Jerry Mann

Jerry Mann, Photographer
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Website:
jerrymann.com
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Photoshelter:
jerrymann.photoshelter.com
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All photos and text are © Jerry Mann
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Ashlen Carr, savvy fishmonger, musician and plumber. St. John, USVI, 2013.
Connecting with the Stars, the Fish, the People.This past week I was on St. John, USVI. One goal, a gimme, was to re-learn to relax: snorkeling, hiking, enjoying rum drinks at sunset, and grilling Mahi-Mahi outside our cottage at Cinnamon Bay Camp. Another goal can be more elusive: to come back with quality photographs of substance. One satisfying shot came after hiking up to the remote and steep America Hill, with its breathtaking view of Maho Bay. But, I’d long ago perfected the art of landscapes: filtering the environment, honing composition and pre-visualizing exposures. I’d had my fill of sunsets and water shots. I was feeling like I should go into the postcard business.For an antidote, I’d squeezed a tripod into my luggage . Rum drink in hand, I employed it at night capturing the spinning stars at exposures of up to 50 minutes. I used to love this kind of special effects shooting when I was in school, and it was fun this time around, too (except for the bug bites). But it will take a lot more testing and experimentation to perfect time exposures.Another fun trick was shooting underwater with my iPhone—with a case that allows full-function shooting while snorkeling. Trying to keep aim on meandering turtles, running out of breath chasing down a nurse shark and thinking my skull would pop open while sneaking deep down to the octopus, I quickly gained even more respect for underwater photographers. What we saw beneath the impossibly blue surface of the sea was stunning, and I’m glad I had a new tool (toy) to help me capture it.Despite all their technical challenges, shooting stars and marine life was a breeze compared to shooting the St. John locals in Cruz Bay. The fish put up with me. The stars posed. But not the taxi cab drivers playing chess, who silently refused—all I got was a still life of the later-abandoned chess board. A passerby on Prince Street raised her hand, indicating $5 for her photo. A few gruffly obliged without asking for money.By rights, they are on the street, in a public place and are fair game for my camera. But I wanted to play it differently. I wanted to respect them and gain their respect. So I asked permission of everyone, and I tried to compensate by offering to send a print, or by buying a rum smoothie from their stand.My best portrait was of Ashlen Carr, a savvy plumber and fishmonger down on North Shore Road. My wife had just bought Mahi Mahi from him, and I asked if he knew the way she went. He quizzed me on her clothing; I could not remember. We got a rapport going and I asked if I could take his portrait. He sold fish by day but is a musician at heart, having appeared in music videos. “You will have to pay me twenty dollars,” he said with a West Indies accent. I said I would give him all my singles, and he let me shoot, satisfied he could buy a liter of Presidente. Ash cautioned me not to sell the photos, so instead of debating copyright law I took his contact info to get in touch later. He gave me enough that day; I would see about a model release later. The people of the Virgin Islands get their fair share of shutterbugs capturing their image, so I understand their push-back. It is clear that its not easy being any kind of a pro photographer these days. The stars may be patient and the fish permissive, but the tech stuff gets in the way. And a street photographer can capture an image of the people, but the soul is much harder to seize.www.jerrymann.com

Ashlen Carr, savvy fishmonger, musician and plumber. St. John, USVI, 2013.

Connecting with the Stars, the Fish, the People.

This past week I was on St. John, USVI. One goal, a gimme, was to re-learn to relax: snorkeling, hiking, enjoying rum drinks at sunset, and grilling Mahi-Mahi outside our cottage at Cinnamon Bay Camp. Another goal can be more elusive: to come back with quality photographs of substance.

One satisfying shot came after hiking up to the remote and steep America Hill, with its breathtaking view of Maho Bay. But, I’d long ago perfected the art of landscapes: filtering the environment, honing composition and pre-visualizing exposures. I’d had my fill of sunsets and water shots. I was feeling like I should go into the postcard business.

For an antidote, I’d squeezed a tripod into my luggage . Rum drink in hand, I employed it at night capturing the spinning stars at exposures of up to 50 minutes. I used to love this kind of special effects shooting when I was in school, and it was fun this time around, too (except for the bug bites). But it will take a lot more testing and experimentation to perfect time exposures.

