What is art?

This is truly a horrible question... Because there is no right answer. When I see this photograph, I see an artist at work, but just because that's what I perceive this as that doesn't mean I'm right.
This photograph is one I took a few years ago of my good friend Kevin Mileski (owner and board builder of Black Pearl Creations.) Kevin is undoubtedly an artist. His artform may be a little more technically complicated than say... a painting. Not in the sense that a painting is easy to output, but in the sense that if one of Kevin's boards is a little off it won't be worth riding. Anyways... Kevin makes great boards ans everyone should visit www.blackpearlcreations.com

But really, what is art? At times, I consider myself to be an artist, but at others, not really. Sometimes I just can't find any creativity of inspiration (maybe what I'm trying to say is motivation.) I almost wish sometimes that I could live like a Jackson Pollock, Van Gogh, or Salvador Dahli, but why? Why is it instilled in me to want to be like someone else? This person may have created highly impactful art, but what about their personal life. Why do I look past the bad and only see the good, the fame, and the impact? I don't know.

Back to Kevin (Mileski). I remember the day that I took this photograph. It was certainly no special day. A pretty normal one to be exact. I just called Kevin up an asked if I could come and shoot a bit (he has never said no.) Once in the studio, Kevin is sort of in his own world filled with shiny planers and flying foam, but at the same time he finds it in him to explain what he's doing and I can not remember any instance of him being annoyed at the stupid questions that I continuously generated. He would simply answer and continue to casually transform the block of foam into a work of art ready to tame the oceans. Once we were done (him shaping and me shooting) we would slowly walk down the steps to where Kevin would end up sitting on a little box/rail (for skating) and for some reason I always ended up sitting in the same Florida Gators chair while we would talk about life and empty a few cans of High Life.

2.10.9

This photo was shot on agfa xp2 (c41 bw film) and scanned into my google machine.

Charlie Brown. Since the first time I saw this man playing his heart out a few years ago on Hypolita Street (St. Augustine, FL) he has become someone that I always make it a point to pass by when the opportunity arises. He has just got this awesome feeling about him. Kind of like when you hear someone's story just by the sound of their voice. I don't mean that in the sense that when someone who's a little older has a dry and scratchy voice they probably have known the marlboro man for quite some time, but moreso I say this thinking about the times that I have sat down by just some stranger at a bar, on an airplane, or at some other place in time that has yet to come. Often times these people are the ones that when you see them your subconscience tells you that they are not someone you want to be "stuck" next to. I can honestly say that some of the best conversations of my lifetime (a mere 23 years deep) have occured in some of these instances where I reluctantly took a chance on an empty seat.
Now back to Charlie Brown. I don't know much about him, other than his name and that he doesn't have the most beautiful hand writing (I feel you Charlie). However, I can tell you that I have never seen him in a mood that was not welcoming to the hords of tourists on their way to Scarlett's, the Fort, or the nearest public restroom. In my mind I think that if people continuously walked by without acknowledging my existence while I belted out mowtown hits from deep in my lungs, it would be a little tough to stay upbeat. Charlie still keeps the ball rolling, and for this I thank him.

By the way... when I took this picture (and several others) he gladly smiled and tipped his hat.

2.9.9 - 2

This photo was shot on agfa xp2 (c41 bw film) with intentions of providing a display of the "Everyday Life." This guy is one of the many folks that performs daily on the streets of St. Augustine, FL. I have sat listening to this guy usually trying to stay out of sight because I'm cheap and tell myself that street performers just buy booze and drugs with money that they earn. This may be the case for this guy too, but how should I know that. There are plenty of people that live in was different from myself (simply.) That in no way deserve to have me look down upon then in such a way that I use to justify in my mind to treat them in a particular way. I love this image because the musician is obviously playing with more intention than to just make a buck. He is blowing that harp (harmonica a.k.a. mouth harp) as if he's trying to pick a fight with anyone not excited about the blues. I only found it fitting to listen to Mississippi John Hurt while picking my brain about this mysterious harmonica man. Even though Hurt isn't known for the harp, he embodies all that is the blues.

I have never been homeless and hopefully never will be, but is this all that bad a thing? I have been taught my whole life to look at "hobos" as if they want to hurt me, scare me or steal from me. Who am I to assume that just because someone calls the road, woods, or a park bench and a backpack home that they cannot be trusted. I don't even know if the guy in this photograph is homeless, but the fact that he is performing on the street is (apparently) enough to cause me to drop him into this category. Well, I'm done now.
-nate

2.9.9

Simply- without ambiguity: without embellishment.(miriam-webster)

This is a funny word. In me, it strikes up all sorts of feelings of guilt, obligation and responsibility. I have lived most of my life not simply, but the only difference now is that I think I am trying to. I mean... I recycle, ride a bike when I can and, oh yeah, totally go against all of that stuff on a regular basis simply out of neglect. So if I live simply on a daily basis and then turn around and simply contradict myself that negates the previous things that i have done simply.
-fin

Now that I have rattled off a meaningless blurb using the word simply way too much I can try to jump into what will be more of just a random collection of my photos and words that I will try to assimilate around the imagery in an effort to feel cool. Please let me know what you think. If I'm not that good, tell me. If I'm any good, tell someone else.