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Sometimes, the photography journey is interrupted by real life and its demands. Often, the camera is there too, capturing those most difficult moments.
At times, not even framing can change what we see before our eyes.
Recently, my Grandma Mary passed away. She was one month shy of her 99th birthday. I loved my Grandma Mary and felt strongly connected, returning here to Northern California after Mexico, after Canada, to be with her. I was lucky to have 12 more years of time with her, time when she was lucid and present, and we could enjoy time talking and laughing together. She had a peaceful last 20 years of her life with few health problems, and, any health challenges she faced, she got up and over, surprising many.
I always called Grandma when I could not travel to see her. I called so often, she wondered whether I had a job, and worried that I spent too much time calling her! When I first arrived back in the US, I used to feel hurt when she’d say that to me. Working from a home studio made no sense to her.
Yet, still, did working mean one had to forget about one’s grandma??
I also felt perhaps she made these comments because my artistic lifestyle had been the subject of speculations, many speculations. If I called Grandma Mary during the day, she’d wonder if the speculation was true.
In 2012, I was so excited to share with Grandma Mary that I’d be showing one of my video installations at the de Young Museum.
Maybe I had not been a huge financial success, yet, I hoped Grandma Mary might see that all the speculation, in the end, was simple gossip.
‘The de Young, wow, swanky!,’ grandma had said. I knew that was probably the best I could get – yes, she was proud of me, and I heard that in her voice and the things she continued to say, yet, a video installation was all still very nebulous, something people with money do – being an artist -( a bum! was the speculation on that!) – and I felt once again I had crossed a line that our people were not allowed. I felt embarrassed to bring it up to her again.
It wasn’t that my grandma wasn’t proud of me being an artist. In fact, she had traveled to my first photography exhibit in Mexico City in 1996. She came all the way to Mexico at 81 to be there with me!
Once again, I had proven to be too much, as usual.
A few days after her arrival, my partner and I shared the surprising news we were going to be parents, she a great grandma, which shocked her so much she fell off the porch walking away after hearing the news, spending the night at an Emergency Room in Mexico City. And, many more visits to doctors when she returned home.
That’s where the speculation started. That unfortunate evening when Grandma Mary fell from the porch upon hearing our news.
It took us a long time to move past that incident, she and I, mainly because I had felt so badly and she often brought up what happened.
Some family members likened that night to the day my aunt and uncle invited me and my boyfriend to take two of the horses from their ranch for a ride. My boyfriend assured them that he was quite comfortable riding. His horse spooked a short distance into our ride, rearing up, throwing my boyfriend to the ground, taking off in terror. The horse tried to jump the fence and instead, tore a gash in its leg and required stitches and expensive care.
Those events shaped the speculation, and when I returned from seven years living abroad, the speculation had gone beyond into a new realm.
I could not be present during Grandma’s funeral. Not with camera, not physically. Maybe I couldn’t say goodbye. Maybe I couldn’t see her gone. I am a very visual person, and images impact me deeply.
I guess the grieving process takes time.
Grandma Mary and my last conversation was deeply meaningful. I did not know it would be the last time. We had laughed as usual, but then, she stopped and said, ‘you sound like yourself again, a good lady you are.’
The speculation had ended.
I thought to call Grandma Mary next on Saturday, but I didn’t get a chance. I called Sunday to share the news I know she’d be so happy to hear, about Martin’s Beach where she and my grandfather always took us during the summers. The beach had been reopened after a private owner gated off the public access.
Grandma Mary was not there.
She had fallen on Saturday night and even though my aunt and uncle said she’d be ok, that she did seem fine, Grandma would pass very quickly. We never spoke again.
I hold on to the last words she said to me.
Grandma Mary’s spirit remains here in San Francisco – when she was young, in high school and riding the trolley cars after the football games, one in the group of loud, celebratory youth, laughing with joy to be out enjoying life. When she was photographed on top of Twin Peaks on the day of wedding to her new husband, my grandfather.
