PixelatedImage Blog

Photographically Speaking is nearing the final stages of being an actual honest-to-goodness book. It’s been on Amazon and other online retailers for pre-orders for a while now. But now it’s almost done layouts and then it’s off to the printers. I made a video to talk about the book itself and why I wrote it. That video is linked above. Hit the graphic above and it should open in a new browser. The video will probably see another edit before it goes to the rest of the world but as with everything I do, I try to give you as close to a sneak peak as I can.  I’m really excited about this book. I hope you’ll join me in anticipating its release in October. You can find more information on the product page at Amazon.com. If everything had gone to plan this spring the book would be in your hands in a couple weeks, now it looks like mid-October but I believe it’ll be well worth the wait. Thanks for your patience.

You can also watch the video on Vimeo HERE if you prefer. I’m working on posting to YouTube but so far it just mangles the video.

This morning Jeffrey Chapman has pulled the veil off the Italy 2012 Within The Frame Adventures. We’re doing two weeks – one in Liguria, one in Venice. These one-week adventures sell out very quickly, some within hours, so if you’ve been waiting, get your name in the hat fast with Jeffrey. The Italy trips are a highlight of my year, and while we’re not returning to Tuscany this year because she tried to kill me last year, I’m really looking forward to this; traveling with a small group who share a similar passion is an amazing experience to make photographs of an amazing place, eat and drink some amazing food and wine, and share teaching times that will take you deeper into your craft.

You can read Jeffrey’s post about these trips HERE. Get complete details and register with Jeffrey, but let me know if you’re coming! This year’s adventures will fill up even faster as people around the world vie for a spot to see me leap off a wall, fall out of a gondola or choke on my trofie al pesto. You just never know. I like to keep people guessing. (If you have no idea what that comment was all about, read Jeffrey’s blog post or just ignore it. Keep calm, nothing to see here.)

The Liguria trip is April 28 to May 5, 2012 – More details HERE

The Venice Trip is May 5 to May 12, 2012 – More details HERE

I saw this man in Ethiopia 4 years ago. Kneeling on one leg, missing the other, letting nothing stand in the way of doing what he was there to do. Not the strongest photograph I’ve ever made, but man do I like this guy’s style.

I can’t begin to properly tell you how my time in physical rehab is affecting me, but I’d like to try. Every day I am surrounded by nurses, physiotherapists, and a crew of misfits missing limbs, learning to walk or perform basic tasks again. Each day I walk laps in the gym, beside others, all wrestling with a piece of the puzzle, something standing between who they once were and who they are becoming. Some are having prosthetic legs fitted, some are taking dizzying first steps, others are doing things with two prosthetic legs that I struggled to do even before my accident. Everyone cheers each other on. Everyone stops to smile or talk. Everyone faces what they can not do with a disarming (forgive the pun) degree of humour, knowing if they don’t laugh the only alternative is tears, and they’re honest about those too. No one here is “all that and a bag of chips.” No one here is a “pro” and there are no “amateurs”. There is no fixation on gear anymore than for the purposes of finding what works. Some use chairs, some use crutches, some canes or $60,000 prosthetics. There are no camps. Everyone I have met cares about one thing. They want to walk.

So we show up every day and do the work. For some that’s calf exercises, or ankle mobilizations, for others it’s repeating one step over and over until the mechanics become muscle memories and stick. No one here does it because they love rehab. They do it because they just want to walk.

My PT keeps asking me if I want to walk the gym. She’s not really asking but likes to let me pretend I have a choice. I keep telling her I won’t learn to walk by not walking. So I walk it. Over and over again. Last week my goal was to walk a kilometer. I walked it, and then some. A couple times. There are guys here that could do twice as much in half the time. Others who would give anything to walk as well as I now do. But they don’t compare, they do the work. And they celebrate hard when they get there. And then they move on to the next goal. They don’t sit on their laurels, though if anyone ever deserved to, it’s them

I find myself wishing we all, including myself, approached photography, maybe life even, with as much grace; wishing we could find a place where there were no comparisons, no gear addictions. Where nothing matters but the people and the photographs, where we cheer each other on in their victories and encourage them in their struggles. Where the gear is nothing but a prosthetic limb we endure as much as it accomplishes its purpose. Where comparisons and bragging and all the ego-drivel is irrelevant and seen for what it is – wasted energy that might otherwise be spent on making art. Can you imagine the art we might make if we were more concerned about being ourselves and doing the work we alone have been given, if we showed up and just made photographs, day after day, without regard for the brand names on our cameras or who said what about our photographs on Flickr or 500px?

