LOS ANGELES, CA - Welcome to my new blog. I know it’s been a long time coming, but I think you are going to like what I have in store.  I’ve organized the content into 4 sections (Notebook, Feature, Dailies, Treasury) to make navigation easier and each post has an area for comments  and/or questions in hopes that ultimately this blog can act as more of an online exchange of ideas between you and I. Here’s a quick rundown of what to expect.

This section, Notebook, will serve as a way to introduce the content for each edition as well as give you quick updates on projects, events and my whereabouts. Think, “letter from the editor” in your favorite magazine.

Young Vaqueros

Next we have the Feature. As the title suggests this section will contain the main article for each edition. It will serve as the space where I can talk more in-depth about finished or ongoing projects. For example, in this issue I write about An American Dream: Guadalupe, CA. It is the first released installment to my series about how I see America through the camera. In the article I talk a bit about how I came to the wonderful town of Guadalupe, CA and my philosophy behind the wider An American Dream project.

Which reminds me, if you’re in the greater Santa Barbara, CA area there is still time to see the exhibition An American Dream: Guadalupe, CA at Brooks Institute’s Gallery 27. The show has been extended and will be on view until March 31st. Correspondent Josef Woodard at the Santa Barbara News-Press gave it a very good review on March 4, 2011.

“From the impressive looks of it, Morgan Hagar’s current exhibition at Brooks Institute Gallery 27 belongs to the fairly well-established category of photo essays portraying a slice of small town USA, in terms both artful and journalistic.”

The Dailies section contains smaller articles or featurettes, so to say, on single images and/or stories I come by during my everyday travels out in the world. There is no central focus for this section so I’m liable to throw anything in there. In this issue I keep with the America theme and show some images from a recent trip to Philadelphia, PA. The image above, of the Pennsylvania Assembly Room inside Independence Hall, was one my favorites from the trip.

If you are into American history, this is the room to visit. This is where they appointed George Washington Commander-In-Chief of the Continental Army, they adopted the Declaration of Independence on July 4, 1776, they approved the design of the American Flag in 1777, they adopted the Articles of Confederation in 1781 and it’s where they debated, drafted and signed the Constitution of the United States in 1787. The Founding Fathers got a lot done in this room. My favorite part is the area up front facing the camera and immediately under the chandelier, that chair and desk. The chair, with its rising sun carved in the seat back, is where George Washington sat during the Constitutional Convention and on the desk before it rests the silver inkstand used to sign the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution.

25 Witenesses

Finally, the Treasury is dedicated to older work that doesn’t normally see the light of day. This section will provide me a space to look back, see how things have changed and share some stories behind the images. That said, I can’t imagine a better way to start this section than showing some images from the photographic essay Thamkrabok that takes a look at the famed Buddhist Monastery in Thailand. Coincidentally (or not) a selection of those images will be on view during an upcoming benefit art show. The show is called, “The Elephant in the Room” and it will take place Saturday, March 26 from 5pm-10pm at 2nd City Council Art Gallery in Long Beach, CA. Proceeds from the show benefit the Land of Elephants program at Elephantasy in Ayutthaya, Thailand. There will be good food, good drink, good art and it’s all for a good cause. What more could you ever want?

So, that’s all for now. I hope you enjoy the new blog.

GUADALUPE, CA - An American Dream: Guadalupe, CA is the first installment in a series of photographic essays documenting the people, places, and events that make up the larger story of the United States. In keeping with the traditions of the great documentary photographers that have preceeded me, I have set out with the ambitious agenda to document everyday life in America. My ultimate goal for the An American Dream project is to pass on a lasting archive of reports so that future generations may see this country in a context outside the mainstream news media. I believe it is the accounts of small towns and ordinary people that truly compose the narrative of America, not the latest diatribe broadcast by garish cable news outlets or the sensational flash-bulb glare of celebrity scandal.

My first subject for the project is the small agricultural community of Guadalupe, CA. The idea was given to me years ago while I attended Brooks Institute in nearby Santa Barbara. Paul Liebhardt, professor, raconteur, rascal and travel photographer extraordinaire, suggested I take a look at the town. I was one of the rare photojournalists in the school at the time and was itching to get out of the beautiful and placid surroundings of Santa Barbara.

