In the summer of 2016 The Photographic Resource Center (PRC) entered a resident partnership with Lesley University in Cambridge. It has been a mutually beneficial venture and has allowed the PRC to continue its programming and exhibitions to encourage and support the photographic arts. In addition to our programming, we were excited to engage with the Graphic Design Department Lesley University to help in our effort to rebrand the PRC.

Last winter, we enlisted the help of Professor Charlie Conn who teaches graphic design, and he led a small class of four students to design a new logo for the PRC. The PRC partially funded the class and acted as a client for the students. A former PRC board member, James Mahoney, led a design committee which helped guide the students in finding solutions to meet the needs of the PRC’s rebranding efforts. We are pleased to have selected a design by Lesley University student Julia Kirwin.

Kirwin described her process as follows: “The PRC is a unique organization that differs from more conservative rivals by focusing on the cutting edge of photography. They needed a new logo that could communicate the unique energy of the PRC. My solution was a mark that is lively and breaks out of an established frame or mold. It conveys movement and excitement, and is adaptable for many situations with dynamic and reaching forms within the design. It can be used to showcase the myriad ways the PRC engages its members, curates or juries exhibits, and offers a wide variety of programming. It emphasizes the PRC’s artistic attributes and the talent that the organization shares with its community.” Materials for the rebranding will be produced by the class, and we intend to engage Kirwin for additional branding materials for the PRC in the near future.

Article written by Suzanne Revy

In judging the upcoming EXPOSURE submissions, I have no idea what to expect, so I’ll take the work on its own terms and look at it according to what I believe it’s trying to say.

Every person’s work is different, and there are often differences within each person’s body of work. Artists create their own world according to their own interests, fascinations, passions and curiosity. What I look for is an active imagination, curiosity and engagement with the world: “What is this artist doing with their chosen subject? What is their relationship to their subject and how are they communicating?”

Engaging with the world doesn’t necessarily mean like a documentary photographer going out and photographing faraway places. It can happen in one’s own kitchen or backyard or family. It’s really a level of curiosity in not accepting just what’s on the surface.

That’s kind of a paradox because photography deals with surfaces, and that’s what we have to work with to try to imply or point at things that are deeper or more complex. That’s something I love about photography: it deals with surface but at the same time, it’s about things that are beyond the surface.

What do I mean by beyond the surface? It depends on the artist’s interest. It could be emotional, psychological, political, aesthetic, formal, conceptual… As a writer and a teacher, I love it all. I love how ubiquitous photography is, because it’s created this amazing archive of the visual world since 1839, and it continues to do so.

Thinking Through Photographs

Generally I have a very broad embrace of photography, and I don’t have a lot of hierarchies; commercial work over here and fine art over there. I don’t think that one subject matter, format, color or black-and-white is superior to another.

Rather, the thing I look for is that someone is thinking through photographs. Their photographs are not just a reflection or a one-to-one representation of the world, but through their photographs, they’re clearly thinking about something. They’re exploring, they’re trying to find out something about the thing they’re photographing. It could be anything: still life, family relationships, landscape…

It’s relatively easy to make a good photograph now because of the technology that we have. Most people have probably made good-looking pictures whether they’re artists or not, so it’s not just about good-looking images. It’s also about how you are thinking about the world through your photography. Where is the evidence of that in your work?

Photography is Cumulative

I also think of photography as a cumulative art. If you look at one Van Gogh painting, for example, while you can’t to say that you know everything there is to know about Van Gogh, you can tell a lot from that one painting. But it’s hard to tell much from a single photograph.

If you look at one Diane Arbus or Cartier-Bresson photograph, for instance, you might think, “Oh that’s cool,” but you might not know what they’re up to. So it’s really that photographs have this cumulative effect from one to another and another and another. It’s through that cumulative effect that you see how the photographer is engaging the world, or their world. That’s what I look for.

In general, if somebody’s submitting six photographs, it shouldn’t be “Here’s my best portrait and here’s my best landscape and here’s my best still life.” That seems arbitrary. What is the relationship among those images and in what ways do those images support and deepen each other, so that they work together to create this cumulative experience?

The Subject is Largely Irrelevant

One of the great things is that artists, especially photographers, give me access to worlds I don’t otherwise have access to, and can lead me to care about things that I might not have. It’s not just about the subject matter. You can make bad pictures of something that’s important, or you can make good pictures about something that seems trivial.

