Archive for May, 2012

Photography and Time

Photography and time are inextricably related in many ways.

Most immediately, a photograph is created in a finite, measurable period or exposure time. Its effect will greatly influence the appearance of the photograph. Whether a moving subject will appear sharp or blurred are examples of this. Exposure time is a corner stone of every photograph.

One second time exposure, East Beach, South Dartmouth, Massachusetts

The passage of time after a picture is made is another factor that affects the meaning. Photographs are often referred to as a moment frozen in time. As time passes and the distance grows between the frozen moment of the past and the present, circumstances change, and with them meaning. This is why family pictures are so treasured. Take your ordinary snap shot. When you make it, it shows a family member as they are now. Put it in a drawer and forget it for a few years. Pull it out and use it to compare how a person has grown in the ensuing years. Put it back in the drawer and forget it until the subject has died. Dig it back out and the photograph has an entirely new significance. Years later it will be your decedents looking at the photograph from yet another perspective.

Ask any one, “If you were fleeing from your burning house and could take one armload of possessions, what would you take?” Photo album would be on that list. Photographs can have very high value.

And then a funny thing happens. After several generations there is a disconnect. When the subject is beyond living memory and not an exceptional individual in the eyes of history the interest and value leaves the photograph. They are often stored away in the basement, attic, or trash – some are donated to photographic archives.

kid at Christmas with tree and model train, circa 1935

Unidentified child at Christmas, ca. 1935, Negative was found in the dump

My perspective came in several forms.

For the recognizable views, streetscapes and such I was always comparing what was to what was left – and then doing the figuring as to what had caused the change. In a few instances I made contemporary views of earlier recorded scenes. This is a guaranteed formula to make photographs of interest. It is a common practice. In one example a group of photographers retraced and rephotographer the 19th century western explorer photographers. It was called the Rephotographic Survey.

In my tenure as curator of photography at the New Bedford Whaling Museum I presided over thousand of 19th century portraits. Value was there to be extracted, but for reasons that had nothing to do with why they were originally made. With family connections severed interest turned to styles of dress, occupation, station in the community and the historic process by which the photograph was made. At that time I had only experienced the passing of less than three decades. I spent my days with tens of thousands of images of 19th century New Bedford, but it was a different place ten decades later. Up the street at the Standard Times – the local newspaper – their name for their archive was the morgue. Which is accurate. The people in the photographs are dead after all. But I never though of our collection in those terms. I see in photographs eternal life.

Tirrell & Martin, JSM 4053 ca 1922

Intersection of Union and Purchase Streets, New Bedford, Massachusetts, ca 1922 Joseph Martin photographer, Star Store, right, is now UMass Dartmouth Art Building Courtesy of the New Bedford Whaling Museum

Another way I saw this collection was through the eyes of my fellow photographers. Sure they were long gone, but with enough of a photographers’ work at hand you can tell a whole lot – plenty of which the photographer conveys unintentionally. But learning about a workers’ methods you can understand the choices they made and their creative process. At the heart of any photographers’ work is their vision, or seeing. This is a uniquely personal act. Through their seeing you can know the individual. I believe this is as close to immortality as one can come. I think it is a principal motivation to make art. Artists continue to be heard across the ages long after their contemporaries are forgotten.

James Allen (detail), Fairhaven, Massachusetts, ca. 1888 Courtesy of the New Bedford Whaling Museum


To really understand why a photograph looks as it does go out and make a simular view. That isn’t what I was thinking at the time – but Martin and I both made these shop view with 8×10 view cameras.

Tirrell & Martin M-304, Pierce & Kilborne, Fairhaven 1920

Whaleboat Construction at Pierce and Kilborne, Fairhaven, Massachusetts, 1920, Joseph Martin photographer

Courtesy of the New Bedford Whaling Museum

NW Beetle, Leo steaming a plank, 10_79

Beetle Cat boat shop, Leo Telesmanick steaming a plank, October 1979


I left as guardian of that stable of photographers to concentrate on being a photographer. I enjoyed their company and know them intimately. I have many relationships with other photographers and artists, living and dead.

