Shane Micheal Carl Guy

Shane Micheal "Carl" Guy, my brother, is an interesting fellow. For those of you that know him, you know how funny, sincere, and insightful he can be. Throughout our childhood, his ability to quickly grasp and master anything in his way always amazed me. When we were little, he set about to memorize every state's capital. In no time he knew them all. I would always try to pull a quick one and quiz him at weird times, like when he was brushing is teeth or when he had just woken up. Late one night I crept up to him as he lay asleep. 

"What's the capital of Maine?" I whispered. Nothing. And then, groggily, Shane replied "Augusta.... leave me alone". "Nevada?" I enquired. Shane buried his head under the covers and shot back "Carson City! I'm trying to sleep!" I returned to bed having been schooled by a sleeping boy three years my junior. It continued this way with Shane. Drums, Guitar, Piano, True Crime. He became the authority on anything he was interested in.  

       For the many of you who know him, you probably know how guarded Shane can be when it comes to speaking freely about those things he holds dear. Shane came by photography in a very casual way, gradually falling more and more in love with the medium. After the break up of our band, Shane decided to put music on the back burner and focus primarily on his other art. At the time I can say I was a little perturbed at this development. Shane had been my constant collaborator since I first picked up my guitar. Bummer. 

      In mid-September of this year, I conducted an email interview with my brother Shane concerning his photography, mainly to find a way into a new understanding of his work. From having seen his early work, I was immediately glad that he chose to pursue photography with the veracity that he held for his music for so many years. His eye for light and composition is amazing, as is his intellect regarding the photographic process; capturing a concept and finding beauty in the overlooked surroundings of everyday life. 

      So, without further delay, here is Shane speaking about his art...

When did you first become interested in photography?

    It's a blur of memory, but I always remember taking out the never-used Pentax MG under my parents' china cabinet and being awed by all the numbers on the lens. Otherwise, I didn't get seriously interested in photography until high school - when my brother and my friends would buy disposable cameras just to mess around with, and then there was the general investment (but the instant return) of going to Target or WalMart and getting a Polaroid camera. 
    It seems like all high school kids get interested in photography at the same time, due to the fact that photography courses are generally an elective in high school. Those classes were perfect for the kind of people I hung out with: not literally art drawing, not sports, and not classical or band music. It was hands-on, messy, and technical. All the interesting people were in Photography, so that's where I went. It was there that I learnt how to develop film and make prints, how to work with an enlarger, all that stuff. 
    But, even before I had semi-formal training in photography, I had always been fascinated by trying to get a picture to look exactly like my eyes saw it. Of course, with disposable cameras, that was impossible, but it didn't stop me from trying. The first time I ever really accomplished that (fig. I Riverview, 2001), I was hooked.

Photography came and went (usually based on access to a good camera), but even now, with a decent amount of equipment, it's still exactly that, for the most part - trying to capture exactly what my eyes see in an object. And that's a skill you never stop trying to learn. 

What are your weapons of choice when taking pictures and why do use these particular pieces when you do?

    There's always one camera on me - a Kodak Easyshare C315 digital. It's easy to have those "Damn, why didn't I bring a camera?!" moments, so I always carry one. It's also my only digital, so if I need something instant, it's there.
    But when I go shooting, I keep a pretty simple kit, with two cameras. One is an SLR - I'd been using a Pentax ME Super a lot until it started having problems, and now it's a Nikon EM - both of them have the stock 50mm lenses. I might also pack a Canon Rebel if I need a really wide-angle lens, for those long-exposure night shots. The other camera in the kit is always a Canon Canonet QL17, which is a late-'60s rangefinder camera. The lens is beautifully sharp and, at 40mm, wide enough to catch most of anything I want to photograph. If this camera had shutter speeds above 1/500, I wouldn't use anything else.
    So, I use the SLR when the framing has to be perfect, and the rangefinder for wider angles. I still want to get some good wide-angle lenses for my SLRs - 35mm and 28mms of some type.  

Without giving away the secrets to your awesomeness, what tricks do you use in post to finish your photographs?