I would choose good pictures of the trivial over bad pictures of something important. Many artists have made deeply moving work about things that seem very mundane or trivial. It’s just in the way they see or appreciate the thing, because what you’re doing is you’re shaping the world through your medium. Whether that’s poetry or photography, you need to be aware of the medium and what it does to create an experience for the viewer.

You can make amazing photographs of important topics as well, but you have to have a relationship with the subject. It’s almost irrelevant what the subject is—a landscape is not more important than a still life, and a still life is not more important than a documentary image of a political event. The subject doesn’t matter. What matters is the artist’s relationship to their subject.

Feature image: Logomark of Mark Alice Durant’s Saint Lucy Books.

How can you understand the experience of somebody who is losing their mind? It’s an interesting and difficult assignment that Olivia Parker has taken on; her photographic exhibit Vanishing in Plain Sight is on view until April 3, 2019 at Lesley University’s Lunder Arts Center, Porter Square, Cambridge.

The works are from an ongoing project about Parker’s husband John’s terminal struggle with Alzheimer’s Disease. It is not just documentary, but a visual attempt, using empathy and imagination, to understand and express his lived experience as his memory and cognitive ability declined. John died in 2016—the photographs on exhibit were made from 2015 to 2018.

The exhibit pairs photographs (or groupings of photographs) with short explanatory texts that provide additional context. The texts take the form of short anecdotes: for example relating how John struggled to recall the names of friends, or about how he developed a fear of water. They also provide insight into Parker’s artistic thought process while making the photographs, as she struggled to ‘visualize’ John’s experience.

In one particularly poignant image, Tom and Susan, Parker photographed a small elastic-bound bundle of handwritten names on scraps of paper. Parker explains in the text that seeing this made her realize how much John feared forgetting the names of even his closest friends. In this photograph, as well as the other three images of scrawled notes that form a grouping, wispy trails of reflected/refracted light play across the scraps, lending an air of slippery transience to the words.

Themes of fear, loss of control, disorientation, and disintegration are explored throughout the exhibit. In previous work Parker has photographed carefully controlled still-life arrangements in the studio, but here her work becomes more experimental and expressive. Light, movement and abstraction are employed to emotional effect. Changes is an image of nothing but light refracted onto a surface, but the red and white streaks evoke ethereal medical scans: bones and vascular systems.

In many of the photographs, the material world starts to disintegrate and become disorienting, expressed through blurring, lack of focus, over/underexposure, or multiple exposure. In Rosie, a grid of nine photos of the family poodle, the dog starts out crisply rendered, but gradually dissolves into a motion-blur of moving white fur. In the abstract triptych Rage, tangled streaks of white and red light are bundled up against a deep black background. Parker explains in the text that as the disease progressed, John would sometimes have fits of rage that spun out of control.

In other images, Parker literally tries to visualize what she imagines the world might look like, through John’s eyes and brain. Darkness Brings, a triptych of dark blurred rectangles against a bright white backdrop, illustrates the increased sensitivity to light and dark that he experienced, especially with windows, resulting in a desire to close all the window shades during the day. With the motion-blurred black line and bright colors of City, Parker speculates how the city of Boston might look to John, as they drove through it on the way to medical appointments.

Some photos in the exhibit employed a more intellectual approach that I found to be generally less engaging. But overall, Parker’s experimental method has produced an evocative and emotionally-visceral exhibition. Dealing with such an intimate and difficult subject matter as Alzheimer’s Disease, the overall tone is one of uneasiness and disorientation, but the show also contains welcome respites of calm and acceptance. One image that sticks with me is a refracted swirl of light—ghostly white trails and a red form like a heart, playing across a scrap of paper with a single word scrawled on it: BE.

Headline image: ‘Be,’ 2016 © Olivia Parker

Joel Howe is an architectural and fine-art photographer based in Cambridge, MA. He also edits and maintains the Call for Entries feature of the PRC website.

The PRC is preparing to ramp up our publicity efforts and seeks a volunteer with PR experience to run that part of our program as a member of our planned communications committee.

You’ll advise on PR-related opportunities, strategies and tactics, and help develop a plan to expand our press coverage.

Writing and placement responsibilities include press releases, submission notices, etc., for major PRC developments and activities (such as exhibitions, lectures, and events), and recaps of PRC activities, including captions and cutlines for event photos.

To learn more or discuss this opportunity, please contact committee chair James Mahoney at james.mahoney@prcboston.org

See more volunteer opportunities here.

