PINHOLE PROJECT
This is an experiment. It is an experiment in participation. The idea is to hand out these pinhole cameras to folks we meet all around North America and shake hands with those folks and to welcome them to the pinhole gang. First we collect cans (weapons of mass destruction) and turn them into pinhole cameras (cans of radical potential). The obligation: with care and consideration, take a picture, develop that negative and send it on to us to be included in the Website and eventually published in a book. The goal is to connect people. The mechanism is a unique pinhole photograph. The requirement is participation.
For a description of how pinhole cameras work, which is much better than I can offer, see the links section.
THE MAIN CREW AND HOW IT BEGAN
Rika, Shogo and I are the guys traveling the continent in our VW subaru and making it happen. We started our trip in the Arctic and are on our way back, and then plan to do it again. We started the pinhole project in the Florida Keys but I had the idea in Mendocino, California sitting on the edge, where the land meets the sea, drinking a can of Guinness. Say no more. Check out our Trip website at www.tansaku.com/Doug.
A very intelligent pinholer asked me if I had a theme in mind for the project. I answered "yes", and told her to shoot the theme "she" had in mind.
Again the project is an experiment in participation. I myself struggled with the idea of a theme. So many great photographers are documenting important events, transmitting valuable messages, expressing great feeling and changing the way we see the world. A theme seemed imperative... Nahh! It's about the participation and it's about the connection and it's about simplicity. If you get an image at all and send it along you are a huge monster success, and my hero. Maybe a theme will emerge from the lot... but don't concern yourself with that. Just Do.
Ansel Adams is another hero of mine. He hiked up mountains carrying this crazy big camera, with mule and a tent. He loaded a camera with one sheet of film and he waited and watched and waited some more. He waited for that perfect shot and when it finally arrived he went click. One shot. Maybe he had a total of 10 sheets of film and each time he had to load and unload. And he did this for 80 years. Talk about patience. Talk about dedication. Talk about simplicity. You and Ansel have something in common. Enjoy your shot.
All photographers have some form of obsession with the elements of light and time. They are often like hunters, attempting to capture that moment when the two elements collide and generate a unique form, never experienced before and never to be repeated again.
Sometimes, you don't have your camera and you miss a moment that was meant to be stored on film. I will try to a relate a story of one such moment that I was unable to capture. I remember relating this particular story to my father and his reaction was one of utter disgust and it left him forever, I believe, questioning my genetic authenticity. He, none the less, promptly forgave me and chalked it up to the bad fish I had eaten earlier that day. Here goes, and since a picture is worth a thousand words... I intend to use them.
Warning: This is not a beautiful moment. Indeed, it is not even a nice moment. It may even prove to be distasteful to some. Read at your leisure and your own risk.
Not long ago, I lived in Japan as an "Eggo no Sensai". That does not mean I was a master at grabbing the last Eggo waffle. It means, I was an English teacher. More accurately, I was an assistant English teacher. More accurately than that, I was a clown. I entertained in the high school classrooms for 3 years. My performances were always enjoyed and much gratitude was sent my way at each and every school I performed, but the fact of the matter is, I doubt that a single student even learned how to say, "good-bye Mr. Blain, have a good life". My popularity was due, strictly to my origin of birth. I am Canadian. I am western. I speak English. I am a Gaigin. For those that don't know, Gaigin means foreigner. At least that's what it says in the dictionary. The true meaning of Gaigin, I discovered, is "not a Japanese person". If you have ever been to an airport where a plane from Japan has just arrived, pay attention... I wouldn't be surprised if you heard the words, "Gaigin des ne"... look at all the foreigners. It has always been my secret desire to go up to those same tourists and say "Gaigin Des NE". Don't get me wrong. I love Japan and the people in it, and Gaigin is not a bad word. It's like any other word and depends on the intention with which the word is used. For the most part the intention is harmless. Being a gaigin in Japan actually comes with a brand of positive discrimination. For example, because of my clown status, within the first week of being in Japan, I was at the head of a parade, arm and arm with the Mayor of a town I had just visited that day. I did not receive this attention because of my good looks, I received it because I was a gaigin. And I lapped it up like a bowl of rice in front of a sumo wrestler. But even something that is supposed to be positive can wear a little thin after 3 years. Truth be told, I could live in Japan my entire life, speak perfect Japanese, have 10 Japanese kids, and still get on a subway and have 3 or 4 people gawk and mutter the words "gaigin". No matter how long I lived in Japan, I would never be Japanese. For a multicultural Canadian, this is a hard pill to swallow but I, personally, never had a problem with it.