John Rudiak, Taos NM 9-25-96

Perhaps the strangest but obviously inevitable thing to happen was to have friend and fellow photographer, John Rudiak die. Since I know this body of work better than anyone I have assisted with organizing it. Where we once worked together in the field, in the lab, and in critique, he has stopped and I am still moving ahead, ahead and away. He lives in his work. More distilled and certainly less fun, but the ideas are there. I can and go to the work when I wish to visit.

As the decades have passed my perspective has changed. I now find myself curator of my own archive. This site has been an impetus to organize and evaluate what I’ve done. Photographs are made one at a time. You can’t fully understand what you are doing while you are doing it. A dispassionate review well after the shutter has clicked is much more objective. The work is evaluated in large part by comparing it to other photographs one has made. In editing, ideas, patterns and concepts are revealed. With the passage of time comes a revised perspective. It might be the best part of aging.

Time weaves its way through photographs in many changing ways.

Photoshop – What is Over the Line?

Recently in the news there was a story about a photojournalist, Allan Detrich who was fired for retouching his images with a digital darkroom program called Photoshop. Seems in a group photograph of a team a pair of anonymous legs, distracting and way in the in the background, were made to disappear. The picture looked better with out them and the message wasn’t distorted. But that wasn’t the point. The integrity of the paper had been compromised. The paper needed us to know their pictures were real. A reporter asked the paper’s editor what kinds of corrections were permitted in the digital darkroom. He replied that cropping (changing the framing), burning and dodging (making certain areas lighter or darker) or pretty much what you could do in the old, wet, analog lab were acceptable.
In the digital age anything is possible. Hollywood in particular has always used special effects to drive its industry and the realistic quality they now routinely pump out has unequivocally shown the lie that pictures can be made to be. For we who came of age in the analog era, I believe we had internal filters that kept media information in it’s respected categories. For people of the digital age that is gone. It is all one, big, swirling soup of visual stimulation.If newspapers want to hold manipulation to the old standards that is fine. Better to err on the side of the factual image, no matter how visually unappealing. Of course, long before the digital deluge, advertising photographs – particularly pictures of models were heavily modified. We knew and accepted this. In popular news magazines “straight” and doctored/advertisement photographs coexisted side by side. Standards used to depend on the situation. That is still the case.

Following are the standards to which photojournalists are held.
The NPPA Digital Manipulation Code of Ethics states:
“As journalists we believe the guiding principle of our profession is accuracy; therefore, we believe it is wrong to alter the content of a photograph in any way that deceives the public.
“As photojournalists, we have the responsibility to document society and to preserve its images as a matter of historical record. It is clear that the emerging electronic technologies provide new challenges to the integrity of photographic images … in light of this, we the National Press Photographers Association, reaffirm the basis of our ethics: Accurate representation is the benchmark of our profession. We believe photojournalistic guidelines for fair and accurate reporting should be the criteria for judging what may be done electronically to a photograph. Altering the editorial content … is a breach of the ethical standards recognized by the NPPA.”

In the last couple of years I have been putting my many negatives through the Photoshop mill on their way to creating the digitized images you see on this site. Much can be said about the changes in the photographer’s workflow but the digital darkroom has revolutionized the field. One way of thinking about a negative is as a writer’s rough draft. The idea is there but it needs polishing and articulation. Or as famously stated by Ansel Adams, who trained as a classical pianist, “the negative is the score and the print is the performance”. Ansel Adams could well be considered the definitive American landscape photographer. And boy did he manipulate – in the field and in the lab. He even wrote a series of books describing how he did it.

In the early days of the medium, landscape photographers struggled mightily with restrictive processes and ridiculously heavy and bulky equipment. Despite this burden some really great photographs were produced. One of the best of the American western photographers was Carlton Watkins. He did a major series of Yosemite in the 1860s. Yosemite was dramatic fare and from the beginning attracted photographers who produced scenic views with the hope of selling prints. As is still the case, there were spots from which the view was best reveled – and this is where the standard views were made from. One favorite view was from atop the Mariposa Trail looking toward falls and half dome. At this location there was an opening and a clean view could be had. All except for one tree that’s branches partially obscured the view. What to do? The cut and paste of Photoshop was a hundred and thirty years in the future. How about climb the tree and saw off the branch? Oh yes they did! In fact photographs made at this spot can be dated by the progression of missing limbs. Good thing our Allan Detrich didn’t take his boss literally about only manipulating to pre digital standards and saw those distracting legs right off the guy in the background!







