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A Photographic Series by JOHN ELLIOTT

The Human PulseThe Human Pulse

In dedication to my mother, who allowed me the freedom to explore; and my daughter Danielle, a most spiritually gifted source of inspiration and strength.

The Human Pulsea Photographic Series

By John D. Elliott

2nd Edition 2016

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When I was about six I discovered The Family of Man. This seminal work of photography and prose, a book edited by Edward Steichen and incorporating some of the magnificent visual opus of Life Magazine, has been continuously published

in thirty editions since it first appeared without much fanfare on magazine stands in 1955. Only recently did I recollect perusing and admiring it as a child, but the memories were im-mediate and vivid. Although I have not seen this book for decades, I can easily reflect on my interest and curi-osity prompted by many of the hun-dreds of photographs within. The ac-companying poetry and writing were beyond my ability, but I subsequently discovered the reputation of Carl Sandburg, James Joyce and many of the other contributors.

Thus recently musing upon the genesis of my photographic series, The Human Pulse, I was pleasantly surprised to be able to track the scent so far in the past. It wouldn’t be until

ten years after I first turned the pages of The Family of Man that I discovered the thrill of traveling to, and living in, other countries, and growing to appreci-ate all the amazing ideas and approaches of different cultures. But, growing up in New York City, in the hustle of Manhattan, other cultures were all around me. My father would delight in taking the family to Chinese restaurants, where we were encouraged to eat in culturally “authentic” ways, with chopsticks and over hot oolong tea. Or at a Polish eatery he would coax me into trying borscht–no matter that I loathed both beets and cold soups. Although a lifelong atheist and born a Jew, he once taught me and one of my two sisters how to pray to Allah as the Muslims would, and the chant remains chiseled in my mind. (My Christian mother countered, eventually, by sending us to a private school where the devotional liturgy was still chanted in Latin.)

The city of my youth was then as it is today blessed with the glittering galaxy of human activity and ethnic complextion. One of my early memories, probably at around age four, is watching outside our apartment window overlooking the

building courtyard, as some Jewish families built temporary succah structures from old doors and such, an annual tradition following the High Holy Days. From the front side of the building, even in the 1960s, I could sometimes observe from a window the rag collectors or junk dealers in their pathetic, horse-drawn carts. Or a scissors-sharpener, loudly promoting his craft. A visit to lower Manhattan was a montage of diverse faces, scents and sounds, especially when I was brought to the fish market or a Greek shop for feta cheese and olives. A lucky fellow was I, for my friends in school often hailed from en-chanting places that captured my curiosity, such as the girl from Saudi Arabia in first grade who was so mysteriously reserved. Or a good friend, Herbert Labrada of Puerto Rico, whose apartment was steeped with the scent of arroz con pollo, frijoles and the thrill of chili sauce. My best friends came in all tints and attitudes, from the young Afro-American proto-scientist Otis Ward to George Schnell, of German roots and whose older sister would humiliate me in wrestling play.

At the age of thirteen, my sisters and I were suddenly informed by my father the family would be moving to Florida. Disaster! I thought; in “The South” I imagined everyone was “backwards,” and I could already sense an inchoate pang of elitism. But the plans were made (ironically “to escape the high level of crime” and before we could know the effects of the drug trade soon to be-fall Miami) and a tyrant’s decision is always final. Arriving in the Miami area in the ‘70s was to be a treat, however. I rather enjoyed the sudden summer showers while the sun still shone, and the already dominant culture of the Cu-ban emigres was also of interest to me. Soon, I found myself striving to learn Spanish–if only so I could decipher what my classmates were saying about me, the new kid.

At fourteen, I took a class in drafting, part of which involved learning pho-tography and darkroom skills and which soon completely captured my interest and passion. I soon saved up some money from my first job (at a camera store) for an adequate camera, a 35mm Mamiya Sensorex SLR. The next year, in high school, I joined the marching band and my mother somehow came up with the money to pay for me to go on a band trip to Europe. While in the first country of our trip, England, my camera fell to the bottom of the lovely Avon River when my buddy decided to stand up in the canoe, capsizing us. In spite of that debacle, I completely enjoyed discovering the delights of Europe. I took photos with my mind’s eye and resolved to return someday.

