Check out the details at the link above, and start gathering your photos from this year's Triple Crown (it can be from any of the three competitions) in to triplecrownphotos@gmail.com. You have until January 15, 2010!
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It seems hand-crafted art is alive and well. This month, New Jersey-based artist and former Urban Climber Magazine Editor Joe Iurato landed a commission to create stencil artwork - yup thats right - for NBC Sports. The resulting piece aired on NBC's Sunday Night Football, for the (highly rated) Colts-Patriots game, on November 15th 2009.
Here is a compilation of clips of the final product from Joe:
I worked with Joe many times during his four years at the helm of Urban Climber. He was psyched on the kind of lit climbing photography I was producing at the time, that no one else would take. The look that Joe embraced early on is now standard in the climbing world.
I was intrigued by Joe's unique piece for NBC Sports, so I took the opportunity to chat with him about it, his work, and life after Urban Climber. What I got from Joe was an illuminating look into a true artist's life. All photos and videos courtesy of Joe Iurato.
AK: So, a few months ago, you talk to a friend about an opportunity to do something for NBC's Sunday Night Football...
Yeah, long story short, my friend Vincent's a producer with NBC Sports. While attending one of my art shows, he came up with the idea of using my stencils in place of photographs during a broadcast presentation. Next thing I knew it was being pitched to the producer of Sunday Night Football, Fred Gaudelli, and crew -- and soon after that it was game on.
AK: How long have you been doing stencil and aerosol art? What's your background in this?
I've been doing this type of art for about 4 years now, but seriously for less than a year. I've always been a huge fan of street art, or public art if that sounds better. I started out by making this simple stencil of Winnie-The-Pooh holding a machine gun and wearing military attire - he became my "Soldier Bear". It sounds absurd, but that was the whole point. Though as absurd as it was that little image was also powerful, and behind it was a lot of truth. Stenciling provided me an easy way to get it out there and hopefully make people think about how gnarly and twisted shit really is these days. At UC, I would occasionally leave on my lunch break and slap one or two up around SoHo. At home, I would go out late at night and bomb around town. I'd paint it on buildings, slap stickers on phone booths and signs, hit just about anything - but at the time it wasn't so much about the stenciling or the art as it was about the subject. Nobody really knew what I was doing except my wife. Needless to say she wasn't very supportive of my rendezvous, and it wasn't long before I agreed to give it a rest. But anyway that's how I started stenciling.
Later, I developed more of a love for the craft of stenciling itself and decided I wanted to take it further. I studied the work of the great stencil artists, people like Logan Hicks, Chris Stain, C215, Blek Le Rat, Banksy, and Shepard Fairey - not to mimic them, but to get a better understanding of the medium. I learned there's really no right or wrong way to do these things, and techniques vary greatly. So, I came up with a way of doing things that was comfortable and right for me. Now, my work is much different than that first Pooh stencil; it is much more complex and carefully planned out, and I'm not out manifesting images in the street anymore. If I paint the same cut 3 times, it's a lot. Most of my work is done in my garage, on found supports like old cabinet doors and planks of wood. And when I do paint outside, it's usually on a much larger scale.
AK: You sprayed these stencils on acetate, then NBC green screened them and did the rest. Walk me through your method a little deeper. Was this your usual approach or did this particular job make you step outside a little?
Well, as for the method in this case: First, I had to tweak out the images so they'd be partially black and white and partially color as discussed. After they were approved, I had 20 of each photo printed out on 18" x 24" sheets of paper (this isn't always the way I work because it's costly, but it provides a more exacting and consistent cut). Next, I cut each layer from the photographs themselves with an Exacto knife. This is the most difficult part because it's all guesswork and preference. Everyone has different thoughts and techniques on how to approach cutting. It's completely subjective. After the layers were cut, I took them down to my garage, cracked open a bottle of wine and started spray painting. I painted each layer on its own sheet of acetate so they could be photographed individually. In total there were 41 layers for 3 paintings. I also painted one final composite of each image. Lastly, I sent them off to NBC, where they were photographed against a green screen. The final images were uploaded to an effects program and rendered as seen on TV.
The whole thing definitely forced me to step outside my comfort zone. Aside from some big technical challenges I was facing with the stencils themselves, there was also that scary little voice that kept reminding me this was one of the biggest opportunities of my life...and what if I blew it? Without going into details, the stencils had to be cut in a way I never cut before and painted on a support I wasn't familiar with using. Take that and consider it was all being done for a primetime NFL broadcast, one of the biggest games of the year, that was only two weeks away...let's just say experimenting isn't what I would've preferred. But sometimes you just gotta run with it, really believe in yourself and bust your ass to make it happen.
AK: This seems like a pretty unique gig - custom graphic design for a broadcast network. Is this the first time you have done work where your art meets digital technology?
Definitely. Even when I was making climbing videos, I never thought to incorporate my art with special effects. That's what was so nice about this gig I think. It's not really about my art - it's the proof that even with all the graphic software out there, there's still a place for handcrafted artwork.
AK: I like the building effect of the individual stencils that make up the final piece. Was that effect your idea?