C.L. Weed, Mariposa Trail, ca. 1865






Carlton Watkins, Yosemite, Best General View, ca.1865
Photoshop has improved my work a lot. It has allowed me to make excellent photographs from imperfect or damaged negatives. It has given me controls to probe the negative for the most articulate interpretation. It has also presented the opportunity to make significant revisions. This is where the question arises – what is over the line? Where even is the line?

For me, the answer is to make the central idea of the photograph the top priority. Mostly this means adjusting the color, contrast, lightness and darkness until it feels right – same as the old days. Here is where we depart for the old days. What about a zit in a portrait? Gone. How about a road cone in an architectural view? Gone. How about a tree branch in an architectural view? Optional. How about a tree branch in a landscape? Hummm. Nope, that stays. That black hair in the sky is history though. Ok that was all pretty straight forward. It was the Concordia Yawl reunion series that really forced my hand.

You’ll recall it was 1988 and the Concordia Yawls were meeting for an unprecedented reunion at their homeport of Padanaram. I was to photograph these thoroughbreds as they formed up and romped about in Buzzards Bay. I had taken to the air in a tiny, door less chopper. I was strapped in. It was windy and noisy. The view was out of this world. The boats looked incredible as a group. All the planning, the weather, everything had fallen into place. And now I was to make the pictures others could only imagine. Then it happened. First one, than several motorboats chugged into the fleet. Against yachting protocols these lunkheaded power boaters couldn’t resist the view and drove their ugly white plastic pieces of shit into this scene of perfection! I screamed, I pleaded and screamed some more. It didn’t matter they couldn’t hear me. So I made my photographs, knowing as I did I had come so close – but missed. It was cruel and it made me nuts!

Fast-forward nineteen years. I was scanned my originals, cleaning up the dust spots, and there was a tiny powerboat the size of a piece of dust. Zap – it was gone and in it’s place only the shimmering sea. I had crossed the line of journalistic integrity. The picture looked better though – and that ugly boat shouldn’t have cluttered up the view in the first place! I was over the NAAP’s line, true. But the pure idea of the photograph is my standard, which these powerboats were hurting, not helping.

So I zapped ‘em all, large and small. It was exhilarating!


After almost twenty years the series was finally what I had intended all along.

Back to the Future

An interesting phenomenon occurred in the 1970s. I observed its manifestations in the fields of boatbuilding and photography. With the rampant advances in technology in the 1950s came the miracle consumer products – many based on petroleum, or put most succinctly in The Graduate – plastics. Convieniences were created – but at the expense of aesthetics. For those who cared, the answer was to look to the past.
Boats, until the 1950s, had largely meant wooden boats. It was a material that worked and had evolved into many traditional types, each a regional solution uniquely suited to its environs. But as successful as the traditional wooden boat had been, there were issues of maintenance and wood’s limited ability to take complex shapes. Plastic, blended with fiberglass promised to solve those problems. Combined with the efficiency of mass production, radical modern styling, reduced maintenance and a flush middle class eager to spend their newly found leisure time boating, the traditional boat found itself in a perfect storm. So in the 1950s and 1960s wooden boat production declined greatly. The complex skill sets that had been passed down from builder to builder were lost as the continum was broken. Appreciation for classic and historical vessels declined. The look of the waterfront changed as long-lived plastic boats proliferated and dominated the scene.Enter the counter-culture. I don’t think the wooden boat revival of the 1970s was a specific political statement but it did share many characteristics with national movements that were. Like the back to the earth movement the wooden boat community looked to the past with its human scale methods of working. A reverence and appreciation for tradition found museums such as Mystic Seaportkeepers of the torch, and along with small scale schools like the Apprenticeshop, skills on the verge of disappearing were recorded and taught to a new generation. This movement was at once championed and led by Wooden Boat Magazine as a clearinghouse for information.Some people never succumbed to plastic fever in the first place, and as such became the foundation of the later wooden boat revival. It was my privilege to know some of these individuals and I’ll be writing about them in future entries.Bob Baker, who I knew in his final years in Westport, Massachusetts was a dreamer mesmerized by the waterfront of yore. Some people are living in the wrong century. I’d say Bob was off by a hundred years or more. To keep the present at bay he lived in old houses and surrounded himself with old boats. He actively sought out significant historic small craft; several of the finest found their way to Mystic Seaport. Bob pulled rotting boats out of the bushes and made drawings, thus preserving their lines. And not necessarily showy boats either. His last projects involved the simple, common, ubiquitous flatiron skiff. These boats were so ordinary that when they disappeared no one thought to miss them. Bob’s last shop was a converted chicken coop – a good boat shop shape, long and narrow with lots of natural light and precious few power tools. He did build some new boats, but one was more likely to find a tired old boat getting a restoration, as Bob laid on hands.
Waldo Howland was either a visionary or a stuborn traditionalist. I couldn’t say which, likely a bit of both – I loved him either way. Waldo was a team builder. In the 1970s he was writing his autobiography and found me working in the bowels of the New Bedford Whaling Museum, attempting to create order of the Museum’s collection of historic photography. He steered funds into my nascent department and bent my ear with the history of things marine – not a few of which he had experienced first hand. After the Second World War, as the crowd headed for plastic, Waldo’sConcordia Company created one of the most beloved wooden yachts of all time, the Concordia Yawl . Waldo also put a good deal of work on the plate of retro designer Pete Culler. If all this wasn’t enough, he brought the struggling Beetle Cat Boat line under Concordia’s wing, keeping it viable through some lean years, until the boat buying public came back to its senses. These were some of the embers, kept live, that were later to burst forth as the modern and healthy wooden boat movement.