The following year, however, my travels were markedly different, in terms

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of culture and destination. During my junior year in high school, I joined a volunteer health care group, Amigos de Las America, and trained with two dozen other youths from the area, in medicine, cultural awareness and Spanish. That summer, I traveled for nearly a month throughout a small, mountainous region in Nicaragua, giving measles vaccinations to children, polio drops to babies and English lessons to inhabitants of my impoverished village called Cinco Pinos. With a new (Canon) camera, I began to document the sadness of disease, dirt floors and distended bellies, but also the shy smiles of los jovenes and the regular rewards of pink clouds and redolent sunsets at the close of each day.

I served again as a volunteer for this program the following year, in a dif-ferent part of Nicaragua; then in my first summer of college, as part of the program staff, in Honduras, for more much of the summer break. These three summers became the crucible for my motivation to reach out to the people of

the world, if not in person then through photography.

A seminal experience in my life was when the 1972 national conventions came to Miami. I somehow convinced my mother to allow me to take the lengthy bus ride to the convention site each day for a week, where I would prowl both inside and outside the Convention hall, pausing to document the excitement and violence. For the first time I was able to pore over the printed results of my excursions and I reveled in discerning the details I had captured.

I chose a college that had a strong journalism program, Ohio University, but which also had a strong fine arts and photography program. My four years at OU were a blissful immersion into the fundamentals of visualizing and art conceptualizing. I found many role models, from Diane Arbus to Henri Cartier-Bresson. My first photographic series, “Victims,” had a strong connection to the sense of the unusual and mysterious.

Marriage and starting a family paused the world travels some-what for a decade, except for a lengthy and high-yielding trip to India with the Rotary Foundation. But as my daughter Danielle en-tered her teenage years, I resolved to show her the world, and my own personal excursions resumed. (Danielle is carrying the baton of international friendships well, having studied and worked in three continents for the betterment of mankind through music.)

When I joined the U.S. Foreign Service in 2010, it was a hugely rewarding opportunity to spend two years first in Brazil and then in Saudi Arabia, where I could indulge in unhurried photographic exploration. With my wife Rebecca––an excellent photographer in her own rite––often by my side, I seek to reach out to more foreign hands, learn new phrases and discover new friends at dif-ferent destinations. From the Haitian migrant workers in central Florida to the Icelandic natives bathing in their thermal springs to the Tamils in India who taught me how to avoid marauding elephants, I have found the keys to friendship are as simple as giv-ing a “thank you,” in the indigenous lingo, a willingness to receive a cup of tea or a typical bread, and offering smiles seasoned with humility. If I’m lucky, in addition to sharing friendship and ad-venture, I return with exposed film or full camera cards, nascent witnesses to my mindset.

“Miami Bus Riot,” one of the photos I took during the Miami presidental conventions, from my 15-year-old perspective. I discovered to my delight that there was so much information to later perceive–such as the woman in the fortune-teller’s window.

Waterfall Explorers Keilajoa, Estonia

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Reservoir Boys Meknes, Morocco

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The Secret Djerba Island, Tunisia

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Intersection Nefta, Tunisia

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Floating Kauaii, Hawaii, USA

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Spaced Out Eldborg, Iceland

Bubble Divers Kyiv, Ukraine

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Source Carthage, Tunisia

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Church Play Zaragoza, Spain

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Like This Atlanta, Georgia, USA

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Street Talk Napoli, Italy

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Wildcat Territory Duluth, Georgia, USA

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Communion Black Rock City, Nevada, USA

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Nandi Devotees Nellore, India

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Temple Friends Nellore, India

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The Comb Belur, India

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Tops Champs Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

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Dona Marta Favela Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

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Jumper New York City, New York, USA

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Bikini Contestants Duluth, Georgia, USA

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Joy in Sorrow Croix des Bouquettes, Haiti

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Wildebeest Hands Dublin, Georgia, USA

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Cross-Dressing Singers Bergi, Latvia

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Wedding Party Monastir, Tunisia

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Healing Waters Kyoto, Japan

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Separation of Labor Gulbarga, India

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Dim Prospects Nellore, India

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Site Hyderabad, India

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Our River Dublin, Georgia, USA

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The Long March Paris, France

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Dance of Life Black Rock City, Nevada, USA

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Snow Dancers Vilnius, Lithuania

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Victims’ Arrival Jimani, Dominican Republic

Keep Destin, Florida, USA

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Tomatina Thugs Buñol, Spain

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The Release of Krishna Atlanta, Georgia, USA