    I used to contrast the hell out of everything, back when I all I worked with were digital pictures and drugstore film scans. It helps the Kodak Easyshare pictures a lot - I still contrast quite a bit on those photos. But drugstore film scans are a different thing altogether, because I had no idea what they do to a photograph - not even print the whole frame, for starters, and then what they do print is auto-corrected in every way possible; contrast, color balance, sharpening. It fools you into thinking you're a great photographer when you're starting out - "Whoa damn! Look at these colors! This is perfectly exposed! This kit lens is amazing!" - I thought that a lot when I first started getting film developed. In fact, I was scanning an old negative of mine from a couple of years ago recently, and even now I was shocked that what I thought was a perfect long-exposure at night was in fact horribly overexposed. I'm amazed that the drugstore's film printer made that into a usable picture. 
    I'm not a big fan of huge amounts of post work. It's cool if you want the picture to look like something that you'll never be able to photograph for real, like fantasy and ethereal kind of stuff, or when you'd spend a ton of money getting it to look right, but it annoys me when photographers make photography more complicated than it has to be, because they feel like they *have* to Photoshop everything they deem fit to show to other people. Photoshop should only be there to fix small mistakes in a great photograph, not to *make* a photo great.
    When the film leaves the camera, this is the chain it goes through before it goes online: I get it developed at whatever drugstore is closest to me (just the negatives, very cheap), take it home, put it in the negative scanner, look through them, make low-DPI scans of the ones I'm curious about, and then, if that scan looks good, make a high-DPI (3200 DPI) scan of it. And then I sharpen it twice - once in the large-DPI size, and then when I shrink it to the mid-sized frame that goes on Flickr. Sometimes I'll under- or over-expose a negative in the scan, but not too much. And, other than cropping, which can sometimes be liberal, that's all the editing I do. Only when I feel like a negative is truly horrible will I start experimenting, and sometimes I'll get something interesting when I mess with the contrast and gamma correction, and use it. 
    I put a lot of stock into knowing what kind of lenses and film you should use to get the right exposure and colors the first time around. This is why I don't experiment a lot with those kinds of things - stocking all of my cameras with Fuji Superia 200 or 400 speed film is what works for me, and what I'm satisfied with. I'm shooting a lot of Kodak 800 lately, and I'm still getting used to the color balance. 

The subjects of your photography are usually industrial in nature, with many of your pictures depicting structures such as buildings and bridges. What aspects draw you to these subjects?

    I've always held a kind of shine for things that aren't exactly beautiful. I know that sounds cliche, but I see beauty in almost everything, from the boring to the sublime. I would understand if people thought my pictures were boring, because I only take them for myself, and I like things that people would call boring - streets, bridges, buildings, curbs, railroads, bleak skylines, and the like. All that boring stuff.
    History also has a lot to do with it. A large part of my photographic interest is documentary, so it's a matter of documenting the world I live in, as I see it, all of it - what's old, what's new, and what's coming.
    The importance of everything also gets to me - "this is Hubert Street, this is Watrous Avenue" - why were they named that? Who lives on them, or used to? What kind of history was made here, that no-one knows about? That's also what draws me to old buildings - people worked in them, lived in them, fought in them, *existed* in these buildings in a bygone era.  These buildings are truly links to the past, and that past will always tantalize me - even though I appreciate and enjoy my own times. 
    It's mostly coincidence that most of the things I photograph are connected to industry in some way. They're just things that I find beautiful. All those lines and perfectly-formed structures.

From studying your work, some of your more intimate pictures seem to be steeped with meaning while your building portraits seem to be a chronicle of downtown settings. How much meaning do you attach to your more intimate photographs?

    There is a difference between my personal photographs and my documentary-based photographs. Honestly, you can't be very symbolic or meaningful when you're trying to record facts - though sometimes symbolism seeps into my documentary photography, most of the time without my realizing it. 
    My intimate photographs are just those - "This is *me*, this is the person whose pictures you look at on Flickr. I am myself. These are my friends and family, these are the people I love, this is what I do when I'm not running around Tampa with a couple of cameras and a head full of historic imagery and beautiful structures." There's naturally more meaning to them. I've always had a hard time explaining myself to others; photographs are an easier way of doing that. Documentary is really at the bottom of everything I do: I'm recording what I am and the world I live in with every photograph I take. And hopefully, they'll make an interesting collection someday.