He said that it was like a whole other country so I went and instantly became fascinated by the early 1900s architecture and friendly nature of the people. I grew up in Texas and it reminded me a lot of the small towns I would stop in while on my way from here to there. The problem I ran into with Guadalupe back then was the fact that it is a quiet town. There’s not much going on usually. While it seemed like an ideal place to explore and photograph, I was young and fidgety and wanted action and adventure more than anything else.

In college it was said to me on more than one occasion that in ten years I would most likely to be riding around on tanks in a war zone. At the time that sounded like a great idea, but now, ten years later I find myself dedicating my time to work on stories that aren’t as sensational as war in a foreign land. I don’t have that foolish yearning to travel to far off hot-spots to prove myself anymore. I’ve come to appreciate my own backyard.

It is said, mostly by Americans, that America is the greatest country in the history of man. That may be the case, but if history has taught us anything, it is that nothing lasts forever. The recent economic crisis, frequent natural as well as man-made disasters and the ever-growing political hyperbole that pervades our daily lives has cemented the idea that now is the perfect time to turn my focus to the United States.

So a few years ago I put my passport away and began to consider my options stateside and instantly thought of Guadalupe. It had somehow managed to remain stuck in the back of my head over all those years. I kicked the idea around in my head for a while, but it was hard to justify not having that “hook” that all editors want. Most editors believe that stories need something extraordinary to get a viewer to commit time to reading. Unfortunately there wasn’t anything that fit that description there and I thought about angles on the town that I could cover that would make it interesting to a magazine editor. I thought about the town’s predominately Latino population and the probability of a high amount of illegal immigrant labor to work the fields, but it’s California, that’s not news. I thought about drugs, prostitution, etc., etc., but none of that exists in Guadalupe more than anywhere else. Nothing was interesting enough to pitch to an editor of any kind. It’s a simple town.

After that I started to wonder if I’d find anything worth shooting when measured up against that yardstick. Then I decided to pick another audience. If I’m not going to find a story that will curl the toes of a magazine editor then whom should I produce my work for? That question festered for quite a while. However, once I thought about the basics of Documentary Photography, I found the answer. Since it’s inception documentary photography was meant to record something for the sake of history. It’s not photojournalism, which is photographing news events, but it’s the study and recording of something so that down the road someone else can view it and relate to a different time or culture, so they can learn from it.

That’s when it hit me. I decided that from now on my audience will be my unborn great-grandchildren. Why them? For the same reason old photographs hold greater meaning to people. As much as I hope I’ll be around to meet and talk to my great grand-children I imagine those odds are small and since our country changes more quickly everyday I want to provide them with my view of America as it is during my time. That way they can look back and see what life was like for regular people in various parts of the country. Hopefully they can learn from our achievements  as well as our mistakes and realize that on the whole the things that separate us are far fewer than the things  that bring us together. There are aspects of this country that if left undocumented or not placed in a certain context will simply fade away. That would be a tragedy much worse than anything I can think of. Like the philosopher George Santayana wrote, “Those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it.”

The project An American Dream is produced with the thought that while the subjects I choose aren’t necessarily newsworthy now, some day decades done the road someone can look back at what America was like through my camera. It’ll be a different America than what the slick gossip-heavy grocery store rags or the one-shot news magazines portray and it won’t show the idealized version of America that public relations experts or advertising executives want you to purchase. The point to this body of work is to record what I feel is missing in the continuing history of these United States, and that’s America.

PHILADELPHIA, PA - One of the best things I love about being a photographer is the ability to drop everything and leave for anywhere at a moments notice. I love the unencumbered life. That’s not to say I live a completely haphazard existence, but there is an element of self-determination I enjoy.

Last December my wife was scheduled to fly out to Philadelphia on business and I decided to come along. It was only for a couple of days, I was not booked for any work at the time and I hadn’t been there before. I figured I could run out and see the sites and hopefully get a few shots while the wife was working. So I traded in some airline miles and packed a bag. Now , ticket in hand, I needed to look up some things to shoot while I was out there. I started with the few things I knew about; the Rocky statue, museums, art galleries, parks, and the like. It was a pretty broad sweep, but that was okay. I didn’t want to get tied into something specific on this trip. I wasn’t there long enough to really dig in.