Grandma Mary embraced life and encouraged us all to do so as well. I am forever grateful to her for giving me permission to be happy and embrace life. Its that spirit that gave me courage as a photojournalist.
The kitchen was the main gathering place in my grandparents home. Food and talking and laughter was just the main course in their home. They had traveled around the world, and the kitchen was where the push board held photos from family and friends near and far.
Later, when I became a photographer, I remembered that cork board. I suddenly recognized the value that photography can have in bringing together family and friends. Photography, that I had made use most as a photojournalist, suddenly became personal and intimate, and its impact on the heart.
This memory allowed me to expand beyond what I had visioned previously. Photographs were much more than documents of the outside.
I made a shift to more personal work, more intimate, and revealing.
After many years of exploring photography in this way, I started doing editorial and assignment work where I was hired to create, not just document, with photography, and, I developed a new love and perspective on photography and art.
I think it was this new direction that made me such a fan and so moved by Ruth Asawa’s sculptures.
The first pieces of her work that I ever came in contact were at the de Young Museum. On permanent display, I passed her sculptures every time I came for a meeting or to work at the de Young Museum.
Ruth Asawa’s sculptures went beyond the mere sense of documentation to inhibit an intimacy that touched people across the globe.
From the description of her work in the ‘The Sculpture of Ruth Asawa: Contours in the Air’ retrospective in 2006 at the de Young Museum:
‘Contours in the Air establishes the importance of Asawa’s work within the larger national context of artists who redefined art as a way of thinking and acting in the world rather than as a mere stylistic practice….In her lifelong experimentation with wire, especially its capacity to balance open and closed forms, Asawa invented a powerful new vocabulary. Committed to enhancing the quality of daily life through art produced within the home, she contributed a unique perspective to the formal explorations of 20th Century abstract sculpture.’
Ruth Asawa was considered at the time of the retrospective to be underrepresented in art history surveys of 20th century sculpture. Dr. Daniell Cornell of the Fine Arts Museums San Francisco, curator of the ‘Contours in the Air’ retrospective, described what he felt was the reason, saying:
‘Because her work uses nontraditional materials and a manual method that appears related to knitting, weaving and craft, it is often overlooked in discussions of modernist sculpture.’
Like the cork board in my grandparents kitchen, Ruth Asawa’s sculptures go beyond what sculpture is normally confined, liberating an intimacy that draws on the heart and minds of its viewers.
Asawa’s use of hanging her sculptures went beyond the conventional display normally reserved for sculpture, like the opening scenes of any memorable film or play, the audience’s attention gravitates and is held by it unique display, in the case of Asawa’s sculptures, captivating the viewer, making one stop and pay attention.
Ruth Asawa is infused forever onto the San Francisco landscape.
Any visit to the de Young Museum is a wonderful opportunity to view 15 of her wire sculptures on permanent display on the concourse level of the Nancy B. and Jake L. Hamon Education Tower of the de Young museum.
Passing the sculptures often on my visit to the Hamon Tower in preparation for the ‘Bridge Walkers’ screening in September 2012 , designed itself to incorporate into the San Francisco landscape from the Tower view, I fell in love with Ruth Asawa’s sculpture.
As a person, and an artist, I hope one day to leave such a legacy, treasures found and enjoyed by generations of San Franciscans to come.
Read more about Ruth Asawa’s life and work from the SF Chronicle article that came out this week upon her passing.
Isn’t it true that growth comes from unexpected experiences.
It is spring after all! Here’s to new growth sprouting up in the most unlikely places.
[photoshelter-img i_id=”I0000v73e0ycweE4″ buy=”1″ caption=”‘New Growth in the most unlikely places,’ 2011, photograph by Catherine Herrera, Flor de Miel Fotos, Intl CR (Catherine Herrera)” width=”600″ height=”441″]
I had a fun photography portrait session this past weekend with a local San Francisco family. The mother mentioned that her daughter was a real natural, and she wasn’t kidding! It was a lot of fun to let her daughter find her own poses, and enjoy the process!
From Ms. Carr:
‘Thank you so much Catherine! We really had a good time. I meant a lot to me to see my child in that way.’