What photos are you the most proud of today?

    Hmmm. Tough question.The most recent thing that I'm really proud of is my Rick Wright tribute (fig. II Rick Wright R.I.P.)

I took the sleeve for Obscured by Clouds and did a couple of test shots of me holding it - literally photographing the album cover. That was boring, so I decided to throw it in the air and see what happened. About seventy-five attempts later, I got the result I wanted. And now I see the unconcious symbolism in it - clouds literally float in the air, of course, but there's one instrumental on that album, "Mudmen", that, for me, was what flying in the air would probably sound like - it's a very soaring song. That's the first thing that comes to mind when I think of that album, but I didn't think of the unconcious connection between that feeling and the fact that I wanted to capture the album sleeve in midair - in flight.

    "Sinful" is good, too (fig. III Sinful).

That's a good example of when a photograph turns out good from the beginning. I did nothing to that but crop the edges of the negative off and sharpen it, and yet it turned out exactly like I saw it. It's a static object, so I could go back and photograph it, but I couldn't capture this again.

 

And here's another one - probably my favorite long-exposure night shot (fig. IV Condo Tower on Cass Street).

Dallas and I were driving through downtown Tampa one night and we both look out the window at once and just go "Gahhh!" because it was so beautiful. We had to pull over on Twiggs Street and try and photograph it. And it came out great - with Dallas' help, I captured the absolute hugeness of it, and the crane lights above the building. It looks almost foreign to me - like it's a picture of new construction in Europe. It doesn't have that Tampa vibe. 

Can you fill in the public on your fascination with the Cass Street bridge?
    

    The Cass St. bridge has always interested me. When Dallas was living on Harbour Island, he'd bring me out to Tampa to hang out. One time we went to the U.T. campus and chilled by the river, and I saw that huge drawbridge section of it up in the air. I got curious - "What the hell is that? Why is the drawbridge part up in the air? Why don't they just leave it down? When's the last time it came down, anyway? It looks ancient," and so on and so on. Dallas explained to me that it was a railroad bridge, and that the drawbridge section "hasn't been down since I was born". Now, that's not true, but Dallas didn't know otherwise. So I was psyched - this is the history geek in me - "It hasn't been down in nineteen years?! That's fucking crazy! It's so old and awesome-looking!" 
    So, the next time Dallas and I hung out on Harbour Island, I knew that it was time to really explore downtown, in a way that I hadn't before. We walked all the way to the Performing Arts Center, and the bridge was *right there*. And curiousity got the best of me - as we were walking back, I asked Dallas to stand at the end of the bridge and watch me. And I walked the entire length of the thing, to the raised section, with my adrenaline rushing. I took a couple pictures, and then walked carefully back to land. I thought I was being dangerous - now, on Flickr, there's a guy who dragged a girl out there and did a modelling session on the bridge. Brave. 
    Of course the bridge isn't abandoned. Trains use it about twice a week, and, for some reason it's positively rare to see the Cass St. bridge in the down position. So I got kind of obsessed with getting my own picture of it, until I did (fig. V Holy Crow!). 

I still admire it though - Tampa was a totally different place when that bridge was built. It's awesome to look at pictures of the bridge in old Burgert Bros. photos, and stand by that same bridge, knowing that this was all different, but that this bridge is the constant. It gives you a moment of connecting with the past.

How about the Floridan Hotel?

    I first saw the Floridan Hotel when I was a small child - seven or eight years old. I was riding in a truck with my dad, and he was taking a shortcut through downtown. I remember seeing this tall, old building with a huge "FOR SALE" sign on it.I was piqued, because where I'm from (Riverview) doesn't have any old metropolis. This was my first real exposure to it, and it blew me away.
    That image of the Floridan was burned in my brain for years. The same day that I walked down the Cass St. bridge, another mission was to find "that huge abandoned hotel downtown". Dallas and I wandered around aimlessly, until I turned a corner. And *there it was* - it was huge. It loomed above me, and above almost every other building around it. It was beautiful, awe-inspiring. So I took a photograph of it, and then came back and took more photographs of it, and then really fell in love with it.
    Honestly, I concentrate on it because it's Tampa's last historic skyscraper. There used to be a number of multi-story hotels downtown, and they're all gone, except this one. I'm glad that someone is renovating it as a hotel - it'll be used, instead of sitting there rotting.