Another fun trick was shooting underwater with my iPhone—with a case that allows full-function shooting while snorkeling. Trying to keep aim on meandering turtles, running out of breath chasing down a nurse shark and thinking my skull would pop open while sneaking deep down to the octopus, I quickly gained even more respect for underwater photographers. What we saw beneath the impossibly blue surface of the sea was stunning, and I’m glad I had a new tool (toy) to help me capture it.

Despite all their technical challenges, shooting stars and marine life was a breeze compared to shooting the St. John locals in Cruz Bay. The fish put up with me. The stars posed. But not the taxi cab drivers playing chess, who silently refused—all I got was a still life of the later-abandoned chess board. A passerby on Prince Street raised her hand, indicating $5 for her photo. A few gruffly obliged without asking for money.

By rights, they are on the street, in a public place and are fair game for my camera. But I wanted to play it differently. I wanted to respect them and gain their respect. So I asked permission of everyone, and I tried to compensate by offering to send a print, or by buying a rum smoothie from their stand.

My best portrait was of Ashlen Carr, a savvy plumber and fishmonger down on North Shore Road. My wife had just bought Mahi Mahi from him, and I asked if he knew the way she went. He quizzed me on her clothing; I could not remember. We got a rapport going and I asked if I could take his portrait. He sold fish by day but is a musician at heart, having appeared in music videos. “You will have to pay me twenty dollars,” he said with a West Indies accent. I said I would give him all my singles, and he let me shoot, satisfied he could buy a liter of Presidente.

Ash cautioned me not to sell the photos, so instead of debating copyright law I took his contact info to get in touch later. He gave me enough that day; I would see about a model release later. The people of the Virgin Islands get their fair share of shutterbugs capturing their image, so I understand their push-back.

It is clear that its not easy being any kind of a pro photographer these days. The stars may be patient and the fish permissive, but the tech stuff gets in the way. And a street photographer can capture an image of the people, but the soul is much harder to seize.

www.jerrymann.com


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Across The Divide
It was a divide, for me. Crossing the analog-digital divide, I knew, would forever change how I approach photography, thus my life. But I did not know how.
This Friday, January 11th, come out to Zygote Press in Cleveland for a visual taste of how the Digital Divide shaped my photography and that of my peers. The show runs through February 9th. For now, read on…
It was 2003. On the professional side, it was time to replace my loyal but no longer trusty Mamiya C220. This workhorse had seen me through Ohio U’s VisCom program, New York City-and all my assignments since. While my heart was set on a handsome Hasselblad, some peers were suggesting I “go digital” now. To me, those who’d “crossed over” had both succumbed and advanced at the same time. Heart prevailing, I purchased my ‘Blad from Scotty–essentially the same person who’d sold me my C220 in the 80’s–and I went merrily on, in my film and Polaroid ways… until 2006, when my clients asked me to cross the divide. Scotty sold me a Canon 30D, and I put my beloved Blad away in its dark case.Personally, crossing the divide idled my Canon Demi half-frame, and employed hand-me-down digital point-and-shoots, and eventually my Canon DSLRs. My shelves still overflowed with boxes of slides, filled with pairs of half-frames sharing the same subject matter and mount. Now, my hard drive overflows with jpegs, tiffs and .CR2’s, lost to my gaze in nested folders, just as my slides had seldom seen the glow of a projector.I felt blind when I crossed over, and for good reason: as I neared the divide my close-up vision was faltering. I didn’t notice this with analog. I’d pull a Polaroid and put a loupe on it–sweet. I’d run the film and slap a loupe on it–luscious. I’d make a print and it looked–Scrumpdillyicious. But, a 2-inch LCD? Right. At 100% on a 20-inch monitor, with all the pixels peeping out at me? Ugh. Conspiring against me were the LCD image, auto-focus failures, chromatic aberrations, and the pixel-peeping. I overcame all, and my last film and first digital assignments are equal in quality.Not an intangible experience, crossing this analog-digital divide was a thoroughly physical event. Photography had been about all the senses and process. I could feel the film wrap tear open, smell the Polaroid gel, hear the leader pop lose from the spool, taste the glue on the roll film seal, see the image come up in the tray. Now, it’s Click, Bam.We took careful light readings, pulled Polaroids, changed backs, reloaded. We visited friends as we bought film and ran it through the lab. Now, it’s Click-Look-Click-Look. it’s me on the computer clicking and dragging. it’s me, clicking friends on the internet. Thankfully, for two decades I honed my craft, capturing images on color reversal film–and that reduces today’s click-looks and click-drags. And years out and about gave me the ability to communicate without emoticons, look my subject in the eye, and be nice.And the cameras were beautiful: My C220, the way you change its lenses, its paramender. My Polaroid 195, its adjustable lens and PC socket. My FM2, FE and 1971 F. My Nikkor 135 f/2, with a 2x. The Forscher Back. My Graflex, Kodak 4x5, and 5x7 with a shutterless repro lens up front. My Brownie Bullseye, Hawkeye and Holiday 127. Sue’s Kodak 110, Mom’s Ansco, Grandpa’s Welta and TWL’s Instamatic 44–and his “616.” Dad’s Voigtlander. And my Canon Demi. For me, one camera and film combo cannot be replaced, nor reloaded: my self-made pinhole that takes a bare sheet of Polaroid 4x5. That camera saw me through a meditative self-portrait series and captured several personal-favorite portraits.Beautiful cameras have been pushed aside by incredible machines. And even, we sometimes look to an ugly box on the table for instant gratification: the scanner. Or an app on our phone–and does it pass for art, or commerce, or what have you?Clearly now, my love for photography is about the image and the equipment. And for better or worse, how we practice photography is becoming less important as time trounces onward.
www.jerrymann.com

