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is an occasional journal of Oregon, from arts and books to public policy & transportation.
All content © 2006- by Alexander B. Craghead, except where otherwise noted.
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Cafe Unknown
Travel, History and Portland Oregon by Dan Haneckow
Jack Bog's Blog
By Jack Bogdanski of Portland, Oregon. (Like he needs any other introduction by now? -- A.B.C.)
For Portlanders Only
"Why buy a mattress anywhere else?"
Good Stuff NW
Featuring stuff that is good in the NW
LOST Magazine
LOST Magazine is an online monthly magazine that combines elements of many other literary, online, and national magazines with a singular mission--to reclaim in writing lost people, places, and things.
Mapes on Politics
Way West of the Beltway
Outside Is America
A journal about photography, roadtrips, trains and life, with occasional detours into movies, baseball, music, family and more.
The Photographers' Railroad Page
Good photos usually have good stories to go with them.... The goal of The Photographers' Railroad Page is to provide an outlet for top quality photographs and their story.
Portland Food & Drink
Throwing Ourselves on the Grenade of Bad Food to Save You
Portland Transport Blog
A Conversation About Access & Mobility in the Portland/Vancouver Region
PowellsBooks.Blog
Authors, readers, critics, media -- and booksellers
RailPixCritic
One person's musings on railroad photography, focusing on discussions of specific images or groups of same
Rambling West
The musings of a farmer with a typewriter and camera
Stumptown Confidential
Documenting Portland, Oregon architecture, history, and culture through photos, postcards, and words.
The Unauthorized Observer
Observations on faith, photography, trains, baseball, the city where I live (Fullerton, Calif.), anything that I find funny (a lot of things) or irritating (some things) and various incidents involving friends and family.
Under the Weather
...the open road, fatherhood, family life, music, railroads, photography, popular and unpopular culture, sex, violence, religion, the oppression of consumerism and capitalism and the general bullshit that makes up modern life.
Urban Planning Overlord
A blog to counter the myths, lies, and demagoguery others use against sound city planning to further their own ends, fair and foul - but also to urge the profession itself to pull back from the occasional wretched PC exces.
VanPortlander
Living in Vancouver; working in Portland. I have some thoughts.
Whiskey, Texas
...life and experiences in Texas and the Southwest. Recurring themes: Photography, railroads, fading ads / ghost signs, fallen-flag railroad logos, boxcars, bicycling, Texas music, pop culture, sports, road trips, literature, kids and family.
World Scott
The Travel Writing and Photography of Scott Lothes
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Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Review: Approaching Nowhere
Labels: Art, Automobiles, Book Reviews, Books, Civics, New Books, Photography, Public Policy, Transportation
Approaching Nowhere
Photography by Jeff Brouws with essays by William L. Fox and Jeff Brouws. W.W. Norton, 500 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10110; http://www.wwnorton.com/; 12.3 x 11.6 x 0.8 in; hardbound; 160 pages, 112 color photos, 1 illustration; $50.00
It is one of the fundamental facts of the 20th century that Americans came to live in their cars. Thanks to cheap gas, a government subsidized highway system, and what seemed like growth without natural limits, the roadside became the face of "modern" America. Much of this has become part of the country's romantic self-image. Big finned steel behemoths cruising small downtowns; throaty muscle cars roaring down stretches of two-lane tarmac in the boonies; drive through everything, from restaurants to coffee stands to banks to liquor stores. As the century ended, however, some of the gloss came off. Car culture always looked ahead, and thus never cared what it left behind it: neglected city centers, unwalkable suburbs, abandoned mom-and-pop retailers, and a cheap attitude of disposable mediocrity. In Approaching Nowhere (published by W. W. Norton in 2006), photographer Jeff Brouws turns his camera on this detritus, and shows us a lonely, haunting, melancholy world.
The book is first and foremost a photographer's monograph. All the images are Brouws', and tellingly at he end of the volume is a curriculum vitae -- one wonders if this isn't jumping the gun considering that Brouws is still very much alive and producing. The photos take up the over-whelming majority of the book, and are divided into three sections. The first, titled "The Highway Landscape", primarily consists of images of roadside America. This section contains the bulk of the photographs in the book. The second is titled "The Franchised Landscape", and concentrates on the corporatized strip-mall and drive through landscape. Lastly is "The Discarded Landscape", concentrating primarily on urban decay. Following the photo sections are two essays, the first by noted writer William L. Fox, and the second by Brouws himself. Both Fox and Brouws write about the American landscape and how the development of "freeway culture" has effected it. Brouws includes a page of footnotes for his essay, and then the aforementioned c.v. and some acknowledgements.
