Alan M. Thornton productions

Cambodia project needs your help to become a book! Help us help TPO.

2011-03-16T12:28:00.000-06:00

Cambodia project needs your help to become a book! Help us help TPO.

Most of you know that Alan and I spent last summer in Cambodia interviewing and photographing survivors of the Khmer Rouge regime. We collaborated with a great organization called TPO (Transcultural Psychosocial Organization), one of the few in Cambodia doing mental health work, which the country desperately needs. Now TPO wants to use our work to promote what they do best, which is helping the survivors, and particularly those who are having massive memories come up around the country's war tribunal.

Please help us help them. We need to help TPO raise $2500 to print 200 hundred copies of a book with the images and stories of survivors. It’s an historic account and also speaks to the power of storytelling for psychological healing. This book will go to all the people we interviewed, to the donors who made our work in Cambodia possible, and then to TPO to help them promote their work. In fact, the organization has been asked by the UN to present something at an upcoming conference in Geneva. We would love for them to have a printed book of our work to offer.

We’ve set up a paypal account to make this easy. You can donate to the email address: zpollon@gmail.com or go to: http://baghdadproject.blogspot.com/2011/03/help-survivors-of-khmer-rouge-in.html; and then send through zpollon@gmail.com once you have an account. Then we’ll send the funds directly to Cambodia and get the print run underway. Alan and his designers have already adjusted the layout and sent a PDF to the printer. This is a great way to support an organization that has such immense and difficult work to do – and also to support our work and all the efforts we put into this project to help survivors of war. Any amount would be greatly welcome!

Thank you all for following us and supporting us! If it goes well, we'd love to reprint it here in the states and have copies available for friends and supporters.

Call either me or Alan with any questions (or if you'd like to donate but can't manage paypal, like my mother).

Zélie - 505-699-1662

Alan - 505-470-0659

Re-entry into the real world of home, USA

2010-11-09T18:56:00.000-07:00

Well, it's been a couple months since I returned from Cambodia. A lot of time has passed, and yet I still feel like I am there in someways, or at the very least soon to return there from this short reprieve. It's been an interesting re-entry process of laying very low, visiting family and friends, more travel and more travel still!

First, I just want to thank all of you that have helped me through this project and returning to the states through your words of encouragement here, on Facebook, emails and notes and calls. You have all helped me navigate a challenging journey and difficult project with kind words and sentiments. The project is only half way completed, but don't worry, I am at least in country, sitting at my favorite book store, Powells in Portland, so all is right in my world and I am sure that nothing drastic or dangerous will happen. No more than my normal day to day life that is!

I have been holding off writing this entry for fear of sounding too personal or dramatic and woeful. There is a need to keep this a professional journal for prospective clients and the general public, but at the same time an accurate account of what I encounter. Everyone that knows me personally knows that I generally have a 'full disclosure' policy and I work to not hide things or sugar coat even. What I learned this month from colleagues and friends made me aware that a great deal of us go through the or went through the same issues and emotions on returning from abroad. I've decided to share some of these things, but work to remain professional and even teach a bit through it. So here goes.

Finally had some time alone to sit and go through some images that Zelie had passed onto me that she and Aiden shot of us all during the trek. Gotta be honest, it's amazing to look back on these and in one way laugh out loud happy, and a bit sad from missing them and that shared chaos that was our lives together in Cambodia. Thought I would share some of the images that Zelie had made from the shoots and travels.....along with color commentary of course!

Never saw such skeptical kids in a foreign country like these ones...

Fresh mangoes, nearly every day, nearly everywhere!

Look, I know it looks like I know what I am doing here, but in reality, I am trying to get past heavy French accents...

Ahoy! Cap'n Jack Sparrow off the starboard poop deck, something-or-other......oh....and put some pants on kid!

Yeah, I know Zelie, you can kick my ass later for this...but it always makes me smile...like now! :))

One of the times that Z 'took one for the team', and let me and Aiden watch Indy car races at Paddy O'Rice along the Mekong river....Indy, not Nascar Z!!

Oh, weirdest thing...IT RAINS A LOT IN CAMBODIA! Crew always, always had me covered.

One of the many daily swims to cool off and decompress...

Had a great chance encounter with a monk, who once studied in France and was a taxi driver...great man, and great conversationalist.

Force to be reckoned with, dynamic duo of A-Z

Rithy at the Bayon Temple photo shoot....missing him

One of the ONLY times I have seen Z skeptical, and me goofy happy to be eating in a weird cafe

Yeah....REEAAALLLYYY looked like a good idea....jury is still out on that one

taking it to the streets, and one of the most unique shooting sessions ever in my whole career

Almost got him on the air plane....stupid baggage x-ray machines....loved the elephant rides around Bayon!!

Yes, occasionally I would doze off....bloody hot after lunch! Z would nearly have to swat me to stay alert....

Anything wrong with this image? Priorities maybe?! Me: 75lbs of gear...Aiden, soccer ball, inflatable airplane, and in his bag- blue blanket and cars and dinosaurs...yeah, I'm just jealous!

Zelie did this and I laughed pretty hard reading it. So here is my list of:

Thinks I Will and Won't Miss About Cambodia:

Will Miss:
- fresh coconut, papaya, mango, pineapple and vegetables everyday.
- evening tuk tuk rides
- elephants
- iced Vietnamese coffee
- noodle bowl
- no traffic laws
- open markets
- walks on the Mekong river bank
- firefly boat rides
- swimming nearly everyday
- super cheap food
- ice cream, nearly everyday
- temples
- Siem Reap
- new friends
- water buffalo
- everything is dirt cheap
- Frank and Francine, the geckos in the house
- A/C
- Ankor beer
- French ex-pat hotels with attractive French people and a pool

Won't Miss
- tuk tuk rides
- no traffic laws
- open markets
- pollution
- moto death squads
- heat
- humidity
- bugs
- weird physical ailments, and not just mine
- things lost in translation
- things lost in general
- being lost
- no hot water
- no cold water
- no clean water
- too much water falling from the sky
- people eating with their mouth open....seriously, holy crap that gets to me
- back of the bus rides for hours.....no fun for anyone.
- telling the water delivery guys for the THOUSANDTH time the address is 8-3-0...not 380, or 083, or 038....grrr
- Frank and Francine like to poop on the floor, right in the kitchen, and you just don't always see it
- mosquito nets
- heat rash

Leaving Cambodia was not at all what I thought it would have been. Despite my and Zelie's efforts, we never did make it to the beach or Kep to relax and play and explore like tourists. We spent the remaining days touring a couple more hospitals and clinics, meetings, other shoots, tying up loose ends, transferring files, fixing computers,( stupid ants...still miffed over that one) and figuring out how to complete everything before the end of September despite not being in Cambodia together. We found a design company in country to help create a final booklet for TPO and their donors. Zelie dove into her notes to pull appropriate quotes, and I the process of editing and choosing and image to correspond to it. Again, not at all what we wanted or thought we would be doing in the final two weeks there. It is all necessary as donors allot money in time frames usually based on financial quarters. The money not spent means returning it, and potentially all of it since the project needs completion within a certain time frame. Who knew? I certainly didn't so that was a new learning experience for us. Below is one of the sample blads created by our design group, Melon Rouge. They are a wonderful team of French designers and technicians that have successfully created a few books in Cambodia similar to what we were looking to have made, so it has been a great process for us to go through even from abroad. Here are a couple of the design ideas to give you a sense of what we are working with.

Despite all of this work and finalizing, we were able to have some fun with a couple dinner parties and nights along the river so Aiden could drive his go-cart or play soccer. Our last day there was the best one by far as we toured the wat in Phnom Penh, played with the elephant there, fed the monkies and had said a few prayers in the temple, and the last trip through the Russian Market.

It was a fun day, which I think also entailed a trip to the clinic to have Aiden checked on for sand fleas in his foot. FYI, sand fleas are NOT fleas....they are tiny crustacean that live in the sand and then burrow into your foot to lay eggs. Awesome. Good times noodle salad, I can assure you it was not! But he was ok and didn't require having his foot amputated or anything. Actually, I can't even remember what he got for it. What I do remember is we went and got chocolate ice cream afterwards! After all, that's what's really important right?! The trip to the temple was fantastic, and well worth it.

So where are things now? Now, things are pretty much up in the air. So many fires requires a lot of consistent effort in keeping them tamped down. Now has been an odd process of figuring out how to meld these two worlds that I think I have always existed in, but on two separate times and levels. One of these is a commercial photographer and educator, the other as a documentary photographer pursuing those things that mean and motivate me, and help me feel connected to the world. Still gotta pay the bills, and still have to push after the things that puts a fire in your belly. Know what I mean? Zelie, Judith from TPO and I are really pushing hard to get the final edits and design tweaks made to the book which will be completed by December. Zelie has been back in Bradford and working on her graduate degree with a lecture on the project for the Rotary Foundation thrown in there. I have been entering competitions and applying for grants and fellowships and working to secure funding for returning to Cambodia, as well as potentially future excursions in a few other countries next year. Thrown in there are efforts to find/land some shooting work, teaching workshops in Portland and a couple smaller shoots, re-creating the business brand, starting a new workshop business idea, and of course, trying to spend time with friends and colleagues and stay in their own lives.

Friends are much more amazing than I think we give them credit for sometimes. I am sure we all let them know through buying them shots at the bar, taking them out to dinner or a hike, maybe even getting them a gift or something. Just in case, tell them, and give them a decent hug....a real one, not a crappy bro hug and fist bump....give 'em a hug, because they really are amazing. They all stepped up and made sure I was ok and feeling good. They all listened intently and asked how to help, or they simply just showed up and took me out for mushroom hunting, or dinner, or a couple beers, or called me, or sent letters. It was perfect, what I needed, and I didn't have to ask for it. These are good people, and I make sure they know it.

Thankfully, those very friends are the ones that have been helping to get these things done, and opening up even more connections and outlets to make all these ideas and efforts to come to fruition. Recent work shooting in Portland and teaching at The Newspace Center for Photography has opened even more doors. Thankfully there is a large and well reaching photographic community here with not only NewSpace, but also the well know Blue Sky Gallery, portfolio review and promotional non-profit PhotoLucida plus numerous other galleries and non-profits for documentary photographers. Not unlike New Mexico, this place is chock full of photographers, hell even everyday folks, that wanted a better quality of life, a more creative and accepting environment but also more accessible to the outdoors and a quieter city. It's going to be interesting to explore here more as well as work both in documentary but also better commercial accounts! Lord knows there are more than enough amazing foodie places and great hikes!

Well, I think this is far long enough as a 'catch up' blog roll. I hope that this finds everyone safe, happy and whole. Hopefully next entry will be cover designs, and finalized blads for the book!

Resistance, taking a chance, chasing a lead , and trying to keep it.

2010-08-21T08:38:00.000-06:00

My trip here in Cambodia is quickly drawing to a close, much faster than anticipated. This always seems the way though with travel and work, and fun. All goes much quicker than expected.

I want to write this entry about a difficult but common event in photography; whether to chase an unknown lead or stick to a game plan. I say difficult because of the impact doing this has when working with a large team, a 3 year old, a delicate topic and subject, and a completely unknown region of exploration. We took a bit of a jaunt off of our norm and conquered a tough task that can make or break a project.

Most photographers have a bit of adventurer in them, so running after a moment or hunting through a scene for the right image is very common and a part of who we are. When someone says 'you should go and take pictures of this amazing-whatever/whomever-we tend to follow through and check things out. As a journalist when you hear of a lead that could potentially improve your story, or help you create an even stronger image, you chase after it like a dog after a squirrel. You envision how amazing it might be, the opportunities it could unfold, what new things might get discovered, how far 'wide open' it could crack your whole project. However, all the while you never ever know or really see what it will be, how it will go, and what the outcome will be. It's all instinct and gut, and not a damn bit of guarantee. Again, with a large crew and responsibilities to them, our sponsors, each other, a kid, the project, and other commitments to others, how do you balance all of this? Sometimes the same way that you get into things like this in the first place; instinct. Oh, and a lot of experience at planning on the fly!

We were interviewing a great individual in Siem Reap and learning about his life as a Khmer Rouge medic. He had an incredibly difficult story to hear involving being taken from his village at a young age, losing his family who all eventually were killed. He no longer has any family, and can't remember what village or province he was from; effectively an orphan. Through hearing his story, he taught us with second hand accounts about the fall of the Khmer Rouge in the late 90's. He had been told a great deal of the details by his former commander who was present when Pol Pot was arrested by a splinter group of the Khmer Rouge. What became the great boon was that this commander was still alive and he is great friends with him. 'Would you like to talk with him?'......hell yes! This was a big break into a gap in our story about what eventually happened to the KR, which could be easily and uniquely filled with first person accounts, instead of third person hear say.

So now the big questions; do we do this and how? Here are the issues as we saw them. He lives in a very remote northern section of Cambodia, near the Thailand border. We can't reach him by phone. How do we get all of us up there; there might be a boat ride with the van, or moto's for miles. It's the rainy season, and we have been told that the roads can be impassable with mud. Being from New Mexico, I know all about driving in caliche mud; fun, but also dangerous. Other issues were no known hotels, motels, or the ever common guest houses. Where to eat? How long will it take? Will he even talk with us when we get there? What about the crew? What about the little guy, Aiden and the nanny? How will anyone know we are there in case of emergency? After asking all these questions you really start to sink into the question of 'is it worth it'? I am not one to try and over run resistance and adversity. If something presents enough resistance, that usually means I am either swimming too hard upstream to somewhere I don't need to be, or I am not thinking clever enough. So I have learned over the years to simply slow down, back up, think more objectively, ask different questions, and listen to my instincts. "Why" in situations like this can be the worst question to ask. It seems like asking 'why is this so hard, why isn't this working, why can't I get it' all create other questions that can't be answered. I ask things like, what haven't I tried yet, what am I not thinking of, what would I never do, what do I normally do, who do I need to ask for help, how can I make this more fun-safer-easier-better? These are all questions that can only be followed by action, and it is that action that breaks resistance. That, and instinct. It really is true that your own body will tell you when to stop and when to push through, even after your mind may swear that it can or can't do something. I trust that instinct a lot. We hit a lot of resistance, I can assure you; our own selves, each other, trying to reach the guy, trying to get feedback from the team, trying to find information on the region. All the things you do to make yourself feel better about a risky choice you haven't quite made yet. As each resistance point presents itself you can feel your confidence slip. So how do you break out of it? Commit to the goal, trust in yourself, your team, your skills and education, and endeavor to make the journey towards that goal fun, honest, safe and exciting. Let it be what it is going to be, and trust in the process towards that goal. The joy of this project is not an end point of acquiring a single persons story and image. It isn't a singular thing. It is an accumulation of several events and moments together as a team through growth, learning, challenging ourselves, facing challenges, having fun, and being present for the ride. How is this whole thing going to turn out? I have no idea, but I know the journey along the way will probably be a wild one, random, and challenging, fun and taxing, and full of laughs. I say bring it on. The more random, the better!

Zelie and I decided to go for it and take a chance. If at any point it appeared like it would be dangerous, or if the team felt uneasy then we would bail and come home. So after a morning pre-pro meeting the team said they felt it was worth the risk and expense of trying. The regret of not trying was more unacceptable than playing it safe. I was very proud of them all for wanting to take a risk, so we did.

