Luck of the Draw: Landscape Photographs by Gene Kennedy
This little essay was taken from the artist's statement for an exhibit of the kind of pictures represented by the "Lighthearted Landscrape" portfolio in this website. Though it doesn't adequately address the issues of the other work presented here, it does describe a great deal of my working philosophy.
The title reflects on two concepts: luck, which I sincerely believe to be at the heart of whatever success these pictures enjoy, and drawing, which acknowledges and honors the peculiar accident of subject and light that manifested itself in the individual image called Date Palm Grove, which is featured in the "Tree Stories" portfolio on this website.
The Date Palm Grove picture seems to be mistaken frequently for a drawing or etching. It’s just not fair — all I did was take a picture, and I didn’t even know when I took it that it was any better than the rest of the pictures I’ve taken. But it is better, or at least more popular, than any other photograph I’ve ever made. Why?
Luck. I happened to be at the right place at the right time. That was most of it. The other piece that makes it work is that I used a longer-than-normal lens, which allowed the central triangle of texture in the middle of the picture to play a more commanding role in the final image. I’ll take credit for the lens selection, and the successful exposure of the film, as well as the organization (composition) of the image, but most of the credit goes to the fact that I drove more than 600 miles from home, stopped, got out of the car, and walked into this orchard of date palms. There was the picture, waiting to be taken. So, I took it.
There are photographers who take pictures and there are photographers who make photographs. The ones who make photographs often claim that they’re above taking pictures — that would diminish somehow their ownership of the images or the process. For me, taking is fine. I don’t make the stuff in a picture; I just borrow an image of it. If I’m lucky, I borrow the right amount, in the right light, at the right time, so that I can make a successful print. That’s what happened with the date palms and, hopefully, with some of the other pictures in this website.
I describe my work as “documentary-style” photography, because I want to present clearly articulated descriptions of the interesting things and combinations of things I find in the world.
It's not “fine art” photography — who am I to prejudge my work as fine art?
Is it “art” photography? Who cares? What matters is what’s in the pictures.
Is it “documentary” photography? Perhaps. But sometimes I work from a bias, which takes away my neutrality. I can push my bias by what I decide to put in the pictures and what I decide to leave out, as well as by ganging pictures that all have the same bias. My photographs of suburban development in Southern California serve as an example (The "California Carcinoma" portfolio). I would describe my prints as documentary in style, because I strive for clarity and accessibility. I want you to have as much information as I can provide.
I sometimes think I should describe my work as “art.” photography (with a period after art). The abbreviated word “art.” stands for “articulate,” which my dictionary defines as “expressed with clarity and effectiveness” and “organized into a coherent whole.” That would make me an “art.-ist.” The abbreviated word might trick some viewers into thinking the work was art. But again, it doesn't matter whether you call it art. And although I can strive for it, it’s not my job, in the long run, to determine whether my work is clear and effective. That’s your job.
Mostly, the images in this portfolio are for smiling at. They celebrate the luck of finding humorous, ironic, or perverse events and juxtapositions in both expected and unexpected places. They honor the photographic tradition of “being there,” and prove, in the end, that luck is where you find it.
Technical Information
My photographic technique is old school. I'm not hung up on it, or anti-digital; I just like it. I use a 4x5 view camera, with eight lenses, and 120 roll film, in 6x12, 6x9, and 6x6cm formats. The website includes work that goes back as far as the 1960s and includes formats from 35mm to 4x5. The website also has images that I have never printed; I simply scanned the negatives to make book mockups or web pages. Digital photography is handy that way.
With sincere apologies to all the films I used, the images on this website are not nearly as sharp and clear as the originals. You can see the actual prints at Viewpoint Gallery in Sacramento, California.