With no preamble, introduction, or preface, the book launches right from the title pages and into the images. One of the most haunting for me is one of the first, Plate 11, Exit 66 off I-80, near Little America, Wyoming, 1995. To the left is a lonely and empty stretch of freeway, dimly lit by alien sodium-vapor streetlights in their sickly metallic orange pall. Above them glow green US-DOT highway signs, while in the distance beyond is a murky, snow-covered landscape of nothingness. It is the blue hour, after twilight, and the sky still glows faintly. The scene is bleak, remote, empty, and yet there is something majestic about it.
This brings up a troubling point. Skimming through the book, or skipping ahead to the essays, (which appear at the back, after one has been deluged in the imagery,) it becomes clear that this work is a critical one in nature. Brouws seems to be holding up to us a mirror, showing us the world we have made for ourselves. A theme of vacancy runs throughout. Many photographers try and find the scenes that make a location unique, the sense of place, but Brouws has done the opposite, photographing the things that make every American place the same. Yet critical tone or not, some images -- like Plate 11 -- are in spite of this moving and beautiful. Not for the first time this brings up the conundrum: how can an artist can apply arts meant to bring visual harmony and pleasure -- composition -- to a scene in which he or she finds folly? That Brouws shows us beauty as well as folly is either a signal that he also has been unable to reconcile this contradiction, or that he finds beauty even in the things that trouble him.
One thing that stands out in this body of work is the lack of people. Not for the first time, Brouws has shown an Hopperesque aversion to the human form. Of the over 100 images in the volume, only eight show signs of humanity in the frame. While Brouws clearly has a point he is trying to convey, is this fair? Sure, all art is biased, but I wonder if the work is slighting the landscape just a little bit by skin-flintingly erasing the human form from it. Who amongst us could love a world unpeopled? We see empty diners, empty sidewalks, empty streets. It should be no wonder that we find the scenes soulless and a little bit scary: we're facing them alone.
The Hopper influence is especially strong with plates 127 and 137, the former of which much resembles Early Sunday Morning, and the latter of which seems to be recalling Approaching a City.
From the more technical side, Brouws likes to clip things off a lot. We see signs, cars, and (more rarely) body parts all clipped off and extended beyond the frame. He seems less interested in the place than the spaces between, often taking images of the voids than the forms that frame them. Most of the plates are richly colored, and when they aren't, they are full of vast tonal ranges of subtle colors; although I am a big fan of black-and-white imagery, I can't imagine any of these frames in monochrome. There's a film noir influence too, with lots of murky, moody night images, with the edges of the picture disappearing into shadow and black.
The overriding sensation of the images in Approaching Nowhere is a sense of void, of nothingness. The decay and the bleakness has a certain beauty at times, but little of it is memorable. Even the most striking images -- the night scenes -- are forgotten once the book is closed. In their place is a sensation, rather than a visual, that sticks in the mind. It's a kind of numbness. It is only then that it becomes evident: there is no single image that sums up Brouws' work in Approaching Nowhere, because there is no single portrait of a place within the book. Rather, the entire book is one single portrait of a nowhere-land -- the "nowhere" of the title.
The first of two essays in the back of the book is penned by William L. Fox. Fox gives us a brief and informative overview of the cultural geography of the book, as well as the photographic history of recording such landscapes.
Fox's essay is followed by a longer one written by Brouws himself. Brouws writes with a knowledge and take on the landscape that places him more into the realm of social critic or urban planner pundit than photographer. He says little or nothing about the image making process, and a lot about his motives or vision. His essay is erudite and moving, although he occasionally slips too far into academia: Brouws may be one of the few writers I know to use the word "simulacrum" in a work meant for general readers. (It means, essentially, a front or a visual fake).
I can't help but compare what Brouws writes here with David Plowden's comments about his photography, and his awe of great machines or great bridges. With Brouws, however, there is little inspiration, little awe and wonder. Instead there is a drive to document a bitter reality. I am reminded, however, of Plowden's reasons for quitting photography, his statement that the world he photographed is no longer there, and that this broke his heart. Perhaps Brouws' bitter determination is but a reflection of this world.
