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Rangefinder
Magazine Profile: David
Paul Bayles by Steven Dantzig I was reflecting on my conversations with David Bayles one morning and found myself humming Judy Collins’ song “Both Sides Now.” After wondering why a song I had not heard in years would pop into my head at that moment, I realized that the essence of the song describes much of David’s life and career. His visions and photographs depict a lifelong fascination and exploration of life’s dichotomies and incongruities. While his work is a balance of award-winning portraiture and fine art photography, he makes a distinction between “commercial” work—work produced to “please a client”—and personal work. It is through his personal work that we get a glimpse into the psyche of a fascinating story.
The word “dichotomy” kept resurfacing during our conversations. From his work as a logger in the Sierra Nevada to his almost spiritual connection with nature; from his pursuing commercial photography to his love of fine art photography; from the structured life of photography school to frequent trips hopping boxcars; from serenely beautiful black-and-white images to an active search for shocking colors, David’s world has been a personal journey of blending contrasts. Photography is the common thread throughout and provides an outlet to explore the various influences in David’s life. It also provides a unique retrospective that, with the benefit of hindsight, acts as a grand self-portrait—documenting the phases of his life and depicting who he was during those times. David’s journey began like many other photography careers: first camera, first college class and first bathroom/darkroom. The “familiar story” ends there. David’s plan to attend a top-notch photography school was interrupted by four years of working as a logger in the Sierra Nevada. The four years he spent there would prove to be one of several critical periods in his life. It would set the stage and the relationships for a major part of his life’s work, as well as for the beginning of his personal journey towards self-discovery.
David was ready for a change three years into his stint as a logger. The new debate became whether to pursue commercial photography or fine art photography. David, dressed in his best plaid shirt, jeans and logging boots, paid a visit to the tie-dyed campus of California Institute of the Arts and immediately knew he would not fit in. He then proceeded to Brooks Institute of Photography and felt a sense of comfort in the structure of a commercial photography curriculum. Armed with a strong foundation in commercial photography, David took a sharp left turn and spent several years wandering around Santa Barbara with his camera, capturing whatever struck his fancy. The things that struck his fancy at this time were, in typical fashion, extremely different subjects. On one hand, he returned to his ties with nature and began to photograph trees. However, his interests were not so much the trees as whole trees, but rather with the minute patterns formed by peeling bark.
He recalls with a laugh how he would spend hours looking at one tree to find the pattern to photograph. He says he is glad that he was in the artsy world of Santa Barbara where his behavior did not seem that far out! His camera also found man-made subjects of loud and contrasting colors. The colors—and abstractions of those colors—were of more interest to David than the objects that made up the image. David says he appreciates good lighting but attends more to the com-position of the image. His cameras—all conventional—range from 30-year-old Nikkormats to 4x5 view cameras. David then embarked on another adventure that would have a pro-found effect on his life. He packed what he could on a bicycle and headed off on a solo trip cross-country. David’s return to Santa Barbara coincided with an opportunity to return to the lumberjacks of the Sierra Nevada. This time, however, he would travel at the request of the Mendocino County Museum to chronicle the logger’s life. The result was a series of intimate black-and-white images that covered profound portraits of the people as well as the effects of the loggers’ work. He met his wife during this time.
Therese and David were married after a two and a half year long-distance relationship. They eventually established their own portrait studio, which earned David numerous awards and “Photographer of the Year” honors. David found success in the “commercial” world. However it was, once again, his personal vision that led to his most prized photographic accomplishment. Urban Forest (Sierra Club Books) is David’s first book and has just recently been released. The book is a series of trees oddly juxtaposed against the effects of the “civilized” world. David looks back on his experiences and realizes his camera has not only chronicled his experiences, but has also provided a mirror that shows how he dealt with challenges at each stage of his life. He describes his parents as two people with extremely divergent personalities and styles. They divorced when he was a teenager, and he now realizes the profound effect that event had on him. His early 20s were a battle between the desire to pursue a productive career and the need to simply find adventure. His work as a logger was demanding and dangerous. A logging accident almost cost him his life. His early work at Brooks was equally demanding, but for vastly different reasons.
His response to these challenges was to escape, literally, on a boxcar of a train heading to an unknown destination. Camera in hand, David and a friend would live the lives of hobos.
Life on a boxcar provided David with some rare and special views of human behavior. Sometimes the views were a little too special. “My friend David Roth and I were passing through Roseville on our way from Santa Barbara to Mt. Shasta. It was two in the morning, and far ahead I could see some movement of bodies—dogs, I thought. As I got closer, I saw they were a very robust, rotund woman and a skinny-as-a-rail man without any clothes at all. It was then that they saw us. There was nowhere for them to go. I saw no piles of clothing, no romantic place to bed down and make sweet, passionate love: just oil and dust as far as the eye could see. The woman was doing her best to hide behind the man, but she spilled out on all sides of him. When we passed them, the man muttered, ‘This is the most embarrassing moment of my life,’… to which my friend replied, ‘It ought to be, pal!’”
The post-Brooks years are described not as dark times, but rather as times of deep introspection and meditation. He understands now that during this time he was attempting to reconcile his parents’ divorce. He found solace in forming neat packages in which to stow emotions. His photography at this time was his era of macro-photography and wild abstracts. It was safer to view the world through his lens in as narrow a field of vision as possible—forcing the world into neat little packages, as well. When the tight world became too intense, David was able to find release in wild patterns of shape and color. However, even the wild images created were relatively impersonal, and were, therefore, “safe.”
David credits the cross-country bicycle trip with his “reawakening.” The physical challenge was one thing, but the commitment to stay within one’s head, and work through whatever thoughts joined him along the way, was quite another. David again chuckles when recalling that he spent the first half of the trip at campsites along the way and spent the second half as people’s guest. “The one thing that comes to my mind most is all the wonderful people who took me into their homes and fed me and wanted to hear stories and live vicariously through me. When I think back on the trip, I mostly think fond thoughts of all those people who befriended me and turned the cold, lonely road into an adventure of warmth and sharing.” The gifts shared were mutually beneficial. David learned he was a person of interest and had viewpoints that others might want to hear. He even discovered he was ready to fall in love and get married.
David’s emerging sense of self-confidence was evident upon a later review of the images created along his cross-country sojourn. His angle of view slowly grew wider as he began to take a more active role in his environment and the images became more personal. When the opportunity presented itself for him to return to the Sierra Nevada, he was ready to look at a familiar subject with a broader scope. The exhibition of the life of a logger was a deeply personal project for David. He had first-hand experience with the negative attitudes sometimes directed towards loggers—often from the very people who order a new redwood deck! It was also an opportunity for him to explore his own conflicts between his love of nature and our need to use nature as a commodity. Urban Forest represents David’s photography, and perhaps his life, at its most wide-eyed. He has gone from an introspective world to one that welcomes and craves interaction with others to one that tackles and explores issues on a global level. Fine art and commercial photography; black and white and vivid color; personal awareness of self and personable attitude; roots and cement; Urban Forest and David Bayles: looking at and blending “Both Sides Now.” Dr. Stephen Dantzig is an award-winning photographer with more than 20 magazine and web site articles to his credit. He is the author of a forthcoming book on light and fashion photography. His work has appeared on more than 20 magazine covers, ranging from local and regional markets to national publications. He is a frequent contributor to Rangefinder Magazine. Stephen runs a commercial photography business from Honolulu, Hawaii. His work may be seen at www.dantzigphotography.com. |
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