In photography the same tide of consumerism that swamped wooden boats brought rapid change to photography. The 1960s was the first decade that saw more color than black and white. For the convenience of the consumer film sizes were reduced. 35mm became a standard. Larger film sizes were available but became professional products. There are undeniable advantages to smaller film, such as portability and spontaneity but they came at the cost of image quality. Color photography, with its’ warm, wet processing, necessitated a nonabsorbent paper base. Which brings us back to plastic.

For over 100 years photographs had been made on a base of durable, achivally processable, pure rag paper. That ended with color. And then to facilitate machine processing of black and white it too was offered on waterproof, resin (plastic) coated stock. Before long, gelatin silver emulsion on real paper was a premium product. Then in the late 1970s the Hunt Brothers cornered the silver market. The price shot up and Kodak reduced the silver content of its papers. Predictably, image quality went south. Prints from 1900 were looking better that those from 1979. Achieving really fine print quality was becoming very difficult. Agfa and Ilford did offer some excellent alternatives, but the gelatin silver print had its’ limitations. As with boats, progress was not bringing us forward, it was time for a look back.

Before there were standardized, manufactured products, photographers concocted their own paper. Very simply put, paper is coated with a light sensitive substance. From the dawn of the medium in the 1840s to this day, silver has been the basis of the vast majority of black and white prints. There are however other options. Platinum and palladium were used from the 1890s until about 1915. Superb photographers such as Henry Peter Emerson, Alvin Langdon Coburn, and Alfred Steiglitz made platinum prints, which have with stood the test of time. But how were we contemporary workers to use these processes from long ago? You needed to be a chemist – which I am not. My friend John Rudiak was and he helped me at a time when answers were scarce. John and Sprint Systems of Photography founder Paul Krot worked out a system, which Sprint offered for a while in the late 1970s.

It was Richard Sullivan who’s Bostick and Sullivan smoothed out enough of the many bugs so that reasonably consistent results could be obtained. Bostick and Sullivan has become a cornerstone in what has evolved into the alternative processes movement. For me the platinotype, a mix of platinum and palladium became the medium of choice for my landscape work. This century old system does demand a negative of special characteristics and it must be the size of the final print. Previously, these enlarged negatives had been made by adapting lithographic or other specialty films. These films could be made to work, but were expensisive, and often inconsistent. Enter the computer. Computer generated enlarged negatives can be adjusted to perfection. Now excellent prints can be made using vintage materials – the best of both worlds.

In both boats and photography, historic materials combined with craftsmanship and technology are proving to be the way of the future.

Analog to Digital

Most of the photographs on this site were made with good old fashion film cameras from before the age of digital.