The book is large and square format, so it will be a real pain to fit it on any normal bookshelf. It's also just a tad uncomfortable to hold and flip through, making it more of a table book; this is disappointing, because my first instinct with these lonely images is to sit back and thimb through them in my lap, intimately. The upside of the size, however, is that you can truly get lost in the images, which for the most part are well reproduced. I do feel that some of the more subtle plates have a muddy look to them on closer inspection, but this is not to the point that it ruins the experience.
While I can't state that the volume is a definitive portrait of America at the Millennium, it is without doubt a significant building block of work in the same vein as the photography of Robert Adams or even some of David Plowden's grittier images, and a huge leap forward from Brouws' previous books. Anyone who is serious about photographing the American landscape would be strongly advised to become familiar with this book.
Approaching Nowhere is available from Amazon as well as Powell's Books.
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Friday, August 22, 2008
Review: The Call of Trains: Railroad Photographs by Jim Shaughnessy
Labels: Art, Book Reviews, Books, New Books, Photography, Railroads, Transportation
The Call of Trains: Railroad Photographs by Jim Shaughnessy
Photographs by Jim Shaughnessy with text by Jeff Brouws. W. W. Norton, 500 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10110; http://www.wwnorton.com/; 12.1 x 10.9 x 1 in; hardbound; 224 pages, 323 duotone b/w photos, 1 illustration; $65.00
Sequels are always challenging projects to undertake. 2004 saw Jeff Brouws, erudite photography scholar and a photographer in his own right, bring us the definitive volume on the definitive railroad photographer, Richard Steinheimer. Brouws gave us a view of "Stein" through an academic's lens; the result was a book that redefined railroad photography. Now in 2008, Brouws has brought us a new book in the same format and with the same approach: The Call of Trains: Railroad Photographs by Jim Shaughnessy. The question is, does it work this time?
The natural pace of sequels inevitably sets up comparisons between this book and the previous book on "Stein". This may or may not be fair to Shaughnessy, as it seems to beg the question of "is Shaughnessy as good as Stein"? The comparison may be further heightened by the broad similarity between the titles as well: one wonders if Brouws could have found a title that didn't mimic that of the Stein book.
A better question may be, is Shaughnessy's work worth the same level of intellectual exploration as Steinheimer? Brouws certainly thinks so. He gives us a rather long essay (22 pages) about Shaughnessy, revealing to us his origins and vignettes of his development as a railroad photographer. Brouws attempts to take this further, with numerous side trips into the broader world of railroad photography. At one point, for example, he debates whether photographers such as Robert Frank or Walker Evans influenced railroad photography, but then notes that Shaughnessy was not influenced by them. Brouws also takes an extended textual detour to describe the "Milwaukee School", a term he has coined to describe the prevailing 20th century railroad photography style as popularized by the iconic TRAINS Magazine. Yet even here the feeling is that of trying too hard: can one really lump photojournalists like Ted Benson and Richard Steinheimmer into the same stylistic camp as traditionalists such as Phil Hastings or gimmick-artists like O. Winston Link? The result is an introduction that feels overly long and unfocused, as if Brouws wanted to write a piece on the development of railroad photography itself, rather than a coherent narrative about Shaughnessy.
Following the introduction comes the bulk of the book, the photographs themselves. Most of the photographs are printed one to a page with white margins, and in fact only one image is printed full bleed. Unlike Brouws' previous work on Steinheimer, all the plates are displayed against a white page. Few images are shown double truck, with a significant handful being presented across the gutter of the book and partway onto a second, mostly white page. Overall, most of the images laying across the gutter survive the experience.
The images that Brouws has selected greatly support portions of his "Milwaukee School" thesis from the introduction, being on average more conventional in nature and focusing more on documenting things and places over experiences. It is as if Brouws is holding up Shaugnessy as a pinnacle example of what was the mainstream railroad photography style of the 20th century. The book is also distinctively of its region: has Shaughnessy's style absorbed what it means to be in New England and upstate New York, or do those of us who call ourselves railroad photographers simply associate the region so much with his photos that the two are no longer separable?