We all packed with lightening speed and checked out of the hotel making sure to have rooms reserved in the event that it didn't work out. Tongnuy went to the bus depot and found a man with a very nice van that would take us up the the outer province at a reasonable rate. The gentleman we had interviewed was eager to try and help us find his friend and get his story, so he was completely on board. Did a little 'incase' shopping for some staples in the event of no real food, packed a couple pillows and all the gear, and headed to the north to uncertainty. At the very least, as anyone knows, I am always up for a good road trip with great friends! So we chose to look at it as such, and made it into a fun adventure. An adventure it was.

Here's the trek in photos and commentary:

We left early am in a great big Mercedes van....with AC!

Of course Aiden had some toys to keep him occupied, me with my camera, and a really bad Lou Rawls tape on the stereo. No ipod hook up so don't ask.

It was a beautiful ride full of rice fields of the brightest, newest green, palm trees, lots of cows and water buffalo, wide blue sky and big New Mexico clouds.

All good road trips need some good road food. You know, 7-Eleven chili dogs, road side BBQ, that slightly questionable bar with the best juke box in the state, that one place with the greatest chicken fried steak west of the Mississippi. You know those kind of places. Yeah.......we didn't have any of that shit. We had THIS place! Best rice noodle soup since the Takeo market where I had breakfast. Would you stop at this place for lunch?!

Yeah, the shot with the two bowls.....it was so good I had two! We all did!! Best noodle soup ever!

Found someone else I want to take home, of course.

So let's get some more staples and maybe some fruit or vegetables for the person we are hopefully going to meet.

Yeah.......never mind. I think we'll wait till we get closer to the actual village. Maybe they will be a little better/cleaner since everything in this one seems to take place along the open sewer that I walked over to get into the restaurant where we had lunch.

OH WAIT....WE'RE ALREADY IN THE VILLAGE?! Yup. Got back in the van and drove about 1/4 mile up the dirt road and the van stopped again. Driver turned around and said, 'here's the guys house'. What? We're here? Should we call first...did someone call.....shouldn't we talk this over?! Nope, here we are, so here we go. Sent Aiden off to play with the kids and the nanny, we walked in and introduced ourselves and just plowed ahead.

After a hour or so of interview with our new subject the former Khmer Rouge deputy commander, we had to try and get some shots in before it got too dark and it looked like a big storm was coming in. So we set out to scout a spot quickly.

Yeah, how about the middle of the road? Why? WHY NOT?! Could be cool? What's the worst that could happen? No.....I did not get hit by a car....no one did....are you kidding it's kind of hard to NOT see us! Finally picked a spot and figured out the shot.

Middle of the road, SB800 in the lastolite soft box pumping through my 7' butterfly silk to make a larger looking soft box since I wanted to shoot his full body possibly standing or sitting. Thankfully there was a storm coming in, so that knocked down the ambient light enough that the little strobe as able to over run the general sun light out there so that I could make the sky even darker if I needed. Un-thankfully, there was a storm coming so we had to shoot fast. Oh yeah, and it was get-out-of-work time, and traffic was going to get heavy. You'll see what "traffic" is with the 5am morning shots. We walked him out, sat him in the chair, and went to town.

Now, I know. Why is his face all messed up and blacked out. I'll explain it later. I can tell you that the shoot was great though, and yet again I found myself laying in the middle of a road.....a very dirty road.....a very covered in cow shit road....with large trucks and motos zipping around, and cows....and cow shit. Can't seem to get away from it.

After the shoot we were so exhausted that we had to run and find a guest house and a place to eat, fast, again since it was now getting dark. Found a place, and set out for food. But where? Why across the street at that garage over there. Garage. Over there. Food. WHAT?!

Oh but it's the same guy that made us lunch down the road! Cool. I am sure he can whip something up for us......off an engine block or something, right? Oil pan soup? Crank case chowder? Seat cover spaghetti? You know what, I really didn't care, cause all I really wanted was a beer, and a shower. So after knocking on a couple doors we found a lady that would sell us a couple Ankor beer, and even put it on ice for us and would be ready in 15 minutes. Perfect. Enough time to shower. Shower.......yeah....

Yup...in order from left to right: toilet, reservoir of water to flush the toilet, and the reservoir to take a shower from. Where does the water come from? The water tanks on the side of the building. Where does the water IN the tanks come from? The sky. So shut up and grab that little scoop and wash the cow shit off!

Not the cleanest I have ever been, but clean enough for dinner, which we ate on the floor of the entry of the guest house. Who needs furniture? They did have some cool photographs on the wall to look at though.

I can go on about the food in Cambodia. Honestly, it really is great when taking all things into consideration. However every meat product you eat is simply the limbs of the animal chopped up. That means that every piece of meat is attached to some bone part making for some very tedious eating. It's actually exhausting. But the beer makes it all worth while, I can assure you. I would have taken a picture of it, but I drank it too fast. Zelie and I sat on the bed looking at the images from the day, reveling in the amazing accomplishment that we just achieved. We were pretty exhausted, giddy, proud. I'll say it, I felt righteous. That was the best tasting beer I think I have ever had. Would gladly do it all over again. And so would the crew. Unfortunately we need to work something better for them since the house only had 3 beds, and there were 8 of us, and no one wanted to share a bed. Not sure why, but they all said they would rather sleep on the floor, and no it was not because I smelled like cow dung@! So on the floor they slept. Judging by the size of the bugs that I had INSIDE the mosquito net and the fact that every dog in northern Cambodia was out barking and chasing each other that night, I am sure I could have simply slept on the floor and let one of them have the bed. Or in the van for crying out loud!

Next morning was a 5am wake up call with the local rooster cotillion blazing revelry, and cows mooing, more dogs barking, and the clanging of the morning call to prayer. These people are farmers through and through, no doubt. No sleep that night, but the sunrise as worth it.

And then the early AM commuter traffic into the office. It's not the Pike into Boston or anything, but still.....it's got it's pitfalls.

Then back out to the guys house for a morning shoot in his rice field, then his house for the rest of the interviewing, and possibly more photos.

Ok. Now I'll explain the blacked face. Somewhere deep down I was a bit nervous that this guy was going to bail out and get uncomfortable with us. After all, he was a KR commander until 2008-2009 when he was decommissioned. We are doing a project on the people that survived the regime that killed families and tortured millions. He wasn't some country bumpkin with out a once of intelligence. He was a very smart man, and very aware of what his choices represented and how it might be received by others. The interview session was great as Zelie asked very respectful questions and simply guided him to tell his story and how Pol Pot met his end as the Khmer Rouge began to break apart. It was a great chance to put a connector on so many questions asked by people that would be reading the story; what finally happened to that wretched dictator and his horrible regime. And we had first person accounts of that end. We never chased after him as to whether he had seen his fellow Cambodians killed, or tortured, or starved, or raped, or if he had done it himself. We were professional, and exercised a great deal journalistic integrity in respecting his safety and trust. At least up until when he would sign our release form saying that we were going to publish this story and have an international exhibit where the portrait that we made would be on display 24"x36" with a print out of his testimony interview right next to it, along with a companion DVD that would have his own voice speaking about the regime and his actions. Then, all bets are off! Somehow we managed to talk him into signing the release, and it seemed like he trusted us and what he shared. We promised that we were making prints that day once we returned to Siem Reap, and his colleague would take them to him that night, which we did.

Speaking from personal experience, there are almost set frames of time that you can mark when a person will back out of a deal, or portrait session, or job, or even an event. If you get someone to say yes to be photographed that doesn't mean that it's a done deal. It's never as easy as just picking up the camera and snapping. They back out right after seeing your camera, or after they realize that you are taking more than one image, or when you start making them pose, or when you ask to use/print/publish, or if you ask them to sign a release, and finally when at least 12 hours has passed and they have really thought everything over and re-read the release and settled back into their old thoughts of 'I don't know, this feels unsafe, I don't want to look ugly like I always do in pictures, I don't know this person or what they will do with the photo'. The one I worry about most is always that 12 hour one. Simply because I am no longer there with that person and I can no longer continue to coach them along to understand what will actually happen, that it's all ok, and I can be trusted. That 12 hour mark is like that window of time when the space shuttle is going through re-entry and there is a radio black out till it clears the atmosphere; it's tense and full of doubt, and all that can be done is trust.

Sure enough, 11 hours later we got a call from our translator who informed us that our subject no longer felt safe and wanted to retract his release, and we would not be permitted to use his images or story. Which is where things currently sit. I have had clients back out of contracts, back out of payment promises, subjects back out of what image will be published, subject say yes to be photographed only to show up at their door step and be told no, (Val Kilmer, you twit). In most of these cases I can talk someone back into line and be able to move forward. This time though, I am actually not sure what to do! We have a signed release agreement with exchange of money and images and everything. I am unsure of legal bounds internationally with cases like this which is also tied into a 'soft news story'. So to play it safe and being respectful, (until I learn that I do in fact have full rights) I am only publishing this on the blog and blacking out his images.

No matter outcome of this new point of resistance, this has served as a much more important lesson that needed to be learned for us. We have been faced with some pretty daunting challenges along this crazy journey. It feels great to know that we all had what it took to take that bull by the horns and make it work for us, not against us. We pulled together as a team, no one got hurt, we learned more things in that one trek than I think I have in years personally and professionally as a photographer. I am not sure what will happen over the next week and half before I return home to New Mexico, but I know that I will be leaving with this amazing experience logged in the memory bank.

Next blog will be of the temples in Siem Reap, elephant bonding, and almost adopting a Cambodian kid.....Angelina Jolie can't adopt them all. Happy Saturday!

Phnom Penh to Takeo and back again...

2010-08-08T01:29:00.001-06:00

A few days after leaving Kampote we were back in Phnom Penh for the reading of the verdict and sentencing of the first defendant in the Khmer Rouge tribunal hearings; Kaing Guek Eav, commonly called Duch. It was and is a pivotal sentencing and verdict from the stand point that he will be the first of 5 other Khmer Rouge leaders to be tried after 30 years in a war tribunal conducted by a joint venture with the Cambodian courts, and the UN. Zelie managed to get us access inside the tribunal gates to sit in where all the other journalists gathered to transmit to their various news agencies. It was a media circus comprised of the dozens of NGOs from as many countries supporting the survivors or somehow revolving around this issue of the genocide in Cambodia. It’s really not surprising that it was so well attended.

The verdict came that Duch was found guilty of crimes against humanity, torture, and murder. His sentence was 35 years. However, that was reduced by 5 years for being wrongfully imprisoned according to Cambodian law, and reduced another 11 for the time he has already served. There was a lot of outrage by some of the attending survivors who felt the sentence was insulting in comparison to the crimes he committed and was now convicted of; torturing and murdering more than 12,000 people over the course of 5 years. I have been struggling with what to think and how to feel about this. Through working on this project, talking with so many various survivors, meeting and discussing policies and issues with other NGO workers here in Cambodia, and having friends that are attorneys, one with the Hague in the Netherlands, I am aware that there is far more to this than a simple sentencing for the crimes listed. We attended the press conference that evening where I was able to talk with one of the prosecuting attorneys and one of the moderators for the trial. Many mentioned a fair number of the mitigating factors that goes into sentencing and how critical this one would be as a gauge for the remaining trials for the other Khmer Rouge heads. In light of all of that, and weighing in all the issues and views that I heard, I have to agree with the survivors; the sentence is too light. Regardless of age, regardless of cooperation, regardless of years already served, he should have been given life in prison. The attorneys have bantered with semantics that 35 years for a 65 year old man ‘is effectively a life sentence’, and ‘regardless of the reductions, he will be a very old man when he gets out, if he lives’. To the Cambodian people, “this is just not acceptable” as stated by Chum Mey, one of the very few remaining people that survived Duch and his Tuol Sleng prison. I have to agree.
Duch admitted, and was proven guilty with the help of not only the eyewitness testimony of dozens of people, but his own meticulous records that he kept on each person interrogated, tortured and killed. Again, there were approximately 12,000 people executed over 5 years. What made the verdict reading worse, as if this wasn’t difficult to understand already, the courts ignored the request of the survivors for reparations to be made in the suggested forms of things like a trust fund, or a pagoda in some of the provinces marking killing sites, or health clinics. One common painfully cheap and simple suggestion was a plaque commemorating those killed at the Tuol Sleng prison, which is located in town and is an extremely popular tourist site. These were all ignored. Instead a list of the names will be posted on the courts web site that the survivors can down load. I’m not going to go into the fact that only a sliver of a percentage of the survivors are alive, and barely any of their kin and offspring has a computer, let alone internet access. It wasn’t like they were all asking for thousands of dollars or a college fund. They asked for a plaque, and were ignored. This was to have been a court developed with the Cambodian people in mind and their requests and ideas taken into serious consideration. So where the brilliant web site idea came from is beyond me. Most of the survivors that we were able to talk to after this were and are still outraged and are hurting all over again.

I spoke with Chum Mey a couple times after the verdict reading. I told him I hoped that this would not affect him or stop him from talking with the tourists at Tuol Sleng. I hoped he would continue to educate the younger generation of Cambodians. He replied, “I feel that this will always be my life, and I will continue to push forward. But my spirit is broken again, and I am crying tears again over the pain and anguish caused by Duch, like I had done years ago in my cell”. We are here to tell the stories of a nation and it’s survivors and how they are healing. Does this sound like a mended man? Is this how to help a nation heal and move on stronger and wiser?

Finally, last week, we went to Takeo, which is a small province a couple hours south of Phnom Penh. We were to interview a former Khmer Rouge solder who was trained as a medic for the regime, as well as a couple other survivors. We had a few days off after the verdict and I was able to get some much-needed R&R. Fatigue finally set in on the famous one-month mark I seem to have. Most treks I do are for at least a couple months, but at the halfway point I get real funky. So we laid low for a few days, lot’s of swimming and playing along the river, and some great meals at western style restaurants. By the time we all went to Takeo, we felt we were pretty well back in the game. Except for Aiden. Poor guy was having a really rough time with a case of heat rash which really flared up the first night we were in Takeo.

I wanted to post the awesome experience we had taking him to the hospital in Takeo, but some stories are better told in person. Besides it reads a lot like the leg incident, only with rats and cockroaches and a fairly nasty head nurse. The ironic thing is that it was the same hospital that we photographed our subject at that afternoon. So I guess on the bright side, we knew right where to go!

We decided Zelie and Aiden would return at noon the next day, and I wanted to stay and get more general imagery of Cambodia. Went off exploring the town and the lotus fields it looks out onto, and also was able to shoot more in the amazing open market there that has the best breakfasts ever. Stir-fried noodles with cilantro and fired pork, or duck egg omelets with sprouts, cucumbers and fresh basil and a light fish sauce and Thai chilis. And don’t forget the Vietnamese coffee!! Actually, all the produce there comes up a man made canal that connects Takeo to Chau Doc, Vietnam. Very interesting places to explore and shoot. I would like to go back and get more of the boats and the commerce that comes up the river. Despite the tough go with the little guy, it was an okay trip.

Later the same week we were invited to attend a blessing ceremony performed by a pair of Buddhist monks for some of the survivors that are also clients of the organization we are working with, TPO. The ceremony was held at the Killing Fields, the burial site for the victims of the Tuol Sleng prison in town. The site, now a museum like the prison, has a large stupah erected to house the bones found at the site and to stand as a reminder of what had happened there. According to Buddhist tradition, the body of the deceased is cremated and the ashes scattered for the spirit to move onto it's next incarnation. The blessing at the stupah is to release the spirits of those that were buried there in the hopes that they would still be able to move on to their next life peacefully. It was a very beautiful and emotional experience, and one that I am glad I was able to attend. Zelie and I talked about how incredible the staff at TPO are to be able to help these people out and create these healing events for them nearly every month. They are amazing people. After the blessing at the stupah at the Killing Fields, we then went to a pagoda for the reading of their testimonies, and a final blessing for them in the temple.

