"Blue Wall and Doves" by Jay Maisel.
Portugal, Kodachrome, 1972
In 1985, Jay asked me to design a poster for The Art Director's Club of Boston, in conjunction with the American Society of Magazine Photographers, New England Chapter, which featured him as the keynote speaker. It won a New York Art Director's Club "Gold Award" for Art Direction. Category: Posters.
How do I know Jay?
I met Jay in 1981 my senior year at Ringling College of Art and Design. He was one of a handful of top creative professionals that came to Ringling as part of "A Creative Assemblage", a week-long event hosted by the college. Lucky for me, I had volunteered to help Len Jossel, Dean of Graphic Design, with all of the planning for the event. This provided me with the opportunity to meet all of the incoming talent. Over the years, we kept in touch and worked on various projects along the way. He taught me how to see and appreciate the world around me in a completely different way. I owe him a great deal of gratitude. He is one of the most inspiring and giving teachers I have ever met. Thank you, Jay.
This image and the following copy are part of Jay's "Favorites Collection" on his website.
First off, I want to end the ugly rumor right here and now that I carry those two birds around with me. This was in southern Portugal. Like all my work, it is pretty much ‘find something that reaches out to you, shoot it, try not to fuck it up, and if possible, cover it as many ways as you can.’ Ernst Haas said, “we do not take pictures, we are taken by pictures.” This is only true if you are open to what is out there.
From the Favorites collection
What constitutes a favorite is that after seeing it every day for years, it doesn’t lose its power. I know some photographers who are always quite delighted with everything they do. I wish I was like that, but I find a great many of my images lose their power or at least my interest at some later date. Either I’m not interested in the subject anymore or I’m just no longer impressed with the image.
Arthur Meyerson, a very good Houston, Texas, photographer, is a buddy of mine. At one point he offered me his studio for an exhibit of my images for FotoFest in Houston. This was an exhibit of 85 images. Another friend of mine, Gary Winter, was doing a video on me. He’s one of these guys who doesn’t intrude when he’s shooting—a real “fly on the wall” type—so when he asks a question, it’s a rare occurrence.
“So, Jay,” he said, “What’s the reason you picked these particular 85 pictures for this show?”
“They’re my favorites.”
“I was hoping for something a little more insightful and articulate, ” he replied.
I thought about it and realized after looking at one particular image what was behind my choices. I explained that when I shot “Man with Headband,” I was anxious, even terrified because I knew all the things that could go wrong. It was like a litany: “Please don’t let the light change,” Please don’t let somebody walk in front of him,” “Please don’t let him turn around.” I realized at that point that each and every picture in the show was a variation of this. A moment charged with all the things that move me, and the fear of losing it. The apprehension, the near certainty that something or someone, if not myself, was going to compromise the image.
There is an emotional seesaw on perceiving what you think is a great image. It moves between glee and trepidation. The more excited I am, the better the image, the more naked emotion I feel, the more exhilaration there is, the more it is counterbalanced by the certainty that something is going to f*¢% this up.
This anxiety never happens with pictures that are less compelling or less emotional. It never happens with pictures that are intellectually motivated or studies, or with pictures that are about information, history, or pure documentation.
These favorites have stood the test of time, even though they’re mine they still work for me, and I do love them.
Edition of 25. Printed on Epson Legacy Baryta. Baryta paper has a white, smooth satin finish with the look and feel of the revered silver halide F-surface darkroom papers and provides excellent image permanence.
Portugal, Kodachrome, 1972
In 1985, Jay asked me to design a poster for The Art Director's Club of Boston, in conjunction with the American Society of Magazine Photographers, New England Chapter, which featured him as the keynote speaker. It won a New York Art Director's Club "Gold Award" for Art Direction. Category: Posters.
How do I know Jay?
I met Jay in 1981 my senior year at Ringling College of Art and Design. He was one of a handful of top creative professionals that came to Ringling as part of "A Creative Assemblage", a week-long event hosted by the college. Lucky for me, I had volunteered to help Len Jossel, Dean of Graphic Design, with all of the planning for the event. This provided me with the opportunity to meet all of the incoming talent. Over the years, we kept in touch and worked on various projects along the way. He taught me how to see and appreciate the world around me in a completely different way. I owe him a great deal of gratitude. He is one of the most inspiring and giving teachers I have ever met. Thank you, Jay.
This image and the following copy are part of Jay's "Favorites Collection" on his website.
First off, I want to end the ugly rumor right here and now that I carry those two birds around with me. This was in southern Portugal. Like all my work, it is pretty much ‘find something that reaches out to you, shoot it, try not to fuck it up, and if possible, cover it as many ways as you can.’ Ernst Haas said, “we do not take pictures, we are taken by pictures.” This is only true if you are open to what is out there.
From the Favorites collection
What constitutes a favorite is that after seeing it every day for years, it doesn’t lose its power. I know some photographers who are always quite delighted with everything they do. I wish I was like that, but I find a great many of my images lose their power or at least my interest at some later date. Either I’m not interested in the subject anymore or I’m just no longer impressed with the image.
Arthur Meyerson, a very good Houston, Texas, photographer, is a buddy of mine. At one point he offered me his studio for an exhibit of my images for FotoFest in Houston. This was an exhibit of 85 images. Another friend of mine, Gary Winter, was doing a video on me. He’s one of these guys who doesn’t intrude when he’s shooting—a real “fly on the wall” type—so when he asks a question, it’s a rare occurrence.
“So, Jay,” he said, “What’s the reason you picked these particular 85 pictures for this show?”
“They’re my favorites.”
“I was hoping for something a little more insightful and articulate, ” he replied.
I thought about it and realized after looking at one particular image what was behind my choices. I explained that when I shot “Man with Headband,” I was anxious, even terrified because I knew all the things that could go wrong. It was like a litany: “Please don’t let the light change,” Please don’t let somebody walk in front of him,” “Please don’t let him turn around.” I realized at that point that each and every picture in the show was a variation of this. A moment charged with all the things that move me, and the fear of losing it. The apprehension, the near certainty that something or someone, if not myself, was going to compromise the image.
There is an emotional seesaw on perceiving what you think is a great image. It moves between glee and trepidation. The more excited I am, the better the image, the more naked emotion I feel, the more exhilaration there is, the more it is counterbalanced by the certainty that something is going to f*¢% this up.
This anxiety never happens with pictures that are less compelling or less emotional. It never happens with pictures that are intellectually motivated or studies, or with pictures that are about information, history, or pure documentation.
These favorites have stood the test of time, even though they’re mine they still work for me, and I do love them.
Edition of 25. Printed on Epson Legacy Baryta. Baryta paper has a white, smooth satin finish with the look and feel of the revered silver halide F-surface darkroom papers and provides excellent image permanence.