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Baker's Dozen : A Pinhole Dialogue by Amy Rockett-Todd

What began as a trek through the woods towards Fairy Beach, with canned chairs atop the heads of her children, fusing the paths of two wellie-wearing women … Amy Rockett-Todd met Antonia Small on that rocky beach the summer of 2012.  As Jack, Antonia’s jack Russell, perched himself atop a nearby rock, the two discovered they were both ‘pinholers’.

 A chance meeting on a quiet empty slip of land, a stone's throw from Andrew Wyeth's childhood home "Eight Bells" ... on this beach which isn't even visible at high tide, the two found themselves stepping into a visual pinhole dialogue that would span almost 2000 miles and 13 months.

They began in April 2013, on Worldwide Pinhole Day, with their wooden Zero Image Cameras with 120 roll-film, shooting images specific to their own artistic visions as well as the contrasts of their varied regions – the flatlands of Oklahoma and the rugged coast of Maine.  Each image from both artists includes a backstory, a personal account of the experiences of discovery and image capture.  These backstories can be found alongside all 26 exhibition images within their 90 page book titled Baker’s Dozen : A Pinhole Dialogue, and can be purchased at TAC Gallery (9 E MB Brady, Tulsa OK) during the exhibition (April 1-30, 2016) or online at Blurb.com here:   



What exactly is Pinhole Photography? … Pinhole photography is lensless photography. A tiny hole replaces the lens. As light passes through the hole; an image is formed onto film emulsion in the camera.

The Backstory of Slow Tide ... by Amy Rockett-Todd

Slow Tide.  Amy Rockett-Todd 2012.

Slow Tide.  Amy Rockett-Todd 2012.

It's the backstories of images that get to me. This one is no different. The ending image is not the image that stays with me when I look at this one.  It's the image of my (then) 10 and 11 yr old children walking through quiet Maine pines with wooden chairs atop their heads, at times obscurred from my siteline ... legs, rungs, and spindles bobbing in the air down to the shoreline, the gentle lapping of tide growing louder.  Of youth going out.  And age coming in.