The most memorable photographs in The Call of Trains are the images containing the people who lived with and made the railroads. An elderly station agent, his head as "old and weary" as his employer, the New York, Ontario and Western. A Nickel Plate Road man, about to hoop up orders to an oncoming train. A Boston and Maine laborer washing the windows of a classic streamlined diesel locomotive in the mid-fifties. Best of all of these, perhaps, is Plate 16, an image taken in 1961 in Watervliet, New York. It is dark, and a switchman of the Delware and Hudson Railroad, electric lantern in one hand, is throwing a switch in a yard, his body lit up presumably by the headlights of his train. It is crisp, and one can almost feel the chill misty air; it is a scene of everyday railroading that is as real today as it was when it was shot. Interestingly, Lucius Beebe was so attracted to the image that he used it on a book about the SP, intentionally misidentifying the railroad and location of the shot.
Interspersed with these human-centered photos are bucolic panoramas, gritty scenes of fading New England industry, and dramatic night scenes. Strangely, though, I find that one of the least typical images of the collection is the finest, Plate 64. The photograph is uncharacteristically stark for a Shaughnessy piece, with a plain sky, minimal scenery, and an empty foreground. We look straight on the side of a train, a single diesel locomotive hauling a single car down the track in late 1980s rural New York state. Little traffic, no people visible, no industry or life; if plate 16 had a timeless quality to it, plate 64 was one of the few images I have ever seen to have captured so well how much the railroad world had changed.
Following the plates, we are treated to a two page essay by the photographer himself. Shaughnessy recounts for us a series of memories, including an intriguing one of assembling a story on a day in a life of a hostler on the D&H in 1957 that strangely was never published, and an amusing anecdote about a railfan tradition, fun with rental cars. The stories are charming, and if any fault could be had with them, it's that there aren't enough of them. After Shaughnessy's too-brief afterward comes a series of extended captions for each of the plates in the book, and the final plate, plate 143.
Overall, the book that Brouws gives us is a valuable insight into a photographer who arguably represents the best of mainstream railroad photography from the last century. Although The Call of Trains could be faulted for over-ambition, the quality of both the content and the reproduction makes the book a standout. Anyone who is interested in the progress of railroad photography or who has an interest in the railroads of the New England region would be well served to purchase this book.
The Call of Trains: Railroad Photographs by Jim Shaughnessy will be released in November 2008, and will be available for purchase from Powell's Books as well as from Amazon.com.
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Thursday, July 10, 2008
Review: Here There Nowhere
Labels: Art, Book Reviews, Books, New Books
Here There Nowhere
Paintings by Michael Brophy with essays by Jonathan Raban and William L. Lang. OSU Press, 121 The Valley Library, Corvallis, OR 97331-4501; http://oregonstate.edu/dept/press; 12.0 x 12.0 x 0.25 in; paperbound; 60 pages, 20 color images; $25.00
The landscape of the Pacific Northwest is an ever-changing one, and so it should be no surprise that artistic views on that landscape have also changed radically over time. By the close of the last century, Oregon, once labelled the "Pacific Wonderland" on the state's automobile license plates, had become a battlefield of ideas and ideals. Portland artist Michael Brophy has been trying to capture that essence of division and change over his career as a painter, with his most recent expression taking place in a series of large canvases all painted in 2007. Brophy calls this series Here There Nowhere, and it is the subject of a recent book by the same name produced by Oregon State University Press.
The beginning of the book form of Here There Nowhere is heralded with an essay about the history of landscape painting in the Pacific Northwest, written by Jonathan Raban. The essay, titled Battleground of the Eye, may seem familiar to readers; it was adapted from the introduction Raban wrote for 2001's The Pacific Northwest Landscape: A Painted History, printed by Sasquatch Books. Although this is not new material, it helps to ground the painting series into the wider context of the artistic representation of the landscape of the Pacific Northwest. The only error I noted was that the Northern Pacific that entered Tacoma in 1883 was not the creation of the legendary James J. Hill, but of industrialist Henry Villard; a minor esoteric quibble perhaps, but it would not have taken much to fact check the essay one more time.
Following Raban's essay come the paintings themselves. Brophy delivers us images on a heroic scale, reminiscent of revolutionary art from South America or Russia during the last century. These are grand canvases with grand ideas. And yet, the content chosen to express those ideas is inherently anti-heroic, mundane, dull. Brophy likes repeating patterns and vast expanses of subtleties over the boldness of an up-front statement. It doesn't look like he's trying to be pretty. Darkened fields, broad skies, blank cliff faces; they are all empty landscapes, and rarely is a human figure seen. 
Michael Brophy, Crack of Dawn. 2007, oil on canvas, 74 by 80 inches.