This was followed by a very fast photo shoot in the temple, as requested by the attending survivors. They wanted me to make portraits of them there in what felt like a final release and a way to show what they had done. As most everyone knows, I am not a traditionally trained photo journalist, and being in situations like this one can be very difficult for me to work in. I know what needs to be done, but I have difficulty stepping into that roll and doing what needs to be done. So I tried to balance what I felt was respectful distance, and also try to show the event as best I could. I was very beautiful, and very intense. I am so glad to have been a part of it. After the shoot, you could feel the mood was different and much lighter, like the burden was lifted some, almost a sense of pride and strength. Would change the traumatic events of that for anything in the world considering how the day ended.

Now, however, we are focusing and preparing for Siem Reap, and the famous Ankor Wat temples! Best of all, we are taking our favorite subject, Sam Rithy, up to explore with us and show us some of the places he remembers being during the regime. I can’t tell you how excited I am to go there and what we will discover, portraits we’ll make, and hopefully some great art. I know this entry is mostly anecdotes with not much technical or photo session stuff. I promise to have a couple follow up ones showing more work and images from around the country and city. We are hoping to visit a couple of the Wats, maybe take an elephant ride, and also visit the floating village of Chong Khneas. Promises to be a great trek with some new and distinct locations for the portraits. Hopefully with no health issues!!

More soon,

One full month; Kompote and Phnom Penh

2010-08-07T23:01:00.001-06:00

What an interesting few weeks it’s been. There has been lots of travel, reading of the first tribunal verdict, some small dramas and small illnesses, changes in supporters’ at the last minute, and break through moments with some incredible people. I'll break this into two posts, so read in installments, should be much easier. This will be long so let me just get to it.

A few weeks ago we were in Kampot, a small town on the Prek Kompong river that flows into the Bay of Thailand interviewing Khmer Rouge survivors from a Muslim village, there. We stayed at a small family resort, Les Manguires, with it’s river front dining bungalows, great swimming, and of course the famous Fire Fly boat rides up the river.

The interviews were of both men and woman from the village who were taken from their land and moved to other provinces and forced to farm rice and raise pigs for the regime, as well as forced to eat pork which is a traumatic event for Muslims. Being in this village was a bit like being back in Turkey by being able to sit at the mosque with some of the older men, telling war stories and experiences during Pol Pot’s regime.

Just like Turkey, I was asked to come to prayers with the men. There is something about the vocalization of the call to prayer and the ritual of washing and preparing to enter the mosque that moves me deeply. We had a few scheduled interviews, and also managed to conduct a few with some of the other villagers that also wanted to share their stories. Again, like in other Muslim countries I have been in, the Cham Muslims were very eager to invite us in and spend time with us. We heard some amazing stories, and made some great portraits.

One of our subjects a little further out in farm country was interned at a pagoda that was used as a prison during the regime. Apparently the building was a school built in old French colonial style. Luckily one of the monks there now was gracious enough to talk with us and explain what had happened there, and some of the details after the regime. It was a beautiful building tucked under some trees, stunning and elaborate floors, and some of the best light I had seen in Cambodia on a cloudy day. The monk explained that the former prison had to be re-plastered several times to cover the blood that was on the walls. Frightening thought as we stood there remarking how beautiful the building was, how stunning the architecture, how peaceful the setting, and how wonderful the light.

It was a great visit, and what amazing people that were gracious hosts to us for a day. Wish we could go back and visit longer with them. That seems to be a recurring theme through out this project; feeling remorse for not being able to go back again a few days later to just sit more, talk more, make more food, and share some of our own lives. It can feel one sided at times, and that pulls at me. However we make the most of what we do have, and be sure to enjoy it as much as possible!

Sadly though, the trek ended with a bit of drama. While waiting for a scheduled a final boat ride up the river and photo session with the crew in celebration, one of the other visitors at the resort had jumped off the dock into the water…..at low tide. She attempted to make a big splash to entertain her children, but instead she broke her leg, badly. Thankfully a couple of other visitors there rushed down to help me, along with the owner of the small resort. Once the other guys got into the water with me to lift her out, the testosterone began to flow. “We should lift her out….we should leave her in…we should get a chair…..we should make a stretcher…we need an ambulance, but the road is like they tested missiles on it….we should lift her in the boat….we should call a doctor!” The poor woman grabbed my arm and said in a very calm voice, “ I need to be in control, I want final say in what we do…..and I want a doctor!” Thankfully our German friend, Julian was there and is a doctor. ‘So Julian, what do you think?’ “Hummm….da…well, da….yes the leg is certainly broken and she will need to go to the hospital”. I laughed. He was still asleep. We hoisted her 6-foot frame into the boat, road down the river, carried her up the embankment steps to a truck, took her a couple blocks to the hospital…and discovered they had no gurney.

It’s locked in a closet so no one steals it. Person with the key is off today. So we carried her into the x-ray room. There, after even more male testosterone filled discussions of how to x-ray the leg and if we should cast the leg for transport to Phnom Penh, it was determined that indeed the leg was in fact broken, and would need to be immobilized. It was hysterical, we would all shuffle outside for the x-ray, and then shuffle back in to talk about how to get her to the city; the x-ray came out, and we all shuffled out to look at it plotting how to immobilize her leg; shuffle back in and tell her what we were going to do to her. She grabbed my arm again, smiled, and said aloud, “I need to be in control, I need to say what is going to happen to me…I want my leg immobilized, I want a cast, and I want some pain killers”.

Somewhere this whole thing turned into a Marx brothers’ film. I am sure if you were to watch it you would just laugh at us. 5 guys; one American, two Frenchman, a Khmer man and German all trying to shuttle this poor Dutch woman around. Finally a decision was made, immobilize the leg with a cast, and get an ambulance to P. P. Excellent, let’s get the cast on her. ‘Sorry, what? Did I hear him say they don’t keep the materials to cast a leg….here….in the HOSPITAL…..not in the hospital….somewhere else….not here….in the hospital…..somewhere else….not here……brilliant.’ However, the upside, they got the gurney out of the closet so we can shift her onto that, and then take her to the clinic that has the casting material. So we hoisted her back onto the truck and drove her a few blocks to the clinic and wheeled her in to be taken care of. If you have seen movies of health clinics in foreign developing countries, then you have a decent idea of what it looks like; one room, a few chairs, a little smelly, screaming kids and babies getting shots, and a tv in the corner blaring loud. This poor 6 foot tall Dutch lady had to lie there RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE of all this. Hysterically funny really, even she laughed some. We helped to get the cast on finally, then the ambulance came and she was loaded into it, and headed back to Phnom Penh. Total time, 2 ½- 3 hours. CRAP WE FORGOT ZELIE AND THE KIDS ON THE BOAT BACK BY THE EMBANKMENT!!! There they were, Zelie and Aiden and the woman’s perfectly calm and quiet little one-year-old boy, patiently and calmly waiting for us to return. It all ended well. She actually had to have surgery to repair the break; metal plate and 11 screws. Ouch. Sorry, no pics of that!!

Well let's end there, and I'll post the next one in a bit.

Second week completed: a bit about 'process'

2010-07-17T10:48:00.000-06:00

Hard to believe that I have been here just two weeks, it already feels as if it's a month. Funny how in the same thought the feeling that things are going too fast creeps in! At either pace, things are going great. There have been hiccups and new unexpected events, however, in the grander scheme of things it still seems appropriate.

I had a very common but shocking thing happen to me this week while photographing one of our subjects during a tour of the Tuol Sleng prison. When I looked at the images the next day I selected a couple of what I thought were oddly distinct. I soon realized they had much deeper and stronger importance; but where and how did I come to make those images? Why? I remembered that sometimes the best images or even pieces of art are created not by shear intention, but as a result of being in tune with your artistic process. So I thought I would write this entry about the term and function in art I think we all know about: process.

Process certainly isn't strictly in the world of art, but all of life. If anyone who knows me truly, knows I speak of process quite often. It is one of my favorite quasi-philosophical topics of converstaion with anyone, and one of those things that I am constantly learning from, and teaching about, and learning from, and teaching about. Why? Because process seems to be the one thing that must be present for everything that is created. At least for me it can be far more important and rewarding than the final outcome or product.

So what exactly is it? Well, what do we all admire in our art worlds? A painting, a sculpture, a book, garden, a building, an opera, a poem are all 'pieces of art'. Then think of the act of creating music, or food, writing, sculpting, engineering, painting, building etc, as process, and everything in between. Experiencing art even involves process. Wine making is an art, the bottle of wine is a piece of that art, even some would say drinking wine is an art. The very act of consuming or experiencing the bottle is a process. For generally everyone the object or item is a valued thing and cherished. But if asked what they cherish most about it, I dare think many would say it is the experience that revolves around it not just the item itself. The ritual of dancing or prepping for a meal, the jam sessions or live performances for a Jazz musician, the developing of a photo in chemistry for a photographer, the turning and mending of soil for a gardener.

For the maker, the act of creation and the processes we go through to come to that final piece is often built on so many things; blood, sweat, tears, confusion, fear, knowledge, serendipity, support, inspiration, innovation, divine providence, preparedness, things going right, things going wrong, things not happening at all, education, experience, and ultimately, trust. Somehow, almost blindly and what seems as some incongruous conclusion the final piece emerges gracefully and beautifully from all of that primordial muck like it had always been there, so natural and level with a purpose all it's own, a life all it's own. Soon to be absorbed by others who can then create their own process as they experience it; therefore going through all of those same events in their own distinct and beautiful ways. Ever have an aria make you cry, ever lose track of time in a great book, ever find truth in a poem, ever find resolution walking through a garden? You went through your own process. That, on it's own, is art.

While walking around the prison this past Wednesday with Khmer Rouge survivor, Nam Mon I had accidentally kicked a concrete step dead on....at full pace.....wearing flip flops; broke the toe nail and was bleeding. New rule: close toed shoes on shoot days! Not a great thing to help get into the "process of creation", if you catch my drift. To be honest, I was overly distracted.

Always prided myself on what I thought was a fairly high tolerance for pain, but this bastard about made me cry. Needless to say I was immediately concerned not for my toe, but for being "present" while making images of the moments with Nam Mon. I got scared to be honest, that I was about to blow a significant moment the woman chose to share with us. Of course the more you try not to think about something, the more you think about it.....but something interesting happened, regardless.

Nam Mon was trying to help us find the photos in the prison of her relatives that were killed there; her father, mother, brothers, uncles. They were located on huge stand alone glass cased displays that almost looked like room dividers. Each contained roughly 2-300 portraits of former inmates held at that prison. Many, tragically, were tortured and killed. However in reviewing her tribunal testimony and then through the interview process, we were led to believe that she had not been photographed possibly due to her age at the time, 14, or her brief stay there. Her partner that went with us, Pakun, was also imprisoned there briefly.

Cambodians aren't the most outwardly affectionate people, so I had hoped to be as close to her to catch something to illustrate what I think is a sweet love story that developed as a result of them finding one another during the war tribunal hearings. While standing in front of one of the display boards Nam Mon had a cell call. Pakun was close by and apparently the call was for him, so she handed him the phone. I saw her hand reach out towards him, and I stepped in and framed and shot hoping to catch one of the only moments I had seen them touch one another. It is subtle, but gentle and significant for their story. I knew I had it. I knew when I hit the button. I was relieved and confidant that I had caught at least one goal moment. However, what followed was far more shocking and significant for me.

As she released the phone and walked away from Pakun towards the display of portrait images, I kept shooting every few seconds or so. For me at first glance the images past the touch are ok, but held no real significance. Towards the end of the tour, after finding mostly all the images of her family members, Nam Mon said that 'it was difficult to see her own portrait there on the boards'. We all exchanged looks of shock to each other. We all asked where, and she led us back to one of the boards in a prison wing. At the time, I had not remembered that I had photographed her at all near that board. So I picked up the camera a feverishly shot thinking I had been blessed with another significant moment. However when I went through the edit the next day I realized that I had made images of her and her portrait and never knew it. I had ended the series of this first moment by somehow framing her own portrait in my top right corner as she slowly peered around the corner to see if there were more on the other side. At the time, I never even knew that the portrait of who looks like a young boy, was actually her. What was just a simple function of wanting to make some liner order out of frames and organic shapes ended up being a secret moment and image that crept up out of process.

The images may not be great or visually striking, but looking back through them they take on a whole new meaning for me. I don't know, like Robert Frost once said, "No surprise for the writer, no surprise for the reader". The photos may not make final cut status. However to know that I can trust my own process and eye is certainly priceless.

Do you ever have those moments? Have you ever looked back, or turned back to see so much more than when you set out and wondered how the hell you got there? Ever drive to work and not remember a moment of it, only to then realize that you may have totally forgotten your kid on the roof of the car....but actually you had dropped them off at school safely? Have you ever cooked the best chicken soup of your life, but had never followed the recipe? The things that can come out of trusting process can be amazing and even frightening. I do get a bit scared sometimes when this happens. It's a good kind of scared. It lets me know I am doing something right, and it also keeps me humble, (usually, :) Sometimes I noticed that I can't even recognize them at first. I wonder if Sam Abell is right that at times we create images beyond our understanding at the time of making them. I love creating structure and having form and organization, but once it's made I secretly hope for the world to step in and create some randomness to learn from and experience and season the work I do. Photography is such a great pursuit. I love staring at images, sometimes for hours like at the Monroe Gallery in Santa Fe. However, I am not sure how I could get by without the happy accidents and little simple things that come about all on their own when shooting or creating anything really. I am just glad that I am able to be there when they do. Even more glad that I can look back and be satiated by it all, not just the end product.

Share some of your own stories and experiences. What do you cherish most from when you are creating something? What happens from your own process? What have you learned?

This week we are off to Kom Pot for our first interview and photography sessions out in the provinces. Should be quite an experience!! Can't wait to see what comes as a result of this!

Wishing you all the best.

Phnom Penh: Week One

2010-07-10T23:56:00.044-06:00

Week one, and things are going great so far. It's tricky to know how to manage all the information and events and write them out so that everyone can get a sense of what is happening, and not overwhelm at the same time. So what I will try is break this into a couple entries, and a few sections in each. This one will be general impressions and technical info from the shooting sessions. I'll write up a follow up one later tonight on the actual interviews and photo sessions. Obviously, this is a fairly intense and unique experience and project all the way around, and it's easy to get caught up in it all. I don't want to unload too much here, or turn this blog into my own venting platform...I'll leave that for my friends and my journal! We haven't had much time to truly sit and debrief and review each one. In a way it's a blessing to be so busy so as not to stop and think about it all too much. As journalists though, we want to be sure that we are properly crafting the story and getting all the information that is needed each day, while honorably and respectfully being present with the survivors. I think Zelie and I are the perfect team with the right mixture of sensitivity, respect, open hearts, and even problem solving skills on the fly. We are both very good communicators, and thankfully good friends that when we just need to talk, or cry, we know the other has our back.