What are some other areas around town that you are fascinated in?
    

    There's a number of them - Davis Islands is one, because it's hopping with photographic opprotunity. I'm not even close to done with Davis Islands, in a creative sense. Ybor City is also another good place where I rarely take photographs, or in the places near there - on State Road 60, on Broadway, in all those industrial areas. I get a lot of ideas driving through those areas, but never photograph them. I need to start doing that. 

Music seems to find it's way into your art as well. Do you find that these arts mingle well?

    They can. It depends on what you're going for - I approach photography and music in much the same way, which is the dictums of "get it right the first time" and "take advantage of mistakes". This is why it frustrates me when I mess up a photoshoot so badly, that I have to do it again. I feel like I'm supposed to do it right the first time.
    When I started doing photography, I was kind of anal about things being straight and all lined-up. But now I've gotten to the point where I was in music, where something imperfect can still shine, because I'm still proud of it.
    I'm still working on finding a way to combine music and photography into one balanced artistic expression, since I love both equally. 

You are also a musician, as well. How do you differ in the way you use the mediums of photography and music to express yourself?

    And here, music and photography have many differences. A song is like a photograph in the sense that you can "cover" someone's else's photo, that is, take something very similiar to it because you were inspired by it, but a song can also stretch and take on different forms in the hands of the *songwriter*. I don't believe that a photograph can do that - sure, a Photoshop wizard can take one of her photographs and edit it ten different ways, but I don't. A photograph is a moment in time to me, much like a musical recording is. 
    Honestly, I *approach* music and photography very much the same. I'm a lot more of a perfectionist about my photographs, though. One can re-mix and record new parts for a weedy recording, but a shitty photograph is a shitty photograph. When I edit, I might get eight workable photographs out of two rolls - forty-eight exposures. And then, I'll be proud  of only one or two of them. My music was much more chaotic - my shooting is pretty chaotic too, but I edit it with much more care. 

Could you see yourself making photography a career in the near future?

    I'd like to get a niche and really work on it, and then specialize in that professionally. But that will take a while.

What would you tell someone who wanted to get into serious photography for themselves?

    Literally shoot as many pictures as you can. You don't get better by looking at someone else's photographs and taking mental notes about what makes them work - you get better by taking photographs, and carving out your own style. Eventually, you'll know what you're good at and what you're not, and it's good to know your strengths and weaknesses. And never be afraid to experiment, even with film.  
    Secondly, you have to be your own toughest critic. If anything in the picture bothers you, drag it forward and examine it. And remember to avoid it next time. Does that picture you took look absolutely horrible? Ah well. Hopefully you can get it again - if not, you blew it. It happens all the time. But mistakes should never stop you from trying again. 
    Thirdly, know your terminology. I'm not going to say that you have to sit down and physically learn how to develop film and make black-and-white prints - it helps, but doesn't make you a better photographer. All I'm asking is that you know what you're talking about - that you know what an ISO is - what grain does - how film is made - how to work with the "sunny f/16" rule - what depth-of-field is. I'm not a photo genius, but I know what I'm doing with the camera. You should too, if you want to be taken seriously. 
    And last, but not least, it really doesn't matter what you shoot on. The amount of quality you want is up to you, not up to "standards". You'll know what you like. Look at plenty of digital and film pictures. Consider your costs. And then decide for yourself. Shooting film doesn't make you a more "serious" photographer, and shooting digital doesn't really make you "smarter", either. 
    And that's about it.

    
What do you have planned for the future?

    I want to do a book, eventually, but I have a hard time grasping at a subject it could be about. "Old Buildings, Streets, and Industrial Structures of Tampa, Florida" doesn't really grab. But I'll think of something eventually.

