Δ Light Readings : 006 - It's times like these...
plus critiques, cocktails and calming sounds.
Hello friends, I hope you’re staying home and staying safe. If you enjoyed this newsletter, I’d appreciate if you could share it with others. Thank you and take care. -Stephen
A couple of weeks ago, as I was eating breakfast and looking out our kitchen window, I noticed a circular mess of feathers, maybe two feet across in our backyard.
My kids and I went out later that morning to investigate and decided a hawk must have caught some unfortunate bird and eaten it right there. There was a bit of gristly wing left over and a small flurry of pale, gray feathers dotted with blood.
This scene was wholly ours to witness. Each morning was an invitation to reconsider the view. From day to day, the changes were subtle, but over the weeks, I could see the pile of feathers grow smaller. We had windy days that sent some gusting away, and a few hard rains that sunk water-logged feathers deep into the grass.
The photos individually weren’t so interesting, but they were revealing in comparison to each other—a modest record of time passing. When I woke up each morning, I looked forward to seeing what the day had brought anew.
Standing Right Here
Robert Adams, Colorado Springs, Colorado (1968)
We’re fortunate as photographers to be able to count Robert Adams as one of our own. It would be enough that Adams has made the definitive study of the New West, but he’s also expressed the illiterate poetry of images in words better than anyone.
His words don’t just deepen our appreciation of his images, they give us a foundational language to understand all that photography might be.
The above image is perhaps Adams’ most well-known image. At the time, he was exploring Colorado’s suburban expansion, as new developments pushed ever closer to the southern Rocky Mountains.
I don’t quite understand my compulsion to explore where images were taken, but some of it feels connected to this feeling that right now, we can’t really go anywhere.
From the title, I knew that photo was made in Colorado Springs, and you can clearly see the house number. This led me down a Google Street View rabbit hole that yielded nothing except a mind-numbing appreciation of what Adams must have felt, driving down road after road of nearly identical tract housing that edged closer and closer to the Rockies.
So, then I typed “Robert Adams Colorado Springs 812” into the Google. A footnote in a book led me to consider this address. The chimney doesn’t match up, but that could have been added on later. And, by zooming in on the brick pattern around the door it looks to be a perfect match.
What do you think? Has my amateur forensic sleuthing uncovered the place Adams stood when he made this photograph?
Critically Speaking
Back in March, as we began to settle into a life at home, I wrote this and posted to my Instagram:
Almost immediately, photographs came pouring in. Images from teenagers and 40-somethings, from here in DC to India to Paris. And it was a delight! I reveled in the sheer variety of what was shared with me. I found images that astounded me and that moved me.
And, I quickly had to reckon with the real challenge of this. What would be useful for a particular photographer to hear at this particular moment? I wanted to at least attempt to size up where they’re coming from, what their background was and how much experience they had. I tried to craft a response that met them where they were, to be encouraging, but not superficial.
If you’re interested, I compiled them into a couple of Instagram stories.
And I’m super curious about what you all have received in the way of critique.
Has there been anything memorable said to you in your photographic past that you still think about today?
I’d love to hear it.
Currently
I’ve been enjoying making this sweet-tart rum cocktail from local DC rum makers Cotton & Reed.
I am absolutely delighted by Marc Feustel’s rendering in Lego of the Adams photo.
I’ve spent a lot of time looking through my archives for photos to submit to my agency for resale. This playlist has been in the background for most of it.
Opening windows! We’ve been fortunate in DC to have a spate of warm weather this week and opening the windows in our downstairs has brought bird sounds into our home with minimal traffic noise given how few people are out. Opening windows, recommended!
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If you signed up for this and don’t know who I am, my name’s Stephen Voss and I’m a photographer living in Washington, DC. I photograph politicians for magazines, and, occasionally, bonsai trees. You can see my work on my website, and Instagram.
I started this newsletter because I missed creating things and sharing them with the world. I missed making new things that didn’t come from assignments.
If you’ve made it this far and enjoyed the newsletter, I would greatly appreciate you sharing it by using the link below or posting someplace social.
Just shared with my pj students. I directed them to your IG photo critiques. Outstanding observations and comments!