Across The Divide

It was a divide, for me. Crossing the analog-digital divide, I knew, would forever change how I approach photography, thus my life. But I did not know how.

This Friday, January 11th, come out to Zygote Press in Cleveland for a visual taste of how the Digital Divide shaped my photography and that of my peers. The show runs through February 9th. For now, read on…


It was 2003. On the professional side, it was time to replace my loyal but no longer trusty Mamiya C220. This workhorse had seen me through Ohio U’s VisCom program, New York City-and all my assignments since. While my heart was set on a handsome Hasselblad, some peers were suggesting I “go digital” now. To me, those who’d “crossed over” had both succumbed and advanced at the same time.

Heart prevailing, I purchased my ‘Blad from Scotty–essentially the same person who’d sold me my C220 in the 80’s–and I went merrily on, in my film and Polaroid ways… until 2006, when my clients asked me to cross the divide. Scotty sold me a Canon 30D, and I put my beloved Blad away in its dark case.

Personally, crossing the divide idled my Canon Demi half-frame, and employed hand-me-down digital point-and-shoots, and eventually my Canon DSLRs. My shelves still overflowed with boxes of slides, filled with pairs of half-frames sharing the same subject matter and mount. Now, my hard drive overflows with jpegs, tiffs and .CR2’s, lost to my gaze in nested folders, just as my slides had seldom seen the glow of a projector.

I felt blind when I crossed over, and for good reason: as I neared the divide my close-up vision was faltering. I didn’t notice this with analog. I’d pull a Polaroid and put a loupe on it–sweet. I’d run the film and slap a loupe on it–luscious. I’d make a print and it looked–Scrumpdillyicious. But, a 2-inch LCD? Right. At 100% on a 20-inch monitor, with all the pixels peeping out at me? Ugh. Conspiring against me were the LCD image, auto-focus failures, chromatic aberrations, and the pixel-peeping. I overcame all, and my last film and first digital assignments are equal in quality.

Not an intangible experience, crossing this analog-digital divide was a thoroughly physical event. Photography had been about all the senses and process. I could feel the film wrap tear open, smell the Polaroid gel, hear the leader pop lose from the spool, taste the glue on the roll film seal, see the image come up in the tray. Now, it’s Click, Bam.

We took careful light readings, pulled Polaroids, changed backs, reloaded. We visited friends as we bought film and ran it through the lab. Now, it’s Click-Look-Click-Look. it’s me on the computer clicking and dragging. it’s me, clicking friends on the internet. Thankfully, for two decades I honed my craft, capturing images on color reversal film–and that reduces today’s click-looks and click-drags. And years out and about gave me the ability to communicate without emoticons, look my subject in the eye, and be nice.