Image courtesy Laura Russo Gallery.
It is perhaps the night images that stand out the most. Night Truck and Meadow both are evocative. The strongest of these is perhaps Crack of Dawn, a canvas with a deep wet cloud cover and a thin strip of dawn that any local will immediately recognize as the aggregate of countless mornings. Here we see how subtlety and muted color choices are key to understanding Brophy's take on the landscape. Not all the night images work in the book, however: Full Dark is a study in subtleties that sadly does not translate well to print at all.
There is also an odd disjointed feel to the series. Some of the images have a dark, painterly, brooding approach, like Blowdown or Aftermath; the palette of the former reminds me of something from Carl Hall. On the flipside are strong traditionalist images such as Ruin, which feels sentimental in nature, or Day, with a painterly realism of something very tangible, in this case the rear of a semi-tractor driving some two-lane road to nowhere in the vast inland Pacific Northwest. 
Michael Brophy, Ruin. 2007, oil on canvas, 74 by 80 inches.
Image courtesy Laura Russo Gallery.
If anything rescues the disjointedness, it is a common theme of nearly cinematic ideas; every time I flip through the images of the series I start feeling like I am looking at a storyboard for a movie about life in the forgotten flyover corners of the much over-hyped PNW paradise. What is amazing is that Brophy offers us a social commentary, a critique even, of how we view the world, and yet he does not choose the traditional route of painting scarred industrial landscapes or denuded forests or the like. Instead, he simply shows us that this is how we usually view the world, through mundane eyes that see only the same boring monotony. In a way, his critique runs deeper than the typical environmental or social commentary, pointing that the problem isn't the clear-cut or the junk-pile, but instead it is our viewpoint. It is internal, it is within us.
Reproduction and presentation get fair marks. Brophy's paintings are all very large works, standing at 74 by 80 inches. To stand before one is to be dwarfed, even for a tall person, and any attempt to depict this series with any justice on paper must be admired for audacity if nothing else. I don't quite think that the publisher managed to pull this off; one square foot just can't give you the sense of scale that standing before the real thing can. Further, I feel that some of the subtlety of the originals has been lost in the reproduction.
Following the images comes an essay by William L. Lang. Lang brings us back to the subject rather than the medium, concentrating not on Brophy's paintings so much as on the story they are a part of. He ably discusses the relationship of humanity to the land of the region, with occasional examples pulled from Brophy's work. Although a short and interesting read, I feel that Lang's comments are in some ways duplicative of Raban's text, while at the same time weaker and not relying enough on how an artist such as Brophy sees this world. What I wish had been included was a short piece by the artist himself, but such is not included in the book.
Overall, Here There Nowhere is a slim but important volume that highlights how landscape painting in the Pacific Northwest is evolving. For artists or students of art in the region, it would make a valuable addition to the bookshelf.
Here There Everywhere is available from Powell's or Amazon, as well as directly from the publisher. Thanks to Laura Russo Gallery for supplying images and other assistance with this review.
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Thursday, January 24, 2008
Week in Review, Vol. VII
Well can anyone remember a stretch of cold weather thats lasted as long as this? Sure, we've had colder winters, and more snow, and more ice. However, I cannot recall a winter in my (relatively short) lifetime thats been as cold for as long. It's enough to make me want to stock up on things like scarves, gloves, and flannel-lined pants. What is this... Ohio? Labels: Art, Automobiles, Books, Civics, Photography, Portland, Public Policy, Railroads, Transportation, Week in Review
Let's dig right into the big stuff: OHSU. Following a ruling that removed indemnification for OHSU employees, the educational hospital announced closures and major service cuts.
Local blogger extraordinaire Jack Bogdanski doesn't buy it, and he's not alone. Big O columnist Steve Duin more-or-less agrees.
The TriMet security saga continues. Following a rather botched public hearing on their proposal to reduce Fareless Square hours of operation, the agency withdrew the plan. (See the Trib's take here).
Of course the proposal is not quite dead yet. Instead it's going to be "studied" more. Some, however, are of the opinion that the supposed link between farebox recovery and violent crime is a farce.
I must agree. The crime problem on TriMet is real, but it's more widespread than MAX and it's not primarily downtown!!. Indeed I had a discussion with a friend at one of the major newspapers in town, and he did a bit of research on the MAX attacks. Guess what? Most of the criminals involved in the crimes lived within 1-2 miles of where the crimes had been committed.