And now it's time to talk about the moment. It was in my third year in Japan and I happened to be on a subway. But on this particular night I went unnoticed. It was a rare occasion when all who were on the train when I first entered, were already sleeping and those that entered after me, had overlooked the "not a Japanese person" sitting by himself. I was a fly on the wall. It was late and I was coming back from an enkai (enkai = party where as much food and drink as possible is devoured in two hours). I must admit I was at multiple enkais that night and I was probably more like a barfly on the wall, but my senses were heightened by this strange invisibility power I seemed to have obtained. Maybe it was the sake. None the less, the next person to come on to the train was a teenage girl who was still dressed in her school uniform. She sat no more than 3 feet away from me even though there were seats available all over the place. I did not exist. Before the next stop she was sound asleep. The next to enter was also unaware of my existence and made a bee-line for the girl. He was a scebai (scebai = dirty old man). It is possible he had done the same pub crawl I had done but he must have done it twice. He was not sober. He remained standing and perched himself directly above the girl, looking down attempting to catch a glimpse. A glimpse of what I don't know. These uniforms don't bare all that much and the girls head was down and her hair forward in her face. He was not deterred from following his scebai nature and remained above like a hawk, and continued to gawk (I am a photographer not a writer). However, as is the custom in Japan, and maybe everywhere in the world, he proceeded to fall asleep on the subway, standing up. Horses aren't the only creatures capable of this feat of sleeping on their feet (I told you I am not a writer). So far nothing too strange and no real moment to speak of... and then it all began. It was like a pearl, long and round and glistening in the light. You could almost imagine it making the sound of a harp if it were a musical instrument. It was growing and growing and it was resilient, like a rubber-band that could stretch forever. It was, the worlds biggest DROOL. It was, possibly, two feet long and maybe weighed as much as a potato. It extended from Mr. scebai's mouth to just inches away from the top of the girls hand. I was frozen... frozen in time. The moment seemed to last so long, if I had my camera, I think I could have taken 1000 photos, only I couldn't move. I sat with my mouth open in disbelief. It was like I was having one of those dreams when you want to run but you can't move a muscle. And then... finally... it happened... SNAP. I swear it sounded as loud as a clap of thunder. Scebai didn't hear it. He remained comatose, suspended above the girl, rocking to the motion of the train like a sleeping lookout on a pirate ship. Nobody heard it but me and ...the girl. She woke suddenly from her train induced trance. Whether it was the clap, or the impact of slime on her hand that woke her, I cannot contest. All that I know is she was now awake and aware of ooze on the top of her hand. She was still oblivious to Mr. Gaigin as well as Mr. Scebai, but fully aware of the slop that had just landed on her hand.
What happened next is not for the faint of heart. If you have been entertainded thus far you may want to stop reading now. What she did next, I could never have predicted. I will get to the point. She looked down at her hand and without a moments hesitation she swiftly raised her hand to her mouth and sucked off the goop. She will never know that it was not her own drool she slurped from her hand because I was the only person on the planet to witness it and I was in shock. Moments later these two people were both awake and aware of me, some foreign clown, staring blankly, mouth open, dumb in every sense of the word. It was horrible, but... it was my moment. It may not have been a beautiful moment, or a life altering moment, but it was, I hope, a moment that has only ever occurred once and will never occur again and I saw it. It was unique... and it belonged to me.
Each of us has a moment that belongs to us and if you are a photographer, you want to capture it and share it. It is the possibility of this capture that motivates and obsesses the photographer and it is my hope that all participants of the pinhole project are lucky enough to capture their moment. Good luck.
Basic. No Beeps, no whirring sounds, no winders, no meters to read, not even lenses. Just the main ingredients, light and time, some film, a can, and a hole. Simple.
Note; Some may feel that we are doing a good job of recycling because we use cans, milk boxes, juice containers etc... to make all these cameras. We are not recycling. We are not making more cans from cans. We are transforming. Aren't we special?
I would be amiss if I didn't mention the most important members involved in this project and that would be all the poor slobs that bump into me along the road and get horn-swaggled. I call them pinholers, but I suppose participants is a better term. Each and every one is a participant. Some have asked what percentage of the people participate in this project. I reply 100%. Do I expect that every participant will return a negative?... Not likely. Do I think they will all keep on trying until they get an image? Nahh! Do I think they will all manage to get the local photo store to develop that film let alone mail it off to me? Pushahh! When I say 100% will participate I mean that if they received a camera from my hand then they already have. They had to have opened their eyes just a little wider that day, just to get a camera. Maybe they scratched their head and muttered, "Who is this nut?", but eventually each and every participant said "Cool" and they promised to try. I did not give these cameras away free although most were given free of charge. I chose those people because they were special. They were awake, alive, interesting and interested. They deserved to be chosen because they participated in our first meeting. If you ask me if that is all I am looking for, then I 'd say "No $%#@& Way. I'm looking for a 7th level participant."
It is highly doubtful that any participant did not complete level 2. But if not they are still successful in my mind. Everyone I chose was successful. They showed a level of enthusiasm and curiosity that was above average and good enough for me to invite them to participate. They are all still welcome to belong and follow along with all the crazies. Those that actually made it to the 7th participation level deserve a great big kiss. You can see the Level 7 participant work in the gallery and if you want to leave an encouraging word for them you can leave a note on the message board.
Pinholers - Some may object to the label but it makes life easier. I myself am offended at my own self-label of Pinhole Doug. For those who know me well, I adamantly resist labels. If you asked me, "Are you a photographer?", I'd reply "no, no, no", or, "Are you an artist?", I'd reply "no, no, nothing like that". "Are you a teacher?", "nodda, nope, no way", except at border crossings and to police officers (people are socialized to trust teachers). The only label I have been able to compromise with is "male human". None the less, I use the label pinholer and accept the nickname Pinhole Doug so as to simplify our relationship.
The pinhole project is just the beginning. A book, a show, a calendar, workshops and talks, GPS hunt, pinhole weddings, and much more, all to come. The pinhole project is just the start of a series of events that will lead to more events. It is, however, and will remain, the purest of all those events because it is fueled only by the relationships of curious and energetic people. If you want to be a part of the pinhole project, or you are interested in one of the workshops/talks or you want to participate in the GPs hunt, send us an e-mail and we will get back to you as soon as possible and sign you up. And a final word of thanks to the employees at Ritz Camera in Key West who made this project all possible by helping me with my test shots and humoring me when I needed it most. A highly entertaining and caring group. Thank you Chuck, Rebecca and Yami. See you all soon.