I admit to coming slowly to the d-side, as some call it. But I’m in now and with both feet.

My biggest apprehension about digital was the loss of what makes photography such a special medium. That is its unique connection to the physical world. In a conventional photograph the light bouncing off a subject is focused through the lens and collides with a speck of light sensitive silver salt in proportion to the intensity and color of that light. There is an actual physical relationship between the scene, the negative and then the print. They are at their root, indisputable evidence of what ever it is they illustrate.

In a digital image light is focused on a chip that makes an electronic capture. This data is next passed through programs in the camera and then the computer. The file is wildly malleable until it is reconfigured as an image. The great advantage is that the considerable limitations of conventional photography are usurped. The picture is “improved”. But is it still a photograph with its integrity intact? Strictly speaking, no, it isn’t. Further more, as the public participates in digital image making the inherent sanctity of the photograph is undermined. People know a picture can be adjusted or manipulated to suit. The perception of what a photograph is has been changed. This is a loss. To purists this loss of integrity is unacceptable. I can relate.

Digital photography offers advantages. The unprecedented control makes it possible to articulate the idea of a photograph much more precisely then ever before. In the end, realizing the idea is paramount to championing any given technology.

Digital files are simpler to work with than the old system. Darkroom work can be enjoyable but it can also be punishing to one’s health. It definitely is less efficient and not as ecologically friendly as working on a screen.

One significant improvement in the new photography are the prints. Inkjet printers are capable of superior results. The new printers accommodate fine art paper stocks comparable to the fine art papers used in printmaking. I am working with a line of 100% rag papers from Crane & Company. I have spent over 30 years honing my craft and these prints are the best I have ever made.

Digital photography is a reality. This is the system by which images are transmitted and often consumed. Conventional photographs are digitized for almost any use any way.

Technology advances – more rapidly than ever.

New Mexico

New Mexico is a meca for photographers.

In the west there is an appreciation for the classic view camera approach to photography. Grand subjects bathed in fantastic light just demand the quality of large format. There is also the tradition. Timothy O’Sullivan, Paul Strand, Edward Weston, and Ansel Adams all did great work here. One is in very good company photographing in New Mexico.

Northern New Mexico’s elevation of a mile plus above sea level makes for a thin, clear atmosphere.  The climate is arid. At midday the sun is strong, the shadows black. Sunrise and sunsets are dramatic.  The geology is varied and frequently down right surreal.  There are few trees to block the view.

Taken together these pieces truly add up to an extraordinary place.  In fact “Land of Enchantment” is stamped on the license plate!


Sparkly Snow


Pure Landscape


Landscape Photographs by Nicholas Whitman

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This series documents the interactions between forces of nature and the aftermath. These images are at once a literal representation and also evoke the emotional feeling of a scene.

A body of work is defined by its limits. This series is of pure landscape with no discernible human activity and no human-made objects in any form.

I find that this border is critical.  If there is even the smallest hint of humanity the scene becomes about man’s relation to nature. Human-made objects are easily comprehensible.  We know what they mean and their function and judge the scene by the object and its relationship to the surroundings. The scene becomes a setting for a human endeavor.

With pure landscape, the interplay of natural objects is the subject.  But even the purest landscape photograph involves at least two people: the photographer and the viewer.  Natural objects will be interpreted in a way which makes sense to us.

Sometimes it is not literal and is defined by the imagination.  For example, looking at a pattern and finding familiar shapes. Or, more simply put – “hey look at that, looks like …” you fill in the blank.  This is a projection rather than an analytical interpretation.  It indulges our human nature of arbitrary association. It is possible to concoct images that are literal, sharp and articulate yet meaningless, save our imagination. This is a core riddle of the work.  It engages logic and emotion; contemporary knowledge collides with the long-guiding influences of superstition and intuition.

There are times in the field when all the pieces come together – a place that is an amalgam of light, subject, and emotional connection. This is what beckons me into nature to create photographs.

The resulting images are a confirmation of the chase.  Can they represent that initial electricity of seeing and feeling?  And I do mean, “represent” in the purest form – as in “to present again”.

Can viewing an image evoke the original feeling of wonder?