Stenciling is naturally done in layers. The idea, which is to the NBC's credit, was that these layers would be photographed separately and then rendered in an animation where the images quickly "rebuilt" themselves on screen. One of the reasons it wasn't done digitally is because layering and color separations are two different things. In order to provide the effect they wanted to achieve, you couldn't just separate the colors. To do it digitally, someone would've had to draw these like stencils in an illustration program, layer for layer, anyway. Airing a digital illustration wouldn't quite feel the same as an authentic spray painted piece. I guess some would argue it's the difference between film and digital in photography. There are differences, and there's a place for both.
AK: How has the response been? Any feedback from NBC? You're gonna need a reel pretty soon!
Feedback was excellent. It was such an honor to have been given the chance, and I'm ecstatic it worked out for all of us. I'm looking forward to what's next.
AK: It looks like you've got your hands in a lot of cool collaboratives like Artsprojekt.
Yes, I'm involved in a few collectives and collaborations. Artsprojekt.com, an amazing platform created by artist and ex-pro skater Andy Howell, is one of them. I'm also involved with Stencil History X, NOLA Rising and most recently with Albus Cavus. I've also been collaborating on special projects lately. The photographer Transgress and I have been collaborating for some time now on a series of portraits called "Why". Photographers Craig Copelin and David Toth, musician Abel Okugawa and myself are also beginning a new endeavor, one that will fuse live music and art performances with photography and video. The past few months have brought about some other extremely exciting collabos as well, though I'm not free to talk about them just yet.
AK: As an artist, what kind of resources are out there for you to grow creatively? Financially?
Purely as an artist, there are a tremendous amount of resources out there to grow creatively. For me, the number one factor in creative growth has always been inspiration. If you can stay inspired, you can continue to create work from the heart - work that's not forced - and if it's coming from the right place, people will notice. Once you make those connections, doors also open with the possibility of earning.
On the flipside, I'm not in a position where I can just be inspired, make lots of creative friends and live as a struggling artist. Growing financially as an artist, really growing financially, is extremely difficult. It's nothing that has recently taken me by surprise, though. I've always been a victim of my own head - my whole life has been centered around expressing myself through the arts. I've worked in some capacity with just about everything: illustration, graphic design, words, photo, video, fine art, and even some performing arts, including acting for a little while. That's my biggest problem; I never really locked myself into any one thing. I want to do it all. For instance, when I want to convey to someone the feeling of being in the mountains and climbing these huge, beautiful chunks of granite, I don't want to sit down and draw a picture of it - I want to use music and moving pictures and tell that story through video. When I want to capture the emotion of a person looking to the heavens with sadness and contemplation, I'll freeze that moment in a painting because their eyes are the story, and it's something that shouldn't fleet. There are times when nothing visual can express what I'm feeling, so I paint those pictures with words. And while it all feels really liberating to me, I'm trapped at the same time. How do I make a living and support my family with all of this? Yes, I am driven by my creative instincts, but is that enough? I don't have a formal education so it's all hustle and I'm constantly trying to prove myself. How long can I sustain being a full-time artist not knowing when and if the next project will arise? The truth is I don't know...
AK: A lot of your work I've seen online seems to revolve around a theme of childhood...
Ever since I had my son, my perspective on what life is about completely changed. The moment he entered this world, everything I thought I knew just shattered and went away. As we get older, life becomes more and more complicated until eventually we're all just balls of information and clutter. I needed to unlearn a bit and be brought back to a simpler time. My son did that for me, and it was the greatest gift I ever received. So, every now and then I paint pictures of children because we can all learn, or unlearn, a thing or two by gazing into the wondrous eyes of a child.
AK: I know you from the climbing world, when you were Editor at Urban Climber Magazine. From what I see now, it seems like that was a small part of a larger artist's life. How does photography and your time at UC fit in?
Climbing, and bouldering more specifically, has been a cornerstone in my life for a long time now. Almost immediately following my first experience in the Gunks I realized that it wasn't a new hobby I found - it was a real, honest-to-God piece of who I am and who I'd forever be. The day was a total revelation. And I was so intrigued by what it had done to me that I felt I needed to explore the reasons why.
I wanted to sink every ounce of creativity in my bones into interpreting what I thought climbing was. I couldn't focus on anything else because all of my inspirations were coming from my own personal experiences at the crag. It was the kind of feeling you get when you know the answer to something but you just can't get the words out to explain it. So, you search around the question for anything that might spark the tongue to work. That's how I felt all the time. It drove me nuts because I knew it wasn't about drawing or painting a picture. It wasn't about writing a poem or creating a sculpture. I needed to be able to recall my sentiments and share them in a way others could feel what was happening inside me. It had to be fleeting, changing with each unique day. With that in mind, I decided to try something different - I picked up a shitty little camcorder and started making videos. Eventually that's what led me to meeting Mark Crowther, the publisher of UC.
I remember the day he called and asked if I would be interested in sitting at the helm as editor in chief. I thought he was joking because I didn't know shit about editing or publishing. I declined at first purely because of fear. But he convinced me by saying all I had to do was be a climber and an artist. Do what I do with video, let my passion speak and my emotions do the work - and that that I could learn the technical side of being a magazine editor. So, I held the position for almost 4 years. Not a day went by I didn't appreciate where I was and what I was doing, but the job itself never really got easier for me. I struggled with learning how to be a great editor. It was such an incredible challenge. I don't know, I still think I had a long way to go in the learning process. All I know is I loved spilling my guts out about all the things climbing taught me; I loved hearing the stories from people all over the world who shared the same sentiments; I loved seeing our sport grow and being in a position to help to push it in that forward direction; and maybe more than anything, I loved knowing the community on a personal level. You know, I didn't choose to leave UC. I found myself on a very personal mission and I wasn't done yet. But all the same, I can understand why I had to go. It's economics, smart business decisions, and that's all. I'm grateful I was given the chance. Now, I hope to find another outlet that will allow me to continue what I started.