I’m really not going anywhere with this; I just wish you could be here in this amazing place with me. Hard? Yes. Struggles? Absolutely. I don’t mean at all to paint rehab with a romantic brush. It’s sweat and hurt and everyone there came to it honestly – through pain and calamity. Some from roadside explosives in Afghanistan, some on motorcycles, others through the betrayal of their own body. Life has rubbed them hard, but you should see them shine.

Some details on other things, for the curious. I’m about to begin week 3 in rehab and have a hard push to the end because they boot my ass to the curb on Sept 01. Next weekend my father and I are driving down to Jeffrey Chapman’s place in upstate NY to pick up Jessie, brought all the way from Atlanta on a flatbed by Vasily Lantukh, for which I am very grateful, and oh am I looking forward to having the pieces of my life reunited. On September 07 I fly to Cambodia and Laos for the first trip since the accident. After the adventure in Laos and Angkor I’m sitting on a beach in Thailand for a week before coming home to tinker with Jessie and get ready for trips to Oaxaca, Roatan, Antarctica, and Africa. And in there somewhere I’ve got one more surgery to fine-tune my ankle. So excited to get back to traveling, but oh my gosh is it about to get busy!

One of the most intimidating skills to wrap your head around is the use of flash, especially when you take it off the camera. Teachers like Joe McNally and David Hobby have done a lot to make this stuff more accessible. The latest Craft & Vision release is MAKING LIGHT, An Introduction to Off-Camera Flash, by Piet Van den Eynde, and it explores off-camera flash really well. Piet (pronounced Pete) is a great teacher and he covers theory in an easy-to-understand way, and so as not to leave anyone out, he covers both Canon and Nikon flashes. Piet discusses radio triggers and modifiers and all the geek stuff you’ll need to get your flash off the camera and changing the quality of your light. Once he’s discussed the practical stuff he goes on to show you 9 case studies, ways that he’s used off-camera flash in his own work as a traveling photographer who loves making photographs of people.

I’ve seen Piet at work with his flashes and he’s amazing. What I loved most about the way he works is the understated, no-nonsense, way he uses does it. No big light stands, no big fuss. His techniques are practical, real-world techniques and they produce beautiful results. If you bought Piet’s first book, The Power of Black and White, you know what a thorough teacher he is, and what amazing value his books are. I’m his publisher and it breaks my heart to sell these for only $5. This is a meaty book with lots of information in it. If you’ve got a flash or have been holding off because it intimidates you, get this book. If you’ve been playing with off-camera flash, learning from Piet will help you take the next steps.

For the first five days only, if you use the promotional code LIGHT4 when you checkout, you can have the PDF version of Making Light for only $4 OR use the code LIGHT20 to get 20% off when you buy 5 or more PDF ebooks from the Craft & Vision collection. These codes expire at 11:59pm PST August 21st, 2011.

Winston Churchill, by Yousuf Karsh. I love his determination and defiance.

The Rehab Centre in Ottawa, in which I am currently imprisoned – I mean, ahem, a resident – has hanging on its walls an amazing collection of large prints by Yousuf Karsh. Karsh has long been one of my favourite photographers, and his influence was one of those that pushed me to do now what I do. I’ve now been here a full week, minus the weekend which I spent at the cottage on Haliburton Lake listening to loons. I’m up and down these halls several times daily surrounded by well-known portraits of people who’ve changed the world – Winston Churchill scowling down at me, the pensive – almost prayerful- look of Albert Schweitzer, and others. I eat breakfast with Pablo Picasso staring at me, the Spaniard’s gaze almost daring me to make art of my recovery and to do it boldly. On the wall of my room, which I share with 3 other men (all of whom are in bed before 9) there is a white board. “My Goals Today…” it says, and on which I’ve written, “Same as everyday: Conquer the world.” The nurses laugh, think I’m kidding.

