#elias carlson
LA River
2014
It’s 4:30am. My insulated travel french press is sitting sullenly on the counter. It’s been there all night, steely throat agape, hungrily awaiting its morning meal of coffee grounds and scalding water. If the little fucker had fingers I’m sure they’d be tapping impatiently.
“Flyfishing.” The word typically conjures images of freestone rivers, pristine landscapes, and trout flashing like living jewels in a crystal current.
“Los Angeles.” The name is reminiscent of palm trees, botoxed celebrities, and urban sprawl pocking the landscape beneath the seasonless glare of a perpetual sun. It may be the last place that comes to mind when someone says “flyfishing.”
But here I am in Los Angeles at 4:47am, travel french press nestled contently in my cup holder, rolling North on the 710 towards Pasadena to flyfish the LA River with my brother.
By 6am we’re on the river. We will find no trout here. Once upon a time, before the concrete shackles that now bind its banks were installed in the name of flood control, this river held a run of wild steelhead. But they haven’t been seen in these parts since the 1940s. No, we’re on the hunt for the carp that thrive in the warm, dirty water that runs the 50-mile gauntlet of concrete and freeway overpasses, down to the Pacific Ocean.
Despite the knowledge of this unfortunate history, I find myself surprised by the strange beauty of the river. The soft hues of an LA sunrise cast scraps of foliage struggling through cracked concrete in a charming light. In certain sections, where the river bottom is intact, where the reeds and willows grow thickest, there still lingers a hint of what once was; the last remnants of that river magic all fishermen know. It still clings to the crevices and hollows of this river. You’ll catch its shimmer out of the corner of your eye.
My brother and I didn’t catch any fish this day. Our plan was to fish here regularly, until we cracked the code on the carp that scour the slimy river bottom. But life had other plans and I found myself moving to Idaho before we had a chance to return. Instead, I’m left with a memory of our lone encounter with this crippled river. And perhaps too, a sliver of hope. Maybe even a river as damaged and broken as this isn’t beyond hope. Maybe it just needs half a chance. That river magic lies dormant, but not dead. I’ve seen it. It is waiting for a chance to bloom once more.
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COLLECTIVE QUARTERLY WORKSHOP RECAP
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What a week…
First of all, I want to offer a sincere and heartfelt thank you to everyone who chipped in via GoFundMe. I couldn’t have made this trip without your support, and I am deeply grateful, and indeed deeply humbled by the outpouring of encouragement and support I received from my community. If you contributed, I will be contacting you in the coming weeks, as I’d like to send a small thank you to each of you.
I’d like to offer a brief recap here, for those of you who supported me, or for those of you that are simply interested in this journey I’m on with photography.
First, a bit of background. I’ve been in a bit of a rut photographically the last year or two. I haven’t felt as motivated to get out to shoot for myself, and felt like I’d plateaued a bit. Even as I was producing work that I was proud of, my drive and passion seemed a little gummed up. No doubt, some of this had to do with the big life changes that were happening during this time period. Many of you know that Theresa and I moved back to her hometown of Priest River, ID from Long Beach, CA after only 11 months rather abruptly due to her father’s battle with melanoma. It was a move we were more than happy to make, and the 6 months we got with him before his passing were a gift I wouldn’t trade for anything. However, on the heels of that loss, we launched into the process of buying her parent’s house as her mother built a smaller house up the road. The excitement, extra work, and added pressure that came with all of that loss and change certainly played a part in my creative malaise, and I hoped that at some point we’d settle back into a more normal pace of life, and that I’d be able to recapture some of my enthusiasm for photography.
But I also felt like I’d hit a bit of a wall, and was unsure of what steps to take to continue pursuing photography in a meaningful way. I’ve never been all that interested in the commercial side of the business. On the professional side, photography is way for me to meet interesting people, visit interesting places, and experience things I may not be able to otherwise. I’m most interested in editorial work that tells stories that center around the human relationship with nature, particularly those involving a close relationship to the earth, animals, water, or conservation. Making money doing things like this is great, and something I’d like to do more of, but it’s never been the motivating factor for me. If I need a paycheck I have my design career, so photography for me has always been a pursuit of things I’m passionate about or interested in.
On the personal side, my hope is to use photography to share something deep, yet still undefined within me, to somehow give voice to my own relationship with the natural world, and the profound impact it has had on my life. I’m still very much in the process of defining exactly what that is and how to translate it photographically in a way that is truthful and meaningful, but it is something I’ve felt deeply within me for several years now, and which becomes a little clearer as I take each step down the path of self discovery.