AK: Whats :02 for Joe Iurato?
Haha. I like that. I guess I should explain, :01 sort of became my mantra. It represents a new beginning, the very first second of movement in a forward direction. I came up with it after I was let go at the mag. It was a really difficult time for me, one that I won't go into too much detail about. I just went into a complete failure mode and I was stuck there. I started painting more and more because every time shit hit the fan in my life, painting was the drug that pulled my head out of my ass and provided some relief. Eventually I gained a little bit of clarity and focus and I told myself that I was going to move forward. I adapted :01 as my alias and it's who I've become.
As for :02, I really have no idea. As I mentioned, I hope to come back into the climbing industry at some point, though I don't know exactly when or how. I only know I'd like to be a creative force again. Aside from that, I'm going to continue stenciling and strive to push my art as far as I possibly can. I know for sure I've found a medium that I love and won't quit under any circumstance, whether it brings me financial success or not. I've got some really cool projects and collabos lined up for the near future. It's also possible I do more work with NBC. And I have plans to paint with one of my favorite artists, C215, in the streets of Paris...which, of course, will be during my next trip to Fontainebleau.
All in all, I really don't know too much about what the future has in store. We'll see. Tomorrow is far away. I'm still working on today.
You can see Joe Iurato's work at www.wix.com/joeiurato/01
You can contact him at joe.iurato@gmail.com
You can see more behind-the-scenes footage of Joe Iurato at work here:
Timelapse Video by Craig Copelin (www.nilepoc.com)
Music by Abel Okugawa (www.abelokugawa.com)
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Symphonic Works of Ed Kashi
by Andrew Kornylak for A Steady Drip Magazine.
click here for more content from A Steady Drip
A lot of people ask me how I came up with the idea for "Stillmotion," using a still camera to produce video-like motion pieces. Well, I didn't of course. But I was first inspired to try something like it in 2006, when I saw multimedia storytelling pioneer Ed Kashi's 2006 Iraqi Kurdistan Flipbook.
Iraqi Kurdistan by Ed Kashi
Iraqi Kurdistan is an expansive look into the lives of the Kurdish people of northern Iraq. These images provide an alternative perspective on a changing culture, one different from the discord that dominates so much media coverage of the region.
Iraqi Kurdistan is an expansive look into the lives of the Kurdish people of northern Iraq. These images provide an alternative perspective on a changing culture, one different from the discord that dominates so much media coverage of the region.
This wasn't your ordinary stop-motion piece. In Kashi's Flipbook, you'll see that the sequences sort of orbit around a central, final composition. You are following the photographer's eye as he observes the situation and then, with a snap, extracts the essence of it. Here you get to see not just that critical instant, but also the 2nd, 3rd, 4th harmonics of it, tightly punctuated by music and at a speed just under video threshhold. The result is, as Kashi puts it, a "symphony" of many equally important parts ingeniously blended together to render something somewhat new and beautiful in its own right. There is more dimension here than in a 12-shot photo essay, and dare i say, more material to ponder than in a video. The effect enhances what is already great content - the most important part.
My Stillmotion approach mostly riffs on Kashi's Flipbook, though the subject matter is radically different. I'll be giving a workshop on stillmotion and mixed media at the Atlanta Photojournalism Seminar on December 4, so I wanted to talk to the mix master himself. When his Flipbook came out, there both positive and negative reaction from the bleachers, though it got heavy play at the street level, where it matters most (debuting on MSNBC.com by way of Mediastorm, and by their accounts it was a financial success), and it directed a lot of attention to the plight of Iraqi Kurds. Similar approaches have become pretty popular today in both editorial and commercial media. I wanted to know Kashi's thoughts on the whole thing.
Ed Kashi is one of the leading photojournalists of our time, a National Geographic veteran of 18 years, and the co-founder of a non-profit multimedia company called Talking Eyes Media. He is also thoughtful and humble. I was lucky enough to catch him before one of his many trips to Pakistan last week to ask a few questions about his Flipbook piece and about multimedia storytelling.
AK: How did you get started working for National Geographic?
I starting working with NG in 1991, just as I had finished my first large personal documentary project. It was a 3 year project on the Protestants of Northern Ireland. In early 1991 I was able to show a very comprehensive body of work and also proposed an idea whose time was right, the plight of the Kurds. That turned into a 26 week commission that took me to 8 countries. I eventually was able to publish a book, When the Borders Bleed: The Struggle of the Kurds. It also began my commitment and interest in the Kurdish cause, which was how I came back to that subject for my 10th NG feature, The Iraqi Kurds. And it was that project in 2005 which spawned my Iraqi Kurdistan Flipbook.
AK: What was your inspiration for creating the Iraqi Kurdistan piece? Did you plan the flipbook style in advance or was it more something you came to afterwards?
I did not plan this. It was something I discovered while editing the project for the magazine story and then for my archives. It was also the first time I had shot a large story for NG digitally, so I literally had over 17000 images in one folder and one catalogue. As I edited I started to see these sequences and it sparked my imagination. I also realized my shooting style had changed from the days of a Leica and film. I was shooting more freely and this inspiration was an organic outgrowth from the work I'd been doing in multimedia and video since 2000.
