A friend of mine had a picture on Facebook yesterday that was taken underwater. It was bright, clear and detailed, full of the color of the sea. The fact that anyone can easily take such sharp underwater photos made me wonder about how underwater photography had evolved. Doing a little research I came across the photo shown here on the left that really caught my eye. It has a real magical quality to it with the light burst at the center and the diver appearing like some odd creature in mid-birth. It was by a French marine biologist, Louis Boutan, from the early 1890’s and is one of the earliest surviving underwater photos.
There had been an earlier photo, from 1856 by William Thompson in the waters of Dorset in the UK. It was taken by a camera attached to a pole and showed the underwater plant growth of the shallow sea bottom. The photo has been lost however which and it takes almost forty years into the future before Boutan takes up the quest for documenting what he was seeing under the sea as a marine biologist. You have to realize the difficulties he faced in achieving this goal. First, diving and photography were in their early stages and the equipment for both was large and cumbersome. It would be decades before scuba gear was introduced and cameras were large boxes with long exposures and flash systems that consisted of burning magnesium. You couldn’t just whip out your iPhone and snap some pix.
But Boutan persevered and with the aid of his engineer brother devised systems, that would be enormous by today’s standards, allowed him enough mobility to move them to the sea bottom and photograph. His experiments included shallow shoots such as the one featuring the diver above and, ultimately, dives that descended to 164 feet beneath the sea in a diving suit. The image to the right is one of these first deep images. As I said, the exposure were long, up to 30 minutes for the film of the time at such low light, and Boutan would sometimes suffer nitrogen narcosis– the rapture of the deep. It was a dangerous effort to document the world he loved.
This a photo of Boutan (on the left) and his equipment at one of the later stages of his 1890’s experimentation. Even though it looks huge to us, this was pretty compact for the time. The two steel orbs in the forefront are carbon arc lamps that he developed to replace the earlier system which was a huge wooden barrel with a large glass globe affixed to the top that encased a ribbon of burning magnesium. Portability was not its big strength.
I like this photo of Boutan and his equipment because there is a feeling of the past and the future in it. He appears so modern in contrast with his appearance, with his sport coat and haircut when compared to his assistant standing behind him who is obviously a product of his age with handlebar moustache, necktie and cap. Boutan could walk into the room today and be contemporary. I think that speaks to his drive to evolve his process. He would not be tied to the static present and the lingering past.
Boutan also published a book in the 90’s that featured many of his images and documented his work. Below is a group of these images. So, when you pull out your compact camera the next time and dive into the water to snap a shot of the kids or some colorful fish, remember Louis Boutan. He set the whole thing in motion.
I’ve been going through some books on my shelves that I haven’t looked at for some time and came across a smallish book on the work of Richard Lindner, who was a German born (1901) painter who moved to New York during World War II. He taught at the Pratt Institute then later at Yale before his death in 1978.
guided the hand of the film’s artist who most people think was Peter Max. However, the artist was Heinz Edelman . This misconception probably shows Lindner’s influence on Max as well. I also can see Lindner in some of Terry Gilliam‘s animations for Monty Python. The Beatles paid tribute to Lindner by inserting his image in the group of figures on the cover of their classic Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band album. He’s between Laurel and Hardy in the second row.
One of my favorites is shown to the left here, FBI On East 69th Street. I have no idea whether he was influenced by Lindner’s work (although I wouldn’t be surprised), but when I look at this painting I can only think of David Bowie, especially in the early 70’s in the Glam era. Again, the strength of the color and shape,s as well as how his figures fill the picture frame, excite me. How I might take this excitement and make it work within my own work is something that remains to be seen. It may not be discernible but seeing work that makes your own internal wheels spin will show up in some manner. We’ll have to see if this comes through in the near future.
I came across some photos online some time ago from British photographer Homer Sykes. They were taken in the early 1970’s and were images of traditional British countryside celebrations throughout the year. One in particular from Northumberland caught my eye. In black and white, it showed a group of people in capes and cloaks and all manner of costume carrying flaming short barrels as they marched. Without knowing anything about what or where it was from, you had the sense that this was derived from some sort of pagan ritual celebration. It piqued my interest.
Over the decades it has turned into tradition. There are 45 marchers, called guisers, who maintain their positions hereditarily. They assemble early in the evening, adorned in all manner of costume,going from pub to pub in a Mummer-like procession. In the hour or so before midnight , they gather in the town square to have their annual roll call and prep their barrels. At 11:30, the barrels are lit and they begin their fiery march through the village, led by a small band of drums and brass. It is said to resemble a river of fire moving through the village.
We call him Santa Claus mainly but sometimes we still refer to him as old St. Nick or St. Nicholas, who was actually a 4th century Greek who served as a bishop in Constantine’s church of that time. Called Nicholas the Wonderworker and sainted in the church, his fame spread throughout Europe through the ages and evolved in story and form into the jolly, bearded fellow that we call Santa Claus today.
And we thought that the commercialization of Christmas was a new thing. Here’s a great image from Victorian era England circa 1894 featuring Father Christmas as portrayed by the Brooke’s Monkey Brand Soap monkey. Actually, this simian huckster was quite a regular in the print ads of the time. If you 
Well, I got up this morning and, outside of a light layer of snow on the ground, it looked pretty much the same as yesterday. The world is still here and the Mayans have got some explaining to do for getting us all worked up. Or were the Mayans just pulling our leg the whole time?
Redtree Times 