This collection was exhibited in spring 2014 at Umbrella Arts and Metro Curates 2015, NYC.



Lincoln Park Ruins

Lincoln Park Ruins Essay

Lincoln Park Ruins

Lincoln Park
 was an amusement park situated between New Bedford and Fall River in North Dartmouth, Massachusetts.  It was built in 1894 and ran continuously until closing in 1987.  There is a rich history associated with the park but I’ll leave it to the reader to search it out on other sites.  These photographs documents the parks very end.  A dozen years after the gates were locked, after everything of value had been hauled away and the major buildings burned, I jumped the fence to make this series.

Vintage Circus Posters

Vintage Circus Poster Story

Vintage Circus Posters Story


In June of 1972 when I was just out of high school I was intrigued by a couple of buildings near the intersection of Routes 346 and 20 in Hoosac, NY. I came to calling this area the land that time forgot.

There was a closed general store richly adorned with vintage advertising. That was good, but it got better. Next to the store was a barn with a shallow open bay that fronted the road. As one slowed to stop at the intersection you could glimpse some captivating graphics. Investigation revealed a floor to ceiling wall of 3” flat boards that had served as the base for vintage circus posters. Most dramatic was the crumbling remains of The Lion Poster.

In some spots the posters were glued one atop the other. The posters were many layers deep. I photographed this in black and white and from time to time made an occasional print. And I wondered just what had gone on here and how much had I missed?

Time passed. One day the building was stripped of its advertising art and made new with a fresh coat of paint. Around 2000 the open bay of the barn was enclosed and made into an antique shop. I stopped in and saw a few scraps of the old posters still clinging to the wall, but all seemed lost.

Speaking to the store’s proprietor I was told that yes, posters had been on that wall. Circus posters advertising shows in Bennington, VT and North Adams, MA had been glued one atop the other in this protected spot for years. A couple of pieces had been pulled off and were up in the loft.

I wondered if I might have a look so up the stairs to the former hayloft we went. The light was low, just a small window at each end. The floor was completely covered in bat shit which crunched underfoot. On a sidewall were colorless lumps of posters nailed to the wall. They were an armful measuring 3’x5’. A deal was struck and I flopped them into the back of my Volvo wagon. I was overcome with euphoria. An inquiry over some obscure history had revealed a treasure.

Once home, as I examined the find my euphoria was tempered with the reality that I taken ownership of a conservation nightmare. These were large pieces cut from still larger posters. Each group was about 20 layers thick in spots. Experiments showed the glue, likely wheat paste, was soluble in water. At room temperature it took days to soften but by that time the paper was too weak to be worked on. Conservation is possible, but will be a formidable challenge.

The coming of the circus was announced by posters, hung by an advance team a week or two before the arrival of the circus. These could be displayed on any good-sized surface with public exposure. Barn and shed walls were typically pressed into service. But these walls were not smooth and were exposed to the elements. The lithographed paper posters deteriorated quickly. Once glued to an irregular clapboard wall, there was no salvation.

Circus posters were plentiful but ephemeral. Which is why these examples were special. These posters were hung in a mostly protected space. Then, fortuitously, even if roughly removed, they were put aside.

There are two multi-layered fragments of circus posters dating to the first quarter of the 20th century. They are sections cut from a billboard-sized wall onto which they were pasted, one atop the other. The number of layers varies from 12-20. The top dozen or so layers are complete. That is, a fragment torn and or cut from a complete larger whole. The size of the overall original from which sections were removed is unknown.

Posters were delivered in sections and hung like wallpaper in vertical strips. There is overlap where the strips intersect. In some instances the registration is off, illustrating the slap dash attitude of the paperhangers. Paste was brushed on liberally and unevenly. As the layers accumulated wrinkles were papered over and became amplified, thus adding topography to what was intended to be a flat surface. As more and more posters were added to the wall the layers became unstable. Tacks and nails were driven through the pile to hold them to the wall. It appears that unstable sections were torn off and discarded to stabilize the base for the next layer. This could explain the variability in the number of layers at any point in each fragment.

In addition to the multitude of paper layers there are also at least two layers of linen fabric, one of which is painted white with navy blue lettering. Sprinkled throughout the layers, glued to a current poster front were eleven-inch square advertising panels for chewing tobacco. Small showbills heralding the date, time and location of an upcoming circus was pasted atop the illustrated poster.

