Stu Jenks: Fezziwig Photography

"Harriman, Tennessee" (c) 2008

"Harriman, Tennessee" (c) 2008 Stu Jenks
[An homage to a Blake Hines' photograph]

"Alkali Flats, White Sands National Monument, New Mexico" (c) 2008

"Alkali Flats, White Sands National Monument, New Mexico" (c) 2008 Stu Jenks

    [This image was shot, using Ilford SFX 200 film, the poor man's infrared. Sure, I have a $1300 Canon digital camera but was I going to take it out onto those dunes? Not on your life. My old Pentax with its 28 mm lens did just fine. And even though some fine sand grains did get inside my camera, I was able to fix the scratches on the negs in Photoshop.
    After hiking a couple hours in the heat, wind and light, the true highlight that day at White Sands was seeing a family of Chiricahua Apaches playing in the dunes. The whole extended family was there. Mom, Dad, Grandma and Grandpa, and three young children, the kids rolling happily sideways down the dunes, laughing all the way. The parents and grandparents were laughing too. I was smiling as well. The Dad had a Washington Redskins sweatshirt on. I'm not making this up.
    Mostly, I felt happy just seeing their joy. I know a little of the Chiricahuas' history, that only a few survived the Indian Wars and its horrible aftermath, but some have since flourished, to a degree, living on the Mescalero Apache Reservation, east of White Sands. Beautiful mountains, lots of hunting, fine skiing, and a spacious resort to boot. They've worked hard and gotten lucky with the gambling I suppose. I'm happy for the Chiricahuas, and happy to see that family frolicking in the dunes that day. But I still wish the U.S. Government would consider giving some of the Chiricahua Mountains back to them. It was their home, after all, and I'm guessing, still feels like their home in the hearts of many of the members of the tribe. If they took Virginia away from my family after The Civil War, I'd miss it too.]

Hoop Dancing: The Nocturnal Photography of Stu Jenks: Chapter One: "The Wisteria Prayer Tower"

Hoop Dancing: The Nocturnal Photography of Stu Jenks: Chapter One:
“The Wisteria Prayer Tower, Sonoran Desert, Arizona" © 1999, 2008

    I'm here alone tonight with a small hoop made of wisteria, the vines a gift from Mary Ann’s backyard. I twisted them into a circle and wrapped the hoop with a battery-powered string of clear Christmas lights. The hoop and lights sit at the base of a saguaro cactus. I open the shutter and walk back to a nearby shelter. It's a simple structure. Just four posts and a crude roof made of two by fours, spaced a few inches apart, to give some shade from the midday sun. A couple of benches too. From this short distance, I can see the glow of the hoop, and I begin to drift off into memory, thinking of a night under this shelter, just last year.
    [It has just begun to rain. We've had a great dinner at Caruso's, celebrating her birthday. It's Monsoon season and we decided to go look for storms. We found a big one. The rain's coming down in sheets. The shelter proves little relief from the storm but we don't care. I gaze upon her silk green dress, not completely soaked, sticking to her beautiful body, her nipples showing through the fabric. Mary Ann and I are very wet. In many ways. We laugh. I press her against one of the shelter’s supports and kiss her deeply again. She kisses me back hard and makes a little moan. I feel a stirring. It's really pouring. I hardly notice.]
    I blink and sigh. Back to tonight, this moment, this time. I leave the shelter and walk back to the hoop and the saguaro. The glow of Tucson's city lights shines over the mountains to the East. I gingerly approach my Rollei. Ever so slowly and evenly, I advance the film, with the shutter still open. I turn the knob a third of a turn, then another third, then another, until I'm relatively sure I've drawn the film through at least two or three frames. I then close the shutter.
    I consider another exposure. I open the shutter again. I slowly take my hands away from the camera, and step back from the tripod. I walk toward the shelter. I then take myself out of the moment, out of this night, and daydream myself back to that night, last year, with Mary Ann. The one with the hard rain, with that never-ending kiss, with that wet silk green dress.

"Ebenezer Baptist Church, Atlanta, Georgia" (c) 2007

"Ebenezer Baptist Church, Atlanta, Georgia" (c) 2007 Stu Jenks

    "...Well, I don't know what will happen now. We've got some difficult days ahead. But it doesn't matter with me now. Because I've been to the mountaintop. And I don't mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land. And I'm happy, tonight. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord." - Martin Luther King Jr., in Memphis, Tennessee, April 3rd, 1968

    [Rev. King's last words, to the musician Ben Branch on the balcony of the Lorraine Motel, Memphis, April 4th, 1968:  "Ben, Make sure you play 'Take My Hand, Precious Lord' in the meeting tonight. Play it real pretty."]