General Impressions:
It's hot, and humid; all day, everyday, non-stop, day in , day out, and sometimes twice on Sundays. Goes without saying being from New Mexico- this is not acceptable! I can't tell you how tricky it is to manage your body and heat tolerance along with the gear and equipment at the same time. I think I am more concerned about the gear, than my own body! Yoga in the morning is amazing to do off my top floor room and patio, even if it is blazing hot already. However, it has been incredible so far in Phnom Penh. It's not unlike Mexico in that there is tons of traffic with motor bikes zooming and weaving in and out of all lanes of traffic, stray animals running across the road, people everywhere; so many sights sounds and smells that it almost overwhelms you. The great way to get around is with a Tuk Tuk, which is a motorcycle attached to a cart to carry people around town. For $1.50, (if Zelie is negotiating), we can get nearly anywhere in town. The upside; it's great to have an open air taxi to drive you around slowly and cheaply. The down side: everyday you swear you're taking your life into someone else's hands! It's a lot like driving in Boston; only look forward, count to three and just merge or change direction with out a turn signal or checking to see if there is an opening- just go. There are no real traffic laws, no lights, and no rhyme or reason. Want to make a left hand turn across 5 lanes of traffic and 3000 other cars, mopeds, motorcycles, cars, trucks and horse drawn carriages? No problem, just toot the horn once and turn! In a way, it's like an automotive ballet that seems to work beautifully as long as no one totally stops. Maybe it's like ballet and boxing; bob and weave, bob and weave, and lot's of foot work!

The food is great here, honestly. Yeah, there is a chicken running around the dirt floor pooping on things. Yes, there is a dog trying to sneak scraps from under the table and you HAVE to wonder if the rumors are true; one false move and it's fido surprise stew in the morning. However, there are great combinations of fish or chicken based soups, a fried dish, a rice dish, and a veggie dish. They love hot chilies, so that makes me real happy since I didn't bring any from NM. They also use a fair amount of basil and cilantro in the dishes which I love, along with all sorts of bamboo shoots, different veggies, and usually some fruit as well. It's a great diet that helps with the heat and keeping your energy up: you don't feel over heavy and lumpy after a meal like in the States. The one cultural thing we learned the hard way is that lunch is a very important part of the day, so when it's 11:30 or so, everyone stops what ever they are doing and they take lunch; NOW! Even if it's in the middle of some really emotionally heart wrenching story of death and triumph.....it's 11:30....we're now taking lunch!

The open markets are just what you would imagine, and are similar to the open markets in Africa or the Middle East. Well, there is one difference, the markets are all enclosed tin and metal structures that are crammed with so much stuff that it must be around 110 degrees and 110% humidity with every smell, odor and stink that you could imagine wafting in your nose. Oh, yeah, and I AM ENTIRELY TOO TALL FOR THIS COUNTRY! I'm not going to catch some weird disease, or get hit by a tuk tuk, or be mugged. No No No. I'm going to knock myself unconscious simply walking into places. Not kidding, it's tight quarters out here- bring a helmet. However, they are awesome with tons of toy vendors, fruit, fish, meat, silks, Buddha statues, clothing, shoes, rices, house wears and my favorite, the 'food court'......oh yeah, open air market with a food court right in the middle! This is a photographers heaven, and I think I about gave Zelie and Aiden heat stroke from shooting in there, but I will have to go back to do it justice.

Technical concerns:
It's hot, and humid; all day, everyday, non-stop, day in , day out, and sometimes twice on Sundays. Wait, did I say that already? Yeah, it's hot. I did a lot of research on the effects of high humidity and heat on camera and computer gear, and how to contend with it. Ideally, you bag the gear at night with some silica gels packets to draw out the moisture. This helps keep funk and fungus from growing in the gear from stagnant moist air, (hate that word, moist....hate it). Seems to work well, and helps to push the longevity of the equipment which is comforting since we are running through the country with close to $60,000 worth of camera and computer equipment. However, the one area I can't quite figure out what to do about is the temp and humidity WHILE shooting. Although I am shooting with the D3, which is about as solid and sealed a camera that you can get, and very similar to the old film F4s and F5 cameras, it's still showing signs of heat fatigue. Our first photo and interview session was on Monday with Chum Mey at the Toul Sleng prison in Phnom Penh, ( more on this later). While running and gunning during his tour of the prison, I noticed the digital noise and even the general color of the images were jumping around a fair amount. It's possibly a design flaw having the processor and CF cards in the handle of the camera where your body heat and chips are heating up so much, or it's simply a function of all CMOS chips in any camera working in those conditions. I'm not shooting video since it's only the D3, so I have to wonder how it would be if the chip is "on" for very long periods of time. On film shoots we would put the film in coolers with ice packs to keep it from 'reticulation' from heat....I might have to resort to the same thing for the camera to protect it, and the files.

Computer gear is fine, although ants seem to like climbing around in there from time to time. We have worked out a great system with the three OWC external FW800 drives, so everything is duplicated and backed up in case one of us loses a computer, a drive or even both. After every session Zelie and I pick up Aiden from school, take him home, and down load the cards from the Zoom H4n, as well as the CF cards. I am not sure if I want to shoot the D3 with it's ability to write info on both cards; having an immediate back up, or keep shooting it as a continued card. I have plenty of CF cards, so either is possible, just not sure of the saftly factor as of yet. I'll have to feel this out next week. Ideally, we would like to pass the back up process to the intern and also have him burn all the RAW data to DVDs, and then have them shipped back home every week. Paranoid? Yup. Guaranteed that all info and data is safe from harm and hurt? You betcha!

The one thing we had not counted on has been the five hour interview sessions. Not sure why or how we thought they would only be a couple hours; each survivor has been adamant about telling us the story from start, to finish. So we have had to scramble for more SD cards WHILE recording. Thank God for Julian who happened to be on site with us Day 1. Speaking of recording sessions. My new bane of existence are the microphones. I've had some experience with digital recorders in the past, and using various microphones. Due to budget constraints I went with two cardioid XLR mics that sound great, but need to be right in front of your mouth, and can't be moved around or handled a lot while recording. With someone that speaks English and can converse with you easily, not a problem. Having a translator try to explain this in Khmer to the survivor; forget about it. "Ok, so we would like to know your painful story of torture and survival, all the details and the emotional roller coaster that you have gone through.....and hold this microphone RIGHT in front of your mouth and DON'T MOVE IT AT ALL! Oh, and act natural at all times". Not so natural. So we have resorted to me holding the microphone and trying to jam it in front of them while recording. The back grounds are so 'lively' that I have to keep levels low enough not to pick up the cars honking and the kids hocking up snot in the background.....but still capture subtle voice intonations. That means holding it really close. Awkward. We are working on trying to find/borrow wireless lavaliere mics, or at least clip on ones. Wireless is expensive and has it's own limitations in the field, as do clip on mics. However, sitting still for sessions should be a lot better. Really wish we could have just hired a sound guy!!

There's no re-dos here. Even though we have been blessed with the ability to go back and visit again with a subject, we have already been pushed up against the wire with one interview and crammed in the photo session. By the time it was all said and done and packed up, I committed the cardinal sin of not checking my camera settings and final shots before wrap. I noticed that somewhere I had switched from shooting RAW to JPEG. Not one to vomit on the spot, but man I felt naseauious for sure. They weren't the most critical images, thankfully, but it woke me up to remembering my rules: slow down, think clearly, smile and stay calm, and double check everything BEFORE saying 'ok let me just shoot this last one'.

The one godsend has been the Lastolite soft box. This thing is amazing! Not super light weight, but light enough and versatile enough that it makes the best light and can be hand held. Not by me of course. Oh no. I have to have an assistant or, or Zelie, or I don't know, the lead psychologist for TPO hold it for the portrait sessions! Hey, it's a group effort! The soft box is compact and travels in the bottom of the back pack; pops open in a second; mount the SB800 with the Pocket Wizard and your up and shooting in a flash. The sessions with the soft box have been fairly quick, due to time, but so far the flash seems to keep pace and recycles well. I don't shoot high speed to keep the units from over heating, as well as to keep the sensor cool as well. I did notice the last portrait shoot that went fairly long, with around 4 different locations, the flash output wasn't totally consistent. Possibly not watching the recycle time tightly; so be sure that when shooting with small strobes like this, have lots of fresh batteries, and be cautious. The variation from one frame to the next was 1/2 to 3/4 a stop. But again, the quality of the light has been perfect; with the full diffusion, with one out, with both out, all of it worked great.

The other wise purchase was the Nikon 17-35mm, f/ 2.8 lens. My fav, tried and true lens is the 24-70mm, but with such tight quaters and narrow spaces, I just can't back up enough. The 17-35 lens has a bit of barrel distortion to it, but PShop fixes that in a flash. Also, the lens isn't as ominous as the 24-70, which looks like a hand cannon. The other great thing about the D3 is that I can shoot 'cropped down' in the DX format, which pushes the 17-35 into a 25-52mm, if I needed a bit more zoom. So all in all, a great lens for this country and the work as well. I played with the old manual 50mm 1.4, which I like, but it's really inconsistent and unpredictable so I tend to only use it to get my brain to see something different. Would have loved the auto version of this lens, but you know, money is tight!!

Did I mention that it's hot?

So that's all for right now. I'll write up more about the actual sessions with some sample images from them, as well as what the experience was like. Hope this finds you all well. More soon,

First day in Cambodia

2010-07-03T19:34:00.000-06:00

What an amazing morning. I have traveled to a number of foreign countries and never seem to mind being awakened by the sound of morning prayers; whether it's the Imam's call to prayer in Turkey, the church bells tolling in Mexico, or the chants of the Buddhist monks in Cambodia. It was amazing to walk out my sliding glass door to watch the sun try to rise and do some yoga while hearing the chants in the distance. Not a bad way to start you second day here!

I made it into Cambodia finally late at night, July 2, to unreal humidity and incredible sights and sounds. There is something I have grown to love when I travel to a new place which started when I was a kid; arrive at night. Everything is much easier to absorb, nothing to overwhelm initially, and in the morning your in a whole new world. Of course that means not sleeping that night, but whatever!

The first day was amazing and full of activities, some totally unexpected but a great introduction to the local Cambodian community. Woke very early to birds singing, dogs barking, cat crying, cars honking, and mosquitoes buzzing. Very....very..large mosquitoes. After some coffee and a tour of the house and it's roof top garden and pond, we were off to a house blessing ceremony for Muoy, our gracious hostess. Everyone from the building and school came down to attend. What a great way to familiarize myself with some of the customs on the first day in Phnom Penh!

Later, after showering for God knows why, ( did I mention the humidity?) we went off to a nearby hotel for lunch and a swim so Aiden could get some exercise and cool off, and Zelie and I could do some proposal writing and finalizing.

Then later on, a nap and afternoon rain, then off to the market for some provisions and supplies. After a quick game of soccer along the river, we had dinner and watched World Cup Football at the FCC, Foreign Correspondance Club; the favorite haunt of photo journalists and writers since the 1960s. Although a amazing day and a great introduction, it was a little sobering to walk up the stairs at the FCC lined with the photographs of Al Rockoff, photojournalist during the Vietnam war and who also documented the invasion of Phnom Penh by Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge.

Today, more work prepping for the shoots, reviewing the gear, going over logistics, and later on Forth of July Celebration at the US Embassy! Sounds like it will be quite a bash!!

Final Preperation for Cambodia

2010-06-29T12:39:00.003-06:00

Travel time for Cambodia is nearly upon me as I recover from a great week teaching at the Santa Fe Photographic Workshops for my Lighting Portraits on Location. They were a wonderful group of dedicated and passionate photographers full of creative ideas and eager to grasp and understanding lighting techniques. Couldn’t have had a better time!! I can safely say that our ‘full disclosure’ policy needs to be re-vamped a little though; might have been a little too much sharing!

I’m now trying to throw together the last of the details and equipment needs for the trip.
It’s proving to be a challenge to take so many things into consideration for this project. This isn’t simply a vacation trek with friends into the jungles of southern Asia; it’s a job. So finding that balance of what gear is needed, and what will make me feel a bit safer and secure is proving tough. However, I have always felt that photography is like cooking and Jazz; a good mixture of being prepared as well as some improvisation. Trust is a big component for success as well, as I was reminded by my workshop group; trust in your friends, trust in your experience in life, trust in skills and knowledge, and trust the travel gods!!

Here is a list of the gear I am taking for the project. Again, the balance is tough to determine in order to be prepared for anything, but weight and safety are also issues since I can’t just pay a bunch of porters!

CAMERA GEAR:
Nikon D3
Nikon D40, (back up)
Nikon 24-70mm f/2.8
Nikon 17-35mm f/2.8
Nikon 50mm f/1.4
2, Nikon SB800 speedlights
2, 8gb Sandisk Extreme III
4, 4gb Sandisk Extreme III
4, 2gb Sandisk Extreme III
8, OpTech Rain shields
Rocket air blower
Epson P2000 image storage
Lee graduated ND filters
Lowepro Computrecker camera bag

The camera is a no brainer. D3 is a solid well-sealed camera with great high ISO performance, fast auto focus, and an expanded contrast range that can capture more highlight and shadow detail. The lenses should provide more than enough coverage for every situation I will be shooting in. The D3 also has the ability to ‘crop down’ to a DX format, allowing my 24-70mm to become a 36-105mm which should be just enough as a portrait lens. The SB800 is a tried and true speed light, flexible and versatile with a fair amount of power with fast delivery. I can also control both units from the consol on the SB800 unit, therefore having a master flash unit, and one slaved unit. This allows me to change powers on both units, from one flash in manual, TTL, etc. Of course, in a perfect world with unlimited budget, and time, I would have loved to have the D3s, or D300s for video capture ability. However, both had been on back order forever. If anyone out there has one and would like to donate, please let me know! This is the one area that is making me a bit regretful. But who knows, maybe the project gods will cast a little luck and one of our colleagues in Cambodia will have a decent video camera I can use for the interview process.

LIGHTING GEAR:
Lastolite Exbox Hotshoe Softbox, 24”x24”
Lastolite extension handle
Pocket Wizard Plus Transcievers
Umbrella adapter
12’x12’ butterfly silk
Pony A-clamps
Various gels
Gaffers tape

The Lastolite was a great find through my friend Mitch Sayer who showed me its functionality during a workshop a few months back. It’s a large enough soft box to make pleasing ½ to ¾ portraits, yet packs compact enough to fit in my backpack. It also has an umbrella adapter to put onto a stand, or can be put on top of the telescoping wand handle for real portability. I have used it a couple times solo, holding the camera in one hand, and the soft box in the other; it’s doable….but it’s a workout. I intend to have a member of our team or interns to hold the light for me, and trigger remotely with the Pocketwizards. This allows fast set up times, lower impact in their homes, and gives me more time to spend building a solid relationship with the survivors and not overwhelm them with gear. The SB800 fits perfectly on the bracket and is solid within the softbox.
The box itself is like the Chimera boxes, in that there is an internal baffle, as well as removable front face to create more of a harsher light. Only regret is that I couldn’t afford the larger box, which would have been great for the family shots. It will be a bit of a challenge to no longer have my battery pack Profoto gear and higher power heads, but who knows, I may fall in love with this system and stay with only speed lights!

SOUND GEAR:
Zoom H4n Mobile high bit rate recorder
2, Samson Premium vocal XLR microphones
2, 1 gig SD cards
Wind sock
Mic stand adapter for boom arm

The Zoom H4n is a solid, compact recording unit that allows for use with either the two onboard microphones for just regular ambient recordings, or use with two external XLR or ¼” plug microphones. The unit also has minor recording level adjustments, and auto gain control. I would have preferred the Marantz with the warmer pre-amps and independent mic gain control, however, money and weight were of high concern. The Zoom unit was tested with the Samson cardoid mics and proved to be warm and smooth in tone, and flexible enough for the interview process with great sound quality.