And the cameras were beautiful: My C220, the way you change its lenses, its paramender. My Polaroid 195, its adjustable lens and PC socket. My FM2, FE and 1971 F. My Nikkor 135 f/2, with a 2x. The Forscher Back. My Graflex, Kodak 4x5, and 5x7 with a shutterless repro lens up front. My Brownie Bullseye, Hawkeye and Holiday 127. Sue’s Kodak 110, Mom’s Ansco, Grandpa’s Welta and TWL’s Instamatic 44–and his “616.” Dad’s Voigtlander. And my Canon Demi.

For me, one camera and film combo cannot be replaced, nor reloaded: my self-made pinhole that takes a bare sheet of Polaroid 4x5. That camera saw me through a meditative self-portrait series and captured several personal-favorite portraits.

Beautiful cameras have been pushed aside by incredible machines. And even, we sometimes look to an ugly box on the table for instant gratification: the scanner. Or an app on our phone–and does it pass for art, or commerce, or what have you?

Clearly now, my love for photography is about the image and the equipment. And for better or worse, how we practice photography is becoming less important as time trounces onward.

www.jerrymann.com

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Editorial Portrait of Frank D. Gabrin, DO, for Medical Economics Magazine, May 25, 2012. 
See more editorial portraits at jerrymann.com

Editorial Portrait of Frank D. Gabrin, DO, for Medical Economics Magazine, May 25, 2012.

See more editorial portraits at jerrymann.com

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Cleveland’s forecast is seven days of Partly Cloudy, not “seven inches of Partly Cloudy.” Now I can say it: Happy Spring!
An assemblage of recent findings on or near the tree lawn.
www.jerrymann.com

Cleveland’s forecast is seven days of Partly Cloudy, not “seven inches of Partly Cloudy.” Now I can say it: Happy Spring!

An assemblage of recent findings on or near the tree lawn.

www.jerrymann.com

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Happy Mardi Gras, everyone!

Happy Mardi Gras, everyone!

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Nicole Miranda, on the trail at Reagan Park in Medina. 
Thanks to a few kids, I’m back to riding trails on my mountain bike, and I feel like a kid again, too!
Last August I discovered the Youth Mountain Bike Clinics at Reagan Park in Medina, and next thing I knew I was on my bike every week — taking my step-grandson Stanley to learn the finer points of trail riding. As we both honed our skills, we also met a bunch of cool people, including the Miranda family: five avid mountain bikers, who regularly race in Ohio, and out of state, too.
This photo was commissioned by the parents, Linda and Patrick, for Nicole’s senior portrait. They asked me if I ever do senior portraits. Because I usually shoot editorial portraits I gave them my standard reply: just for family and friends. So I made some new friends this past summer too. : ) 
By the way, although we left it out for this pic, Nicole and every mountain biker I know always always wear their helmet when riding …
At races, Nicole regularly places high in the standings— actually her younger sister and brother do just as well. (Check this link)! Most notably, Nicole won the Midwest Regional Cyclocross Championships in December (and the coveted Stars-and-Stripes Jersey that comes with it). She will study mathematics at Brevard College in North Carolina — a mountain biking mecca — and will race for the mountain bike team there!
I’ve always loved riding the trails, but it was tough getting to a legal mountain bike trail in Northeast Ohio. Emphasize was. The Cleveland Area Mountain Bike Association (CAMBA) helped me find all the trails in the area, with updates about their conditions. I decided to join CAMBA and have been putting in time building new mountain bike trails in the Cleveland Metro Parks! Yes, you heard that right: there will be mountain bike trails — many miles of them — in the Cleveland Metro Parks!
Actually, there already is one trail open to bikes, at the Ohio and Erie Canal Reservation. Its short but sweet. I can get there in 20 minutes and ride it in twenty. It kicks my butt, but hey I’m having fun getting back in shape. 
So if I’m not out shooting, I’m out on the trails— and sometimes out shooting on the trails. Stay in touch… if you are in the area maybe we can go out riding together! It’s a blast!
www.jerrymann.com

Nicole Miranda, on the trail at Reagan Park in Medina.

Thanks to a few kids, I’m back to riding trails on my mountain bike, and I feel like a kid again, too!

Last August I discovered the Youth Mountain Bike Clinics at Reagan Park in Medina, and next thing I knew I was on my bike every week — taking my step-grandson Stanley to learn the finer points of trail riding. As we both honed our skills, we also met a bunch of cool people, including the Miranda family: five avid mountain bikers, who regularly race in Ohio, and out of state, too.

