Showing posts with label photos. Show all posts
Showing posts with label photos. Show all posts

Friday, August 19, 2022

A good photo is truth


Utes crossing a stream near Los Pinos Indian Agency (present day Pagosa Springs).
HS. Poley photo.


“Be remembered for things that matter.” 
_  Frank Sonnenberg, The Path to a Meaningful Life

"Everyone has a photographic memory, some don't have film." _
_ Stephen Wright

My heroes have been cowboys and photographers



Farmington to Shiprock stage. HS. Poley photo.

By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

For years now, I have marveled at early Colorado photographers and their life's work. Working sometimes as a "machine gunner" myself — shooting thousands of images of film, and then, SD cards full of frames for various newspaper gigs, I am surprised by their proficiency with glass plates, and mule packs. And can't get over how they knew a shot was going to live forever. Two amazing figures, from more than a 100 years ago in Colorado photography stand out. Horace Swartley Poley, and William Henry Jackson. Needless to say, they are my heroes. Still today, their images have relevance and reverence for the ages.


Horace Swartley Poley

Horace Swartley Poley, a Colorado Springs photographer, created a major collection of photographic images of Native Americans in the southwestern United States. During summer vacations Poley served as photographer with archaeological expeditions in Arizona, New Mexico, Utah, and southwest Colorado. He recorded landscapes, cityscapes, and events in the Pikes Peak region of Colorado. Poley was noted for his travelogue lectures employing his images in "magic lantern" shows, according to Denver Public Library

Two catastrophic fires in late April of 1896 nearly wiped out the fast-growing Colorado gold camp city of Cripple Creek — near the height of its ascendance. Reporting on event, and its consequences, took up much of next decade in the local, national, and literary and historical analysis.

In one of the more fascinating studies of before and after the fires, local photographer Horace Swartley Poley documented what the town had been and how it struggled to regain its position in the scheme of things. 

Bull fight in Gillett. HS. Poley photo.

He previously documented other events in the Gold Camp such as his famous and exhaustive set of photos of the bull fights in Gillett in 1895. He completed fabulous work in his decades of documenting Southwestern archeology and Native American culture. His train and railroad photography rivals giants of the period, such as William Henry Jackson, Robert Richardson, and Otto Perry.

Poley, of course was famous for his work in the Pikes Peak region and throughout the West.
"Horace Swartley Poley created a major collection of photographic images of Native Americans in the southwestern United States. Born in Norristown, Pennsylvania in 1864, Poley moved to Colorado in the 1880s and was a resident of Colorado Springs for sixty-two years. Poley started a commercial photo studio in 1892 and remained an active photographer until 1935. 

In addition to his photographic work, Poley served as head of the U.S. Postal registry department in Colorado Springs. During summer vacations, Poley served as photographer with archaeological expeditions in Arizona, New Mexico, Utah, and southwest Colorado. He recorded landscapes, cityscapes, and events in the Pikes Peak region of Colorado.

According to the Pioneer's Museum in Colorado Springs, "Horace Swartley Poley (August 1863 Norristown, PA – June 7, 1949 Colorado Springs) was a professional photographer and traveling lecturer. 
He complemented his lectures by projecting his photographs onto a screen by "magic lantern"—an early form of photo projector. He donated many of his photographs of native Americans, archaeological sites in Utah, New Mexico and Arizona, and life in the developing southwest to the Pioneer Museum in Colorado Springs.

As some of you know, or have guessed, I have great love for old photos. And in cases, I feel like I have come to know a few of these old shutterbugs from a hundred years ago, or at least their style and work. It is a fascinating bit of time travel for me. I have, of course, seen Poley's stuff before.
 
His train and railroad photography rivals giants of the period, such as William Henry Jackson, Robert Richardson, and Otto Perry. 

But who is this character?

I can only give you what I know today. Perhaps, as is the way with digging in the history pile, I will know more tomorrow. 

"Poley moved to Colorado in the 1880s and was a resident of Colorado Springs for sixty-two years. Poley started a commercial photo studio in 1892 and remained an active photographer until 1935. In addition to his photographic work, Poley served as head of the U.S. Postal registry department in Colorado Springs. Colorado Restless Native reached the important milestone of three quarters of a million page views.During summer vacations,

The Denver Public Library obtained the Poley collection in 1937.
But how about a photo of the photographer? What was he like? And his family? Let's try to personalize this.



Well, I got lucky and found the above photo with the following information.
 
Studio bust portrait of the Poley family. Margret Ferguson Poley has short bangs and wears a pince nez, a blouse and jacket with puffed sleeves and ruffled lace collar with a flower or heart charm. Frank Ferguson Poley has short hair and wears a shirt with probably a wide starched collar, Horace Swartley Poley has a mustache and wears a bow tie and jacket over a shirt with a straight, starched collar. Elizabeth Poley Schrader has short bangs and wears a dress with puffed sleeves and wide laced collar.
Margret Ferguson Poley, Frank Ferguson Poley, Horace Swartley Poley, Eliszabeth Schader and "about 1893" inked on verso. 