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Paparazzi and The Starlet Miami, Florida, USA

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Critics Rzhishiv, Ukraine

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Heads Rzhishiv, Ukraine

Cells Out Marietta, Georgia, USA

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Goodbye Kiss Queens, New York, USA

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Gratitude Cairo, Egypt

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Spirit Rider Paraty, Brazil

Bliss Rider Giza, Egypt

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The Long March II Paris, France

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Warm Rocks Recreo, Brazil

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Beach Play Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

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Walkaway Parnu, Estonia

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States. In 2011 he joined the U.S. Foreign Ser-vice and received a Congressional appointment to serve as Vice Consul in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil through 2013. He subsequently served as Press Attaché in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia until 2016 be-fore returning to Washington, DC to work for the State Department Justice division.

John has had solo and group exhibitions for 30 years. The Human Pulse series debuted at Cal-lanwolde Gallery in Atlanta in 2007. A major solo exhibition was at the Academia Brasileira das Letras in Rio de Janeiro in 2013 (below image) and in 2016 he was the only American artist to be selected for a group show at the Arabian Wings Gallery in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia. He currently resides in the Washington, DC area with his wife, two daughters, and four cats.

About The ImagesMany of the photographs in this book originated on film and for exhibition purposes have been darkroom printed on fiber paper. John presently uses both 35mm full-frame digital(Nikon) and 6 x 4.5cm (Mamiya) film cam-era formats. A limited-edition series of exhibition silver prints were printed archivally and selenium-toned.

New images are periodically posted on a dedicated Web site:

www.thehumanpulse.com

About The ArtistJohn Elliott was born in Spring Valley, New York and for the first dozen years lived in Manhattan, after which he moved with his family to Coral Gables, Florida. It was here that he fell in love with photography, leading to his attendance at Ohio University, from which he received a Bachelor of Fine

Arts in Photography. With double minors in Spanish and International Studies, he also attended Harvard University to study Arabic.

During his summer and other holiday breaks, in both high school and while attending college, he traveled throughout Central America, first as a volunteer health worker and then as a magazine photographer for GeoMundo. Upon graduation, he taught English in Miami and Venezuela, and was hired as an audio-visual specialist for a large corporation. He moved

to Atlanta and subsequent years included teaching assignments at the Art Institute of Atlanta, four years as an US Army photographer and five years as a corporate communications manager. Along with other partners, he then founded Millennium Communications, Inc., an advertising, video production, and marketing agency in the Atlanta, Georgia area.

Deeply affected by the devastating earthquake in Haiti in 2010, he founded AidWEST Humanitarian Missions and worked throughout the year in medical and efforts on the island nation. He served as medic and team leader for medical and construction teams he gathered from throughout the United

© 2016 John Elliott • All Rights Reserved • Representative Contact: a11000@aol.com

$39.

25% of all sales will be donated to AidWEST Humanitarian Missionswww.aidwest.org

John Elliott on “The Human Pulse”

”For this series on the universality of humanity, I seek dynamic or interre-

lated movements of people within the depth of physical space. There may

be the pulse of youthful freedom and exuberance, which adds spontaneity

or joy to the captured moment; conversely, there may be a sense of reflec-

tion by the subject.

“I want to share and know more about the cultural or social conditions I

encounter; I strive, through my selection of venues and scenes, to intrigue

and provoke investigation. In some of the images there is an ambiguity of

event or action, which elicits curiosity. I believe questions are often just as

important as answers.

“The angle at which the scene is captured is important to me. I often

strive for viewpoints that often appear in my dreaming state: floating

somewhat above, sometimes even at a great distance, but still connected

to the moment.”

$39.

Photography by John Elliott

John Elliott on “The Human Pulse”

”For this series on the universality of humanity, I seek dynamic or interre-

lated movements of people within the depth of physical space. There may

be the pulse of youthful freedom and exuberance, which adds spontaneity

or joy to the captured moment; conversely, there may be a sense of reflec-

tion by the subject.

“I want to share and know more about the cultural or social conditions I

encounter; I strive, through my selection of venues and scenes, to intrigue

and provoke investigation. In some of the images there is an ambiguity of

event or action, which elicits curiosity. I believe questions are often just as

important as answers.

“The angle at which the scene is captured is important to me. I often

strive for viewpoints that often appear in my dreaming state: floating

somewhat above, sometimes even at a great distance, but still connected

to the moment.”