by Diane Farris Uelsmann Runions
Jerry was the artist/teacher who inspired my journey in photography. We were married from 1975-1988, and he was the father of our marvelous son Andrew.
My introduction to Jerry’s work was a show at the Chicago Art Institute. In a deceptively tranquil room, each of his luminous silver gelatin prints was a window opening onto an unexpected narrative. Eager to learn, I applied to a workshop with Jerry in California and traveled there with my “new” Minolta. The workshop was an astounding introduction to the world of art photography, with Jerry Uelsmann, Minor White, Ansel Adams and Carl Chiarenza among the presenters.
Jerry’s enduring enthusiasm for the “magic” of photography was infectious. He took to heart the teachings of his mentor, mystic Minor White: “One should not only photograph things for what they are, but for what else they are.”Like his work, his teaching was full of surprise, such as his skidding into a classroom with a canister of film and challenging his fortunate students to time how quickly he could develop it, all the while cracking jokes. Those jokes!
The vintage picture here of Jerry with wings is not a montage, but one from a beach walk when we were first getting acquainted. Suddenly, he was partially burying a deceased pelican and planning this portrait, handing me his camera to capture the moment. It was - in retrospect - very Jerry. Through the camera, he surprised himself (and his companion!), gave the pelican a new chapter and followed an ongoing theme, wings and flight.
After Jerry’s 2019 stroke, we succeeded in getting him back in the darkroom in early 2020. He was apprehensive, afraid he wouldn’t remember how to proceed, but the darkroom was his world. As there are digital natives, he was certainly native to his “chamber noir”. The moment that first hard-won proof floated up into view in the developer was magic indeed. Our goal that February was to create a Valentine, his long-standing tradition, to let friends know he was Still Here. As we worked, I recalled his darkroom customs over the years, the many versions and variations he would explore on his richly intuitive, post visualized “holy man days”, days when he didn’t teach, play racquet ball or shave, but just grabbed a mug of coffee, put on some music and entered the unbounded space of his darkroom
Jerry N. Uelsmann, 1981
I have been thinking of a workshop we taught together many years ago, in a restored schoolhouse in rural Colorado. An attentive Airedale watched over the building while we met with students, visited with the redoubtable Edna Bullock and found images in the spare spaces and mountain light. Jerry photographed an exuberant Andrew running to me in a hallway. The joy of that time, wrapped in clouds, graces our library wall to this day. Thank you, Jerry.
In these poignant days, so soon after his passing in April and nearing his June birthday, it is good to imagine Jerry blessed by clouds and wings, friends, dogs and jazz – and sharing jokes. “Friendly thoughts”, Jerry, and God speed.