AK: I think the unique thing about IK is how tightly it is synchronized with the music. The sequences seem to orbit around a final, powerful composition that is punctuated by a note of music or a pause. Where did you find the music, and did you construct the piece around the music or the other way around?
When I originally started work on this piece, it was with Lauren Rosenfeld, who was working with my wife, Julie Winokur, in our studio. I asked her to put the initial sequences together and then find music that was appropriate for the subject. Lauren did a lot of research on the internet at Iranian and Kurdish music sites to find the right pieces of music. We then handed a very rough 9 minute piece to Brian Storm and Eric Maierson at MediaStorm. They then turned it into the symphony it became. The coordination of the music with flow of images was crucial and inspired and ultimately the real magic of the piece.
AK: I understand (from hearing Brian Storm talk about it) that you used Final Cut as the sequencing tool. Had you worked with motion sequencing before, and what was your impression of working in Final Cut?
I don't do Final Cut Pro. I work with people who know it. But from what I can tell, it's the program of choice and really gives you the keys to the creative kingdom of multimedia and filmmaking.
AK: On the Lightstalkers photojournalism forum, someone posted an early version of IK and there was an amazing amount of negativity. There was all the usual criticism to something novel ("Its been done", "technique overpowers the images", etc) but there was also some pretty vitriolic stuff ("inherently fascist" [??]). At some point both you and MSNBC Multimedia Director Robert Hood respond to the criticism. Hood had some really good points about how this piece resonated with young people, and with his colleagues at MSNBC. He just seemed to be talking about the piece on a different level than the rest of the discussion. So, a couple questions here: Do you think there is a disconnect between the work that photojournalists are pursuing and what the media and their audience really respond to? Is this a problem that fresh forms of media can alleviate or do you think photojournalists are just hopelessly out of touch?
I feel the vitriol was for a few reasons; people with too much time on their hands, the size and quality of the web versions (back to that in a sec) and the fact it was something very different and for new (although it's really a digital version of something that is very old). The work I produce in this form, call in multimedia or short films, is really intended and best seen on a big screen with great audio. It's a shame to show it on such small viewers, as we are stuck with for now on the internet. I'm sure that will change with time and the fidelity of web players has already improved markedly in the past few years. Also, since we created this piece, it's been accepted and shown in at least 6 film festivals, at Arles Photo Festival in France and many other festivals and art exhibits including the George Eastman House Museum.
What this shows me is the photojournalism community, or at least as it was thinking a few years ago, is hopelessly out of touch with what we can do and what people want, or at least want they are willing to look at and appreciate. I know I took a huge risk in creating that piece, as I "showed" many less than perfect images. But the point of this piece was not to prove I am a great photographer. At this point I feel vindicated and overwhelmingly appreciated. I have also noticed that so many multimedia pieces now have at least a bit of the "flipbook" sequencing it them. I take that as a good sign that the Iraqi Kurdistan Flipbook opened up a door for other's to find expanded ways to visually express themselves and construct visual narratives.
AK: Do you think the reaction to IK would be the same had you done it yesterday?
Only if it hadn't been done yet.
AK: Since IK, you have produced quite a volume of multimedia through Talking Eyes Media. Do you see the flipbook style as a one-off experiment or part of a different thread in your work?
The Flipbook style has become a more concious part of my shooting style at times, and also a tool for visual storytelling in the final pieces. But it is not something we always do or feel is always appropriate. If it is overused, then it loses it's impact. When it's used well, it's very exciting and evocative.
AK: The current trend of convergence between still and motion picture tools has encouraged a lot of photographers to start exploring video more and video shooters to become more interested in still photography. Certainly it is driven by the need to find new revenue streams, but what do you think this trend means for storytelling? For hard journalism?
I am loving exploring the nexus between moving and still imagery and finding new ways to employ that energy to tell compelling stories and excite viewers in fresh ways. My only concern is that I don't want to lose still photography in visual storytelling. It would be tragic if we lost still images as a form of art, education, storytelling, entertainment and journalism above all else.
Kelsi:
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Kelsi
(01.11.10 @ 10:04 AM)
Kelsi:
I search and recently came across your blog and have been reading along. It was wonderful blog.
If you interested mean Your blogs Added my Site and please added your site Name also.
Kelsi
(01.12.10 @ 08:40 AM)
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Manpower, Part 2:
Washerwoman and Monster from camp. Zack stoking up.
Sunday, March 14:
Trent: It was getting late and I wanted to get back to camp before it got dark. I waited for Chaz to fiddle with his shoes and then fiddle with his pack. I didn't want to just leave him but I wonder if he realized that he was risking us having to walk down in the dark. We finally ended up descending to camp ourselves rather than waiting for Andy, Zack and Devin. I wonder if they were pissed that we didn't wait? Soon it was clear that we were lost. It was a little bit of a scary feeling, but we knew we couldn't be more than an hour from our camp. It was cold as soon as we stopped! Chaz was shivering and ended up spooning against me for warmth. I was not thrilled about it but "you got to do what you got to do". Then it started raining. ...I think I slept a lot better than Chaz. I suggested he wrap his legs with our Bluewater double ropes. It took half and hour in the morning to get all the knots out.