I added a few more samples of my work with kids to the slideshow. In my tradition, children are considered to be little people with big spirits. Its a joy working with families and kids, and as with every professional assignment, my role is to facilitate the sharing of spirit. I feel very fortunate to do this for a living, and give every attention to each portrait session so that you are happy with the results!
I am offering holiday specials for new clients booking between now and December 14, 2011.
Mini-portrait session provides you with 2 digital, enhanced images for your use online or for digital and print uses.
If you’d like a holiday portrait or just a portrait for work or online presence, enjoy a discount on bookings between now and December 14, 2011 by writing assignments@flordemielfilms.com. Let me know your preferred booking time and date, your location, and whether you want the Full or Mini Session!
Happy Holidays! Merry Christmas! Happy Hanukkah!
However you say it, enjoy this season with your families!
This phrase is applicable both to the photographer Jan Tiura, as to the large container ships that are the subject of her exhibit ‘Hulls: The Art of Decay in San Francisco Bay,’ opening tonight at Dickerman Prints in San Francisco’s trendy Mission district. Jan’s bright, colorful, large prints reflect on the beauty of the sea, as well as the scars of a fast-paced, global shipping industry.
Jan Tiura's Sea Song, from the exhibit ‘Hulls: The Art of Decay in San Francisco Bay’
Ruined for Indoor Work
It was the mid-1970’s when Jan set sail for the Galapagos Island with a classmate, who later become her husband, and their inspiring high school science teacher, later a life long friend. That sailing trip gave Jan a taste for sea travel, and a hint to the passion for the ocean that lead Jan to become San Francisco’s first female Tug Boat Captain.
The empowering impression of that first trip, as Jan says, ‘ruined her for regular work.’
Indoor work gave way to a deep fascination for the ocean.
One day, out on the bay, contemplating a next move her in young career, Jan remembers seeing a tugboat pass by, and she just knew – ‘I have to be on that boat. I could see myself out on the deck, clearing lines, so, I found my way to my first job.’
Getting a tug boat job as a woman was not easy. To fill the time, Jan briefly worked as a photographer. Eventually, Jan’s break in arrived, she was finally on deck, working the same arduous tasks as the male hands.
It didn’t take long before Jan realized she was a ‘good boat handler.’
When I asked what it took to be a good boat handler, Jan replied, ‘you just know if you have it or not. It’s having a good sense for boats, their movement.’ Jan found an appreciation and respect for nature gave her an advantage. By reading the elements, Jan learned to work with nature, rather than brute force her way over the tide. Instead, Jan harnessed the strength of a strong breeze, a current, to help effortlessly bring the ship to dock.
Jan was hooked. With time, learning on the job, Jan Tuira also trained to become a U.S. Coast Guard-licensed tugboat captain.
Jan Tiura's A-A_L, from the exhibit ‘Hulls: The Art of Decay in San Francisco Bay’
Pushing Ships Around
Jan’s description of her work as ‘pushing ships around’ is too short a phrase to accurately describe the mammoth steel beasts she tugs safely in and out of the San Francisco Bay.
Over 35 years, Jan pushed around aircraft carriers, oil tankers, and as global trade increased, so did the size of ships, now 10,000 plus container cargo carrying giants moving back and forth across the seas.
Jan’s pioneering spirit is evident in her rich, engaging photographs of ship hulls.
Large bounding ships of steel are rarely considered ‘delicate’ and ‘intimate,’ and, yet, under Jan’s careful and skillful eye, this is exactly the transformation of each hull.
Jan Tiura captures both the beauty and the tragedy, in an instant leaving one with an inexplicable sweet and sad nostalgia.
Self-taught also as a photographer, Jan has perfected her craft over years, photography, a welcome focus during long, 2-week shifts, on board, full-time, on call, 24/7.
Jan began to take notice of the ship’s massive hulls. Soon, each hull became a ‘fascinating character study, each with a story.’