The initiative included surveying the membership and other engaged people in the photographic community, and working with Empower Success Corps consultants to map the PRC’s future direction.

During this transition period, Bruce Myren was engaged in a consulting role as our Director, responsible for reestablishing a regular slate of programming, as well as managing the PRC’s flagship exhibitions.

As his paid consulting work concludes, the Board thanks Bruce for his efforts as we now turn to putting our plans into effect.

Further, the Board especially thanks Bruce for the significant and impactful volunteer efforts he has devoted to the organization over the years.

In particular, four years ago, the PRC faced a daunting challenge to its existence. Bruce was a principal member of the small group of people who together not only kept the PRC going, but also rebuilt the strength of the organization to its current solid foundation.

During the past four years, Bruce kept the PRC Nights program going, restarted the PRC Portfolio Review program, found and managed exhibits to mount, created the Your Work Here 2.0 exhibit that energized the membership, created and sent out dozens of eblasts, maintained the old website, and oversaw and created social media postings.

Further, Bruce ran the annual EXPOSURE juried competitions, finding notable jurors, managing the process, contacting winners, arranging for the show to be installed, taking it down, packing it up, and shipping artwork back to the photographers.

He did most of that work in a volunteer capacity, and voluntarily continued the social media work in addition to his program management as a paid Director for much of 2018.

His work has been a key reason that the PRC continues not only to exist, but also to thrive as we enter 2019. Thank you, Bruce.

By Joel Howe

Local photography teachers would be well-advised to arrange a class field trip over to the Addison Gallery in Andover to catch the current exhibition: “Contemplating the View: American Landscape Photographs”.

Drawing deep from the Addison Gallery’s stellar permanent collection, the exhibit presents a thoughtful overview of the history and trends of American landscape photography, as well as its more contemporary manifestations. Spanning four rooms, the exhibit starts out with a largely chronological presentation, and develops into more thematic groupings.

First Room: Earliest Work

The earliest work is simply astounding. Pioneers such as Eadward Muybridge, Carlton Watkins, and William Henry Jackson represent here the unbridled enthusiasm for exploration and documentation of the vast Western landscape, starting in the 1860s and ’70s. Well before Ansel Adams’ time, Yosemite Valley is already showing up as the quintessential landscape subject in “Mammoth Plate” albumen prints by Muybridge and Watkins.

While these early prints evoke a sense of the sublime awe that must have been felt by early explorers unaccustomed to the vast scale of the Western landscape, they also provide some early glimmers of the ecological devastation that later landscape photographers addressed in earnest. Watkins’ images of gravel-mining operations, and the construction debris in Jackson’s railroad photos, hint at the darker side of the Westward expansion.

These Mammoth Plate prints also represent incredible technical feats—they were created by using huge view-cameras that produced glass plate negatives up to 18”x22”, which were then contact-printed onto albumen paper. These enormous glass-plate negatives had to be hand-coated with light-sensitive emulsion in the dark, quickly exposed in the camera, and then developed in the dark again, all while the emulsion was still wet. This required the photographer to haul a portable darkroom tent, in addition to the massive camera, tripod, and sheets of fragile glass. Despite these logistical challenges, the prints themselves are near perfect—massive, yet with no visible grain and virtually unlimited detail.

While Yosemite may be the ultimate American landscape subject, I was pleased to see that the Addison has also included several very early works by more local photographers. Examples are an 1858 salt-print of Mt. Washington by Franklin White, and an albumen print from the 1880s by Charles Hibbard of “The Flume,” a popular White Mountains destination.

Second Room: Early 20^th Century

The second room of the exhibition illustrates how, in the early 20^th century, photographers started to become interested in the possibilities of the medium as “Fine Art”, rather than just documentation. Work from this period became more emotive—softer-focus, more painterly—and acquired the moniker “Pictorialism.” Landscape photographs were often taken intentionally out of focus, or using special “soft-focus” lenses, and printed on hand-coated textured paper, using gum-printing, or platinum-printing to give a painterly or hand-drawn look. One 1919 photograph by George and Hebe Hollister, “Elms by the River,” is so impressionistic that I would have sworn it was a charcoal drawing.

The room also shows work by Alfred Steiglitz, who started his career in the Pictorialist tradition before realizing that emulating painting didn’t take advantage of photography’s innate strength, which is crisp realism. Stieglitz helped direct the medium back towards “straight photography.” The exhibit includes like-minded photographers such as Edward Weston, who belonged to the f64 Group—so-called because of its advocacy for using the smallest camera-lens aperture, f64, which resulted in maximum sharpness of focus.