This photo was commissioned by the parents, Linda and Patrick, for Nicole’s senior portrait. They asked me if I ever do senior portraits. Because I usually shoot editorial portraits I gave them my standard reply: just for family and friends. So I made some new friends this past summer too. : ) 

By the way, although we left it out for this pic, Nicole and every mountain biker I know always always wear their helmet when riding …

At races, Nicole regularly places high in the standings— actually her younger sister and brother do just as well. (Check this link)! Most notably, Nicole won the Midwest Regional Cyclocross Championships in December (and the coveted Stars-and-Stripes Jersey that comes with it). She will study mathematics at Brevard College in North Carolina — a mountain biking mecca — and will race for the mountain bike team there!

I’ve always loved riding the trails, but it was tough getting to a legal mountain bike trail in Northeast Ohio. Emphasize was. The Cleveland Area Mountain Bike Association (CAMBA) helped me find all the trails in the area, with updates about their conditions. I decided to join CAMBA and have been putting in time building new mountain bike trails in the Cleveland Metro Parks! Yes, you heard that right: there will be mountain bike trails — many miles of them — in the Cleveland Metro Parks!

Actually, there already is one trail open to bikes, at the Ohio and Erie Canal Reservation. Its short but sweet. I can get there in 20 minutes and ride it in twenty. It kicks my butt, but hey I’m having fun getting back in shape. 

So if I’m not out shooting, I’m out on the trails— and sometimes out shooting on the trails. Stay in touch… if you are in the area maybe we can go out riding together! It’s a blast!

www.jerrymann.com

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Two Beans, ©2011 Jerry Mann.
This image is signed and framed and available in the raffle at tonight’s Coit Road Market Benefit. The image is 4x4 in an 8x8 frame, over-matted with white museum board.
The post below shows the other image that will be available tonight, as well.
Please come to the benefit for great food by ten top creative chefs from the area and music and fun! $35 gets you in and all the food you want, plus chances to win fab raffle items! Plus, it’s at the Beachland Ballroom, which is always a pleasure to visit with the grand ballroom and great beer list!
The Coit Road Farmers Market is my regular source for fresh produce, eggs, cheese and locally roasted fair trade coffee beans!
www.jerrymann.com

Two Beans, ©2011 Jerry Mann.

This image is signed and framed and available in the raffle at tonight’s Coit Road Market Benefit. The image is 4x4 in an 8x8 frame, over-matted with white museum board.

The post below shows the other image that will be available tonight, as well.

Please come to the benefit for great food by ten top creative chefs from the area and music and fun! $35 gets you in and all the food you want, plus chances to win fab raffle items! Plus, it’s at the Beachland Ballroom, which is always a pleasure to visit with the grand ballroom and great beer list!

The Coit Road Farmers Market is my regular source for fresh produce, eggs, cheese and locally roasted fair trade coffee beans!

www.jerrymann.com

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Volunteer, ©2011 Jerry Mann.
I have donated this image for the raffle at tonight’s Coit Road Market Benefit.The image is 4x6 in an 8x10 frame and is signed, matted and framed. Please come by and support my local market!
www.jerrymann.com

Volunteer, ©2011 Jerry Mann.

I have donated this image for the raffle at tonight’s Coit Road Market Benefit.The image is 4x6 in an 8x10 frame and is signed, matted and framed. Please come by and support my local market!

www.jerrymann.com

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Shooting from the hip was a blast!
Two weeks away from zoom lenses, auto-exposure and a razor did me some good. Sal and I went off to parts Down East, as they say in Maine, and all I took was my Canon 5DMarkII with a 50.
While that doesn’t sound like much room for creativity, I knew that having only a normal lens at my disposal would force me back into Pure Photography mode. I set the camera on M, and for my first serious shot of the trip I put myself to the classic test: guess the exposure. Anyone remember the Sunny 16 Rule? Presto, perfect histogram. I rarely strayed from the M again the whole trip.
The other “camera” I brought was my new iPhone (white!) which I fully expected to drop in Lake Sebago—but no such disaster occurred. The camera takes pretty crummy photos by pro standards, so I found an app for dat. I was soon shooting the crappiest photos possible, which were purely beautiful.
It takes an art school student who’s been forced to shoot with a Diana camera (nowadays, a Holga) to understand that statement. Above is the last frame of the trip, as Sally and I found a road side farm market that had beautiful, local produce and ICE CREAM! It was a nice end to our two week adventure.
I’m not promising it, but maybe I will put together a slide show of the trip. Stay tuned! In the meantime make sure you check out this month’s Cleveland Magazine. I shot the cover and several inside features as well. The stack of CleMags looks really sweet at the checkout at Whole Foods.
www.jerrymann.com

Shooting from the hip was a blast!