I feel like I know the fellow a little better, even though it has been more than 100 years.
Horace Swartley Poley (August 1863 Norristown, PA – June 7, 1949 Colorado Springs) was a professional photographer and traveling lecturer. He complemented his lectures by projecting his photographs onto a screen by "magic lantern"—an early form of photo projector. 

He donated many of his photographs of native Americans, archaeological sites in Utah, New Mexico and Arizona, and life in the developing southwest to the Pioneer Museum in Colorado Springs. He also donated many native American artefacts to the Pioneer Museum, according Gary Alan Sinton. in reference to "Find a Grave." 


Poley's family residence in Colorado Springs.

• Wife - Margaret Ferguson
• children
 _  Elizabeth
  _ Francis
• Buried: June 10, 1949, Source: City of Colo Springs cemetery data March, 20, 2009

Sunday, September 7, 2014

Take a picture, it lasts longer


Special power is just another way of looking at the world


By Rob Carrigan, robcarrigan1@gmail.com

The thing is, I have a photographic memory.
That is not exactly what you think, however.
I remember things as images, and quotes, and snap shots of time.
Sometimes that memory is accurate. Other times, not so much.
Depends on which lens I see things through. What chemistry I use to process. Focus, and lighting, camera and enlarger, paper and vacuum board, resolution and file storage, pixel depth and display material, image software, exposure time, and color saturation. And about a million other variables.
For as long as I can remember, I have looked at the world that way.
My first trip to an emergency room was the result of sticking my thumb through a blown Speed Graphic flash bulb. I have photographed probably everything from space shuttles and U.S. presidents, to pets of the week and my own thumb.
I love the old photographs and the new ones. Positive and negative. Color and black and white. Big cameras and small.
I think the smallest camera I have ever operated was one of those microscopic surgical jobs they sometimes check your heart valves with, and the largest — was a process camera for shooting newspaper page negs and had a room of its own, and was on rails.
Cameras are my best friends.
Yes, I have favorites. But they might not be what you think.
An old two and quarter, two and quarter, Dualflex III Kodak with a Kodet lens, (amazing depth of field), the range of Speed Graphics, a Nikon FG 35 mm I bought in J-school, a Kodak Easy Share 195 14 megapixel with 5 x Aspheric lens ($60), Canon EOS 60 D (I shoot most stuff with now) and the first camera I probably ever snapped, a Spartucus "35 F" 400.
Some of my best friends and heroes are behind cameras.
Hector, Pleasants, Oguz Nayman, Jimmy, Perry
Ansel, Jackson, Yousuf, Capa, Dorthea, Ulesman, Gyula, Liebovitz, Duffy, Cartier-Bresson, Maisel, Poley, Chione.
My enemies take photos, and try to capture my soul.
Eidetic memory is the ability to recall images in great detail for several minutes. It is found in early childhood (between 2% and 10% of that age group) and is unconnected with the person's intelligence level. The ability usually begins to fade after the age of six years, perhaps as growing verbal skills alter the memory process.
Perhaps I have never progressed beyond that six years, but some of my most vivid images are nearly 50 years old now.
"It is difficult to disentangle memory abilities that appear early from those cultivated through interest and training. Most people who have exhibited truly extraordinary memories in some domain have seemed to possess them all their lives and honed them further through practice," says Barry Gordon, a professor of neurology and cognitive science at the Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine, in a recent Scientific American article.
Regardless, I need to keep up my image.
“I am not an angel,' I asserted; 'and I will not be one till I die: I will be myself. Mr. Rochester, you must neither expect nor exact anything celestial of me - for you will not get it, any more than I shall get it of you: which I do not at all anticipate,” wrote Charlotte Bronte in "Jane Eyre."
My memories are photographic, but that is not exactly what you think.









Sunday, November 18, 2012

Through a skylight filter






I smell the sun on the edge of morning.
Lines, then arcs, then almost a circle.
Where does it begin, and when does it end?
Every day, another one, almost m’racle.

Horizon line, then an arc, a bright ball.
Edge is sharp, days are hard, nights are murder.
Debate with you, argue then, I’m right, you know?
Think I give a flock, I am no sheepherder.

Infinity sign, twisted loop, never ends.
Light and dark, shades of grey, pixal tight.
Focus sharp, dogs don’t bark, set the stop.
Roads are lines, house with arcs, in water angles right.

Fog and sun, steam and ice, greens gone brown.
A beaver here, raccoon there, buck, bull, doe, and angel.
Saw her there, in the mist, floating above the water.
Friend who left, tells me stuff, sky is full of danger.

Need some art, design the front, illustrate a story
Designer tones and picks, sometimes with different vision
Cops call in, fire breaks out, rush to file an image
Grip and grin, check pass, mug, shoot them without derision

Day moves on, through high sun, moves in arc
Noon to dusk, search for clouds, red in bounce
Where does it begin, and when does it end?
Afraid of the dark, if that kind of fear counts?

Every day, another one, string together, one by one
Move along, nothing to see here, give us some room
Smell the sun, edge of night, angel’s lens paints the ball.
Almost a circle, arcs then lines, crop tight, then zoom.