COMPUTER GEAR:
Apple Mac Book Pro 2.2ghz, 500gb hard drive, 4gb ram
2, OWC 500gb back up drives for images
1, OWC 80gb drive for audio files
1, Lacie Rugged 150gb drive for back up boot drive, utilities, etc.
DVDs for permanent archive to be mailed back home
Spare cables for drives, card readers and cameras

The rest is just random gear and needed items like bug spray…..lots of bug spray….and tons of garbage bags to keep things dry, and a bunch of desiccant packets to put in the gear to keep fungus and moisture out of things at night. Obviously this is a huge concern considering that there will be monsoons and 100% humidity every day. This won’t allow things to stay dry, or dry out which can severely impact the performance of the gear. However, placing the camera, drives and computer in a plastic bag with a lot of desiccants may help to draw the moisture out over night. Seems like this trip will take a fair amount of discipline to ensure that everything lasts and is functional from start to finish. It’s not like I can walk into Adorama in NYC and just pick up a replacement! Certainly will be a huge change from New Mexico and its hot arid air!

In the interest of trying to get as much awareness and interest and support for the survivors, TPO, and our project, if any of you can think of ways that we can promote and gain some press coverage, please let Zelie and me know. We would love to, and need, to pick up some additional sponsors and investors to ensure that we can properly produce, capture and distribute this project to help support the survivors. If you have any contacts, feel free to let me know, or pass this blog onto them.

I take off tomorrow afternoon for LA, then a 12 hour flight to Seoul with a 14 hour layover, and then into Phnom Penh. It’s a very long journey, three days total, but it will be well worth it! I’ll try and post along the way, if I’m not passed out on a bench somewhere in Seoul. Become a follower of the blog, and please pass onto your friends and colleagues. More soon!

Heading to Cambodia!!!!

2010-06-09T13:50:00.006-06:00

Well, it is now official, I bought my painfully expensive ticket, and I am going to be in Cambodia for July and August! I will be working with great friend and journalist colleague, Zelie Pollon, to document and display the lives of the Khmer Rouge survivors from the 1970's. We may potentially be able to document other displaced refugees along the border regions of Cambodia and Thailand, as well as Thailand and Burma.

Our goal is to create a visual, audio and written anthology of the current lives and personal stories of the survivors from dictator, Pol Pot's regime during the early 1970's. Not unlike other genocides and overwhelming human tragedies due to war or conflict, most Cambodian people have been hesitant to share their experiences, let alone relive them. Some of the younger generation have even found it hard to believe that close to 2 million people died in the brief four year reign of the Khmer, and even question the scope of the horror. To help respectfully develop relationships and interview these families, we will be working closely with an in-country NGO, The Transcultural Psychosocial Organization of Cambodia, or TPO for short. They have been administering psychiatric therapy and counseling for the Cambodian people but primarly in response to the genocide of the Khmer. We are certainly excited to be working with such a unique and dynamic organization and look forward to help them in their mission to elevate the Cambodian people through their struggles and scaring past.

Zelie is in-country right now with her son, Aiden, putting things together for when I arrive on July 1, after 36 hours of travel. I feel tired already! Thankfully she has secured housing for us while in Phnom Penh, and has been in meetings already to help try to generate interest in our project, as well as drafting grant proposals and finding sponsors.

As you can imagine, this is an expensive venture for both of us, especially while still reeling from the recession. However, there is no rest for the weary, and if I can't get someone to hire me, then I'll just hire myself! This is a rare opportunity, and certainly a dream of mine to be working with a friend and writer to create something of real meaning, substance and genuine connection. A fair amount of my industry and business tends to focus on more surface facets and not so much about the true structure and meaning or purpose behind a persons life, pursuits, or experiences. This is a great way to combine some of the visual and technical skills I use as a portrait illustrator, and some of my true passions in life; travel, culture, connection and relationships, to create something more real. Hopefully, through the creation of the photo exhibits, books, written stories, audio interviews and multi- media pieces, we will also be able to help those survivors and their families to also create something real, and meaningful, and empowering.

I take off on June 30th, right after my Lighting Portraits on Location workshop here in Santa Fe, and return on September 2.....I think.....maybe.....more than likely, since I have two other workshops then.

I'll be writing dispatches to the blog and Facebook every other day or so, unless she and I are traveling further up country and cannot get to an internet cafe. I am fairly certain my iPhone won't work there, so you can forget that. It would be funny though if there actually was better AT&T reception there than here in New Mexico!

Be sure to follow the blog or friend me on facebook to stay updated on the progress of the project, image updates, information on grant writing, gear for international travel, photo sessions, amazing food and of course, the crazy humidity and heat!

Thanks to everyone for your support and counsel as we have been working to make this become a reality. I always welcome comments and ideas, and any feedback you might have. I would love to hear from you.

More soon on gear and grant writing later in the week...
Warm reagards
A

New web site: www.amtproductions.com

2010-05-10T16:20:00.000-06:00

For those of you with little to no patience, my new web site is up and running. HOWEVER: the new identity and branding logo is not up yet, but take a look and let me know your thoughts. Be on the watch for other updates and additions, as well as further information about my upcoming documentary trip to Cambodia and Thailand.

New beginnings- travel documentary in Cambodia and Thailand

2010-05-10T12:42:00.000-06:00

Although it's been a few years since I last posted here, and a lot of things have changed and developed, I'm still in it, and still at it, and now onto a new adventure. Stay tuned for updates and dispatches about my new trek to Cambodia and Thailand with friend and journalist, Zelie Pollon, as we work together documenting and telling the stories of the displaced Thai and Burmese refuges in south east Asia.
Our trek begins in late June and through August. It promises to be an amazing adventure as we meet and live with refugee families documenting their efforts to cope with the loss of family, friends and homeland, as they struggle to adapt with their new surroundings and lifestyle.

More soon...

Whirling Dervishes featured at the HP booth at Photo Expo

2006-11-06T07:09:00.000-07:00

Well, just when you think your walking out the door and seen everything, you then see everything!! I was getting ready to leave the Photo Expo Plus in New York City this weekend and decided to stop and talk with my friends at the Santa Fe Photographic Workshops booth. A dear friend informed me that Hewlett Packard both had my image of the Whirling Dervishes featured as one of three main images on the front of the booth to the right of the front entry. Now, when she mentioned that it looked great, I thought, how nice, I am sure it's a good 8x10 in size, nothing fancy. I come around the corner and see this huge, 20x24 print in a beautiful blond wood frame. All of it's blue and white richness set off by the warm glowing face of the Sufi as he twirled. IT WAS AMAZING! I had never seen it that large, and printed that well. I have to say, HP is looking pretty good right now in comparison to Epson. It really was incredible to see the colors beautifully rendered and smooth in transitions. There was virtually NO DIGITAL NOISE reproduced in the print, even though it was in the original image. It really was incredible. I had settled on having a fair amount of "grain" in the image, and possibly not have as large of a print made in the future. Now, having seen the quality of this HUGE print, I am strongly being swayed to the HP side.

Other great news, the exhibit of the Kurdish Portraits has received rave reviews from the students and faculty at the School of International Training in Brattleboro Vermont. We have made several connections to other schools and colleges to continue the exhibit and lectures in the near future. I am hoping to get it in two places at the same time, while leap frogging from one venue to the other. The idea is to generate as much public support as possible to gain further funding to continue the project. It has been far too long since I have been there, even it has only been a little over a year!

More soon,

Cease Fire...and possible peace.

2005-08-21T21:44:00.000-06:00

Nomadic Kurdish Village Guard

Thankfully, two days ago it was reported by the BBC that the Kurdish Workers Party, the PKK, located in South East Turkey would implement a cease-fire in the wake of current bombings in Anatalia and Istanbul, and kidnappings in Hakkari. Peace negotiations will begin in the capitol, Ankara, to hopefully resolve the disputes the extremist Kurds have with equality issues among the Turkish, including human rights, equality of pay and business opportunities, equal health care, as well as freedom of speech and practice of their culture. Disarming is the main focus of the Turkish governing officials, with the hopes of causing a disbanding of the organization all together.

In light of the recent disbanding of the IRA in Ireland, this may not be so far fetched, as even I would think. I am always hopeful for a peaceful resolve to any conflict, but can at times grasp the frustration and anger that can thrust people into action and violence. Unfortunately, this is a hard concept to impart on those doing the suffering.

The preceding are images of a village guard I met up in the mountains of Hakkari and Van. He is one of the men that would protect the villagers from not only raiders, but also the Gendarme in search for gorilla PKK fighters, and tragically snitches that expose those that are with the PKK. These are working people...beyond blue collar...beyond working class. They are true solders, and true men. He displayed great peace and intelligence to me, even gentle kindness.

He changed into his uniform and brought out his guns with its ribbons of bullets. What struck me more, and I think meant most to him, was his baby daughter; complete with blond hair, and blue green eyes, like mine. It was clear what he was protecting, and why.

I hope this cease-fire will bring about negotiations and peace accords that will benefit the Kurdish of Turkey, as well as set a precedent for the Kurds in Iraq and the remaining Middle East. There is the ability for all of them to exist and thrive with each other...not against one another.

Special thanks to Polaroid and John Reuter....

2005-08-17T12:05:00.000-06:00

Robert and DJ, 20x24 chocolate Polaroid.

I realized last night as I was sorting and cleaning the last of my Type 55 negatives that I have been remiss in thanking a great friend and supporter of my professional work and personal fine art, John Reuter from Polaroid.

I met John several years ago in Santa Fe, New Mexico at a workshop he was teaching on the world famous 20x24 Polaroid Studio Camera which he runs and operates out of Manhattan, New York. I was his wide-eyed and overly eager Studio Manager, he the nimble and quick witted Instructor. Needless to say, the workshop was a bit of a disaster due to shipping issues, but John kept a stiff upper lip and handled himself like a champ. He and I have managed to remain good friends, and revel in the story every time we meet, cause it’s a good one!

John not only runs the Polaroid 20x24 Studio in NY, but he is also an accomplished artist as well. His works are ethereal and often cerebral, encompassing several mediums and technologies from computer printing to 20x24 Polaroid Transfers with pastels painted over top. His work is always creative and inspiring, but with a firm footing in Fine Art.

John has been an appreciator of my work, as well as a supporter. He, and the Polaroid Corporation donated the Type 55 and Type 59 film that I needed for this trip to Turkey. If it had not been for John and Polaroid, I would have had to shell out even more money to create the portraits I has focused on creating.

It is sad to witness the difficulties Polaroid is enduring these few years in the wake of the Digital Age. In contrast, I would like to say that it is rare, and inspiring to see that there are still individuals and corporations that take an interest and initiative to back even small artists like myself. Cheers to you John, and Polaroid, I wish you both the best, and many thanks.

Please take a moment and check out Polaroid's web site which is chock full of great art and ideas, as well as John’s own web site that features his personal photographic and painting work.

http://www.polaroid.com
http://www.johnreuter.com

Home again......finally..no thanks to the French!

2005-08-16T07:14:00.000-06:00

Home, finally after a long and arduous journey home through Stuttgart, Germany and then Paris, France, then Washington DC, then Boston. All that in only 3 days, not bad considering that the French are the single largest pain in my ass. I am sorry, I have tried to not become an ignorant American, I have tried to not fall into stereotypes, but this is a large exception.

Now, I have very close friends that are indeed French, and they are great people...cool even. Somehow, the actual people in France seem to really live up to the standard that the world seems to label them with. We as Americans also seem to have this issue, I am by no means exempt from this problem as well, but this experience has tainted me forever against France, but mainly Air France.

Charles Dugalle airport is basically one large, and I quote a Belgian who said this..."Hungarian Cluster Fuck". Now I know a few Hungarians, but I cannot say that I have seen them cluster fuck, per say, but I can imagine what it entails. The airport is a menagerie of bizarre gate areas that are totally separated from other parts of the airport...it is not one contiguous building with gate wings. There is no rhyme or reason to the numbering or LETTERING of these gates, and you need to take a shuttle to get to other gate buildings, but you never really know what or where they are, or which one is yours! So I got lost for an hour. Traveled all of my life, been to a few random countries and been through WY too many airports, but I have NEVER been lost in one. This would prove to be an omen.

I later found my gate, but noticed no plane..and the gate was marked for New York. No one seemed to believe me that is should be a Boston flight. I later found my gate was moved to another gate terminal all together. I made it in time, after going through the 5th security point- (it gets old REAL fast). I sat for another hour, and then stood for another hour after we were to have boarded, only to learn that the flight was now going to be cancelled due to a "technical problem". My theory, the snails escaped and they couldn't find them all. Anyway, after waiting for two extra hours, they cancelled...CANCELLED the flight. No extra plane, apparently that blew up in Toronto a week earlier. So we were shipped back to the main terminal to stand in line for 9 HOURS. That was NINE (9) HOURS to find whatever flight there was that would get us to Boston via 3-4 other airlines. 9 hours, after 4 hours already...I was a little punchy and a little pissed off. The sad thing was I was about 3/4 of the way through the line, so I would get the worst and the latest flight combo available. Thankfully I became fast friends with a man and his daughter that were traveling in Spain and Portugal, as well as a girl that was traveling in Greece for a month. So we had a few laughs at the expense of the French of course. We finally got our flights through DC, Toronto or JFK. Now the over annoying issue I think we all have is the SEVERE LACK OF CUSTOMER SERVICE the French seem to have. They said nothing, literally, told me I had only one option, and that was it. I had to demand a hotel, I had to demand meals, I had to demand a phone card that never worked, and I had to demand transportation. If anyone knows me, I never demand anything other than maybe extra foam on my freaking latte, that’s it. But I had to DEMAND that I get theses things. These people were doing this for 9 hours, they had to have been doing the same thing for everyone, so why was this such and issue? Why did I have to demand? When I did, they would shrug their shoulders and say, "oh..do you need that?"..or " oh, I suppose I can ask my supervisor." Then, they just hand you the papers, with no explanation of where to go, what to do or anything. Where is the hotel, how do I get there, when does the flight leave, what is the gate, what is my connecting flight.... you know NORMAL SHIT! It was like pulling teeth! I received no refund, support money, or a functioning means of contacting anyone that I was alive and leaving a day later. BUT, these things happen in life, to a lot of people everyday when you travel abroad. It was just my first time to have a cancelled flight and first time to be trapped, and it had to be in France!

I left late the next day and flew to Washington DC to connect to Boston. It was a pretty good flight actually, although long. Good food, couple of good movies, and comfortable seats. I had the last open seat; thankfully it was an isle in a quiet and more open section of the plane. So 9 hours later we flew over Boston and landed in DC. Shipped through customs to get my bag and have it re-scanned and put back on the flight to Boston. I had to check in at the front to get a seat on the next flight, and that is when the French reared their ugly head, again. I as told I had to check into Air France for a new seat. I stood in the first class to try and just do it fast, since I was a charity case. That didn't work. I stood in the regular line for 2 hours, only to learn that my flight was not Air France, but United Air. Generally, I am a pacifist, very calm and very yielding to others, no matter what. I wish I knew what happened at that point, but it had to have been scary because all I remember is the guy at the desk leaned back in his chair and slipped out of it sideways as his eyes grew to the size of an orange. He looked like I was going to slap him. I do remember standing really straight, and I recall my voice sounding deeper that it normally is, and I think I threatened him which is NOT a smart idea to do at an airport in Washington DC! The next thing I know he was walking me over to the counter of United Air, and we went to the front of the line. He never really said much after that. He did give me a form to fill out to get a refund and lodge a formal complaint to Air France and the FCC....I think he slipped me 10 bucks too, but not sure about that one.