Jan Tiura's 5WL4W, from the exhibit ‘Hulls: The Art of Decay in San Francisco Bay’
Jan’s career has also spanned a massive transformation in the U.S. and global shipping industries. Global, competitive and fast-moving, the new seas float drastically fewer U.S. manufactured ships.
‘The top American shipping lines, like Matsun, and American Presidents Lines, those companies really valued their ships, they made sure to keep those ships in tip top shape. Those ships were built to last! Each ship was run as long as it was still able. Now, we have these increasingly larger, massive, giant 10,000, 12,000 container vessels carrying more and more goods over the seas. Today, companies use computers models to predict the life of the ship, so a few years before the ships are retired, the companies stop scheduling the ship for an annual paint retouching, they let them go. So, you see that in ship’s hulls. These ships have a hard life, they have become entirely disposable. The sea, the wind, also take a toll. I seek out, and try to capture the character of each ship’
The Ocean
Jan remembers fondly a photo from childhood. In the image, she and her father, he rowing his daughter and wife, who snaps the photo. Father and daughter sitting together in the boat, smiling. Handsome and strong, Jan remembers, her father rowing, and how, later, he became a fisherman, carrying on a tradition he inherited at a young age from his Nordic relatives growing up outside Fresno. Jan was born in Berkeley, California and grew up on the San Mateo coast.
Although Jan and I have never met before, it turns out, we may have met at some point, at Martin’s Beach, where her family, like mine, made trips for the smelt fishing season during the summer months. I share my experience fishing on the Bay with my grandpa and dad when I was younger.
I feel connected in a shared love for the California coast. And, of a time gone by. An era when times were slower, although, perhaps in equal measure, with its own unique set of challenges.
Despite growing up in the rural and largely, unpopulated coastal area in San Mateo county, Jan was surrounded by art. Her mother, a painter and student of well-known coastal painter Galen Wolf.
Still, even surrounded by so much creativity, it was discovering photography, and that she had an eye for it, that Jan finally felt like she fit in with the creative family tradition.
‘Working gave me a chance to photograph as a part of my everyday life, which was a method of working that felt comfortable for me,’ shares Jan.
A perfect melding of the sea and steel, digital photography freed Jan to create the painterly, mesmerizing ‘character’ studies, conveying an intoxicating hint of the ship’s journey.
The ‘Hull’ exhibit gives viewers a chance to appreciate a new dimension to Jan’s work, a departure from more representational images in her earlier work as a tug boat captain, also quite stunning, which were well received by colleagues and crew, who enjoyed the rare opportunity to see saw their work and lives reflected in print.
The abstract, colorful characters of the ‘Hulls’ exhibit affords a moment to contemplate.
‘This work will appeal to people on a deeper, intuitive level because, at first glance, one isn’t quite sure what they are looking at. Since its real, not designed, there is an opportunity to delve deeper, to contemplate the character, and in a way, see a reflection of oneself.’
These anonymous crates of metal become precious, silent carriers of beauty, history and our common story.
Ghost Fleets
As you might imagine, Jan’s second career as a photographer does not stop here.
Despite fewer and fewer American ships being built now, barge work continues. There will always be a need for a tow.
Still, the profession itself is shifting, now, most barge operators drive or fly in from outside San Francisco, increasingly under the very same global pressures that has transformed local, national and global shipping companies.
Jan’s Next Project?
The Ghost Fleet, ships whose time has come. A final resting place where these ships are broken down to be carted off in pieces. Some of these ships date back to WWII and the Vietnam War.
Growing up on the coast in El Granada, Jan lived next to the ocean for most of her life, freely exploring, watching from the coast, large ships sailing in and out of the Bay.
No doubt, Jan will bring her unique sensibility and creative vision, a valiant honoring for those days when California was part of a world in which ships were valued until their very last natural days.
Jan Tiura’s ‘Hulls: The Art of Decay in San Francisco Bay’ opens tonight at 6 p.m. at Dickerman Prints.