Just as the Pictorialist photographers were influenced by the impressionist painters of the era, in the 1940s and ’50s, abstract expressionism influenced photographers such as Harry Callahan and Minor White, who began to explore the possibilities of abstraction in landscape photography. Callahan’s “Sunlight on Water” from 1943 is a standout example from this period.

In the 1960s and ’70s, some photographers began to re-evaluate our relationship to the landscape. Rather than idealizing the view, they opted for a more realistic representation of the typical American experience landscape. Robert Frank includes the less romantic side of the Western landscape in his 1955 “Santa Fe (Gas Station)” and Robert Adams includes tract-home subdivisions in the foreground of his mountain landscapes. Adams was a founding member of the “New Topographics” school of landscape photography, where man-made features are intentionally included in the view.

Of course, there’s another well-known photographer named Adams, and Ansel is represented in this room as well, with several photographs made in Yosemite and the Sierra Nevadas. I found it interesting that while Ansel Adams may be one of the first photographers to come to mind when thinking of “American Landscape Photography,” his photographs seemed out of step with the historical movements of the medium. His work expresses an innocent awe of the landscape, but was made far later than those early pioneers. It is emotional and expressive, but crisply focused and not connected to the Pictorial movement. The work is contemporaneous with the New Topographers, but he refuses to allow the man-made into his viewfinder. Ansel Adams seems off on his own track, successful and influential, but also disconnected from the cultural conversation about the meaning of landscape photography.

Room Three: The 1970s and ’80s

The third room of the exhibit follows landscape photographers of the 1970s and ’80s, veering into conceptual and postmodern territory. The photographer becomes no longer an objective documentarian, but rather an active participant in the landscape, and self-reflective about the act of photographing itself.

For example, rather than photographing Mt. Rushmore directly, Lee Friedlander chose to photograph the reflection of the mountain in the gift-shop window, commenting on how we “consume” the landscape. The 1980 image (the feature image of this post) by Roger Minick depicts a grand view of Yosemite Valley, but with a woman in the foreground wearing a gift-shop head scarf imprinted with the exact same view. With his “Altered Landscapes” series, John Pfahl intervenes directly in the landscape, placing objects into the scene and playing perceptual tricks based on perspective.

Room Four: Contemporary Work

The final room of the exhibit covers more contemporary work and suggests the many different directions of current photography. Several of the themes that emerged earlier in the exhibition are re-examined here.

The environmental destruction first suggested by Watkins is further explored in Joel Sternfeld’s images of suburban homes on the edge of a sinkhole, or Katherine Wolkoff’s documentation of the destruction wrought by Hurricane Katrina.

Considerations of “man-made” versus “natural” landscapes and ideas about beauty that were first explored by the New Topographics photographers are further investigated in Lewis Baltz’s “Candlestick Point.” It is a wall-covering installation of 8”x10” prints of overgrown parking lots and trash-strewn urban edge-conditions.

In his 1990 “Cul de Sac: Failed Development West of Phoenix,” Mark Klett builds upon the earlier work of Robert Adams with his image of suburban development gone awry.

Concerns raised by the postmodern movement, about oppression, racism, and under-represented minority perspectives, are further examined in works by John Willis documenting Native American gravesites, and Debbie Kaffery’s images of New Orleans neighborhoods still languishing a year after Hurricane Katrina hit.

This final room of the exhibit, with its multitude of different photographic approaches, suggests a fracturing in the linear narrative of the history of landscape photography. Are the images of death and destruction (gravesites, battlefields, hurricanes, burning houses) meant to suggest a collapse in the traditions of American landscape photography, hastened along by the ubiquity of smart-phone photography posted to Instagram? One photograph near the end of the exhibit seemed to embody the current state of affairs: Matthew Pillsbury’s 2006 “Cell Phone on Venice Beach,” a ten-minute long exposure of the ocean at dusk, with the glow of a cell phone glimmering like a ship’s navigation lights upon the horizon.

Have we all turned inward, captivated by our little devices, or can we still connect with the sublime, with the vast ocean and sky in the gloaming? Offering hope for the latter, an adjacent photo by Barbara Bosworth, “Fireflies in a Jar, Mentor, Ohio” (1995), is a beautiful image of natural wonder and beauty close at hand.

Joel Howe is an architectural and fine-art photographer based in Cambridge, MA. He also edits and maintains the Call for Entries feature of the PRC website.