Rehab’s going well. My discharge date is September 01 and my PT says I’m way ahead of the game already. Last week I walked over half a kilometer, crutches hanging somewhat loose at my side. This week I’m gunning for the same goal, but with my cane. I get beat up for almost 4 hours a day, reminded by friends, like my buddy Anita, that pain is temporary, but quitting lasts forever. Every day is one step forward.

So it is with all of us. Or it could be. Most everyone that reads this blog wants to move forward in their art of their career as artists. We often think big: In 5 years I want to…. But in the rush of day to day living whole weeks pass by without taking a single step towards that goal. In rehab they don’t just teach you to walk by making you walk. They break it down into steps. I’ve spent hours now doing heel raises and ankle rotations. Stepping forward, stepping back. Up one stair, down one stair. The question on my white board is more relevant than my seemingly sarcastic comment about conquering the world might imply. If you want to be a full-time artist in 5 years, what are you doing now – today – to get there. Don’t reply with “getting new gear.” If you aren’t learning to edit now, you won’t magically be able to edit later. If you aren’t taking time to shoot now, your portfolio won’t magically appear in one year or four. Whatever you’re burning to do – start now, break it down, and get on it. The days add up and the small steps become a half kilometer before you know it. But you can’t sit on your ass and just one day be able to walk that 500 meters. Start today.

I gotta run. My beating is about to start.

It’s my second full day in physical rehab. Monday was spent doing intake and assessment. Tuesday and Wednesday were spent kicking my ass. I went to bed Tuesday exhausted, but having walked 16 lengths of the gym. Today I did 20. Tomorrow I’ll do more.

Before bed this evening I went for a walk around the ward, made the photograph above. And I kept walking. Did 5 laps. A man on the ward stopped me and said, from his powered wheelchair, “I’d give my right arm to be able to do what you are doing right now.” I am in the minority – one of the few that either has 4 limbs or will walk out of here this month. It’s not hard to see why I’m so grateful, so exhilarated to be able to walk a handful of slow, sore, and graceless feet or metres. Because I still can. And those few feet will become kilometres, they’ll hurt less, and I’ll be dancing before some of these people walk. It’s deeply humbling.

Heading to bed now. Just wanted to check in and say Hi, let you know I’m alive. Tomorrow’s a new day and I’ll be up early. You don’t learn to walk again by not walking These folks are good. I’m very blessed to have the PT that I do and the support I have from all of you. Thanks again.

Just a quick note to let you know an unexpected spot has opened for me at The Rehab Centre in Ottawa. It’s a residential thing, so tomorrow I’m moving back to the hospital for the month of August. There they will kick my ass for 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. Then they’ll let me go home for the weekends. I am really excited about this – it’s a world class facility and they’re my best shot at walking as normally as possible again. I will have wifi but things are going to get quiet here for a bit. If I can I will post updates, but the other day my physiotherapist kicked my ass for just one hour and I was exhausted. I’m not sure how I’m going to survive 8hrs/day. Please do check in; I might be sending desperate pleas for someone to come rescue me!

Thanks again for all the support you’ve shown me. I know none of this was in the plans and y’all thought the adventure of this year was going to be full of great photographs. Instead you got stories about bed pans. You’re to be commended for hanging in there as long as you have

One more month. Then I’m off to Cambodia, Laos, Thailand. Might be crawling down the aisle of the plane to get there, but I’ll be traveling again soon!

Rio Grande, NM. 2011. Size: 1920×1200
Click the image to access the larger file.

What an amazing 3 months. It’s now almost 15 weeks since my accident, and there have been times I didn’t think I was ever going to walk again. I’m still nervous. But I have hope. My casts are off, I’ve been off the sleeping pills and pain meds for weeks and finally sleeping through the night. Until Tuesday I’d taken a couple dozen nervous first steps without crutches. After wondering, at points, if I’d ever walk again, those dozen first steps and few more since then, were amazing. They gave me hope.