Chaz: An amazing day on washer woman and monster, and a long, fucking cold night pretty much sums up day 2.
Two towers in the bag. Heading out from the Monster group to Monument Basin
Trent and Chaz stumbled back to camp the next morning, just as the rest of us were gearing up for a rescue mission. They were tired and ragged-looking, but after hearing their story, our tension gave way to laughter, and with two towers already down, we decided to take an easy biking day and plan for the next climb, of Standing Rock, a 320-foot flute of layer-caked rock jutting from Monument Basin, 15 miles away. The climb was described in an old guidebook as "the most serious and dangerous route in the desert."
Nuts.
Monday, March 15:
Chaz: A pretty chill ride to Monument Basin and some resting under the shade of a juniper helped speed a recovery for the next day's ascent of Standing Rock, which will hopefully not topple over by morning.
Trent: Standing Rock looks like it's tipping over a little. I think we were all a little intimidated by how narrow it looked. Chaz and I took a nice nap while everyone else hiked in to check out the tower.
Standing Rock, just barely.
Zack: Tomorrow is the climbing day that tackles the tower. 4 pitches: 10b/c, 10d, 11c, 7. Lots of work and I'm trying to get my head together. I'm not concerned about act of doing the pitches; it just looks so sketchy from here. The tower looks like it could tip over at any strong breeze.. I'm sure it won't seem so thin and shaky when I'm 2 feet away from it. The desert is so beautiful!
Halfway through our trip, we were using more food and water than we had planned. We'd soon have to face some tough decisions about our style. During the next few days, the stress of climbing, biking and staying self-contained would test us.
Sunrise at Monument Basin
Tuesday March 16:
Zack: Gorgeous sunrise! An awe inspiring walk across the basin floor to the Standing Rock. One of the most eye catching, intimidating things I've ever climbed. Sketchy, and at 5.11c, harder than anything I'd done in the desert.
Desert Rack
Devin: Climbing Standing Rock went off without a hitch. As usual, Zack and Trent made it look easy and kicked ass on a lead that would have scared the shit out of me. Tomorrow will be a long, hard biking day, about 27 miles. Water is becoming somewhat of an issue.
Left: Trent leading Devin up the first pitch of Standing Rock. Right: Pitch 2
Zack: We're down to two gallons of water a piece so it must be getting close to time to go home. I have one more tower to climb and lots of gnarly uphills to bike, but I know the end is within reach. Today was the roughest biking day so far. A lot of uphill pushing. These cadis flies and mayflies are about to cover me up.
Chaz resting after the last hill of the day
That afternoon we headed a few miles down the trail for another campsite. We had some gnarly climbs, and had to team up to push eachothers' bikes up the last hill. The riding was getting really hard and we had a day's worth of water left.
Miles to go. Headed down to the Green River on the longest biking day of the trip
The next day was a huge amount of biking, and as we neared the Green River, our only hope for water, we hit sandy sections you could barely walk, much less ride. I hung back a little, partly to take photos and partly because I was whupped. Chaz, being the strongest biker, was constantly offering to take gear from each of us to lighten the load, and always seemed to have an extra Snickers bar in a hidden pocket. As I crested the final hill to the river, I was astonished to see Trent filling two empty jugs with fresh water from a woman in a Jeep.
Left: Chaz on mechanical duty. Right: Zack under some rare shade near the Green River
Wednesday March 17:
Chaz: 10 miles of rolling downhill along the White Rim past Candlestick Tower brought us to the banks of the Green River. A casual lunch of peanut butter and tortillas followed by rest in the shade of a Cottonwood.
Trent: Some lady offered us water and I let her fill up one of my 2 gallon jugs. Then everyone else reminded me that we were self contained. I felt stupid. We then filled up some jugs of water with river water. Zack and Chaz swam in the river for a while. I really wanted to get as far as possible into Taylor before dark but I didn't feel like telling them not to swim. We started biking into Taylor Canyon towards Moses and encountered a lot of sand. Zack finally protested and said it was a waste to keep going all the way into the canyon. He said he had looked at the map and since it was relatively flat, it was going to be deep sand the whole way. We camped in the wash and made plans for an early hike and then climb. I sensed a little tension in the group. Zack explained how he knew the shit would hit the fan and how he was ready for it. Zack decided he would get up at 3:30am and hike the remaining 5 miles into Moses. ... I didn't say anything.
Chaz wading into Green
Zack: To think we climbed Standing Rock yesterday morning is sick. It seems more like a week ago! I'm tired and hungry. I'm down to less than half a gallon of water with two days left. We got water from the Green River today but it's murky and kinda sketch. Tomorrow we climb Moses, the last tower on the list. The approach is 6 miles off the main trail. We stopped, bivyed, and will wake up at 3:30am. The whole trip culminates tomorrow. Today was the first sign of difficulties. Team dynamic becomes apparent and very visible. I believe now is go time. Buckle down, do the deal, whatever it takes. Climb Moses and get the hell out of here self-contained, under Man Power!
3:30 AM. Moses.
Thursday March 18:
I was personally pretty cashed and I knew this day would be a killer. We thought we could bike the 6 mile approach from camp, but it was all soft sand, so it turned into a 12 mile round trip hike. Pretty much out of food, and with the last water supply at camp, we had to decide whether to camp another night after the climbing, or gun for the trailhead on the canyon rim, a full days worth of biking away and uphill the whole way.