We need to have a serious discussion about security -- system-wide and in all modes -- not about Fareless Square. This isn't to say we won't be looking at fares as part of a solution, after all security must be funded, and costs are not going down for the bus system. But our first concern needs to be security personnel on the ground, and probably station redesigns to eliminate security hazards like brick walls people can hide behind.
TriMet's Mary Fetsch on today's Lars Larson show has mentioned that the agency is re-adjusting its security to put security officers on transit vehicles at least 75% of the time. Yet the agency is still proposing that Fareless Square's elimination is a tool towards increasing security. To be fair, she did mention the disconnect with the Fareless proposal and the large number of incidents occurring in Gresham.
Sam Adam's street maintenance plan won't be split into three proposals after all. The reason offered: advice of legal counsel to the City. Willamette Week, however, reports a different take: it's all about a deal with the Oregon Petroleum Association that gives them a lower rate."They didn't get what they wanted, but we compromised on their rate," Adams said.... "Now that they've agreed not to pursue a referral, I feel comfortable moving forward with one ordinance," said Adams, who's running for mayor."
Gotta love Portland politics.
Meanwhile, the Columbia River Crossing is in the midst of proposing a toll for the new Interstate 5 bridge. (Hat tip to Portland Transport).
I am actually, amazingly, in favor of tolling on freeways. However, I can't see how tolling just this bridge will work. And I am highly skeptical of all these electronic tolling systems. One of the points of this project was supposed to be to remove an alleged choke-point on I-5. As the project proceeds further and further, it's becoming more and more apparent that the new bridge will itself be a choke point, and a highly overpriced one at that.
I think we have now reached the point where the law of diminishing returns kicks in. Lets just maintain the current, perfectly safe bridge, and forget it. I won't dare mention the idea of a supplemental bridge cutting across Sauvie's Island to connect Washington County to Clark County, of course....
Rounding out the news, the Daily Astorian has an update on the Port of Tillamook Bay Railroad. The line, which links rural Tillamook with national markets, experienced major damage during early December 2007, and remains out of service. Reading the tea leaves, it's really starting to look like the Tillamook Branch may be gone for good.
This is a major challenge for how the state addresses the needs of low-volume rural areas. If the rail line is not rebuilt, it will have a major impact on Tillamook County's economy. And if the state does not provide some alternate solution, it will be telling rural areas across Oregon that they are not a priority in Salem -- a mixed message at a time when ODOT is promoting the Connect Oregon project.
I have a soft spot for British automobiles, having grown up in the back seat of a 1959 Triumph TR3. Thus the future of the Jaguar marquee has been of great interest, which is why this report about difficulties between current owner Ford and future owner Tata Motors is slightly disturbing. Lets hope this doesn't mean the deal falls off.
Strange things amuse me, and perhaps this is too obscure. However, it appears Union Pacific does have a sense of humor about itself.
Heh.
Once upon a time in Public-Broadcasting-Land, there was a show called Masterpiece Theater. It was a variety drama show, much like the old "Carnation Milk Presents" shows that aired on broadcast television in the U.S. throughout the '50s. (In fact, oil giant Mobile used to sponsor Masterpiece, and it was known as "Mobile Masterpiece Theater"). Each week the host -- first Alistair Cook, later New York Times columnist Russell Baker -- would introduce a classic work of literature (and occasionally an original screenplay) that had been made into a film. In some ways this series was the ultimate intellectual feather-in-the-cap for PBS.
Apparently that's not so much the case anymore. PBS has re-branded the series as "Masterpiece Classics" -- a case of painfully obvious duplicative phrasing if ever there was one -- and has replaced Baker with actress Gillian Anderson. The move is reminiscent of NBC's recent decision to use the actor Micheal Douglas as voice talent for the NBC Nightly News. As the Ellen & Jim blog put it:"The appearance and demeanor of the introducer, Gillian Anderson, her talks and inset commercials (if we needed more evidence) show how little respect the PBS stations now have for their audience. Their original goal which was to have an alternative place for intelligent talk and decent art. Anderson is made up grotesquely; she leers at the audience; I expect she knows little of Austen for real or the 18th century, but the people who wrote the speeches clearly also know little. I didn’t stay for her closing one -- it actually comes after a commercial. PBS now puts commercials inside their shows. They assume the audience will sit through the commercial for the sake of watching and listening to this woman again."
Ouch.
