With all of the ills that have befallen the world this year, it is more important than ever to remember the simple joys of getting outdoors and discovering. From the coast of Maine to the Washington Monument, with some model rockets, creek wading, and a BLM demonstration thrown in, here are the (my) boys of summer.
[Click each image for details.]
One of the best things about being a photographer is you have an excuse to talk to anyone. You see someone or something that piques your interest, you piece together a skeleton of a plan, and you talk your way through the door.
Last week we were visiting my family in Maine and on the way to the back from Schoodic Point (post coming soon!) we happened upon a glorious sight–a 15’ tall wooden lobster presiding over the entrance to the ‘Chainsaw Sawyer Artist Live Show’ on Route 1 in Hancock. (that’s downeast, ayuh!) )
‘Well,’ I thought, rubbernecking, ‘That’s someplace I need to be.’
My wife did a quick google search from the passenger seat and soon enough I was on the phone with 77 years young Ray Murphy. Ray is an elder of the chainsaw arts, having founded the discipline in 1952. A former lumberjack and saw mill worker, (the latter claiming two fingers on his right hand) Ray has been creating sculptures from blocks of wood for almost 7 decades. A sawyer is different than a carver, he explains. He uses only a chainsaw from start to finish, including the detail work, never resorting to a knife or sandpaper. He takes pride in the purity of his art and has been featured several times in the Ripley’s Believe it or Not franchise for, among other things, carving the alphabet on a pencil. He’s even the subject of a question in the Ripley’s trivia game. (Hint: the answer is “c: chainsaw”.)
We met on a Thursday afternoon and after a long meandering conversation that guided us from ranching lands in Wyoming to the coast of Maine, with stops in Alaska, Wisconsin, South Africa and Central America, we eventually got to work. Well, he got to work. I just got to making pictures. Today’s subject, which materialized quickly from a block of white pine, was a squirrel. (Which is surprisingly his biggest seller.)
Ray has lost a step or two since a 2016 heart attack finally broke his body. He decided to close the live show in 2019 but is still at it, usually six days a week. His mind is sharp and he still has a fierceness in his eyes that make you take notice. It doesn’t suggest a mean streak, but rather a ferocity with which he attacks life and art.
With Ray, what you see is what you get. Here’s what I saw, pun intended.
Portrait of Ray Murphy , "The Chainsaw Sawyer Artist" and "The Founder of Chainsaw Art" at his shop in Hancock, Maine. Image © Matthew Rakola
Portrait of Ray Murphy , "The Chainsaw Sawyer Artist" and "The Founder of Chainsaw Art" at his shop in Hancock, Maine. Image © Matthew Rakola
Portrait of Ray Murphy , "The Chainsaw Sawyer Artist" and "The Founder of Chainsaw Art" at his shop in Hancock, Maine. Image © Matthew Rakola
Portrait of Ray Murphy , "The Chainsaw Sawyer Artist" and "The Founder of Chainsaw Art" at his shop in Hancock, Maine. Image © Matthew Rakola
Portrait of Ray Murphy , "The Chainsaw Sawyer Artist" and "The Founder of Chainsaw Art" at his shop in Hancock, Maine. Image © Matthew Rakola
Portrait of Ray Murphy , "The Chainsaw Sawyer Artist" and "The Founder of Chainsaw Art" at his shop in Hancock, Maine. Image © Matthew Rakola
Portrait of Ray Murphy , "The Chainsaw Sawyer Artist" and "The Founder of Chainsaw Art" at his shop in Hancock, Maine. Image © Matthew Rakola
Portrait of Ray Murphy , "The Chainsaw Sawyer Artist" and "The Founder of Chainsaw Art" at his shop in Hancock, Maine. Image © Matthew Rakola
Portrait of Ray Murphy , "The Chainsaw Sawyer Artist" and "The Founder of Chainsaw Art" at his shop in Hancock, Maine. Image © Matthew Rakola
Portrait of Ray Murphy , "The Chainsaw Sawyer Artist" and "The Founder of Chainsaw Art" at his shop in Hancock, Maine. Image © Matthew Rakola
Portrait of Ray Murphy , "The Chainsaw Sawyer Artist" and "The Founder of Chainsaw Art" at his shop in Hancock, Maine. Image © Matthew Rakola
One of the things that I’ve been keeping busy lately is going back to the basics– photographing everything. It’s been really freeing to do a bunch of mini projects with only myself as a client. (Don’t get me wrong– I think you make a much better client!– just saying.)
I’ve always been a fan of the humble goldfish. They’re often poo-poo’d amongst the aquariumly-inclined (let’s face it, they’re slobs) but I think they’re beautiful and they’re always happy to see me. Here is Becky (with more gold) and Swimmy (more white.)
I’ve been trying to stay away from the “C” word lately. It’s burnout I guess. It’s not that I’m in denial, but I’ve been spending the last few months focusing on making myself a better photographer: learning new skills, re-working some edits and selections, and generally thinking forward.
I was reminded this past weekend that this… thing… is having many different effects on people, physically and emotionally, and that we’re just beginning to wrap our heads around. Our oldest, who feels all the big feels, showed us a few drawings he did in his sketchbook that illustrate what the COVID monster looks like to him in his nightmares. His COVID monster is made of paper. In his nightmare he watches all of the COVID-related warnings, placards, signs, etc. physically come together to form a horrible creature that laughs at him and get inside of him.
I can’t begin to express how proud I am of him for being able to express these fears on paper, and also for feeling comfortable enough to show us and start the conversation. I debated asking him if I could make a portrait of him with his drawing and then showing it to the world. It’s almost too personal, and the attention makes him uncomfortable. In the end I did ask and for once he readily agreed. He wants to talk about it. He needs to get these feelings out. His mom and I talked to him about how it’s good for kids to be able to make pictures to show and take control of worries and other feelings. Later, as we were making these photos, he told me, “maybe other kids can draw monsters too.”
The Covid Monster
So that’s it. That’s the post. If you have kids, pay attention to their art. Talk to them about it. Ask questions. Let them drive the conversation.
This is the inside of the COVID monster. The square in the center is COVID’s brain. He’s using some of the same language that he’s learned from some coding apps he’s playing with. You can see “Botley”, his little robot on camera right.
In the fall of 2019 my friend, Louise Salas (aka “THE Louise Salas”) approached me about joining her start-up. The hustle, Missing Link, is a podcast media company that leverages the 50+ years of advertising and production experience that she and co-founder, Hal Schild, bring to the table. (This is truly amazing because Louise is like, maybe 22 years old.)
I’ve been doing quite a bit of shooting for one of the shows, the Designated Drinker Show, a podcast that Lou co-hosts with local DC bartending legend, Gina Chersevani. (Aka “THAT Gina Chersevani”.) I never been much of a day drinker and am more lager than liquor***, but when the first cocktail is shaken at 10 am and the lights are set, duty calls.
Most of these images made at Gina’s bar, The Last Call, in Washington, D.C. Because of the packed shooting days, I usually have less than 10 minutes with the talent, be it liquid or human. Luckily, being tasked to photograph beautiful drinks and drinkers make the job easy and enjoyable.
Check out the podcast and I promise you’ll never want to settle for a rum and Coke again.
*** (this is a total lie–I’m an IPA guy–but I love me a little alliteration.)