On Tuesday I was cleared for 100% weight-bearing on both feet, which means I’m now walking. It’s a sore, nervous, and painfully slow walk, but it’s a walk all the same. I’m now, as of today, 3 months post-op and should be in full-time rehab as soon as space becomes available.  I’m  using a cane part-time for small distances, though walk with a pronounced limp. I’ve always been a fan of Dr. House, so now all I need is a Vicodin addiction and I’m nearly there.   A second surgery in October to shave off some bone, and pull a plate and some screws, should help with the limp and make walking less painful and limp-y. It’s been a hard three months, at times I didn’t know if I had the strength to do it, but I’ve had more time with family these last two months at home than I have in 20 years put together. I’ve had time to write, to connect with friends and readers. I’ve taken in a few great exhibits at the National Gallery. I’ve learned to slow down. And I’ve learned what I’m capable of.

Updated: I shot this this evening with my iPhone while taking a short walk. Wanted to include it here, if for no one else but me

I wanted an adventure when I set out this year. What an adventure it’s been! I’m still not out of the woods, but I’m getting there and Jessie should be waiting for me when I am. She’s meant to be coming north on a flat-bed trailer, thanks to a friend in Atlanta, and will get dumped on Jeffrey Chapman’s lawn for a week or two, and just as soon as I can, my Dad and I will do the 4-hour drive together and bring her home. Then we’ll fix a couple things, get her licensed here in Ontario, re-fit her with some better gear and after my travels this fall, and a month in Africa in January, we’ll be back out there. For the first time in months it feels possible again.

I’ve learned a lot of lessons through this but none more than the incredible capacity to endure, and thrive, through things I never thought I’d be able to endure. I’ve had moments of unbelievable pain, and nearly unbearable humiliation. There were nights I’d cry myself to sleep because it hurt so much. There were weeks when the only way – and forgive me for the details – to go to the toilet was to hang, after an enema, from a bar over my bed, perched carefully, with a broken pelvis, on a bed pan, and hoping to God I could make it happen, while the other two men in the same room suffered through the change in air quality. Sadly, I listened to Cee Lo Green on my ipod during these experiences, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to listen to him again. But add sh*tting while hanging from a bar to my resume.  There were times I lay in bed unsure I could do it all for one more day yet alone one more week or 3 more months. But if we choose, we can thrive even through the trials. Whether we can or can’t get through struggles like this is up to us. Whether we do it with a sense of humour and taking joy in the moments, whether we do more than just survive, but thrive, that too is up to us. I’ve learned I like a challenge and the more I’m told I can’t, I do. The more I’m told I won’t – even when it’s my own voice doing the telling – the more I know I will. Because you and I, we’ve got one life, and I’ll be damned if I’ll choose to lose one moment of it to misery or self-pity, if choosing to be happy and to make it through, is up to me.

But I didn’t do it – am not doing it – alone. I know I’ve said it before, but you all never cease to amaze me with your generosity of heart. Thanks for being with me; you’ve all filled my inbox, blog, Facebook and Twitter streams with encouragement. Thank you. I’m indebted to you for your kindness. You’ve walked a long hard road with me and I’m grateful.

Using both film and digital capture, Gibson captures the natural and majestic beauty of places like Machu Picchu; as well as the rich culture and struggles of the Incas and their mountain lifestyle in a raw and intimate journey that is as much about photography as it is about adventure. Andrew is a gifted teacher and photographers will learn from this journey if they’re willing to join him. ANDES is about photography, but it’s wrapped in a travelogue. Like traveling beside a favorite photographer and learning as he does, what works and what does not.

When students ask me what they can do to improve their photography, first on my list, aside from making more photographs, is looking at more photographs, studying them, asking yourself why they work, or don’t. Andrew’s work is perfect for that. Don’t dismiss this as merely a picture book – like all the Print & The Process books it’s full of inspiration and instruction and, if you’re going to the Andes, some great suggestions about traveling there.

Special Offer on PDFs
For the first five days only, if you use the promotional code ANDES4 when you checkout, you can have the PDF version of ANDES, A Print & Process Series for only $4 OR use the code ANDES20 to get 20% off when you buy 5 or more PDF ebooks from the Craft & Vision collection. These codes expire at 11:59pm PST August 6th, 2011.