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2011: That Was The Year That Was

I begin to see possibilities for multipurposing much of what I generate for this blog and for other outlets. Subscribers to Photocritic International and visitors to this blog can expect further multimedia offerings here, on a regular basis henceforth. In 2012 I intend to develop a line of ebooks, and to further energize all the sites that comprise Photo Education Online, the consortium to which Photocritic International belongs. […]

2010: That Was The Year That Was

The year began for Photocritic International with threats of a six- to seven-figure lawsuit from three goons in expensive suits, related to my pursuit of the Polaroid Collection debacle. The goodfellas in question who tried making me an offer I couldn’t refuse: Mitchell Zuckerman, President of Sotheby’s Ventures, LLC: John R. Stoebner, the court-appointed Chapter 7 Trustee in the PBE Corporation bankruptcy proceeding; and George H. Singer, Esq., Stoebner’s attack poodle. The year concluded, approximately, with my call for the resignation of another thug, William “Wild Bill” Turnage, managing trustee of the Ansel Adams Publishing Rights Trust, consequent to his corruption of the Center for Creative Photography and the University of Arizona-Tucson, where that institution is based. […]

Birthday Musings 12/19/10

Having worked freelance all my life, I understood from the outset the necessity of reinventing oneself periodically. Roughly every decade of my professional life has required radical redefinition of my work, my activities, and my skill sets. This past decade, the Oughts (or Aughts), has followed that pattern. […]

Planet of the Academics: An Interlude (2)

You can’t spend your professional life around practitioners of a given craft without some of their knowledge (including their craft understandings) rubbing off on you; osmosis works. As a result, over the years I’ve allowed what I gleaned in this regard to infiltrate my writing. […]

Planet of the Academics: An Interlude (1)

Now, even rigorous and thorough research is surely not as conventionally manly and ostentatiously testosterone-validating as wrangling your view camera plus related equipment up some mountain and making your mule your bitch after dinner by the campfire at the summit. So I can see how someone like Jeff Schneider can analogize a mere desk-bound scrivener like myself to “a spoiled, pubescent young girl,” “virgins in their tighty whities who like to throw stones from the safety of their firewalls,” and “a closeted homosexual evangelist.” . . . […]