New Year’s resolutions on my end have involved a change to archival gicleé printing on my new Epson 3880 (but prints larger than 16″ high are still done on Fuji Super Gloss), new paper types (all matte, semigloss, and cotton rag), a possible move to blog self-hosting, and a major website change. In fact, Brett L. Erickson (.com) will be down for a few days (until about January 10) until the new site’s hosting change is completed.
Until then, I can be contacted via comment on this post, on Facebook, or on Twitter.
Christmas Card Wreath
A holiday desktop wallpaper-sized card for everyone; it’s 1920 pixels wide, and feel free to send to anyone as often as desired. Happy holidays, and I’ll be back in a week or so. Be safe, travel well, and write soon.
Just my way to celebrate the first blizzard of the season: rush out into it, and shoot pictures.
My expression of the dichotomy of Dodge City: the legend looms large in the face of the distant modern city and the contrails of pervasive transportation.
Breath of the Plains, No. 1
I had a nice surprise this afternoon when JPG Magazine staff notified me Breath of the Plains, No. 1 was the top image in their most recent blog post.
Click here or on the image to the left to visit.
Breath of the Plains, No. 1
I’ve just returned from Texas and the twelfth annual High and Dry show, and when I spend thirteen hours in the car driving (okay, driving short distances and then stopping to shoot), I have a chance to ponder new series I’d like to create. In my last post, I detailed one of those: You are Here.
The second is a project I’ve been anxiously trying to give voice for several years. Wind, you see, punctuates our existence here on the Great Plains; I’ve come to think of it as the “breath of the Plains.” And as I’ve looked for images to begin the project, I’ve done sketches, but nothing presented itself as a worthy “Number 1 in a Series.” Until yesterday.
Say hello to Breath of the Plains, No. 1.
You Are Here, No. 1
Artists are always driven to create, and as I’ve traveled the West looking for its essence, I’ve been driven by the creative question, “What is this Place?” The capital “P” is intentional, for after all, is not every location a proper noun to those who live there?
In fact, I would now unequivocally state that “What is this Place?” is the motto of my life’s work in photography, as I’ve tried to write it.
And so, as I looked at a directory in a mall, my daughter beside me, the both of us searching for a shop that had moved, a new theme of photographs struck me, staring at me from the illuminated, gaudy plexiglas sign: YOU ARE HERE.
Please welcome the first of the series, shot at a lonely rest area on a secluded highway in western Kansas.