To try and speed things up, I decided not to join the team on the climb. I explored the area and photographed while everyone else tagged the summit. It was a beautiful day, but part of me regrets that decision.
Looking back 6 miles toward camp from the base of the first pitch of Moses
Trent at the base of Moses, and Primrose Dihedrals (5.11d), Pitch 1
Trent: We got up and hiked in to Moses. It was still very dark and cold. Chaz seemed extremely tired. He would take twice as long as me to follow the pitches. I felt bad and tried to console him even though I knew time was of the essence on the trip.
We took some cool photos on the summit and began rapping down the north face. We then began hiking back to our camp in the wash. It was getting extremely hot. We sat under one of the tarps and rested. Zack proposed the idea of biking all the way back to the truck and driving home. The map came out once again. I believe there was way too much map analysis. We made dinner and boiled water. I wanted to bivy but Zack and Andy were jacked on coffee and wanted to keep riding. A vote was taken and Chaz was the deciding vote to go all the way back to the truck. I was a little amazed after all the climbs we did together and how much he had slowed me down. I guess my emotion boiled up and I said "thanks a lot Chaz". He freaked out a little because he has this need to make everyone happy. He then said he wanted to camp at the top of the hill as a compromise. I could feel the tension between everyone.
Mid-day back at camp
After some grueling but mercifully hard-packed biking, we gained mesa at 9:30pm. The next morning at the rim we were elated. Though we had no breakfast and just a few sips of water left, everyone looked forward to a casual few hours of flat biking to the car. That's when most of the journal entries, and the photos, stopped.
Psyched! Devin on the morning of day 7.
Friday March 19 :
Andy: We suffered today. Out of water. We rode on seemingly endless hard pack, up and down hills, across a barren landscape, constantly stopping to examine the map, in hopes that we were getting to a shortcut that led to pavement. At the shortcut, I was bonking, so was Zack. I asked if anyone had food left. Chaz miraculously produced several Clif Bars, chocolate bars and a precious Snickers, which Zack and I devoured. Taking the last swig from my bottle, I felt at least able to go the 3 miles or so in the growing heat until pavement. The shortcut was twisty and sandy. Lots of walking, and silent resting under the paltry Juniper trees here and there.
I sucked my tea bag dry, which I had brewed last night in river water. The group was spread out. I saw what I am fairly certain were mountain lion tracks over the fresh bike tracks ahead of me on the trail. I thought about how the pride seeks out the weakest member of their prey, the lame one lagging behind. I increased my pace, but I had no more hammer left. I had kept a strong pace on the switchbacks last night, full of hype, but now as I realized that today would be at least as grueling as the last six, I was demoralized. I felt strangely sleepy and found myself thinking about how cool the sand might be to curl up into. How long would they go ahead before they turned back for me? Would they find me devoured by lions? Not such a bad way to go, I remember thinking...
And then we were at the road! No elation yet, we still had miles to go, but I found extra strength, my tongue swelling, stomach in knots, legs jello, brain pudding. I stupidly tried to shift my gears lower and lower, even though I was walking the bike.
Finally in the distance: the entrance station! I was so happy. We had put together this crazy project and here we were, finished!
Done, doner, donest.
We descended like locusts on the nearest convenience store, hungry, tired and elated. On the way out, passing the train of jeeps and trucks laden with bicycles and gear queued up for the Trail, we felt we had accomplished something truly special. By being bold in our objectives and committing ourselves to a principle, we had climbed a proud desert-rat's tick-list, biked a fat-tire dream ride, and spent six nights under the stars of the southwest desert, all in one trip.
To propel oneself slowly across the still-awesome American wilderness is a profound joy. The window of opportunity for this kind of adventure in our public backyard is still open to anyone, yet it dims and sags with time, neglect, and the "march of empire." Once that window is closed, we may gaze through it and remember, but it will be closed forever.
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Manpower, Continued
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The Roadless Rule was a Clinton-era gift to wilderness adventure put in place in 2001. The policy protects 58 million acres of federal land from road building. It was effectively rendered null when the Bush administration left it up to each state to draft their own Rule. For nearly a decade, the status of this policy remained in the limbo of the Courts. President Obama expressed his administration's support for a federal Rule, but there are many conflicts to resolve, and policing the federal timber inventory is not exactly high on the agenda these days.
In April 2004, I photographed four friends on a unique little adventure in Canyonlands, Utah. The goal was to free climb four classic desert towers over 7 days along the remote, 100-mile White Rim Trail. The real challenge? To do the whole thing self-contained, by human power alone. This trip is a celebration of the kind of adventure you can have by leaving the car behind for a little while.
"Manpower" is a story of this adventure I wrote and re-wrote over the years, and it's never been published in its entirety. I had asked everyone to keep a journal and with their permission included their personal thoughts in the story. It's a little long for a blog entry, but I think I'm going to try something new here and post it as a two-part serial.
Enjoy and feel free to share this content.
Manpower, Part 1:
The 600-foot twin sandstone towers of Monster (left) and Washerwoman
Rain drops sent up puffs of dust around me as I burrowed deeper into my bivy sack. I clicked on my headlamp and looked at my watch: 10:30pm. Clouds had begun to obscure the stars and moon a couple hours ago when Zack, Devon and I were still finding our way out of the canyon. Our two friends Trent and Chaz had left before us, and we expected to arrive at our campsite to blazing stoves and bright tents. Instead it was dark and silent when we stumbled into camp. The cliff-lined amphitheater surrounding us was treacherous in the dark, booby-trapped with loose ledges, and direction-robbing side canyons. You could easily run out of light and get lost out there, or worse. Tired and hungry after a full day climbing, we cooked dinner, hollering into the dark. We finally made the decision to stay put until morning, and to send out a search party at first light.