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     Since this interview is a tad dated, I'm sure Shane has a whole host of new favorites he would like to show off. As he progresses I can certainly see his skills as both a documentary and artistic photographer. I have a number of favorites from his catalog that I love for my own reasons. Here are a few:

Westland Avenue #2 - This photo is the essence of one angle of Shane's work I love: his eye for capturing a wide array of concepts in one photo. When I see this image I feel a mingling of pride and awe. For untold years these electricity meters have been running, tolling away the hours of our lives in slow kilowatt increments. There is something about the feeling of time untold enveloping your short lifespan that is at one time exhilirating and terrifying. These meters will continue to run long after we are gone, there duty never truly done. The blue tones and absence of harsh reds lend a sense of immortality to those simple meters, further supporting the feeling of loyalty in service and unyeilding power the meters stand to represent.

Windows - Once again showing his eyes for awesome composition, this work is full of interesting shapes and an compelling force of perception that is magnetic in it's sturdy framing. I'm always interested in subjects with a sense of contrast in them. Here, a dilapitated building stands to one side as a newer, occupied building comprises the center of our view. I think each of us has a soft spot for the remains of the past that sit neglacted beside our newer, prettier objects. I think Shane does a great job of reminding us all that that soft spot still exists, even as we busy ourselves with our contemporary lives.

Windows #2 - This may be my favorite photo (although I can't be sure) that Shane has shot so far. This photo was taken in near pitch blackness, with a 24 second exposure. To me, that's insane. When it all came out, the building looks like it was illuminated by some incredibly strong other worldy source. Totally amazing.

This photo has inspired me, as well. I am writing a short story based on this picture that I am really into. Maybe I'll publish it here when I'm done. Anyways, the first time I saw this picture I was instantly drawn to it's almost surreal compsition. Here stands a rough hewn building with totally asymetrical windows with an average looking wooden building huddled in one corner. It seems to beg for your interpretation, and when you have none, it challenges you to stare at it's surreality. 

Haircut - While the title of the photgraph betrays what it captures, what I love the most about this picture is it's absolute lack of establishment. Gritty, mildewed cement is the backdrop to an orange extension cord, a disused excercise wieght, and thick curls of dark hair. The way in which the blue hues work together creep me out. Since there is no apparent explaination for these objects to be grouped together, one starts to search for reasons and, thus, helps complete the photos effect. You grasp at reason and come up with a handful of hair.  

Davis Islands Bridge - TGH - This picture is an excellent example of Shane's documentarian compulsion. This is a beautiful view of what makes Tampa so great: clear nights, smooth water, and gorgeous city lights. This could easily be on anything official from the city of Tampa. The framing is beyond the amatuer. Shane truly knows what he is doing here, complimenting our view of sky, lights, and water with a swatch of sculpted concrete and trees. 

Jean Circle Remixed - I can't get enough of this one, either. Another long exposure shot, the aperature stayed open a full 30 seconds to get this image. The effect of the lengthened exposure time is amazing. While this photo captures the pure black pockets of shadow flung across the streets, the night sky actually shows some illumination, making the shadows appear even more stark contrast to the raw light spilling down from the tree. 

While this may not be intentional, this picture evokes some deeper feeling in me. Upon inspection, one sees that the viewer is enveloped in the same dark shroud of shadow that is poured across the street. Your eye is drawn to the almost heavenly illumination of the tree and thus are literally in the dark, peering into the light with a sense of avid desire; the almost inherint need to ascend toward the gorgeous glow. Can this be the fortune and happiness that we all wish to have, that we all seem to feel entitled to? Could be. Either way, the image is stark and beautiful.

So, in conclusion, it is obvious that Shane is very talented when it comes to his photography and, like so many other things, has quickly absorbed it's secrets and now wields it's power to create art in his thoughtful, unique way. Like I said earlier, I didn't understand at first when Shane felt it nessecary to make photography his main focus. It's been through being able to view and experience his work that I came to see why he shifted his efforts toward this medium. If you are interested in viewing his full work, you can visit his Flickr account @  http://www.flickr.com/photos/shane_guy/ and see all of his other photographic endeavors. Be sure to keep up to date, since Shane posts new photos everyother day or so, and if you see something you like, be sure to leave a comment. As long as he's not trying to sleep, I'm sure he'll be happy to converse with you. Just don't ask him about any state capitals. He's still got that on lockdown.