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Arthur and John Updike.Both are in striped suits.

Arthur Griffin with John Updike

Griffin in Person

It is all very well to look at the exquisite photographs, and to peruse the biographical facts, but this still leaves unaccounted for the presence, the charisma, the visible lust for life that has packed ninety unrepentant years onto Arthur’s trim 5 foot 9 inch frame. The frame jiggles up and down, slightly, even in repose, tremendous with energy to hasten on to the next task, encounter, or, on the golf course, stroke. I have known Arthur most extensively on the golf course, his beloved Winchester links, where he beckoned me years ago, on a (false) rumor that I could help him land one of the prizes in a summer member-guest tournament. One year, thanks mostly to our skilled teammates, our foursome did finish in the money; heading toward my car and the hazards of negotiating Route 128 in the twilight, I directed Arthur to spend my share wisely, and he bought me a pair of pink-plaid polyester golf slacks that only he could wear without mortification. The odd thing is, they fit very nicely – they feel good – but I dare wear them seldom. When I do put them on, I abruptly know, for the second before natural embarrassment sweeps in, what it feels like to be Arthur Griffin. It feels like a lightning rod just after being hit by lightning, and still tingling.

Being Arthur Griffin would prematurely age most anyone else, but for Arthur it has been the passage to eternal youth. Who else, well into his eighties, would preserve through the bureaucratic brambles of small-town conservatism in order to bestow upon Winchester a gristmill filled with photographic treasure? Who else into his tenth decade would be cooking up this opulent album, this brimming yet inadequate record of his feats and flashes of photographic inspiration. Still cooking, that’s Arthur. His inner tingle translates into an outer twinkle, a ready glimmer of good-humored excitement between the frosty goatee and the bill of his jaunty Greek captain’s cap. When he speaks, there is sometimes a blur around a consonant or two, produced by excessive electricity, and eagerness to get on to the next utterance. On the golf course, there isn’t a cart fast enough for him, and in an age of ponderous Nicklausian mediation Arthur would be for younger golfers the ideal model of dispatch. No sooner has he hopped out of the cart than the ball is scuttling up the fairway; no sooner has he assumed his putting stance than the ball is speeding toward the hole. If he sometimes takes a lot of shots to get to the green, it is no doubt because fewer would have left him with all that energy still to burn up; there should be in Winchester two golf courses, one on top of another, so he could play them both simultaneously.

And I should add that Arthur can write too. More than one contributor to Arthur Griffin’s New England: The Four Seasons noticed how much livelier than his own essay was Arthur Griffin’s laconic yet vividly factual account of when and where and how he took the picture. God is in the details, they say; certainly photographic excellence stems from attention to details. That, and a willingness to seize the moment. At seizing moments Arthur Griffin is a veteran expert, and here are some of those he has seized. He has caught on film the New England we all would like to think we live in; but perhaps only he really has lived in it, with a friendly fury that has rendered him ageless.

John Updike
March 7, 1994

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Floor Plan

Amy Rindskopf's Terra Novus

At the market, I pick each one up, pulled in by the shapes as they sit together, waiting. I feel its heft in my hand, enjoy the textures of the skin or peel, and begin to look closer and closer. The patterns on each individual surface marks them as distinct. I push further still, discovering territory unseen by the casual observer, a new land. I am like a satellite orbiting a distant planet, taking the first-ever images of this newly envisioned place.

This project started as an homage to Edward Weston’s Pepper No. 30 (I am, ironically, allergic to peppers). As I looked for my subject matter at the market, I found that I wasn’t drawn to just one single fruit or vegetable. There were so many choices, appealing to both hand and eye. I decided to print in black and white to help make the images visually more about the shapes, and not about guessing which fruit is smoothest, which vegetable is greenest.

Artistic Purpose/Intent

Artistic Purpose/Intent

Tricia Gahagan

 

Photography has been paramount in my personal path of healing from disease and

connecting with consciousness. The intention of my work is to overcome the limits of the

mind and engage the spirit. Like a Zen koan, my images are paradoxes hidden in plain

sight. They are intended to be sat with meditatively, eventually revealing greater truths

about the world and about one’s self.

 

John Chervinsky’s photography is a testament to pensive work without simple answers;

it connects by encouraging discovery and altering perspectives. I see this scholarship

as a potential to continue his legacy and evolve the boundaries of how photography can

explore the human condition.

 

Growing my artistic skill and voice as an emerging photographer is critical, I see this as

a rare opportunity to strengthen my foundation and transition towards an established

and influential future. I am thirsty to engage viewers and provide a transformative

experience through my work. I have been honing my current project and building a plan

for its complete execution. The incredible Griffin community of mentors and the

generous funds would be instrumental for its development. I deeply recognize the

hallmark moment this could be for the introduction of the work. Thank you for providing

this incredible opportunity for budding visions and artists that know they have something

greater to share with the world.

Fran Forman RSVP