They're also getting heat for having cut up the recent Jane Austen film adaptations so much to have made a joke of the original material. (Hat tip via the Chronicle Blog).
Kevin Scanlon sends along notice of an interview on Public Radio International's Studio 360 with the photographer David Plowden. Plowden has recently published a retrospective book titled David Plowden: Vanishing Point: Fifty Years of Photography. (I will be reviewing it sometime next week). Studio 360 took the time to visit with Plowden in New York and has made their interview available in audio format. The interview is about 12 minutes long, and in it you can hear Plowden's sense of wonder and personal curiosity shining through. For an admirer of Plowden's work, I found the interview informative and inspiring:
In addition to the main interview, Studio 360 has made available a 4-minute bonus interview with Plowden on his fascination with bridges:
If the embedded players do not work for you, the interviews are available as downloadable .mp3 formats from their issue archive page. (It's on the right).
One last note before I go. While we're discussing photography, Martin Burwash has another photo essay up. Check it out.
Have a great weekend, and look for some book reviews before the next Week in Review.
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Friday, January 11, 2008
Books & Powells -- An Update
Reader Slammin' Sam posted in the comments that my Powell's rant was unnecessary, pointing out that the Powell's wishlist function can indeed be made public. Labels: Blogging, Book Reviews, Books, New Books, Portland, Used Books
Remind me not to listen to certain Powell's employees when it comes to technical questions. You know who you are! (And I'll see you at lunch Monday no doubt).
So now, viola, the Addendum has a Powell's Wishlist now.
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Thursday, January 10, 2008
Week in Review, Vol. V
Reason has an interesting review up of Andrew Keen's Cult of the Amateur. An interesting topic, and I'm not sure I wholly agree with Keen, but I am sympathetic to many points he makes. Labels: Blogging, Book Reviews, Books, Civics, Media, Photography, Portland, Public Policy, Railroads, Transportation, Week in Review
And yes, I'm aware of the hypocrisy of saying that on a blog.
Speaking of book reviews, there's been a lot of bally-hoo about their decline in recent memory. You know the drill, the usual "the Internet killed the radio star" schtick. There's definitely a bit of truth to it, although I wouldn't go shouting about the demise of the book just yet.
Still, I must admit that the concern inspired me to begin adding book reviews to the Addendum.
Of course, as a freelancer, book reviews can be a major pain. Getting review copies is difficult, and I just plain can't afford to buy every book I want to review. On the other hand, I'm a confirmed book-a-holic. End result? Most of my reviews will be of books going into my library anyway. This includes both new and out-of-print, used books, but hey, we live in the state that gave the world Powell's Books, so that's not that big of a problem now is it?
Naturally, if you'd like to help, you can always buy me a book to review. Heh.
While we're on the subject of book buying and wishlists and the like, a minor rant. Why can't Powell's have a wishlist function similar to Amazon, that would let others see what you are wanting to buy? It would be especially handy during the holidays, and I would far rather send prospective gift-buyers and friends to Powell's than to mega-monster Amazon.
It wouldn't hurt to let use have some simplified profiles too, for those of us who post reviews on their site.
And one more book-related item. I would be remiss not to add the PowellsBooks.Blog to the blogroll at left.
And then there's the Blogosphere! Yet more additions. Photographer & graphic designer Dave Styffe brings us The Unauthorized Observer; a very noir title for his SoCal photoblog. This is followed up by news that Elrond Lawrence has started another, titled Outside Is America.
Whew. Lothes returns, Carr and Kooistra surface, and then Burwash goes blogging. And now Lawrence and Styffe.
What is this? 1998 all over again?
The holidays are over at last, and many are still groaning under the weight of the feasting. it wasn't the vast Christmas repasts that hit me, though, so much as the culinary delights of Portland.
How about a little Cafe Cubano and Camarones Enchilada?
This is bad. I think I have a new addiction.
I almost feel sorry for the Portland Building. How overjoyed the city was when it was first built. A fine example of cutting edge, post-modern architecture, designed by rising-star architect Michael Graves. We were lucky, and it made Graves a real powerhouse, designing everything from major buildings to consumer goods for Target.
Time has not treated the building well, however, and it has become the building Portlanders love to hate. (Granted, it is a bit of a maintenance nightmare now).
Poor thing. Portland is one of those cities where nobody will ever stare at you, because you'll never manage to be the weirdest person on the block. In a way, the Portland Building fits in a city like that -- hell if anything it's too tame for a city like that.
