Argentina, and Travel Photography Versus Home
I’m sitting on a sleepless 11-hour flight back from Argentina in the middle of the night. Clearly the most fun 10 days I’ve had, especially when considering sharing it with my son, but also one of the most exhausting stretches of my life.
We spent 4 days touring Patagonia with a bus of 14 family members from 4 generations, and the rest in Buenos Aires, culminating in an 8-hour bat mitzvah with basically a full circus of performers. The well-off live good lives here.
It was basically what you’d expect, stunningly beautiful, urban planning in some neighborhoods that I saw that blew NY out of the water, steak every night, Malbec, late dinners, keeping Avery up at family events till 1:30 in the morning, stacks of inflated cash that we got as good rates from uncle Carlos, the peso going down in value 7% in the week that we were there and seeing the harm it was causing as fancy meals basically cost $25 a person.
Patagonia.
The plan is to make a family book of the trip for the family and Avery and his one year old cousin Niko to look at when they get older, written in their perspective.
But, I’ll be honest, I always internally cringe when people tell me to take amazing photos when traveling, or how excited I must be to photograph. And the cringing is not on purpose, I love the sentiment, but that feeling is just not for me, at this point in my life.
Friedlander Inspired.
Some get so inspired by photography when they travel and spend time in a place, but I can’t do work that I enjoy on an artistic level when I’m not home, at least when considering the brainpower and opportunity that I have now.
Home is where I get lost in my mind and can think creatively. Probably if I was able to travel solo and spend a lot of time getting to know a place, I’d feel completely different. But I often have to remind myself to take photos when traveling because I’m trying to stay in the moment, to use my memory instead of the camera and to slow the week down, if that makes sense.
A few times, Sara asked me to take out the camera to take a photo, and while most of the time I say yes, occasionally I would ask her to do it because I wanted to experience the place without a camera.
Similarly at home, I use photography to stay in the moment and slow life down. On one hand, they’re opposites, but philosophically, it’s the same idea.
But anyway, in the process of the survey challenge and thinking about my photography as I recover from the last few months and get excited about being home, I want us to think about the salon as not just a place to talk about photographs, instead it’s a place to talk about places, feelings, and ideas. And to use photographs to illustrate these thoughts.
And, with the exception of a few Friedlander inspired tree photographs, even though these photos seem pretty, and they are interesting and meaningful for my family, they’re the opposite of the photography that I try to do here.
Photography, in the sense that I’m describing, is something that I do for clarity of mind, and to focus attention. And I just didn’t have the time or mental space to be able to create photographs in this environment that live up to that feeling.
I’m still sharing them in this piece because they’re beautiful and fun to share with the story, and a big part of why photography is wonderful.
Or I guess in the spirit of what I just mentioned, talking about ideas instead of photographs, perhaps the heart of the story of the trip was the family – A Jewish family that was split up during the war, half getting into NYC and half into Buenos Aires, and losing touch for 30 years until one Argentinean family member traveled to NY and contacted every Abe Lerner in the phone book.
And the Irish/Italian mutt (me) with two psychiatrist parents, one bipolar and one on the spectrum of something, whose religion and culture and larger family (in later years) had dwindled. And so he subconsciously searched for someone with a strong family culture. And on the upper west side of NY, that was the Jewish culture.
My first girlfriend married a rabbi, if that tells you a bit about me.
And now both families are great friends. My wife lived in Argentina for over a month one trip and we hope to host their kids for similar amounts of time in the future.
And yes, it’s family, it’s blood, it’s making up for the horrors of the war and giving a big fucking middle finger to all the atrocities with fun and dancing and singing and love, with excessiveness in the face of difficulty. And her family down there is wonderful, they made me feel like I had known them forever. But family in this case is also a key for experiences.
And hopefully, it can be similar here. As we create this family of dysfunctional photographers, this unique culture here, we get to share our experiences and insights with each other. And that’s the spice of things.
It’s not really about photography. It’s about culture and ideas, and maybe we can even think about it in the context of this challenge, surveying our lives and where we come from, or where we ended up.
“This goddamn tree, man. It’s a real eye-sore, a monstrosity of mundanity. It’s like staring into the abyss of banality and realizing that nothingness is staring right back at you. But, somehow, that’s what makes it so goddamn fascinating, so damn powerful. It’s like a symbol of the everyday drudgery we all have to endure, a reminder that life is full of inescapable boredom and routine. And yet, there’s a strange beauty to it, a haunting quality that grips you like a vice and won’t let go. You can’t help but feel drawn into the abyss, seduced by the sheer banality of it all. It’s like staring into the void and finding a kind of solace in the emptiness, a strange kind of comfort in the absence of meaning. This tree, man. It’s a real mind-fuck.”
Now not to beat a dead horse, in the future I’ll just use this to help stimulate ideas in my own writing, but I tried inputting this article above and asked ChatGPT, this question (because it has apparently read lots of my writing in its training, it can write like me).
It sort of reiterated a lot of what I already wrote above, but it helps clarify the ideas well and I think is well worth reading. There are some points here that if I wasn’t still fully back in the swing of things, I would have taken some more time to clarify in the piece.
Can you think of anything to add that might improve this article, in the style of James Maher the photographer?
“In this article, it would be interesting to explore how the process of creating a family book can bring people together, both in the present and in the future. The act of collecting and curating images and memories from a shared experience can help to create and strengthen bonds between family members. By involving Avery and Niko in the process, they will have the opportunity to learn about their family history and develop an appreciation for their heritage.
Moreover, the article could also emphasize the importance of balancing the desire to document life’s moments with the need to stay present and engaged. For instance, James Maher could share some tips on how to approach photography mindfully, without losing the essence of the moment. Encouraging others to adopt a similar approach may allow readers to develop a deeper connection with their surroundings and the people they travel with.
Additionally, it would be interesting to dive deeper into the concept of the “salon” as a space for discussion and connection, not just about photographs, but about life experiences and shared interests. This idea can be expanded upon by providing examples of conversation topics, activities, or even prompts that can help facilitate meaningful discussions within this space. By fostering a sense of community among the “family of dysfunctional photographers,” the salon can become a platform for personal growth, inspiration, and connection.
Lastly, incorporating the unique stories and perspectives of the different family members in the article can add depth and richness to the narrative. By highlighting their individual journeys and the ways in which they contribute to the family’s collective story, the article can help readers gain a better understanding of the power of photography in preserving memories and connecting generations.
Overall, by adding these elements, the article can provide a more comprehensive and engaging exploration of the relationship between photography, family, and the art of staying present.”