A New Corporate Brand

Every once in awhile we need to mix things up a bit–although in this case it’s more of a cleaving in two. After a bit of thinking about it I’m shifting most of my corporate, association, and client-direct work over to a new brand, Lux Umbra*.

Same company, same cameras, same goofy face. But, with an interface geared more towards communications and marketing professionals for Fortune 500 companies, law firms, associations, and non-profits. It will have a focus on “real people doing real things” and will also include a bit of video capture.

As you can imagine, there will naturally be some overlap. My approach to photographing someone building a campfire isn’t that different than documenting someone working on their computer so it stands to reason that some images might work well in both spaces.

Matthew Rakola Photography, which has always been registered as Lux Umbra, LLC, will become more focused on advertising, editorial and personal work. In the coming months you’ll find new work, but a more unified overall aesthetic.

Whether you find me here or there, you’ll still find a commitment to great imagery, attentiveness, and leaving the location cleaner than when I found it.

As always, hit me up with any questions or comments.

Matthew

* “Lux Umbra” is Latin for “Light Shadow”. These two elements are the basis for all of the visual arts.

Adventure School

Last weekend the family headed down to Mountain Shepherd Adventure School in Catawba, VA. Adjacent to Jefferson National Forest and the Appalachian Trail, Mountain Shepherd sits on 100 beautiful acres of mountainous forest. Here, owner Dina Bennet teaches students of all ages about everything from basic hiker safety to wilderness survival. Interwoven into the shelter building, fire starting, bug eating (!), water gathering, signaling and more is the most important lesson of all–both in the woods and back in civilization–maintaining a positive mental attitude. Keeping yourself alive starts with keeping your head.

Oh, and the cute pups, comfy lodge and s’mores didn’t hurt either!

Water Rescue

This past weekend I headed up to Dutch Springs in Bethlehem, PA to completed my open water SCUBA diving certification. This has been on my bucket list since I was ten years old and I’m very happy to be part of the underwater club.

After my last dive I hung out a bit, floating around topside (trying to keep my camera out of the water) and captured some images of the rescue class that was underway. It’s a difficult, fun and ultimately rewarding class that I hope to take in the next year or so. Huge thanks to One Ocean Scuba in Silver Spring, Maryland for teaching me the ropes and keeping us all safe. If you live in Maryland and you’re interested in learning to scuba dive, or if you’re just looking for a great local dive shop, you should definitely check them out.

The Learn Project, 10 Years On...

I looked at my calendar the other day and realized it had been 10 years (!) since I began The Learn Project, a personal series that followed adults learn how to do unusual things.

When I moved to D.C. in 2010, I realized I needed to shake-up my portfolio. I had been working squarely in the corporate and PR space, but I wanted to something a bit more… adventurous. People recommended that I start to make pictures about my passions and hobbies.

That’s when it hit me. I. Had. No. Hobbies. (sigh.)

A few days later, I was sitting in traffic on the corner of Connecticut Ave and K Street when I saw a crane raising a load of i-beams up to a building. I remember thinking, “how in the hell did they learn to do that???!?” And just like that, The Learn Project was born. (The answer, by the way, is the aptly named, “The Crane School.”)

I’ve always considered myself a “101” kid–you know, those survey courses in college that are largely the domain of those who haven’t declared a major yet. Truth be told, I like knowing a little bit about everything, so immersing myself in a project that was as wide as an ocean and as deep as a kiddie pool seemed just about right. It was really a celebration of experiential education, and those teachers, professional and otherwise, who share their knowledge with others. Growing up on a college campus, the son of two college professors, it seemed like I had come full circle in a way.

The outline of the project, which I developed over the course of several beers at the late, great, Science Club , was simple:

  • The subjects all needed to be adults

  • The learning had to occur in person but not at a desk

  • It had to be unusual.

I’ve always said that the best thing about traveling is that wherever you go, you can see different horizons. Once you’ve been somewhere different, the logical conclusion is that there must be somewhere else out there, just beyond the ridge Being somewhere makes it very evident that there’s always somewhere new. Similarly, once I began shooting TLP, it added a whole new dimension to which I would look at everything. Life shifted from just being “hey, look at that sword swallower!” to, “Holy shit, how did she learn to do that without slicing off her own head?!?!?”

Getting past the what and noodling around in the how, inevitably leads to the why, makes life much more rich. This is, I realized, led me to really understand why I wanted to be a photographer in the first place. The ability to put myself into someone else’s boots for a moment and to see the world from that perspective, and then step out of those shoes a better person, in addictive.

For various reasons I quietly put the project to bed after a few years. I’m revisiting the concept from a slightly different angle, which I’ll be sharing soon. In the meantime, here’s a celebration of unusual education, and especially the humans–teachers–who spread knowledge, arcane and otherwise–to the rest of us. These are the beekeepers, the survivalists, the makers, the doers. Those that perform in the literal spotlight and those who work quietly in the odd hours of the night. Some learn for learning sake, others for well-being, and others to make ends meet. Each student has their own reasons and philosophies, and I’ve enjoyed meeting every one.



Documenting Public Art Installations

Sometimes art is a physical endeavor. While a google search for “art” reveals an overwhelming bias towards two dimensional art, we all instinctively know that that the art world encompasses so much more–it is not just a labor of love but often a labor of the hands.

Public art is just starting to get recognized in its own right. I’m not talking about Banksy, but ways that communities and neighborhoods can really demonstrate their own unique personalities and make statements about who they are and the values they hold. Last week I had the pleasure of documenting the installation of two pieces of public art in Wheaton, Maryland as part of Picture Wheaton project. Rather than just share the finished product, I wanted to acknowledge and celebrate the physical work that is required to make these pieces a reality.

On a Monday I made some images of the installation of the final two 7’ mosaic medallions on the former Wheaton clock tower. This wraps a four year project by local non-profit Arts on the Block, which saw the creation and installation of 44 smaller medallions, as well as the four large medallions on the historic Wheaton landmark. The second installation began promptly at 4 am on Thursday. I assume it was prompt, because I arrived at 4:25 and the damn thing was already in place. I slept in (3:55 am) and missed the money shot. Beginning a shoot in darkness and watching the sky very gradually brighten as a fog rolls in is the kind of situation I’ve missed documenting since COVID came to town. Just being up, focused and present, as something unfolds is addictive. Big congratulations to artists Adrienne Mounin, Eric R. Ricks, and Nori Sato, as well as the Metal Arts Foundry in Lehi, Utah and thanks to the Arts and Humanities Council of Montgomery County for supporting the arts.

A community lives with its public art. And, just like living partners, they make impressions on each other over the course of time–wearing, inspiring, smoothing, informing–all while evolving and growing together. I am excited to document these pieces of art together with the community they live in.