Two weeks away from zoom lenses, auto-exposure and a razor did me some good. Sal and I went off to parts Down East, as they say in Maine, and all I took was my Canon 5DMarkII with a 50.

While that doesn’t sound like much room for creativity, I knew that having only a normal lens at my disposal would force me back into Pure Photography mode. I set the camera on M, and for my first serious shot of the trip I put myself to the classic test: guess the exposure. Anyone remember the Sunny 16 Rule? Presto, perfect histogram. I rarely strayed from the M again the whole trip.

The other “camera” I brought was my new iPhone (white!) which I fully expected to drop in Lake Sebago—but no such disaster occurred. The camera takes pretty crummy photos by pro standards, so I found an app for dat. I was soon shooting the crappiest photos possible, which were purely beautiful.

It takes an art school student who’s been forced to shoot with a Diana camera (nowadays, a Holga) to understand that statement. Above is the last frame of the trip, as Sally and I found a road side farm market that had beautiful, local produce and ICE CREAM! It was a nice end to our two week adventure.

I’m not promising it, but maybe I will put together a slide show of the trip. Stay tuned! In the meantime make sure you check out this month’s Cleveland Magazine. I shot the cover and several inside features as well. The stack of CleMags looks really sweet at the checkout at Whole Foods.

www.jerrymann.com

Comments (View)
The bones of Elwell Parker.
As we scoured a dumpster for the bones of a shut down factory, Timothy and I felt a little crazy, but we also knew we were doing the right thing. It was the year 2000, and we had just spent the better part of two years trying to save Cleveland’s icons of industry, the Hulett Ore Unloaders. Now we were salvaging wooden patterns from the Elwell Parker Electric Company, a factory that had operated on that site for over 100 years.
We filled the back of my pickup truck, and then Tim’s, and unloaded them next door into the Brownhoist Building, which also has century-old roots in Cleveland. We then went back to the factory to get more patterns and other artifacts that were doomed for the dump or the scrapyard. Some items still had useful life in them; others hinted at a value beyond utility. We especially saw a unique beauty in the patterns which were crafted  with the pride in workmanship that had driven Elwell Parker to greatness  throughout the 20th century.
We knew we would do something important with the collection. We wanted to share it with others, celebrate its value as industrial archaeology and honor the workers who were Elwell Parker Electric. After eleven years that time has come. Join us this Friday, June 3rd downtown at the new Brownhoist Gallery on St. Clair Avenue. The opening will run from 5-10 pm. You can also get more info and updates on Facebook.
I will have some photos in the exhibition, too, but don’t expect to see framed prints on the wall!
www.jerrymann.com

The bones of Elwell Parker.

As we scoured a dumpster for the bones of a shut down factory, Timothy and I felt a little crazy, but we also knew we were doing the right thing. It was the year 2000, and we had just spent the better part of two years trying to save Cleveland’s icons of industry, the Hulett Ore Unloaders. Now we were salvaging wooden patterns from the Elwell Parker Electric Company, a factory that had operated on that site for over 100 years.

We filled the back of my pickup truck, and then Tim’s, and unloaded them next door into the Brownhoist Building, which also has century-old roots in Cleveland. We then went back to the factory to get more patterns and other artifacts that were doomed for the dump or the scrapyard. Some items still had useful life in them; others hinted at a value beyond utility. We especially saw a unique beauty in the patterns which were crafted with the pride in workmanship that had driven Elwell Parker to greatness throughout the 20th century.

We knew we would do something important with the collection. We wanted to share it with others, celebrate its value as industrial archaeology and honor the workers who were Elwell Parker Electric. After eleven years that time has come. Join us this Friday, June 3rd downtown at the new Brownhoist Gallery on St. Clair Avenue. The opening will run from 5-10 pm. You can also get more info and updates on Facebook.

I will have some photos in the exhibition, too, but don’t expect to see framed prints on the wall!

www.jerrymann.com

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