So I get my ticket, and learn I have 15 minutes to get to the gate, on the other side of the airport, after security points that are really...really....REALLY LONG. I know we need them, and I am very glad for them, they have done a lot of good I am sure. Although I have never ever heard of anyone getting caught with a hand gun, knife or explosive or having arrested any criminal or known terrorist, so they are still getting in somehow. Anyway, I got yanked out of line...literally. My bag got torn apart, my passport was run thought the computer and rechecked- somehow I was born in Arkansas a couple of years ago, oops, and I was thoroughly searched, and I was asked all sorts of questions. I think the Frog squealed on me. So now I was 5 minutes late for the flight. I ran out of there to the gate like O. J Simpson over luggage and small people and what I swear was a Pomeranian, and luckily made it to the gate, the flight was late to board. The fun doesn't stop there though!

We had no copilot, nor flight plan. So we sat for an hour with no A/C waiting for the copilot. Finally showed up, and filed the flight plan and got a spot to take off; pulled away from the gate only to turn right back and park again due to a storm system that was moving into Boston. So we say for another hour with a little A/C. The interesting thing was that I was really calm. I think I blew off what ever pent up rage and homicidal tendencies I may have had at the French guy earlier. I mean I was really Zen, just chilled and cool, even bodily. I liked it a lot. Well, I think it had to do to the really cute girl I was sitting next to. Thankfully she was cute, but a great conversationalist as well. We talked about her work and family as well as her travels, but we talked mostly about my trip and the Middle East. It was great to close the trip with a beautiful girl and her perspectives on what she thinks will happen to America and the Middle east, and how we can bring in some of those values of true family and support of fellow man into our seemingly self absorbed society, as well as teach them the balance of a more feminine society, human rights and release of grips on Holy Wars and Holy societal laws. I think in all sank in that flight.

It was actually the perfect way to end the trip for me. I will expand on this later today, but I think the whole trip and possibly my own self came and settled back on me on that flight. Something soaked in gently and completely, like a hot bath or a long sweet breath. It is hard to explain right now, but I realized that my trip had come to an end, and I was no longer in Turkey, I was no longer away, and no longer alone. I was back to where it all started, where I left from, but everything felt different, looked different, sounded different but I knew it was the same. Then I realized that it was I that was different, or at least my perspectives and my attitude were different, but I was still all of the good things that I liked before, and learned so many new things about me, and I like these things too. As I said I will expand on this later. I think I need to sit a little longer with it.

I am very sad this morning. I dearly miss Tahir and his family. I miss the 25 cups of Chi a day with total strangers. I miss the sounds and smells, the food and the children shinning shoes and selling trinkets in the streets. I miss the shy women in the market, and the stray cats darting from doorway to doorway. I miss the mosaic tile work on the mosques, and the adobe houses that surround the mosques. I really miss the Call to Prayer, never thought I would say that one. But what I miss the most. are the people. I feel very sad, like I have left my family, or a loved one has moved away. I didn't bank on that happening, but it is one of the things that I have learned is a true fact and trait of mine, I make wonderful and lasting friends no matter where I go, even if I don't speak the language. I kind of like that. I will hold them all in my heart always and try to stay in touch with them all so that I can return one day soon.

Funny how deeply a people or a place can affect you.

More soon

Fınal entry from Van

2005-08-07T05:18:00.000-06:00

Been a couple of days since last entry..been a little crazy here in what I thought was to be quiet and sleepy Van. There have been several power outages..nearly every day for a few hours...never predictable and always a pain when you want to upload images or need to charge batteries.

The above image is of an old Kurdish man, Çindi,(Chindi) who is the Grand Uncle of a person I met here in town. Decided after an unsettling trip up into the mountains to sort stay closer to home and see who/what I could find. Ill explain.

A few days ago my guide and I went on a hasty day trip with a friend and dolmuş driver to his town Çatak, and his nomadic village WAY up in the mountains next to a village called Nahir. When I say way, I mean WAY, like 4x4 pickup truck material. The mountains are exactly like those of Los Alamos and the Jemez; harsh nude volcanic mountains that just rocket up into the sky with deep rugged canyons. I think it was a good hour or so up switch back trails to get to the nomads. We spent time with the Shepard’s, and some of the men sheering wool. We then went down a canyon by foot to a plateau where the yurt tents were. The location was breath taking and very extreme..almost impossible to capture in photographs. We met the villagers who are not so distant relatives of our driver, Dirviş.

The Kurds are from tribes, like our Native Americans. Dirviş is from the Xawişta tribe...nomads..raise sheep for wool and food, they have a few cows and some horses, as well as a few crops of vegetables. Their land is expansive and seems to have no real defined boundries with fences or markers..but they know what is theirs. Very nice people displaying the typical Kurdish hospitality of yogurt, bread, cheeses, tea and conversation. I really enjoy some of these rituals and have been learning how to move within them and use them to my advantage. The following is why.

It can be very difficult and awkward to be white, blonde and blue eyed, as well as large compared to these people. I am watched and gawked at more than I am able to observe and study the people. They are more curious as to why a man, an American man would want to visit them and their town or city or village. Everywhere I go I would be followed by mostly children and a few woman and men to see what I was looking at, photographing, what I did, how I responded, as well as wanting to practice the 5 words they learned in English. It can be exhausting at times. This time I thought I would work more with-in their system and culture: that was actually the whole point of this trip!

We decided to go midday and sit with them..have tea and talk and let them get use to me and ask all of their questions, which there were many! I was able to make a few simple images as we walked into the village and found the chief of the village and were invited into the gathering tent for food and tea. We sat for a couple of hours while they showed us their various tools, the wool, some of their ceremonial cloths, ate some of their cheeses and yogurt and bread. One gentleman, a village guard even showed us his uniform and their weapons.... which struck me as odd...not sure why. In these situations, I always ask but will defer to NOT photograph..again to let things get settled and let everyone get to understand each other, especially if I am within someone’s home or yurt...it can be considered insulting. So I hide the cameras till later. Tahir, my guide told me that it was permissible to photograph him if I wished, so I did. He, and everyone else liked this idea very much. At that moment one of the younger village men heard of me and ran into the tent to say his Turk/English -hello how are yous- and sat next to me. He wore new cloths, like a young soccer player, and had clean shoes. I even teased him about it since he is at least 3 hours from civilization and works like...well... a nomadic villager. He laughed and proudly said he was a strong village guard like the man I photographed. My guide, Tahir picked up on something, and said it might be time to move on..make 4x5 images and leave. The light was still bad..so I just walked around the village with 3/4 of the people I was to photograph following me everywhere. I walked up the hills to do an over view with the soccer guy leading the way, and Tahir yelled at me to come down...it was time to go. I snapped back and said I HAD to make 4x5 images first..that was what I paid for. We did finally..only 3-4..and not that great....something was off, just not there. This happens sometimes, just not the right light or subject or time..cant always have winners. I noticed that soccer guy was always near me, saying the 5 English words frequently..and I noticed Tahir and Derviş were not around. Well, I finally, after 4 weeks of traveling alone into bizarre areas and situations..got nervous. You have to envision that when I make these images, there are at least 30 people huddled around me as close as they can get to see and watch...it can be cute...at times...just not this time. I yelled for Tahir, and he came running. He said sharply in his Napoleonic way that we had to leave..NOW. Derviş came around the corner on a donkey with food and wool for his family, Tahir grabbed my bag from a kid that was helping me, and we walked briskly from the village up hill, through the next little tent camp and farther up the mountain where we left the van. Honestly, I really didn’t think anything was wrong...I was actually pissed that the light was getting good and they wouldn’t let me stop to make portraits. Tahir would have none of it...we had to go..It would be dark quickly and the mountains are unsafe at night. We left, quickly, with me pissed and fuming in the middle of the van.

We got to the bottom of the mountain and found a spot to refill our water bottles and wash up a bit for the ride home. Tahir and I had words about the trip and how disappointed I was. Tahir apologized profusely, and explained that he did not feel well, and felt unsafe in the village. My understanding was that these were his people, his culture, and his nation. He informed me that they were Dervişes people...his TRIBE. We spat for a bit, but I let it go..It’s not my town and not my business.

The next morning Tahir and Derviş met me for morning tea. Derviş speaks no English, so Tahır and another man would explain in tandem when someone spoke to me, as they did with Derviş. I honestly trust these people, they have helped me everyday to learn and study and photograph, I really do trust them...I have to. Derviş immediately proceeded to explain to Tahir and I what happened yesterday, and why things were so odd, apparently for all of us. Tahir and Derviş are from separate tribes of Kurdish people. Their villages are a few miles apart over the mountains that Tahir showed me in the village. Apparently a couple of weeks ago one of Tahırs tribe had killed one of Dervişes. I think we all know how this progresses...i.e. Hatfield/McCoy. Hang on, cause this is the twist...the person was killed because he was a military informant against the PKK..the Kurdish Workers Party.

Each village has its own guards to police and protect. They are village appointed and only applicable within that village. The military knows this. The PKK are backed and protected by these outer lying nomadic villages, like the Al Queda in the mountains of Afghanistan. The PKK are fighting to help the Kurdish gain independence. The Gendarme, or military has figured this out and has taken to bribing the village guards for information and the movements of the gorillas. The man killed was one of the informants. The guy with the soccer cloths was also an informant, but a very stupid one. Tahir figured this out, and lied to him to protect me, as well as himself. The guy could have killed Tahir for being from the tribe that killed his friend/relative, but he was more interested in me, and being a model, and had not heard what tribe Tahir was from, and wanted to be my friend. For once, dealing with vain idiots seems to have protected me from a slightly awkward situation.

Everything turned out fine and there was no immediate danger, but very good lesson to listen to your instincts...but more importantly to your Napoleonic friend and guide!

I leave tomorrow morning for Istanbul for another two days..and then back home to the USA, although it will be Oregon for rest, relaxation and re-entry into America. I am very sad to be leaving...but I will come back.

Portraits of the Kurdish Villagers..and the PKK.

2005-08-02T02:25:00.000-06:00

I think today is Tuesday...Finally got to the Internet cafe early enough to get a number of images up loaded. Thank God I stumbled across this one, since it has Photoshop and I can at least get the images sized and turned right side up!

The following shots are from the negatives of the 4x5 Polaroid’s, considering the villagers ran off with the print as soon as they saw it! These are the decedents of the original Kurdish people that came to Van centuries ago, and continue to live in the same nomadic ways as their ancestors. It is possible that they are mixed with the Armenians that also resided here after 612 BC.

We spent the afternoon walking around the lake talking with some of the villagers about the lake, what the seasons are like for them, how long they have been there. They are obviously a very strong and resilient people, just look at the faces. They were very nice and accepting of me, again I think they were more interested in me than I was in them. I did learn a very important journalism lesson...DO NOT LET THE SUBJECTS KNOW THAT YOU ARE SHOOTING DIGITALLY AND THEY CAN LOOK AT THEMSELVES! This was a BIG mistake on my part. In less than 30 seconds the children noticed that I was looking at the back of the camera now and again..one spotted the image and I showed it to her...then all hell broke loose. Every child in the village came over to be photographed saying -shoot me shoot me shoot me- in Kurdish. I photographed every child at least three times. We left to let things calm down and had tea on the other side of the lake with a village elder. The sun was starting to set; I politely told him that I had work to do still. We gave him our food and headed back into the nomadic tent camp. All the kids came back around with the village leaders. Tahir had helped explain that I wished to make portraits of him and his family as well as the other villagers. With a very loud smile he agreed and had me come into his tent for yet MORE tea. I handed my 35mm to Tahir and started to set up the 4x5, and that all familiar silence fell over everyone. I talked through Tahir to explain what I was doing and how it all worked and what I needed...like a tripod! Well, I got a 5 gallon metal oilcan and a chair...good enough! I made one shot of the leader in the tent...and pandemonium broke out again. He ran out with the image, everyone saw it, and then tent became flooded with village kids and people. I had to go out side to get the better setting sun light. I wish Tahir could have photographed what I was doing because it was hysterical. There were 25 people gathered around the back of me waiting to be photographed. I would hand pick the ones I felt were best, since I had limited film. Thank God for Tahir, because he not only was trying to do crowd control, but he also was able to get the only elder woman in the village to sit for me..and he told me to do it fast. Fast...with a 4x5....no tripod...no loupe to focus....yeah..okay. Well, it all worked out. I made 9 great portraits, only had the camera knocked over once and my back twice.

These images are from our leisure day at Lake Van. Great warmish inland sea, and very easy to float in! It was great to get out of town again for a while, fresh air and WATER! My body really needed that after two days of literal mountain climbing and feeling like I have been working everyday since leaving Mass.

These are from a barbque we had at Tıeres home just in the Barrio type area of Van. His kids are great and his wife is very sweet. We had a great feast of Kurdish meatballs and -Hot Salad- which is just like Green Chili stew! We had a lot of fun and even better conversations.

I learned even more interesting things about the Kurds...especially the ones I happened to be in the company of. The older man that has been driving us around and teaching me about the history of Van, Muktar, was a gorilla for the PKK. Tahir, my guide and friend has two brothers currently in the PKK with one of them imprisoned as an organizer. It’s all very parallel with the events that have occurred in America centuries ago..and continue today in Israel and the Middle East, with possibly one exception. They do not wish to have back what was theirs centuries ago like most of the warring Muslim and non-Muslim nations throughout the Middle East and even Europe...they want equality with the nations they have been forced to live with. Sound familiar? They cant -go back to Kurdistan- it no longer exists. They know they can’t just make 5 nations give up land to remake Kurdistan. They just want representation for their people in the nations they do reside in. Unfortunately for them they had chosen a route of violence and guerrilla warfare; a tactic the world does not respond well to.

Today they are going to teach me more about the history of the Kurds and what they are doing now. I think we are going to plan a trip to Hakkarı, and possibly Iran to see a more established town of Kurds where I can make a more complete story..maybe make a few more portraits before leaving in a week. Everyday things get more and more interesting, and everyday the world gets smaller and smaller.

More soon

Images of Village above Van

2005-08-01T05:04:00.000-06:00

Okay, this is rough, but I hope they work. More about this amazing excursion into the mountains above Van later. Found a cafe with Photoshop! Too bad its an old version..cant open my RAW fıles! The main issue I seem to have is I can only get one or two images to actually load onto the blog...I think it has to do with the HORDES OF LAZY KIDS WITH NOTHING BETTER TO DO THAN INSTANT MESSAGE WITH VIDEO IMAGES TO EACHOTHER ALL AFTERNOON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Sort of clogs things up..and pisses me off! Can you tell?

Enjoy.

Kurds in Van

2005-07-31T02:43:00.000-06:00

Today is Sunday..I just learned. You can tell because the streets are empty, devoid of the honking cars and buses and seemingly hundreds of people. Its kind of nice walking around when it is like this. The Internet cafe is quiet as well, except he seems to be playing some kind of pop American country music..some girl..which I find odd...then again Turkish Pop is really annoying after awhile, so Ill take it!

Still pretty hot, even out here in the elevation of the mountains. It rains a little every night after the sunsets with the same cold rain that falls in the southwest. Actually, most everything here reminds me of the southwest...mountains, gorges, the smell of the rain, the blue skies and the adobe style villages. Even the people that reside here, predominately Kurds, have a similar attitude as that of the people of New Mexico..they consider themselves the -native people- of Turkey. I have learned, and even lived first hand some of the Kurdish culture, which was oddly my goal when I chose to come here. They are an interesting, passionate, aggressive and demonstrative people with many issues and ideals...some are very progressive and forward thinking, but there seems to be issues on the execution of these ideals that has grown a little worrisome on my part.