I couldn't sleep, feeling that familiar buzz from another night out in the wild. Days away from any road, service, or even water, we were committed to the landscape. We were also committed to an idea: to travel through this landscape on human power alone, in one of the few places left in America that you could still die trying to find your way out of: the desert Southwest.
Chaz, keeping Utah wild. The start of the 100-mile White Rim Trail is visible in the canyon below.
At the start of the 21st century there were more automobiles per American household than licensed drivers, and a well-planned, well-maintained system of highways covered the nation. In 1925, seeing the first mass-produced autos coming off the line, naturalist Aldo Leopold wrote, "The time is almost upon us when a pack-train must wind its way up a graveled highway and turn its bell-mare in the pasture of a summer hotel. When that day comes, the pack-train will be dead, the diamond hitch will be merely rope, ... and thenceforth the march of empire will be a matter of gasoline and four wheel brakes." A century later, the march goes on. Even the "graveled highway" of Leopold's time would seem quaint and primitive if encountered today.
The idea that some public land should be protected from mechanized development was in its infancy in Leopold's time. The invasion of the automobile and paved road into the American landscape added urgency to this movement. Arthur Carhart first officially used the term "wilderness" in 1920 to designate Trappers Lake in the White River National Forest in Colorado as forever "roadless." The effort to officially protect land from development was further championed by Leopold. Since humans cause destruction of the land, he reasoned, humans ought to be responsible for protecting and preserving it. The New Mexico forester was one of the first to voice a purely ethical argument for preserving wilderness, one that remained unpopular until much later.
Roadless. Canyonlands, Utah
Decades of movement toward
preservation of America's last wild lands culminated in 1964, when Congress
passed the Wilderness Protection Act. Though wilderness was defined as "an area
where the earth and its community of life are untrammeled by man, where man
himself is a visitor who does not remain," it also sought to preserve
"outstanding opportunities for solitude and unconfined and primitive type of
recreation." This new 105-million-acre primitive playground was not open to all
however. Mountain biking, unheard-of in the '60s, but now the pursuit of an
estimated 35 million Americans, is a prohibited activity in Wilderness Areas.
Though knobby tires, when used responsibly, cause no more harm than foot or
hoof, the mountain bike fell under the same "vehicle" category as off road
vehicles and snowmobiles.
2001 was a good year for
pedal-pushers. That year, the Forest Service issued the Roadless Area
Conservation Rule in the last days of the Clinton Administration, putting
nearly 60 million acres of National Forest land under protection from most
logging and road-building. Unlike Wilderness Areas, Roadless Areas would allow
mountain biking. For proponents of man-powered recreation, as well as
conservationists, it was a huge victory. But the party didn't last long. In the
wake of a half-dozen lawsuits by states refusing to follow Federal mandate,
George W. Bush suspended the Rule immediately upon taking office. On July 12 of
this year, the Forest Service officially overturned the Rule, throwing up its
hands and leaving designation of roadless-ness as an issue to be lost in state
bureaucracies. Those who choose to
shun "gasoline and four wheel brakes" in favor of self-propelled forays into
the wild can only hope their governor feels the same way.
Shrinking Wilderness. Green River, Canyonlands.
"Wilderness," said Leopold, "is a resource which can shrink but not grow." But there are areas of land that can be reclaimed, where roads can be closed to motorized vehicles, de-emphasizing the imprint of man and encouraging a return to Leopold's classical definition of wilderness. These reclaimed roads could still provide a way to get deep into the backcountry, while still providing a wilderness experience. In the deserts of the Southwest, many roads that were built for mining or other resource exploration have been long abandoned or designated for recreational use as jeep trails.
The Colorado and Green Rivers carve a torturous path through Utah's Canyonlands National Park, eventually joining near the southern border. Between them has formed an immense arrowhead-shaped mesa called Island in the Sky. The White Rim Trail, built by the Atomic Energy Commission in the 1950s in a vain search for uranium, follows the outer rim of this mesa, encircling a rugged "middle world" of sandstone towers, walls and canyons. The Trail is popular with four-wheel drive enthusiasts, and with local outfitters, who use off-road vehicles (ORVs) to support multi-day mountain-biking trips into the park. With modern biking equipment and some smarts though, many of these roads can be traveled by manpower alone.
The Manpower Team (left to right): Devin, Trent, Chaz, and Zack, racking up in Salt Lake City, UT.
My old friend Trent Baker, an intense multi sport athlete and lawyer in Salt Lake, wanted to apply this ethic to this most quintessential American wilderness. His idea: we would free climb four major towers in Canyonlands in a single push. The climbing would be tough, but the main difficulty would be the style: self-contained, with no motorized vehicles on the trail itself. We would propel ourselves using only manpower, traveling by foot and mountain bike. With little access to water, foot travelers rarely spend one night out in this rugged backcountry, and most cyclists do so only with the support of an ORV. By embracing this style, Trent reasoned, we could set a precedent for low-impact travel in a wild area heavily burdened by motorized use, while at the same time reaching ever greater levels of adventure. Our four climbing objectives, Monster, Washerwoman, Standing Rock and Moses, are all located near the White Rim Trail, and it seemed barely possible to access all four by mountain bike.
