome 64 slide, photographed during a backpacking trip to the Wind River Range in Wyoming, probably in 1978. I worked on press directly with the 4-color separation films to enhance the graphic effect of the water lilies against the very dark background. Sure easier to do this kind of thing in Photoshop!

Upcoming Workshop News from Harold Davis

Dear Photographers and Fellow Travelers: We’re very excited that the 2022 live-and-in-person Photographing Flowers for Transparency weekend workshop, here in Berkeley, California in August, is gaining momentum. There are still some places left. Click here for more information and registration.

Waving the Lobelia © Harold Davis

It is looking increasingly likely that our Off-the-Beaten Track Japan Photography Journey will be able to run. The dates are October 16-26, 2022. We’ve been cautiously optimistic all along that Covid restrictions on “tourists” visiting Japan will be lifted by the time of this destination workshop; and, indeed, it seems that this will be the case. We have a great group already committed to this trip, but there still are a few more spaces available. Click here for the complete Prospectus and itinerary (PDF), and here for the Reservation Form.

Dodecagram Papaver Pod © Harold Davis

Please visit our Workshops & Events page for a full listing. In addition to the two workshops I’ve already mentioned, you’ll find virtual workshops sponsored by the Heidelberg Summer School of Photography, as well as live events at Maine Media Workshops (a week-long composition workshop) and at the Photographic Society of America annual conference.

Confusion © Harold Davis

Another View of the Astorga Cathedral

Here’s another view of the Astorga Cathedral, this one using my iPhone, and processed using the Waterlogue app.

Astorga Cathedral via iPhone © Harold Davis

Too Many Tulips Are Not Enough

As an archetype, “James Bond” is deeply embedded for better and worse somewhere not far below the surface of cis-Males of my generation. But what if James Bond had liked flowers more than guns, gadgets, fast women, and cars? From that viewpoint, when faced with the challenges of recuperation, a light box, and a mass of tulips, I can only say, “Too many tulips are not enough!”

Too Many Tulips Are Not Enough © Harold Davis

Hospital Blinds

Imagine you are in a hospital bed. The bed is in a room that was meant to be a single, but now has two beds and two occupants. The other occupant is a nice man, but he coughs continuously. Ventilation is poor. The room window faces onto what is essentially an air shaft. At 6AM, the bright, florescent lights go on overhead, and a smiling phlebotomist comes towards you, needle poised, for one more blood draw.

At 6:30AM, a beam of sunlight finds it way down the air shaft and lights up the blinds, and the shadow of the blinds forms on the adjacent wall. This is a photographic composition with patterns, positive space, and negative space—and what else is an iPhone for? 

I pull out my iPhone and make the image. Then the beam of glorious light moves on and is gone, taking the notion of the dream world beyond the hospital with it.

Hospital Blinds © Harold Davis

This pilgrim is home

This pilgrim is home early. After all, a pilgrim on the Camino de Santiago who cannot walk is a fairly immobile oxymoron. It was a scramble to get out of rural Galicia and return to the Bay area. By and large, I don’t think much of wheel chair access for solo travelers after this experience. Air France at SFO did okay, but in Europe not so much.

I’m jet lagged and have started a minor medical mystery tour: although so far antibiotics aren’t doing much, I think basically the blisters are infected, and once the pus has been drained my foot will get better fast. I hope so.

They were always waiting © Harold Davis

What’s great is that the garden is here has lovely flowers to photograph, and Phyllis and my son Nicholas helped me with the mechanics of photographing this arrangement. Nicholas made the exposure sequence for me, because I physically couldn’t climb up to get in the right position.

Bad Pilgrim

So I guess I am a bad pilgrim. On account of my blisters, I am staying off my feet, as they advised me at the Pilgrim’s service at Queens Hospital in Ponferrada (as told here). This means taking a taxi from place to place, and staying off my feet is relative. The nurse told me I could start being a pilgrim again when it didn’t hurt to put weight on my foot. I think that means a day or two more. The dressing they put on in the hospital is very professional, and better than anything I will come up with on my own.

In the meantime, not walking means missing the point of the pilgrimage. Bad pilgrim Harold, bad, bad!

Astorga Cathedral © Harold Davis

Blistered Feet

For days after the 33km march in the broiling sun out of Leon I had been nursing a big blister on the bottom pad of my left foot. It was painful to walk, and wasn’t getting any better. After each night, it was a little better, but by the end of a day trekking it was just as bad as it had been the previous day. After a long day on the trail, in Rabanal del Camino in the Cantabrian Mountains, I finally said that enough was enough. 

Camino © Harold Davis

Instead of walking, the next morning I took a taxi into Ponferrada, a reasonably-sized place and my next destination. Luis, the taxi driver, assessed the situation, and suggested I visit the nearby Queen’s hospital, where they have a free clinic for credentialed pilgrims.

This seemed like great advice, and I hobbled over to the emergency room. The pilgrim’s clinic didn’t open for a few hours, so I sat down to wait. Some ‘life experience credits” were earned for observing an emergency room in rural Spain. Mostly, I saw kindness, and babies being helped.

Eventually, I was called in, and the doctor interviewed me. His English was non-existent, and surely my Spanish is worse, but once I took off my boot, he got the picture, had me lie down, and called the nurse.

The nurse yanked the moleskin, told me it wasn’t infected, and gave my blister a proper dressing. There was some pain involved in this process. Then she told me to stay off it until it stopped hurting, probably two or three days. Easier said than done in the circumstances. Once it stopped hurting when I walked, I was good to go.

Camino and Heather © Harold Davis

There’s obviously a disconnect between walking in immense pain and some of the scenes of tranquil beauty along the Camino. I’m not sure what to say about this, except that part of the point of the pilgrimage is to endure privation. In olden times, in one example, notables humbled themselves and climbed to the sanctuary at Rocamdour on their bloody knees. 

How this applies to me I cannot really say, and it is frustrating to be here in Ponferrada a few blocks from a mammoth Templar castle, and not really to be able to explore it (as the nurse told me, if I want this to heal, I must stay off it).

Life is sometimes very strange—with ironies that are unanticipated!