While bouncing from here to there on the Internet I kept coming across the Independence National Historic Park, the birthplace of America. At first I wasn’t interested, the idea sounded a bit too rudimentary at first, but the more I ran into it the more I started down that road. I’m sure you know the one; it’s that road with the invisible on-ramp that somehow always sucks you into its unavoidable vortex. For me that road is called, “The-I-can’t-turn-around-because-I’m-suffering-from-the-tunnel-vision-of-getting-an-idea-stuck-in-my-head-super-highway.” I know it’s a mouthful, but then so are the Latin names for most diseases and this is definitely an affliction I suffer from. Add a healthy dose of political junkie-ness on top and nothing else had a chance.

I’m not going to get into a walking tour of everything I liked about the place because it would take far too long and there were too many things I liked. Hopefully you’ll have the opportunity to experience this place on your own (believe me when I say it’s worth it). I will, however, touch on a few highlights a particularly enjoyed. If you’ve already read the Notebook section of the blog then you know my favorite part of the park, the Pennsylvania Assembly Room, so I’ll leave that one alone right now.

The first thing I wanted to mention was how hospitable everyone was at the park was. I never really thought about the whole, “City of Brotherly Love” motto that Philadelphia is known for, but it exists. It is real and it would be great if they could somehow bottle it. The best thing about it is you don’t really notice. Like good baseball umpire or a good basketball referee, if you notice them it’s probably because they’re not good. For instance, walking to my car my wife and I pasted a re-enactor on the sidewalk and I explained that I was a photographer and asked if I could take his photograph. He agreed instantly and offered to take a second picture with my wife staying in character all the while. He was warm and friendly, and unlike the overzealous, sweat-stained, attention whore impersonators along Hollywood Boulevard, he never asked for money and didn’t snarl when I didn’t offer any. I thanked him for his time, he thanked me and we both went on our separate ways.

The first exhibit I saw was the Liberty Bell. Throughout my entire life I’ve seen images of the bell plastered on almost everything; history books, posters, magazines, advertisements, movies, television shows, etc. There seems to be no limit to it. So when I walked into the Liberty Bell Center I wasn’t expecting a real “wow” kind of experience. The bell had been used so much for so many random reasons that the luster had worn off long ago. Yet as I stared to walk through the all the historical displays leading up to the bell I started to feel a bit excited.

I’ve been fortunate enough to have been to many Churches, Synagogues,  Buddhist temples, and various other shrines. I’ve even touched the Wailing Wall in the Old City of Jerusalem, and all-in-all I feel pretty confident in saying I’ve walked upon hallowed ground in my time. Additionally, there is one thing I’ve noticed when I find myself in one of the areas. There is a certain energy, or feeling, that washes over people that seems to slow down time. I can’t really put my finger on it, but it’s palpable whatever it is. You know it in your gut and after I finished with all the historical displays, the accounts of its use during the birth of America, the abolitionist movement, the push for women’s suffrage, and all the other times the bell has symbolized freedom and liberty in its storied history I was ready to see it.

When I finally laid eyes on the Liberty Bell, I felt that tug in the gut I remembered. Time really does seem to slow down in moments like this. Even the way it is displayed evokes a feeling of spirituality. As the top image on this page shows it is hung by itself in a simple room with a glass wall that looks out onto Independence Hall where it lived and rang out for years. To it’s side a National Park Ranger stands vigil and warmly answers any questions about the bell you may have. After some long quiet moments of reflection I made a few images and left the chamber to sit in one of the chairs provided.

I sat for a about ten minutes trying to plan my next move for the day, but really I just sat back and watched as group after group walked up to the bell and quietly stood and stared. Even the children fell silent. Older gentlemen, mostly veterans, would remove their hats out of respect. After a few minutes it seemed as though the visitors would snap to, take a picture and move on, as did I.