After the last entry, I actually met a group of university students on the street on the way back from registering my stay in Van. Being one of the only foreigners, actually, THE ONLY foreigner in Van right now, I seem to stand out even more than in Konya and Istanbul. Turks wear white, you are either English, or American. When I say that I am an American, everything seems to change. They invite me for tea, dinner or late supper, and we sit and converse about Turkey and America. This group was probably the best reprieve I could have had this trip. They are all students preparing for the Teachers exams to be teachers of either music, athletics or botany. The women made an amazing feast for dinner, and the guys and I talked about our cultures. I have spent time with older Turks, mainly men, as well as Kurdish people, so I have learned a lot about their perspective. It was amazing and refreshing to sit and learn about the younger generation, at least this one group of 20 something’s. They follow no strict religion or belief, other than equality and respect. They love music and singing, as well as literature and art. We actually had discussions about our Native Americans and how they wish to model themselves and their lives after the Native American beliefs of Earth and honor. They believe in love, the true concept, not sex and -partner hopping-. They believe in love of friends and family as all-important. They are savvy about money and economics, and very much about foreign policies and the war in Iraq. They were curious about America and our real perspective and the general stance on the war, especially on Bush. It is safe to say that there is no love for George out here, nor anywhere I have found across Turkey. It will be very interesting to see how Bush handles the Kurdish issue in Iraq as well as trying to get their own government body stabilized so we can pull out. We talked a lot of fear and travel and the future of Turkey and its culture, its people in the forward push to be apart of the EU. I think, like our own culture, or any culture for that matter, there are a set of ideals and concepts that we hold onto and carry that define us. They are beliefs and possibly idealistic values even, but we all hold onto them. These students want to incorporate more of a global awareness of cultures and lifestyles, more of their own cultural awareness, less politics and less preoccupation on money and purchasing. Yet they still wish to retain their old ways of family, respect and hospitality, rituals and holidays. These ideals are even more intensified by the Kurdish people in Turkey. These are admirable ideals for the young, but as devils advocate, I have reservations.

On the flip side, I went on a trip up into the mountains that over look Van, with an older Kurdish man and a local carpet sales man/guide. These mountains were the destination of thousands of Kurds that fled during the Armenian War, First World War, and again during the first Gulf conflict. These mountains are hellish in the summer, and brutal in the winter. They were left denude of the amazing trees that once grew there after the government burned them all down during the war to drive the Kurds out. I could still make out the paths and walkways up the side of the mountain, sometimes even old rock foundations that the Kurds had laid decades ago. These older men are part of a so-called -tribe- or association of Kurdish men that get together and revel in the old Kurdish ways. They sing old traditional Kurdish songs, they talk about the old life and discuss ways in which the Kurds will rise up slowly, but powerfully against all of the governing bodies within each of the Middle Eastern countries, similar to what the Kurds are doing now in Iraq. I am unsure how they are regrouping or uniting as of now, but there is a rise in awareness of the Kurdish culture and nationality here in Turkey. I can only liken i, as they do, to the Native Americans, or even the African Americans. They seem to associate with them in the sense of having this one whole country broken and divided, and being forced to encampments in other countries. The Kurdish were then forced to assimilate into the respective countries that were then formed, and Kurdistan was no more. They no longer had a country or nation to call their own and continue their own culture. So they are bounced around, sometimes driven out of the countries they were originally forced into, and tragically sometimes boldly attacked for no reason and euthanized, like in the first Gulf War. It is a quagmire of an issue that many nations and many cultures face. Some may even say a root cause of Americas own issues of gluttony and over consumption and waste; our own loss of who we are, since we are ourselves an amalgamation of so many other cultures. Again it’s an amazing ideal but not without its own pitfalls. When is enough, enough? What is enough?

Again, I am not posing any solutions or severe criticisms, just observations and possibly even more questions. There are still issues with all of the Middle Eastern Nations that need to be altered and advanced for anything to work. The government needs to follow some strict guidelines to be a part of the EU, removal of corruption, more accountability and ımplımentaıon of certain human rights as well as other polices. There are still concerns and a need for equal rights for woman in these nations, there are no programs or facilitation of resource recycling, little to no practice of alternative energy resources, no land conservation or more importantly management, the land is deforested and covered in rubbish and junk. There is a sense, despite limited income, rampant wastefulness. Luckily, they have very good water (lucky for me since I had to drink it on the mountain!). But we in the South West as well as Mexico know the limits of the availability and ease of contamination of our water..the Turkish people do not. One of the many benefits here is they do not use hormones or fertilizers on their land...they cant afford them! So there is a good chance that their water will remain good for quite some more time. As a result the food actually tastes like, well, FOOD! I do mean taste too, its weird. Tomatoes are everywhere and cucumbers, as well as eggplant-which I never thought really had a taste! So hooray for Turkish farming!

It is a continuing experiment as we grow in numbers, but smaller as a world, how do we remain who we were/are, and yet incorporate and accept everyone else’s ways and cultures. Maybe, over time and as necessity, we will just become a world of people..which is all we really are. We will learn as much as we can, incorporate what works, assimilate what we like and need individually, and make our bonds and groups as we may through who we meet and who we resonate the most with, as well as who we share blood with. I don’t know, but ‘it does make me wonder, but I think maybe I wonder too much...at least today!

I’m off now for lunch and then to photograph in a Kurdish village up in the mountains. I hope to have images soon for you all!

Alan

Van

2005-07-28T03:58:00.000-06:00

Finally made it to Van after probably one of the worst travel days in my history. I think Mercury is in retrograde or some crap like that. Just not a fun adventure, which is to be expected from time to time I think. Seemed pretty odd though that it all happens at one time. I woke up that day to a screaming kid at 1:30am, then again at 3:30am for morning prayers, then again when the kid woke up at 6:30am. So I went down for breakfast at 7:30, and proceeded to WACK my head on the doorway, (sucks to be tall at times). At that one moment in time I actually uttered the words out loud- that is not a good omen-, and I was right. It took three hours and two different Internet cafes to upload one image and blog entry! Now I hate self-fulfilling prophecies, and try not to buy into them, but this is extreme. The whole day just kept saying- it will be a bad day, stay at the air conditioned hotel, go in two days!- But there are times I just have to plow ahead and learn from the experience...and if I really don’t have to go, then I have learned not to go. Trust your instincts and follow them if you can, if not do your best.

So the bus was late, but that happens. It was also packed, which was a surprise to me when several people mentioned how quiet and remote Van was. The first omen was the cracked windscreen...that grew and grew as the trip went on.

Next was the attendant that removed his tie and shirt as soon as we left the station. The amazing service and assistance you receive on busses only happens from major city to major city. The bus from Konya to Van...yeah, one cup of tea.....uhhhh..thats it! He removed his shirt because the AC would only work once in a while, and was turned off when there was a hill. So a 14-hour bus ride with 28 Turkish men would prove to be interesting I thought. But hey, that’s the joys and price for international travel.

Anyone that has traveled anywhere outside the US, especially to Italy and Mexico know how frightening the drivers can be. Turkey is no exception to this rule. Several times in my journeys I have felt like -this is the point where I die in a STUPID taxi/truck/bus accident-. They do go fast, they do like to pass everyone, but they also like to just drive on the left side of the road...at night...when the freight trucks can travel the easiest and fastest. This coupled with very narrow, very old, and very rough secondary roads provide great material for -Worst Bus Crashes- videos back in the States. Well, lets just say that from now on, I will be listening to my instincts.

The freight trucks generally travel average speed, but in very long caravans like in Australia. It sort of looked like Mad Max with 10-20 trucks with a dozen lights on each winding around the hill side and crosscut passes. Buses seem to hate these because they go slower than us...and we were already late for our other pickups. So a few blasts of the horn and we would pick our way forward. Keep in mind that there is a line of trucks in front of us as well, coming AT spatial navigation, and us, so timing is very critical in this game. I’ve driven a couple of racecars and a few sports cars in my days, and I know this is a higher brain function. Now, I’m not exactly sure what or how it happened since I had a very bad seat in the middle of the bus and it was late at night, but all I know is that we were performing one of our many passing maneuvers and, well, law of averages would have it..we clipped an oncoming truck and put him into the ditch alongside the road. He was carrying rebar. There is a careful ballet that they perform when they drive, flashing of lights to signify passing, move over, slow down, go faster, fuck you..etc. There is also the famous tooting of the horn for the same purpose. After 3-5 hours of this maneuvering and horns and flashing lights I think I actually grew accustomed to it..sort of like mortar fire. He hit the horn and lights, but I think we had no room to swing back over, so the oncoming truck had no choice and no shoulder to ride into. His load shifted and down he went. He was injured; some of the rebar came through his rear window. After an hour or so, the cops and the Gendarme worked everything out and we were sent on our way..again this felt like everyday events. So the men were all chattering and tsking like women. I just wanted to throw up.

Now at 2:00am we are heading towards Siva’s. We have made no stops, no food, no drinks, and the occasional blast of AC to cool things off. Again, not sure how it happened, but I am sure why... we ran out of gas. Yeah...gas...ran out....empty..no fumes..no reserve....yeah..in the middle of nowhere...don’t even mention cell service. So, an hour and half later, a policeman took one of the THREE drivers to a gas station and we got 5 liters of gas. This act of running out of gas is a quintessential male function, we have all done it once or three times...so I can almost understand...almost. Now the story could have ended there, we fill up, head to a gas station fill up etc etc. No. We had to continue to be, well, MEN! The driver forgot to get a funnel. You kind of have to have one. So another 30 minutes and 3 drivers later, they figured out how to cut a 2 liter coke bottle into a funnel, filled most of it and decided to wear the rest of it. They got the bus cranked up and off we go! An hour later, and around 10 gas stations later, we ran out.... again. Why didn’t he stop? Because we were already late for our next pick up, and he thought we could hold out, and he was a MAN! Just cant admit defeat can we. So, needless to say, we did stop finally and got gas, and we all ate and stretched, and we made the rest of our normal stops, with a little more AC.

The drive through the country itself was amazing and a great way to experience more of the rural aspects of Turkey. The landscape itself is remarkably similar to New Mexico around the Grants area and parts of Taos. Its desert like, but with more grasses and a few more trees randomly spread throughout the long sloping hillsides. Most of Turkey is volcanically formed and not the best to grow things in. Turkey seems to have one big advantage of large aquifers that they can pump and irrigate from. There were spots on the way to D?vr?? that looked like the lava fields around Acama Pueblo; very rocky and very rugged, yet they would clear as much as they could and farm it as pastures for their goats. Let me tell you, as a goat lover, you can definitely get your fix on goats out here!

We went south through the mountain and river passes into Elaz?? down to D?yarbak?r. Again with features and landmasses like the Taos gorge and the drive up along the Rio Grande in New México, the drive was amazing to watch. They get snow in the winter and heavy rains in the spring, making a lot of the roads just dirt washboards. The good news if I come back for the same trip in 3 years they will have completed the construction on they were doing. I wash I had a better seat to photograph from, even if it was just bleak canyons and rock walls. The rest of the trip was around D?yarbak?r and up to A?r? and then down to Lake Van. It was probably the most circuitous way to have gone to Van, as well as one of the most grueling and unnerving, but there were beautiful aspects as well. Tons of Sheppard’s and goats feeding on the countryside, the amazing canyon and pine tree hills in the river passes, and the drive around lake Van. Lake Van is outstanding, and sort of plain. There were no boats on it; there are no real beach or lake front resorts or houses, no docks and very little lakeside life. Its not really a lake, but more an an alkaline inland sea with the best cobalt and turquoise colored water. You would see from time to time naked kids running in and out of the water, with their fully over coated and scarved mothers and sisters watching them. There looked like places where villagers would take horse drawn cartloads of sheered wool to be washed at the lakeside.

We finally arrived in Van around 5:00pm....nearly 24 hours after leaving Konya...it was to take 15 hours. All I could think of was taking a tax? to the hotel, taking a shower and laying down for a long air conditioned nap. I think I have sort of hit that point that my buddy Tim mentioned of fatigue and overload on long trips. I just needed to go easy. But not yet. I got into the city of Van, which is much more modern and metropolitan than I anticipated. Got to the hotel, and the tax? driver took off with my bag in his trunk. I know this has happened to a few of you, so I didn’t panic. I thought maybe, since he dropped me of across the street, he would loop around to drop off the heavy bag. Yeah.......no. SO I told the desk clerk, and he said it happens a lot, not to worry. Checked into the NON air-conditioned hotel. only the 4and 5 star have a/c, took a cold shower and laid on the hot bed listening to the amazingly LOUD sounds of remote little Van. I think I did sleep for a half hour. Decided I got myself into this mess, I better try and do what I can. Went to the front desk; no bag. Now the desk clerk is kind of young and speaks pretty okay English, but thankfully he does not know the word -asshole-. He stared to accuse me of forgetting the bag, being careless and lazy. I explained that I just wanted another tax? to go to the bus station to find the driver and get the bag..Im sure it was a misunderstanding..no accusations..just want my damn bag! The manager came out; the kid explains the situation, and the manager replies- you need to take a tax? back to the bus station and look for the driver and ask for your bag-, uhhh.....yeah..thats what I said. I swear, I know this shit happened to everyone, but this was getting extreme. So after I laugh, say a few choice words in Spanish,(just in case) and the manager gives me the hotel security guard to go to the Ottogar, where as soon as I walk over, 5 guys start yelling Hasims name..who just left. They have me sit down, I go through the mime routine of what happened..we all have a laugh, and Hasim shows... with the bag intact. I say thank you, and go back to the hotel-not sure what the hell happened, why, or what I did to deserve all of this...all I know is that I was treating myself to chocolate ice cream for dinner, and I did!

Today is a new day, and everyday always brings something amazing, I believe that. I received a letter today from a friend that I bumped into in Istanbul. He came to Van last week ahead of me, and climbed My Ararat! He made it back safe, and had a great time. The bad news he told me that kidnappings are on the upswing the past few weeks,(sorry mom). So today I am taking it easy, writing, looking at plane ticket changes and making sure that I am still registered with the Consulate here in Van. I may go back to Konya and explore an archeological site I heard about on my way out. It is being dug by the Germans and English in the countryside outside of Konya. Then again, I may just be a typical man, buckle down and come up with a new plan for Van. I would like to do a side story on the carpet makers in the villages around Van, as well as see Ararat. There are a lot of great photos to be made there! Or I may bail and go to Oregon...who knows!

Enough for now, more soon.

New images from Konya

2005-07-26T03:17:00.000-06:00

Tuesday, July 26

Okay, so picked up the mood a bit after the last entry. Went to see my friends Fatih and Arif in the market next to Mevlana yesterday afternoon. Fatih has been teaching me about Turkish traditions and culture as well as the language, and I have been teaching him about our traditions and language. We are having a blast. His younger cousin, Ali, is studying English from Fatih and at school as well. He is one of the funniest kids I have met. He thinks my photography is amazing, so I have been teaching to use the camera. Lets just say he can hold the thing! Fatıh seems to be a very responsible older brother to everyone in his family, it’s interesting. He runs the kilim shop like a seasoned businessman, and always takes time to teach his brother or cousin about the carpets, people, business and language. He tells Alı to listen to what I tell him, that I am a much better teacher than his school prof. Can’t seem to escape this teaching thing! We had a fun afternoon making portraits and talking about girls. A few other shopkeepers came over for a while to sit and practice their English, even get a portrait made. Funny how I seem to be teaching more English than I am learning Turkish! I translated an application for one gentleman that is applying for a government grant to be a computer engineer through the E.U. Honestly, Turkish people are amazingly friendly. The one down side: they LOVE to talk, especially the carpet salesmen. Actually, in Konya, the only people that have talked to me are carpet salesmen...its kind of tiresome. Fatih sells as well, but is much more gentle about it. He feels these men are bad for business, as well as Turkey.