Seth Dickerman saw something very unique in Jan’s work. In a collaborative partnership, Seth and Jan discussed and selected the final images for the exhibit in a process Jan described as an ‘utter joy,’ a chance to see her work from a fresh perspective, and, which images most resonated. Seth Dickerman brought a skilled eye to the editing and exhibit process, in addition to creating the signature, custom Dickerman prints shown tonight.
Prints purchased on opening night receive a 20% discount.
'OccupyLove SF, 2011,' photo by Catherine Herrera - Flor de Miel Fotos
If you are like me, you have probably been learning, in bits and pieces, what the whole #Occupy movement is about, and, how, if at all, you fit into the process that seems to be unfolding.
I’ve written before that a nerve injury currently makes it extremely hard for me to chase after the news story as I used to do. Believe me, I can’t wait to heal and get back out there, because just like when I took my first photos, I still feel such a rush to be capturing history as a photographer, a filmmaker.
Photojournalism offers a particularly interesting connection that seeks to carry forward that moment in history for others to see in the future. As my work has, over time, merged with my own history, I can now see that mission and goal as very much aligned with the desire to be part of those seven generations. To be able to connect with new and ancient generations.
I came into photography through my family. My dad and grandfather were the ones who I watched taking photographs, and I saw my grandma pasting the new round of images on the kitchen board, that’s where our lives were captured. Even now, at 96, my grandma asks me to bring the photos so we can go through them, passing through her life as we relive and remember together all that she and my family have lived together, all they have passed down to me.
Well, I try to take Grandma Mary’s advice, to do the best one can with the circumstances of one’s life. I’ve shared photos in the From My Window Series, my attempt to do my best by reflecting my experience – as it is right now.
Today, staring out the window, I looked down to see a car in the lot below that had a painted sign on its windows – OccupySF. I couldn’t get close enough with my lens to really do the shot justice. So, I decided to do something different, and create a graphic from the cropped portion.
Here is the result! In this All Voices article I explain a little more how I feel I fit in…and, if you like what you see, please support my work with an online donation by clicking on the Fractured Atlas link. As a fiscally sponsored project, all income goes directly to sustaining the creating…Thank you!
'OccupyLove SF, 2011,' photo by Catherine Herrera - Flor de Miel Fotos
To purchase this print, or any other photograph, please visit my photo shop where you can purchase prints and gifts, and, contact me for archival, signed prints.
Well, here in this Emerald by the Bay, the fall has brought warm weather. Sleeping with the windows open, warming of the bones. Its nice. I feel like myself again, this southern grape transplanted to the misty, fog-soaked, northern lands.
I’m in the midst of preparing for an upcoming showing of my installation Bridge Walkers, modifying the format to fit the space – instead of the 3 monitor, this time, one monitor, split screens. The interview part is also now more refined, having given birth to a short documentary unexpectedly.
A friend told me recently about St. Dominic’s Church. Its been around a long time. I happened by there while picking up prints of two photographs. One is being donated to an organization whose mission I value very much, and the other, is for a client.
I had not been happy with the quality of the print I had sent the client so I decided to reprint with a local printer with the capacity to print museum-quality prints.
Post-production is truly as important as catching that special moment. For photographers, that’s the printing stage. Custom prints add the printer, and their craft, into the mix for a good collaboration.
I love that Photoshelter offers two ways for clients to purchase prints, depending on their needs. Postcards or t-shirts are fun ways of bringing the art out the gallery, to become a part of your life – for a personal space, for a meditation, or, just for the feeling seeing the image invokes. Visit my gallery to see which image appeals most to you!
Perhaps you want to illustrate a story, and need a licensed image. Photoshelter makes it easy to order varying with the type of license.
High-quality Print Clients purchasing archival or publication-ready images, please email me directly on Photoshelter to discuss the particulars of your order . I also print museum-quality, signed, limited-edition prints. Drop me a line if you are interested!
Well, in the meantime, today I am sharing a few images from the last several weeks, including a series from Brenda’s Cafe, a great local spot for lunch meetings.
I do client bookings if you’d like a private session.
Ok, now you know all the ways to purchase a print. If you are fan, and want to make contribution, please click on the Fractured Atlas link to make an on-line donation.
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