Author: JH

Maybe I have finally found the answer to the age-old party question: “So, what do you photograph then?”

I don’t watch late night shows, but I love reading the transcripts on the web, and this snippet from David Letterman may help me solve my problem: “Here’s some broadcasting ugliness. … Dan Rather, who used to host the ‘Evening News’ here at CBS, said this about Katie Couric, who is now hosting the ‘CBS Evening News.’ Dan Rather said … she is tarting up the news. Dan followed that comment by saying, ‘Bring me another whiskey sour.'”

So, what do you photograph then?

1. “Things and objects” (this may not sound very catchy, but I’m told it’s deeply philosophical).

2. “Traffic Cones” (obviously true, but at the same time not really the point of what I do).

3. “Well, I’m tarting up ‘fine art’ photography…” (which, given the state of things, sounds like a noble mission to me).

On my deathbed, this may well be one of my biggest regrets: Today I didn’t have the nerve to take some pictures of what sure was a fun occupation in a remote village 6000 feet above sea level – take apart my notebook with a letter-opener and some bent screwdrivers borrowed from the neighbors, glue a piece of foam on the graphic chip according to this great site by Corey Arnold, and put it all back together. Yes, the nasty logic board bug has bitten. Thank you Apple, just what I needed in the Dolomites! But thanks to the internet, who needs to hire a specialist anymore? Notebook up and running again. Phew!

This from yesterday, from my way to work. I like it. (I’ll post a massive update of my Mountain Project in August: I’m pretty excited at this point, which does not happen that often; I only wish I still worked with film and the lab would do the rest of the work for me). I’m glad I’m not with Magnum – I’ve heard they have to schlepp their gear all by themselves (and only under a full moon), instead of using cable cars. But taking rides up the mountains is not my worst sin. Being in the Italian Dolomites, and thus ultimately in Italy, I have to face the tough choice between some of our favorite liberal (or postmodern, as if anybody cared) values: Respect for strange customs (the ‘otherness’ of the others), and the lovely innocence of ecological righteousness. Today I’ve been offered a tiny bird for dinner. Not the ones that are under protection and that international gourmets have banned from their plates, but still somewhat tinier than what I’m accustomed to; it was called “Stubenküken”, and friends who are entirely without feeling tell me it’s nothing but a small kind of chicken. But who can rest quietly and believe that! The bird was probably named “Marianne” by some sweet child that is now sobbing itself to sleep. But I’m in a haze. The beauty of the mountains up here is shocking – more on that in August.