İ also met the mayor of Konya yesterday, a wicked cute old guy about 5 feet tall, Kurdish. He spoke English fairly well. He was eager to talk about current affairs and political positions of Konya/Turkey. He was very curious to know about how we handle our government and issues, even simple infrastructure. The economic stuff I went sailing off on, but we had a very interesting talk. The upside to all of these meetings and talks with all these people...lots of tea and snacks and Turkish coffee! They are VERY well known for their hospitality!

So some other travel advice for you all:

1) What the hell is with the letter İ,i,ı,I on this freaking keyboard!?!?!?.

2) Do NOT think that when someone talks to you in English that they are interested in just talking...they are trying to sell you a kilim or carpet...or they are trying to sell for their brother/uncle/father/friend/grandfather/cousin/brother in law/nephew.

3) No matter how much they say there is no obligation, trust me, there is.

4) If you find yourself somewhat trapped, tell them that you have already bought your carpets. They will ask what you paid; tell them you bought two big ones for 200.00 US dollars. They will say -is good price! - And leave you alone, for you are shrewd!

5) Do NOT let them get you into the shop! Once you are there and have a glass of tea, you’re sunk!

6) If you do get suckered into their shop, immediately feign that you are nauseous from the smoke and heat.

7) The best defense is to ignore them, or speak in Spanish, they hate that! People from Spain RARELY travel to Turkey, so they do not know that language yet. But let me tell you, they know all others!

8) If anyone offers you tea, accept it, and the second one as well, they like to think you like them and they are acceptable to you as well. Hell, I went all day a couple of times just accepting food and drink from people I met on the street.

9) No matter how tempting it is to photograph older women here, just don’t bother. You think you can get an ear full from the African American women in the south, man look out!

10) Looking Turkish men in the eye, good: looking Turkish women in the eye, BAD! Got one in trouble last night with her mother...man can they be strict!

I think that is all for now. I will be traveling to Van tonight, and arrive in the later morning. Lets hope there are no kids barfing this time; it’s a long bus ride!

More soon

New day ın Konya

2005-07-25T02:59:00.000-06:00

Wish I could post new images, but unable today. Had an interesting day yesterday, went on a moped ride with a guy up to the countryside overlooking Konya. It was very hot and dusty, couldn’t see much, but it was good to get out of the city, get fresh air and be on a bike for a while. Konya has a number of sımılarıtıes to New México in landscape, so I like it here just fine!

I’m kind of left a little numb, and disheartened from all of the news I have been catching in local newspapers and conversations with local people about the attempted bombings in London and the attacks in Egypt. It has been difficult to attain info, thank god for Internet. The people here are very concerned and upset at the terrorists, and what it is doing to their country. Turks cannot attain a passport to the states due to terrorism; homeland security and patriot act enforce. They are struggling to become a member of the E.U., which will take a few more years, but will aid in their stability and economic growth. These attacks and growing fears among the other countries towards Muslim nations seems to be having a much greater affect FOR Osama, not in favor for Bush and not living in fear. Consuming does not seem to be a very good long-term solution to -not living in fear-, or worse ignorance. It seems to me that one of the facets to true freedom is the ability to move, to travel, to come and go as you please where you please. We removed the Berlin wall, and are now building walls in Israel. I can pose no solutions myself, but it angers me that these amazing, family oriented and very hard working people are not allowed one of our greatest freedoms, to travel.

It’s been interesting to see how well they function and live. They all have cell phones, most have computers, some internet access, families, small gardens, a TV, typical amenities. The thing I see the most need for is dentists, (man they love sweets!), and sustainable development programs that will protect and improve some of their farm lands and select out lying forests and natural resources, possibly water and refuse recycling and some solar power, then they are good to go. Their water is still pretty amazingly clean, I drink it, and I am sure the lesions will go away soon! They consume very little in comparison to the US. They ride bicycles everywhere and motor bikes. Bus travel is very well controlled and subsıdısed, and very well used. What I appreciate the most is their devout love for family. Granted, there are a number of issues with the position of women in this culture, or more importantly lack of position of power and responcıbılıty for women here. In regard to the men, however, they are very expressive, loving, giving and always hospitable. They seem to do everything, and love to work. The women simply, well, run the household. Some have jobs, go to school and work for their families. I have only seen ONE waitress, a few women working in cell phone stores, and one carpet saleslady. Not my idea of free and equal society, but that is changing.

They seem to want to become a little more modern, but hey still seem to be fairly happy and very functional with buying fresh fruits and vegetables off of horse drawn carts in town, their meat from a local butchers, and their bread from hundreds of bakeries in town. There are a couple of super markets, but only two, maybe three at most. Everything else they need they get in the Bazaars, like they do in México. Let me tell you, I would take a bazarre over Wal-mart any day! They are amazing and more entertainment than TV anyway.

I guess maybe the American dream isn’t all its cracked up to be. There are pitfalls and large difficulties to living this way as well...so maybe there is a way we can learn from each other, incorporate some of the benefits from each of our cultures. Maybe a joint Amerı-Euro Dream. As long as it incorporates a siesta and some of these great bazarres I am a happy man!

Okay, enough soap box for thıs city. Today I photograph Fatıh and his younger brother Mehment at their small carpet shop next to the Mevlana Mosque. Fatıh is my age and speaks perfect English, Italian and some German, and is learning French. We met about a half hour after I got into Konya and was trying to write out ın front of the Mosque. He is a very well read guy, and a pretty good philosopher. We have been hanıng out and exploring together with Mehemet and talking about travel, religion, commerce and family. He is a pretty responsible guy, and loves his kid brother very much. He has become a good friend and taught me a lot about Turkey and the different cultures here. So the next entry should have an image or two of them.

More soon, leaving for Van along the southern route Tuesday night.

Alan

Fınally from Konya!!!

2005-07-23T02:41:00.000-06:00

AGHHHHHHH! Finally able to sıt down and actually create an entry on the blog. I have to apologıze for the typing which maybe pretty hard to read at times due to the international keyboard ıssue..whıch means there are and are not certain letters, or letters are switched...which is a BLAST!

So...what’s up? Well, the best and smartest thing I can do as go backwards, and from there you can piece things together. First, I am fine and very healthy and very happy, if not a little tired and a little leaner than when I left. I have no idea what today as, Friday or Saturday or what...and I like that! There have been a few glitches and the international travel, getting around, local attitudes and getting bumped my mopeds and cars, but hell you get more than that and NYC. So all in all, I am just fine...now for the good stuff!

I’m an Konya, which is in the South Western part of the country, near a very New Mexico looking place of Cappıdocıa. Konya has no real draw other than the setting of the mystic teacher, Mevlanı Rumı, the founder of the Sufi Mystics and the Whirling Dervishes, who are on vacation right now. Konya is pretty generic all in all, just thousands of concrete buildings and storefronts and crıss-crossed streets, some cobble stone, some just dirt. Its not at all a tourist destination other than Mevlanı and the Dervishes in December, so its actually easy going here with no tourists...other than me.....which leads me to...

TRAVEL TIPS:
1) Don’t think that if your 6 feet, blue eyed and walking around with a huge camera and a bright orange backpack that you don’t stand out. YOU DO!

2) Even though its a world easer to walk in the middle of the street...DONT!

3) No matter how much time you think you have to make a shot from the center of a street, you really have 2 seconds till the next rıckshaw/bus/bıke/moped/horse cart/kid comes barreling out of NO WHERE and clobbers you. (I looked I swear!)

4) If the hotel boasts having a view of the Mosque in town, that’s a BAD thing. Call to prayers happen at around 3am, right when you really want to be asleep.

5) Speaking of hotels...being close to it all and being cheap means no AC, a room right on the main street into the center of the city, honking clanging and yelling people ALL NIGHT and all the heat you can handle. Sweet!

6) Do NOT drink pickle juice. don’t ask

7) Do NOT eat sheep’s head. Again, don’t ask

8) Just because you cant speak the language does not mean that sign language also does not work, cause baby it does!

9) People in Turkey like to do two things, A LOT: honk horns and smoke...both not real good for long term health.

10) Leave any and ALL preconceived notions behind except one...you never know how amazing your day maybe!

So now for the amazing stuff!!

Yesterday, 7/22:

I went back to the Grand Bizarre in the center of town to photograph and spend a little more time with my new friends Musa, Işmaıl, and Mevlüt. They are makers of these cool portable bar-b-ques, hand made. Musa was working on one two days ago as I was working in the bizarre, and he allowed me to stop to photograph him. What shocked me the most was how mush he resembled my Uncle Kevin when he was younger. Probably even more shocking is the fact that he has lost most of his fingers on has right hand, yet he can still work as thought they are there! So I stayed for a few hours and we spoke about everything from building, to America and the War and relıgıon..but mainly we shared about food, travel, fishing and his family. Oh, and we laughed, A LOT! They were the greatest people I have met, making me cups of Caı-tea, and ayran which is a yogurt drink, and then yesterday Mevlüt made this HUGE casserole with 30 eggs and lamb, tomatoes, peppers and onions, with paprika and oregano on top over this crude gas tank with a burner. We ate at a table in the deep recess of his aluminum shop in front of his office with the only single fluorescent light in the shop, other than the dim light that traveled back from the front of the shop. It was like a diesel mechanics shop, oily and dark with centuries of dust and dirt. We ate at a newspaper covered table, all 12 of us, with a huge chunk of bread to break off and dip and scoop up the egg casserole. They gave me a fork, but I threw it behind me and used my hands like they did...everyone laughed and patted me on the back. It was an amazing feast with all of these men, young and old and dirty and really not smelling good, but the food was amazing! They asked all sorts of questions about my family and my home and what I do, and if I was marrıed..a large topic these days with many of my friends..

Musas grand uncle seemed to be impressed and kept a-calling me a -good man- in Turkish, so he decided to take me to Mosque for afternoon prayers after lunch. Now, this will be explained more later on, but for some reason, either past life or something, but the Call to Prayers seems to affect me. The night before I heard them from on top of a roof over looking the Mevlanı Mosque, watching the blood red full moon rise off to the East. It actually brought tears to me eyes and chills up my spine, and do even now. I thought how amazing it would be to be able to sit and watch it happen; to see them first hand inside the Mosque, bowing and touching the floor with their heads, sitting on their feet, chanting and answering the Imam, how amazing would that be!?!?
Yesterday, I received that wish. He led me to the Mosque and showed me how to wash my hands under the brass water faucets that lined the marble troughs outside the Mosque. I had to wash my hands, and feet, being sure to scrub in-between my toes,(the guy next to me and I were having a competition as to who had cleaner toes) and then my face. Now I was pure and clean enough to be seen in front of Allah. He passed me a pair of flip-flops, being sure not to touch them with my hands and then we walked into the Mosque, barefoot. It was cold on the marble, but the air was very hot and still. We walked upstairs to the balcony so I could see the Imam and the congregation below and see how they did the prayers. There were also less people up there to annoy I think, but that soon changed. He showed me how to sit, and how to move. Soon, a large group of men came up and sat right next to me, and I do mean next to me. This culture fosters very close and dear contact with men, nothing weird or sexual, just close and honest. The man smiled and I think he understood this Anglo was here to learn, and meant no disrespect. Soon the prayers began, and we stood and bowed a lot, touched the floor with our heads and knelt as we listened to the Imam. It was about the most incredible religious experience I have ever seen, aside from a Hindu cremation ceremony. I still get goose bumps as I think about the Imam singing the Koran, and the Mosque reverberated as the group replied. I think most of you know I am not a religious person, but a bit of a spiritual person. I think if at times we could all just see the rituals and the functions we all perform to pay respect and honor to our loved ones, the ones that gave us life, and maybe that one big creator out there somewhere, possibly, maybe we could understand US a little better, not God. I witnessed the same love of humans and of a great entity that I have seen with Hindus, Muslims, Catholics, Protestants, and Jews.... it really is all the same. I know you all know that, but to sit within it anchors it a little firmer.

After prayers were over, we went back to Musa,s shop and had Caı, and then I made images! I finally pulled out the 4x5, and let me tell you, I am WAY out of practice. I had done a few new images before leaving the states to practice, but ı had forgotten how hard it is to photograph people! Musa and his family and friends were amazed at the camera, they all became very excited to see it and how it worked, more so than the digital camera! Musa helped a lot, he seemed to sense my dilemmas with shooting with it, and made a table for me to set the camera to hold still and set the film back and the film on. He even knew that when I was to make the image, to tell him and he would hold perfectly still and looked into the lens. After the first couple, EVRYONE became very excited and wanted me to photograph Musa more, and his little brother Işmaıl. We laughed and make pictures for hours, drank more caı and vışhnı, and ate sweets and told more fishing stories. We had an amazing day all of us, laughing, using bizarre sign language and broken Turkish and English, feasting and praying together. I left late and promised Musa to send the images on a CD once I got to the States. He had a small tear in his eye, as did I when I left. I am a part of their family now. He touched his hand on his heart, as I always did, to show respect and acceptance as well as admiration, we shook hands firmly and I walked away with everyone standing and shaking my hands and thanking me for spending time with them...thanking me for spending time with them.... odd.

The following are the best images from the 4x5 camera that I copied with the 35mm digital, they are rough, but I hope they work. Oh, I usually shoot in a format that I cannot upload from here, so I switched and made a few images so you can see some of what I see everyday. So enjoy, and please post any comment you would like to share with me and our friends, and please pass this onto your own friends and everyone we know: I wish you could all be here and I cant reach all of you, so I rely on you to spread the news with me!

More soon........possibly from Van!

Images from Africa for Live 8-SPEAK UP TO FIGHT POVERTY!!

2005-07-02T10:19:00.000-06:00

These are some images from a trip two years ago to Maputo and Namaacha in Mozambique Africa.
The trip was to pay respects to a man that fought and lost his life while working to end poverty in third world countries.
Join his fight and help raise awareness and create government and grassroots programs to combat world hunger,
aids and human rights. The G8 Summit is just one avenue and marker to look up to.
Become involved with your local communities, growers and farms and learn what it means to be a part of your
own societies sustainable development and growth.

I respectfully post these images as a way to show how others live everyday in various parts of the world.
The trip taught me a lot about humanity, life in the 'real world', surviving, thriving, love, and even what
it can mean to want to be a man, or admit to being just a boy.

live8 summit

live8 phili

Other random images......

2005-07-01T20:49:00.000-06:00

The following are some other fine art and random images from around my travels, or even simple quiet times at home. It's amazing how you can find imagery anywhere you go these days. The joy, as always, is sharing it with others. I hope you enjoy and can share with others as well.

Random stuff

2005-06-26T12:03:00.000-06:00

The following images are just some random images from Santa Fe, Massachusetts, and somewhere else.
There will be lots more coming from my travels around the states, and soon, Turkey. So check in when you can.

You can also view my professional/fine art work at www.amtproductions.com

Ciao