Logan Maxwell - Artist Series

There are certain people you meet and, almost immediately, you find yourself noticing the little things you have in common. I recently spent some time photographing Logan Maxwell in his studio here in Ojai.

Logan is a painter whose work is deeply rooted in the landscapes of the American Southwest. His relationship with that landscape goes back to a road trip he took through the Southwest early in his career. Something about that trip stayed with him. Years later, that same landscape is still finding its way into his paintings. I love that idea. That something can happen almost casually. You’re young, you’re driving around with a friend, you see something you’ve never seen before, and somehow it changes the direction of your life.

I understand that feeling. For me, it happened when I briefly lived in Sweden. I picked up a camera while I was there, and photography became something I could not quite let go of. Looking back, it’s funny how little we know in those moments about where they’re going to lead us.

We also talked about surfing, which is always an easy way to get me talking. Logan has a beautiful quiver of boards, and he is a surfer in the same way I am a surfer. Sometimes you surf a lot, sometimes life gets in the way, and sometimes a suspicious amount of time passes between sessions. And yet you still call yourself a surfer. I like that. Maybe because so much of life is like that. The things we love do not always get our time in the way we would like them to. That doesn’t necessarily mean they’ve stopped being a part of us.

And then there was his studio. There is stuff everywhere. I asked him about it and he basically shrugged. It doesn’t bother him. He doesn’t really see it. As long as he can get to whatever he is working on, he’s good. I couldn’t love that more. Mostly because I’m the complete opposite. I need things clean. I need things put away. I need a clear surface and some sense of order before I can settle into making anything. So standing in Logan’s studio, surrounded by all of his things, and hearing him say that he barely notices it, made me smile. There’s something wonderful about realizing that there’s not one right way to make a life, or to make art, or to create the conditions you need to do your best work. Some people need everything in its place. Some people just need a path through the mess. And maybe the older I get, the more I’m interested in those differences. In the little ways people build a life that works for them, often without even realizing they are doing it. That is what I love about photographing artists. The paintings are important, of course. But I am just as interested in the person standing beside them. The things they have carried with them, the places that changed them, the obsessions they never quite outgrew, and the strange little details that make their way into the life they have built.

I am grateful I got to spend a little time inside Logan’s world.