Oh, don't get me wrong though; I don't like the building either.
Politics schmolitics. Eric Sten resigns and Sho Dozono files to run for mayor.
Plenty has been said elsewhere about these events. You can always go over to Bojack for the latest.
Sten's departure will leave a much larger hole in the council. Presuming that Adams is elected mayor, it means two spots are open, in addition to Randy running for his seat again. Sten's departure makes it far easier to change the majority make up of the council in one election sweep.
As for Sho? I'll say only this: Sho fills a vacuum. Before him, there was the potential for a serious contender to emerge. Sho seems like a nice guy, but Portland politics isn't about being nice. If I were Sam, I'd be really happy about all this.
Will the weather madness never end? Vancouver gets a tornado. They do happen in the region now and then.
As usual, the media are making a big fuss, giving us tornado survival advice now that the tornado is gone and after having given no warning.
I like Tigard Mayor Craig Dirksen. He's a nice guy, and he has the best of intentions. I often find myself defending him when people suggest he's too soft. For once though I must issue a minor rebuke. In his state of the city address, Craig says he has really only good news to tell you.
Then there's this story.
And while we're discussing transportation financing, Sam has a plan for Portland.
I'll have more to say about this later. For now, folks, I've got to run.
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Thursday, November 29, 2007
Another Night Journal Update
Elizabeth Crook writes a short note of thanks for my pointing out the paperback release of her novel, The Night Journal. She also mentions notable news: Labels: Books"The book... has won two western awards -- The Spur and the Willa -- so I'm perfectly thrilled."
Congratulations, Elizabeth.
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Monday, October 29, 2007
Update: The Night Journal
I previously reviewed The Night Journal both for TRAINS Magazine as well as Amazon about a year ago. Digging through the author's website, I discovered it is now available in paperback. Labels: Book Reviews, Books, Railroads
Get it here from Powell's, or here from Amazon.
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Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Review: The Night Journal
Labels: Book Reviews, Books, New Books, Railroads
The Night Journal: A Novel
By Elizabeth Crook. Viking/Penguin Group, 375 Hudson Street, New York, NY 10014; http://us.penguingroup.com/; 6.3 x 9.1 in; hardcover; 464 pages; $24.95
Few novels delve into the world of the railroad, and fewer still successfully; Elizabeth Crook has written not only a fine novel of the late 19th century railroad world, but a fine novel, period.
In the 1890s, Hannah Bass, a Harvey girl working a remote hotel in New Mexico meets, and then marries, a famous surveying engineer for the Atchison Topeka & Santa Fe Railway, a man patterned after William Raymond Morley, the discoverer of Glorieta Pass. The political conflicts of pre-statehood New Mexico, the ever-expanding Santa Fe, and the disappearance of Hannah's husband all weave into a story in the present day, involving Hannah's granddaughter and her discovery of a legendary, long-missing journal written by Hannah.
With a well timed plot and interesting characters, the novel also contains one of the most gruesome and realistic potrayals of a steam-era train derailment. Crossing the genre border between mainstream historical fiction, mystery, and railroad literature, The Night Journal should be a pleasure to any reader of fiction.
The Night Journal is available from Powell's Books as well as from Amazon.com.
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Saturday, January 8, 2005
Review: A Passion for Trains
Labels: Art, Book Reviews, Books, New Books, Photography, Railroads
A Passion for Trains: The Railroad Photography of Richard Steinheimer
By Richard Steinheimer and Jeff Brouws. W. W. Norton, 500 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10110; http://www.wwnorton.com/; 12.1 x 10.9 in; hardcover; 192 pages, 160 duotone b/w photos; $65.00
"Stein" has long known to be the greatest American railroad photographer, and now Jeff Brouws has finally produced an artistic monograph which is worthy of Richard Steinheimer's long career. Filled with many never before published images, the book not only gives you a glimpse at Stein's amazing vision, but also at some of his early works and his failures, showing you the progress of the man's talent. Additionally, Brouws' erudite introduction provides an in-depth study of the man and his skills, and the long search for and development of them by Stein.
The text alone is an eye opener for anyone who would dare to follow in Dick's footsteps, and as such, the book is highly recommended to all railroad photographers who wish to elevate their work to an artistic achievement that is something more than inbred provincial documentarianism.
A Passion for Trains is available from Amazon.com.
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