The other anecdote I wanted to share is mainly for myself. In Independence Hall there is a wonderful display dedicated to the Declaration of Independence. In the main display case a copy of the first printed version of the Declaration of Independence is on view.  And when I say copy I don’t mean that I just ran off a Xerox copy from Kinko’s, I mean this was one of the 200 hundred original “Broadsides” George Washington had made so that it could be distributed to newspapers and government buildings throughout the original thirteen colonies. It is estimated that only 24 of these Broadsides remain today.

Anyway, this image is for my Dad. He’s retired now, but before that he was a printer and he’s always been fervently patriotic. I can’t imagine what my Dad would say if he was asked to make reproductions of something like the Declaration of Independence except, “Hell yes!”

Thamkrabok

Sara Buri, Thailand - If you were to run an Internet search on Wat Thamkrabok you’d learn very quickly that it is famous for its unorthodox drug detoxification and rehabilitation program. Stories abound describing it’s reportedly harsh rehab treatments and strange cleansing ceremony. It sounds crazy and exotic and makes for a good extreme travel story in magazines geared towards people who never leave their cubicles. Yet with most of the world’s attention focused on the lore it’s easy to miss the fact that Thamkrabok is one of the most beautiful and peaceful monasteries in Thailand. Considered as the “airport to nirvana” to the 150 or so monks and nuns that reside there, the sprawling grounds include huge gardens, beautiful temples and breath taking monuments.

I was fortunate enough to be able to stay there, but unfortunately just for a few days. However, in that short time the serenity and beauty had penetrated my memory so much I still have tremendous urges to return. It’s the kind of place that just gets into your bones.

Morning happens a little before 4am. That’s when breakfast preparations are begun for the monks and nuns who eat only once a day. I wasn’t aware of this schedule and so on the first morning when two monks and the their push cart carrying an assortment of large metal bowls rattled their way past my open window I thought for sure that the building I was in was being attacked by a dish throwing mob. Obviously, I didn’t need an alarm clock that morning.

Generally speaking there is no real hustle and bustle in Thamkrabok. Time tends to melt away during the steamy afternoons when not much is happening. Normally the monks and nuns spend most of the day meditating, studying and working on projects. Many of them have self-assigned jobs they tend to on a daily basis. I met the the monk and nun that tended to the impressive 10+ acre garden that grows the bulk of Thamkrabok’s food as well as a variety of pepper that is sold in some of the neighboring cities. I asked how hot the peppers were and the monk smiled and said that it would probably be too much for me. I shot him a look that intimated we “farangs” have some game and then he ate one and began to instantly sweat profusely. I’m not much of a culinary heat guy so I took his beet-red and sweat-dripping face as a sign that I shouldn’t take that test. Besides I didn’t want to spend the rest of my time there in the latrine. I smiled and changed the subject.

Walking around Thamkrabok you notice that almost every corner of the wat has a major construction project in the works. In the center of the monastery is what’s called, The Central Monument. This 3-story shrine representing the teachings of Thamkrabok looked as though it was in several states of construction. When asked, Phra Hans told me that a great many projects have started since 1981 after Luang Poh Charoen returned from his Tudong (or spiritual journey), became abbot and began constructing the monastery according to visions he had.

These must have been some mind-boggling visions because even in it’s unfinished state Thamkrabok is awe-inspiring. I can only imagine what the finished work will look like, but I have a feeling it will be something to behold. And yet, walking around I almost wish it can remain as it is now. To me the fact that most of these structures aren’t finished, and seemingly never will be, is perfect symbolism for Thamkrabok’s spiritual purpose.

25 Witenesses

I came to Thamkrabok to document the drug rehab center, but I left with a keen sense of spirituality I’ve seldom come across since.  As I mentioned above my time there was short and my experience can only be classified as surface at best, but for me it meant a great deal. I was also fortunate enough to meet Phra Hans Piyathammo Ulrich Kämpfer. He introduced me to all the elders and vouched for me while I was asking for permission to have free reign throughout the Wat to make pictures. He took the time to show me around the massive complex and was happy to answer all the questions I had. Unfortunately, I learned he passed away a few years ago. Regardless, he still lives in the memories conjured every time I look at these images. Wherever he is, I hope he has finally attained nirvana.

For more information on Wat Thamkrabok visit their website and download the guide Phra Hans assembled.

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