Fast forward to my acceptance to the Collective Quarterly workshop. I did my best to enter this workshop with an open heart and mind, as free as possible from expectation. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my 34 years, it’s that while drive, ambition, and perseverance are important, you can’t force things. As with any endeavor in life, it’s rare that success happens overnight. More often, you take one small, seemingly insignificant step at a time, then one day you look up and realize you’ve climbed a mountain. With that in mind, my goals for the week were simple and broad: to leave with a tangible next step to take on my photographic journey, and hopefully some like-minded friends to share the journey with. Of course, it’s hard not to entertain visions of grandeur when an opportunity like this comes around, and I did allow myself the occasional daydream involving gushing praise and offers of unending work from dream clients like Patagonia and Collective Quarterly. I’ll go ahead and reassure you now that no such daydreams became reality :)
What I did receive was a good kick in the butt, in the best possible way. On one hand, I received quite a bit of positive feedback on my work. Almost every reviewer I sat with said that I had an excellent grasp of composition, was producing truly beautiful images, and had a clean, consistent style - which they assured me was an important thing to have, and a major struggle for many photographers. Several of them said that there is absolutely no reason I shouldn’t be able to continue finding work in the areas I’m interested in. To be completely honest, I’ve felt this way about my work for a while now, but to hear it from people who REALLY know their stuff served to solidify the confidence I’ve been building over the last few years. From the standpoint of someone hoping to do more work on the professional side, this was very encouraging.
On the other hand I was also challenged to push my personal work to new levels. I’ll admit, it can be a bit of a splash of cold water in the face to be told that your most personal and introspective work is effectively just a very pretty, impeccably composed family photo album, or that projects you feel are really strong, are good, but not great. But along with that criticism came some extremely helpful advice on how to think about and approach photography in new ways. I was most challenged to look outside myself; to more intentionally photograph the things I care about with a broader audience in mind. The challenge with personal photography of course, is that I have all the context, and personal history that makes a given image or series of images meaningful. But when those same images are viewed by someone without the same history and context, they are blind to the back story. I came away realizing that I need to think about ways to make highly personal works more accessible to people who may not otherwise care about the subject matter. This is an extremely valuable lesson that I look forward to wrestling with and applying to future work.
I also came away with a clear message on the importance of personal projects. One of the comments that I think resonated with everyone at the workshop was the idea that, “once you’re being paid to shoot something, it is no longer yours.” Paid work is all well and good, and we’d all like a little more of it. But it was a good reminder to hear that if you’re not pursuing personal projects that are pushing your boundaries, you likely aren’t going to be growing, or creating work that is truly meaningful, since paid work will always be defined by someone else to a certain extent. I think a bit of the creative malaise I’d been feeling was due to this exact dynamic.
All that, and I haven’t even touched on the other incredible photographers I met… There were 45 of us, and while I didn’t get to connect with everyone, there was an incredible ego-less dynamic that pervaded every interaction. Every single person I interacted with was kind and thoughtful, and there were a handful I really connected with, and who I know will be friends and co-collaborators for years to come. Perhaps my favorite part of the week was simply sitting with other photographers looking through each other’s portfolios, oohing and aahing over each other’s work. The diversity of styles, subject matter, and skill sets was truly inspiring. I hadn’t realized how starved I’ve been for photography peers. I’m self taught, so I never had a the high school or university photo-lab experience others have had. It was a surprise and delight to realize how much I enjoyed just hanging out and talking photography with other people who are as passionate about it as I am.
This is getting long, so I’ll end with a recap, I came away from this week with exactly what I hoped for, and more. I received praise, and confidence-building positive feedback. I received challenging constructive criticism that will help me grow and take my work to new heights. I received an incredible charge of creative energy that I feel will carry me for a long time. I received the friendship of some like-minded peers who will be a source of inspiration, encouragement, and feedback in the days to come. And most of all I feel well equipped to take the next steps as I continue to pursue the beautiful, frustrating, fickle muse that is photography.
So again, thank you, thank you, thank you for your support, and the opportunity to participate in such a formative experience.
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A fun thing Theresa and I have been working on for, well, several years, is getting close to finished (so it goes with personal projects)… Here’s the trailer version.
