Robert Demar, Photographer

Artist's Statement

Photography has had many levels of meaning for me in the last quarter century; these are a few of them:

• Photography is an opportunity to speak heart-to-heart about problems in society; a chance to instill some awareness of the unfortunate, the discarded, and the forgotten people who daily wander our cities in search of shelter, food and meaning.

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• Photography communicates my innermost and wordless feelings, reaching across language barriers with timeless symbols understood throughout the world

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• Photography preserves our own history; a future glimpse of our own lives and times; how we looked, what we did, and how we did it. Documentary photography for me is as intense as studying ferry boat travel in the San Juan Islands for several years in the last decade of the 20th Century, and as simple as snapping photos of my friends.

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• Photography gives me a reason to be there for the moment, and to be responsible for the creation of that moment’s image. It motivates me to leave my warm bed in the hours before dawn in order to be surrounded by nature and experience that sense of heightened awareness during the first moments of revealing light.

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• Photography provides an opportunity to choose the subject, and see it with eyes wide open; to experience the time and place, and then create an image from the feelings of the encounter. It’s looking for the mood that the season and weather give the hour of the day, and finding the special light that unveil the dynamic visual characteristics of the landscape’s personality. It’s seeing and capturing some of the simple, timeless beauty that abounds in unspoiled nature.

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• Photography is a reason to return to the curiosity of childhood, experiencing again the thrill of looking under rocks in yesterday’s backyard. It confirms my existence and gives it meaning by allowing me to experience the sensation of being an active participant rather than a spectator of life’s many precious and passing moments.

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Artist's Narrative

My love of photography began as a child in the 1950's when I took pictures (which I still have) of each of my school teachers, and documented many family events. But it didn't develop as a true passion until 1976 when I bought a $200 SLR camera body and four used lenses. I felt compelled by an urge to make a visual account of what I thought were very interesting personal times - to not let them slip by unrecorded.

For practice with my new camera, I went to Seattle's First Avenue area, where many homeless street people hang out. I didn't leave until almost five years later, because I realized that I'd found access to the same tragedy that had already, and would continue to deeply affect my own family - alcoholism. These circumstances and a natural ability to communicate and connect with strangers began to lead to serious photographic statements as I worked with the homeless and those suffering alcohol addiction. As I became known in the area, I worked with missions and shelters when they needed a photographer. Encouraged by friends, numerous local awards, and a warehouse day-job, my work matured until 1980 when I had my first solo gallery exhibition, a few of which are shown here in the Colorless Impressions series.

During the late 1970's and 1980's, I turned my camera toward relaxation and sailing, and worked on a series of photographs depicting acquaintances in their customary personal environments; documenting family, friends and events. For example, I had a younger brother with a Harley shop. And, after buying a motorcycle from him, many opportunities occurred to ride with him and his friends. This led to another photographic series, which I called "Motorcycle People and Places." To this day, I still ride and periodically attend rallies, where I take many candid "portrait" shots of the interesting characters who inhabit the motorcycle world, some of which you can see in the Motorcycle Baditude series.

Then in 1990, leaving Seattle about 100 miles South, I moved to the San Juan Islands, which I still call home. At that time, I also made a move to a bigger camera, a medium-format Pentax, and improved dark-room capabilities. During the preceding decade, I'd found myself shifting my attention farther and farther away from the intimacy and dejection I first captured working with the homeless people. Now the pendulum swung all the way, and I began looking to nature and landscapes for inspiration. I began a detailed encounter with a 1200-acre National Park of nearly unspoiled nature at the southern tip of San Juan Island, attempting to record and portray some of the many moods which occur in its landscapes with the passing seasons. This three year documentary study, American Camp Impressions, led to several exhibitions.

The ferry boats working in northern Puget Sound called to me next. My interest in them went back to the late 1970's and some of the motorcycle rides referred to earlier. But now I wanted to do a serious study, from top to bottom. My camera and I went from aerial views to the engine rooms, attempting to capture not only the impressive fleet of ships, but also the essential character of ferry travel in the San Juan Islands. The passengers, the crews, the islands and the interactions of man, machine and nature all became subjects for composition. This study, Nautical Highways, required the better part of three years and concluded with several shows and publication of a book by the same name.

From the ferry boat project, I returned to nature, this time for a close-up examination of the minute fractures which occur annually in the bark of Madrona trees. This unusual Pacific Coast tree is not found elsewhere in the United States. In the early fall, their peeling bark provides a profusion of textures, patterns, and constantly changing compositions. For three years, armed with macro lens and extension tubes, I explored that world of seldom noticed visual pleasures. Viewers of the resulting exhibition, Madrona Macros, (titled Minor Madrona Moments at that time) have found the temptation to interpret or suggest representation (as in ink blots) almost irresistible.

Then, in the winter of 2002-3, another significant change took place in my photography. I bought a digital camera, a Nikon D-1X. After staying on a course of black and white photography with a traditional chemical dark room for over 25 years, I entered the world of color photography and the digital dark room. Two subjects called to me as I got to my feet with this new equipment, both from the past. One was the ferry boats and the sea lanes through which they travel, this time with color changing the emphasis of the compositions (see San Juan Marinescapes). The other was a briefly explored subject from ten years past, abandoned when I realized I couldn't do it justice with the limitations of black & white film: fish nets and floats.

With my new camera, I traveled to fishing marinas throughout Puget Sound, drawn to the piles of purse seining nets, in an on-going photographic exploration and artistic interpretation of the lines, the nets, the floats and assorted equipment used to capture fish in the Pacific Ocean. In my search, I came to realize that a strong sense of history shrouds every mound of nets. This same type of gear was used before the time of Christ. Every knotted net offers testament to the handiwork of man. And every out-of-work, rotting and fading heap of nets and floats is a reminder of the unfortunate impact of commercial fishing on our planet today. All of these concepts eventually found places in the compositions, textures, patterns and colors of my latest series, Fish Net Variations. This series of visually arresting and compelling subjects was exhibited twice in 2004.

Aerial photography is another interest that I've been able to further develop since I began using the Nikon D-1X. While much of it is commercial in nature, taking aerials for local real estate agents and property owners, I've also enjoyed the opportunity to study the relationships of ferries and other ships, harbors, islands, and even distant Mt. Baker from the air. This series, San Juan Aerials, gives a different perspective to what it means to live in these islands.

2005 was an exciting year for me! With digital technology making changes and improvements on an almost daily basis, it required a considerable amount of time just to research upgrades for my equipment and materials. Cameras, computers, software programs, and the printers are all in a constant state of change. The quality of the images and prints keeps getting better - closer to what I've come to expect with fine art photography.

Currently I'm using a 12-megapixel Nikon D-2X camera, a larger and faster computer, Adobe Photoshop CS2, an Epson printer with 8 permanent ink colors (3 of which are for better black & white prints), and VR lenses designed specifically for digital cameras. With these tools, I'm getting close to my goal of producing exhibition quality images with at least a 100-year permanence rating.