Giving water to the desert outside Moab, Utah.
Trent had enlisted two friends from Salt Lake. Chaz, an MD/PhD student, climber and expert mountain biker, was Trent's partner on past climbs. He would be the bike "leader" and would also serve as the trip medic. His friend Devin, another climber and mountain biker, was added later to help distribute the loads. I would be along to photograph the adventure, and Zack, an ace free climber from Atlanta, joined me. This would ensure two strong climbing teams of two and a fifth as backup. Months of planning followed; email planning sessions, gear testing, training and securing travel plans had us all eager to leave our worlds behind and head for the desert.
Best best place for a dirt sandwich in all of Canyonlands. Chaz heading downtown.
The first two days of our trip were eye-openers. I had barely touched dirt when I got the first flat tire of the day, less than a mile from the truck. Our bike guru Chaz fixed it quickly, but both Trent and Zack had flats within the next 5 miles, perhaps owing to the heat on the wheel rims as we descended thousands of feet of steep switchbacks down to the Colorado River. We each pulled nearly 80 pounds of food, water and gear, and our overloaded bike trailers threatened to torque us right off the edge of the dizzying road.
Zack, Trent and Chaz all wrecked multiple times, their rigs bucking like wild animals over the bumps before taking them down. In those couple hours, the trailers with their bright yellow dry bags earned the nickname "squirrel". By the time we finally arrived at our first campsite, we were tired, but eagerly anticipating the day of climbing ahead.
Stop. Think.
We each kept a journal of our trip, and everyone agreed later to share our entries for this story.
Saturday, March 13:
Trent: We stocked up on fresh bagels on the way out of town. Strange people hanging out in the bagelry at 6am, I guess they probably thought we looked strange as well, decked out in technical fabrics and matching sunglasses. Everyone seems psyche. Zack seems like a nice guy. I am not sure whether Andy wants to climb or take pictures. Devin seems to be very interested in the exact mileage and altitude details. We stopped at the visitor center to get our permits. Andy said the Ranger girls thought we were "hard core" for biking the White Rim self-contained. He didn't even mention that we were also climbing 4 towers.
Chaz: Three bike mechanicals in the first 3 miles had me a bit worried, but no problems for the next 12. Hope I brought enough tubes. I thought it was pretty sweet that the whole group was talking environmental issues and politics on the ride down. Group dynamics seem to be working well; this was my main concern for the trip. My other concern is someone's bike having a major mechanical problem and my ass being on the line for it.
Devin: I'm really excited to have such good climbers along. The climbs seem a bit intimidating but desert towers wouldn't be much fun if not a little scary at least. Aside from the slightly sore ass from the saddle, the start of the trip has been great. It's not going to be any kind of cake-walk but the challenge is what it's all about.
Zack: The first day comes to a close. Everyone is off to bed and the uninterrupted evening sky is new overhead! It feels good to lie down. The team seems to be in good spirits; lots of laughing and joking, but still a sense of business. The bike moves well and the trailers are better than I had expected after the trial ride in Salt Lake City. Tomorrow we climb and I'm happy to not be getting on the bike first thing. I'm glad to be a part of this journey: around the White Rim, up the towers, and into myself. I felt weak on the bike, but tomorrow I can do my thing!
First tower in the bag. Zack Pitts at the camp under Washerwoman and Monster Towers
On the second day, we woke up to some beautiful architecture. We were camped in a sandy wash just off the trail, a highway of skin-colored rock dotted with sage, and the surrounding canyon rose around us like a coliseum, with dozens of giant stair steps leading to two 600-foot columns of sandstone, Monster and Washerwoman. We hadn't given too much thought about our exit strategy after a day of storming the towers. Hasty to return to camp after a hard day of climbing, Trent and Chaz had gotten separated. That night the rest of us mulled over how Trent and Chaz might be faring, somewhere in the canyons above, as the rain and temperature fell.
Sunday, March 14:
Zack and Devin, threading the needle on pitch 2 of "In Search of Suds" (5.10+, III), Washerwoman Tower.
Chaz and Trent on pitch 1 of North Ridge (5.11, III), Monster Tower
Zack: First climbing day was a total success. Two teams, two towers, two routes. The views were astonishing. One of the best climbing days of its kind for me. Trent and Chaz finished about 1 hour before Devin and I and took off for camp. When we got to camp they were nowhere to be found. It was well after dark when we arrived.
Devin: Badass
day of Climbing! Both groups made it up both towers and were able to give beta
from one tower to the other. One problem: Chaz and Trent haven't made it back
to camp yet...
Catherine Conner:
Hey this is so inspiring! Can I go on your next desert tower trip? Great stuff, unique plan!
-Catherine
(11.13.09 @ 12:14 AM)
Constantin:
I'm drooling here...
Can't wait to get there some day. You guys have an amazing playground there.
Cheers!
markguycan:
thx for the episode, enjoyed it very much. took me back a few years when we did Washerwoman by approaching from Mesa Arch.
(02.21.10 @ 12:16 PM)
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Manpower : Lost in Canyonlands, Utah
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You're a lucky guy. Climbing is a hobby of mine...
(11.24.09 @ 03:02 PM)