These two poster fragments henceforth referred to as “Parade Poster” and “Acrobat Poster” appear to have been adjacent and not one atop the other. Their experience was similar but not identical.

The Acrobat poster showbill pasted atop it announces: “Sig Sautelle will exhibit at Ben’gton Thursday, Two Performances Daily, Afternoon a …, Rain or …”

Sig Sautelle (1848-1928) was a master showman whose life story is simply larger than life. If you’d like a glorious diversion, check out some of these links. Circuses under his imprint date from 1882 to his death date. However by 1919 he had combined his circus with Demarest Bros. Wild West. We can assign a date range of 1900-1920 for the acrobat poster.

The Parade poster has no identifying showbill so we can only speculate as to weather or not it too was a Sautelle poster. There are some tantalizing clues. Elephants, camels, horses, tents and the bandwagon depicted on the poster all appear in this Sautelle manifest (scroll down to 1904, try not to get distracted).

Sautelle’s bandwagon survives at the Circus Hall of Fame.  This from the Sarasota Herald-Tribune-April1, 1960 ” The recently acquired pony bandwagon was presented to the circus Hall of Fame by W. Harold Curtis of Pataskala, Ohio. The bandwagon had been kept in his barn since1914 when the Sig Sautelle Circus went off the road. It was built by Sullivan and Eagle in Peru, Indiana about 1900.”

This is very similar to the one depicted on the poster.

The Parade Poster’s top layer is filthy. In addition to the exposure it endured when hung it was laid flat in storage after removal from the wall. Fine dirt has accumulated to the point of obscuring most color and much detail. Exacerbating this, water dripped on the poster as it sat face up in the attic. Water added it’s own marks and helped drive the soil into the paper. This dirt does not respond to dry cleaning with eraser, brush or vacuum. The soil will need to be flushed out the paper by full immersion in warm water.

The Acrobat Poster is brighter and less soiled. It does have mold and mildew working it’s way up from the bottom. More dramatic still, while both posters shed dirt and soil this one was riddled with shotgun pellets. Someone took potshots at the high-wire act!

These are just the top two posters of dozens in the bundles. Showbill fragments are visible in lower layers from the edge but at present are tantalizingly out of reach and illegible.

If conservation and disassembly is accomplished we will learn much more.

The Shelburne Museum has acknowledged these unusual objects. The Sautelle Acrobat Poster and some of these photographs were exhibited in Papering the Town: Circus Posters in America  .

After Ryder – Photographs by Nicholas Whitman

After Ryder

Of all painters, New Bedford’s Albert Pinkham Ryder speaks most directly to me.

Unlike his contemporaries he did not render the material world, which allowed him the freedom to pursue greater truths. Universal truths. To plumb the soul and venture into the darkness, where shapes and tones and forms are subjects. Where meaning is not literal but lays in the imagination of the viewer.

Over the years I sought out Ryder paintings at different museums. If there are in fact only about 106 of them, as Mary Jean Blasdale reports in Artists of New Bedford. I have seen may be a quarter. At the Metropolitan Museum of Art in NYC there is one on display, The Toilers of the Sea, and five in visible storage. I will spend a day in the galleries, the result being visual exhaustion – museum blindness from sensory overload. Even still, by the time I get to the Ryders, poorly lit, stacked, with glass cabinet doors setting up reflections from the case across the isle, I am still awestruck by the emotional power these objects evoke.

My expressive photography relates to Ryder’s art. It’s basis is the physical world but more as an evocative interpretation rather than a literal one. Subject intersects with intangibles like mood. Symbols speak across cultures and through time.

While I have always embraced a dark pallet, now, with the incredible low light capability of modern equipment I’ve been photographing moonrises. And not only the moonrise but also nocturnes illuminated by the light of the moon.

A group of seascapes along East Beach in Dartmouth, Massachusetts are featured in my show at the New Bedford Whaling Museum that opens March 16, 2018 and runs through Labor Day.

22 pieces pieces are on exhibit adjacent to the Museum’s painting, Albert Pinkham Ryder, Landscape. Oil on Canvas c. 1870.