By Joel Howe

In his photographs, Ole Brodersen works with elements he knows well: wind, water, sails, and ocean light. The son of a sail-maker and grandson of a sailor, Brodersen grew up as a 12^th-generation inhabitant of a sparsely populated island in Norway; without cars, even rowing himself to school.

The large-format photographs in his series Trespassing are interventions in the natural landscape near Brodersen’s home. In some photographs, he set aloft boat sails, held up by kites, and photographed the action of the wind, using long exposures. In others he launched small rafts with sparklers or LED lights on them, and recorded the long wavy lines as waves or current moved the rafts over time.

Brodersen’s photographs are not the usual “decisive moments” in time, but rather are patterns of movement and natural phenomena that are normally unseen, recorded using varying durations of exposure.

During an artist-talk at the Dedee Shattuck Gallery, Brodersen spoke of trying to express with his photographs the feeling of being in the landscape, the moving natural elements of wind, water and waves. In some of the photographs his interventions are intelligible, such as String, cloth and kite #04, where, although blurred, you can make out the general shape of a fluttering boat sail against the seascape. Photographs like this one do give a feeling of being in the remote, wind-whipped, Norwegian landscape.

However, I found myself drawn to the more mysterious images that transcend interpretation. String, cloth and kite #02 is a similar image, of a fluttering sailcloth against the snowy ocean’s edge, but this time the exposure is so long that the sail becomes an abstract white apparition. Merging ambiguously with the clouds and snow, the blurred sail could perhaps be a localized snow squall, or even a mistake in film processing. Regardless, the result is beautiful—the intervention has truly become integrated into the landscape.

Brodersen’s long-exposure images made using floating light sources are also intriguing. While relatively straightforward, the images reward closer inspection with interesting details. Plexiglass, wood, sparkler and string #05 is a wavy trail of light left by a small raft and light source moving along with the water currents. Looking closer, one realizes that the light source is a sparkler and that the sparks themselves are actually bouncing off the water.

Wood and sparkler #03 is curious as well. It’s a double light-trail across the water—a sparkler trail as well as its reflection. The interesting detail is that the sparkler has charted a smooth course, whereas the light trail of its reflection is jagged from the water ripples.

Brodersen shoots with a large-format view camera, exposing single sheets of film in either color or black and white. He prints the mural-size black and white photographs by hand, in his home darkroom (located in the same building as his father’s sail-making workshop).

Bringing to mind the early pioneers of landscape photography who carried wet-plate camera and darkroom equipment by mule into the landscape, Brodersen discussed the technical challenges of transporting cumbersome photographic equipment by boat, and making exposures in wet and cold landscapes. He noted that some of his images show dust on the film and other imperfections, which, rather than trying to “correct,” he has accepted as one more way that the photographs express the conditions of the landscape in which he works.

Joel Howe is an architectural and fine-art photographer based in Cambridge, MA. He also edits and maintains the Call for Entries feature of the PRC website.

by Joel Howe

“Analog Culture” displays a selection of artist-proof photographs from the collection of Gary Schneider. In the 1970s, ’80s and ’90s, Schneider collaborated with many well-known photographers to produce hand-printed editions of their work at his Manhattan photo lab, Schneider/Erdman. Typical of the industry, he saved one artist-proof print from each collaboration for his personal collection.

The exhibited photographs date mostly from the 1980s and 1990s—the heyday of Postmodernism, with its emphasis on marginalized subjects and meta explorations of the act of image-making. The show contains many influential names from that time period: Nan Goldin, David Wojnarowicz, Lorna Simpson, Peter Hujar.

Rather than any thematic content, the three-room exhibition is organized around the creative collaboration between artist and printer and the expressive techniques of darkroom printing. Consequently, and by design, it has a somewhat random feel, with the various artists’ photographs ranging wildly in subject matter and aesthetic style.

Some of the Stand-out Images

While I found myself somewhat frustrated trying to make connections among the subject matter of the different photographers, many individual images stood out.

Bruce Davidson’s East 100^th Street Façade is a massive print of unfolding city drama: a foreshortened rooftop view looking down along a long row of brownstone facades. Various social interactions play out at different levels—through the windows, on the fire escapes, upon the stoops and at the sidewalk. The print is high contrast, dark and brooding, emphasizing the stage-like quality of the unfolding drama.

Nan Goldin’s Marlene at Home with Venus de Milo is a harsh flash-photo portrait of a drag-queen, leaning back into the corner of the room. Printed dark with no highlights to speak of and hardly any contrast, it emphasizes the dinginess of the space and an overall sense of isolation.

David Wojnarowicz’ Untitled (Buffalo) is an arresting image of several bison tumbling over a cliff edge. Soft-focus and printed on a warm-tone paper, it stylistically evokes the old American West images of Edward Curtis. The dreamy quality to it reveals upon closer examination that the photo was made in a natural-history museum diorama.

The Ascendance of Digital

The final room of the exhibit contains the following anecdote, intended to illustrate the eventual supremacy of digital printing over traditional darkroom silver-printing:

“The artist Robert Gober brought a digital file into Gary Schneider’s lab, asking to have an edition produced of analog darkroom prints. The photo was a small, closely-cropped image of an ear.

“Attempting to perfectly match the digital file, Schneider labored over the assignment, first producing a film negative to use in the darkroom enlarger, as well as additional ‘masking-negatives’ of the highlight and shadow areas of the image, intended to bring out subtle details and tame the high contrast of the ‘original’ digital photograph. [All three negatives are displayed in the exhibit on a light-table.]

“Despite Schneider’s best efforts, the endeavor was ultimately a failure—the original digital file better represented Gober’s vision and he eventually gave up on the idea of producing an analog version, choosing to print the edition instead with a digital inkjet printer. Schneider/Erdman’s lab shuttered its doors not long after this episode.”

Digital has won out. Or has it?

Is there still a place in the fine-art photography world for traditional handmade darkroom prints, or are the last holdouts simply beholden to nostalgia?

These questions came to mind while viewing the exhibit, as I am a photographer who still shoots film and makes darkroom prints. What is the reason to struggle in the darkroom, inhaling chemical fumes and wasting sheet after sheet of expensive gelatin-silver paper, trying to make a perfect print, when a single click of the Auto-Contrast button in Adobe Photoshop can produce an inkjet print with impressive tonal range?

I was an art school student of photography in the 1990s, and Schneider’s masterfully printed photographs did indeed evoke feelings of nostalgia for me, especially since the exhibit labels included additional details such as the brand of darkroom paper used, most of which have subsequently been discontinued.

Ah yes, I remember the good old days of Kodak and Agfa paper, the soft warm tones of Portriga Rapid… It occurs to me that some younger photographers who may have never stepped foot in a darkroom will respond quite differently to this exhibit.

A photograph by Peter Hujar caught my attention on my way out of the exhibition: a portrait of his dog, “Will,” a Shar-Pei breed. Made in 1985, when Hujar was battling AIDS, the image portrays Will staring into the camera while posing heroically atop a podium; his voluminous folds of skin merging seamlessly into the soft folds of velvet upon which he sits.

Printed on Agfa Portriga paper, known for its warm tones and rich velvety blacks, the print has also been “dodged” in the darkroom to lighten the dog’s face, resulting in somewhat of a halo-effect that emphasizes the majestic pose.

Perhaps an equally striking image could have been produced by digital means, but this hand-printed photo of a dog seemed to me a fitting rejoinder for the continued relevance of “Analog Culture.”

Joel Howe is an architectural and fine-art photographer based in Cambridge, MA. He also edits and maintains the Calls for Entry feature of the PRC website.

Thanks to PRC volunteer Joel Howe for compiling the Calls for Entry.

If you’ve got something going on, submit it to our calendar, and we’ll post it for you. Just click “Submit Event” in the calendar navigation bar.

Tips for Using the New Calendar

You have two ways to view our calendar: Agenda and Monthly. You can choose the one you prefer by clicking on one or the other in the right-hand side of the top navigation bar.

You can view listings for a specific date or month by clicking on the date window on the left-hand side.

You can use the search box to find specific references: e.g., artist name, venue, category, event, etc. As noted below, you can also click on a tag in a particular listing to see everything in that category.

If you have a photography-related happening, we’d welcome adding it to the calendar. Just click on “Submit Event.”

As this example listing shows, category tags appear on the bottom line. (In actual listings, only tags relevant to the particular entry appear.)

Clicking on any one of them will show you all the listings for that category. For example, if you’re looking for Workshops, clicking that tag in any workshop-related listing will show you all the workshops in the calendar. (You can also type “Workshop,” or any other term, in the search box in the top navigation bar.)

Clicking on the listing title will bring you to that website, where you can find all the details.