Let’s begin with some of the basics. Where are you currently based out of and where are you from/where did you grow up?
I am currently based out of southwest Utah and grew up in Honolulu, Hawaii. I moved to St. George, Utah in 2012 and lived there for around 7 years, but at the end of 2019 I moved up to the Veyo and Pine Valley, Utah area about a half-hour north of town.
I am currently based out of southwest Utah and grew up in Honolulu, Hawaii. I moved to St. George, Utah in 2012 and lived there for around 7 years, but at the end of 2019 I moved up to the Veyo and Pine Valley, Utah area about a half-hour north of town.
Is there a reason you chose to live where you do currently?
I’ve thought about this question a surprising amount over the years and the answers I come to are both practical and emotional. On the more practical side, the work I fell into for the better part of my time in Utah is based here. I moved here to work in the counseling therapy world via a job in wilderness therapy based in St. George. Over the years, I worked full time in the therapeutic space for almost 7 years for a few different programs which afforded me a great deal of freedom in my off time to explore the Southwest and dive deeper into creating and expressing myself through art.
On the emotional side, the reason to stay has always been rooted in a deep love for this desert space, more specifically the access it offers to adventure, and an unwillingness to let that go - or maybe a willingness to move through the years and work to find a way to make it work. I’ve seen a lot of friends move away over the years, always citing their own varying reasons about why this place wouldn’t or couldn’t be sustainable for them (it’s worth mentioning that I’ve also seen a large number of these folks eventually make their way back to this same desert place) but for me, the wild spaces always made up for some of the same concerns about the town or culture that may limit my quality of life in some form. I think this place has as close to everything that I could ask. The ease of access to wild spaces, public land, and the amenities of a town/city are unparalleled. Also unseen perks, like proximity to rad destinations by car with in 5-8 hrs, as well as having an international airport 2hrs away, without all the traffic.
I’ve thought about this question a surprising amount over the years and the answers I come to are both practical and emotional. On the more practical side, the work I fell into for the better part of my time in Utah is based here. I moved here to work in the counseling therapy world via a job in wilderness therapy based in St. George. Over the years, I worked full time in the therapeutic space for almost 7 years for a few different programs which afforded me a great deal of freedom in my off time to explore the Southwest and dive deeper into creating and expressing myself through art.
On the emotional side, the reason to stay has always been rooted in a deep love for this desert space, more specifically the access it offers to adventure, and an unwillingness to let that go - or maybe a willingness to move through the years and work to find a way to make it work. I’ve seen a lot of friends move away over the years, always citing their own varying reasons about why this place wouldn’t or couldn’t be sustainable for them (it’s worth mentioning that I’ve also seen a large number of these folks eventually make their way back to this same desert place) but for me, the wild spaces always made up for some of the same concerns about the town or culture that may limit my quality of life in some form. I think this place has as close to everything that I could ask. The ease of access to wild spaces, public land, and the amenities of a town/city are unparalleled. Also unseen perks, like proximity to rad destinations by car with in 5-8 hrs, as well as having an international airport 2hrs away, without all the traffic.
Bobby Martinez on "Leopard Skin" in Snow Canyon, Utah. Photo Credit: Charlie OlGrady-Kessner
How long have you been climbing and do you have a favorite type or style of climbing?
I’ve been climbing since I moved here in 2012. As for a specific style, I’m up for anything! The Greater Zion area’s wealth of varying types of rock and climbing styles, as well as its relative close proximity to numerous bucket-list climbing destinations, has definitely shaped me over the years. Though I’ve gone through many seasons of “full on” psyche for all styles of climbing, and I most frequently climb sport lines, as for a favorite, I really like long moderate adventure routes on gear. I think the thing that I like most about that style is that it generally gets me out the farthest and brings me the most calm and gratitude.
Most recently I bought a drill and have been establishing a few lines here and there which also also gives me a similar feeling of getting far out there and being creative.
I’ve been climbing since I moved here in 2012. As for a specific style, I’m up for anything! The Greater Zion area’s wealth of varying types of rock and climbing styles, as well as its relative close proximity to numerous bucket-list climbing destinations, has definitely shaped me over the years. Though I’ve gone through many seasons of “full on” psyche for all styles of climbing, and I most frequently climb sport lines, as for a favorite, I really like long moderate adventure routes on gear. I think the thing that I like most about that style is that it generally gets me out the farthest and brings me the most calm and gratitude.
Most recently I bought a drill and have been establishing a few lines here and there which also also gives me a similar feeling of getting far out there and being creative.
Ian Smith (IG: @mr.ian.smith.12) on Full Exum Ridge at Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming. Photo Credit: Charlie OlGrady-Kessner.
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This February 2021 edition of Common Climber we are doing a themed edition of climbing couples. Your wife, Marisa, is also a climber. How did you two meet?
We both came to St. George to work in wilderness therapy - me in 2012 and her in 2016 - and were in each other’s orbit for a while before we started hanging out. Like a lot of cliché stories of climbing love, we were climbing partners for a bit first and that blossomed into a relationship and then our eventual marriage. [Ed. Note: When Marisa and Charlie married they decided to hyphenate their two last names - OlGrady-Kessner.] How central is climbing to you two as a couple? Climbing is a central piece of each of our individual identities, as well as an interest that ties us together. As individuals we are actually quite different, but the spaces and interests that we have in common keeps us rooted in our relationship. The ability to recreate in the same way and share in that type of flow, is massively important to us and a remarkable privilege to have with your partner. |
Marisa and Charlie OlGrady-Kessner on Cowboy Ridge, Zion National Park.. When they married, Charlie and Marisa combined their last names.
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What advice would you give to other climbing couples?
My thoughts on this extends beyond just climbing couples. I don’t know if it’s even advice, but more of a reframe. Climbing is an intense experience that I think we have a tendency to downplay as we move through our individual relationships with fear. This type of intensity heightens or rather, has the ability to heighten every relationship it comes in contact with. Climbing partnerships are inherently intimate in that way. At risk of being overly dramatic, I offer the obvious and often overlooked; at its extremes - climbing is a life and death thing that we flirt with every time we leave the ground. To look too deeply into this truth can be debilitating and trigger fear, but to overlook or understate this truth and its importance is naive and a huge missed opportunity. The intensity of this experience in a partnership lends itself to an incredible deepening of the relationship if you choose. Lean into it, be vulnerable, and choose to be seen in this wild thing that we’re doing with one another. In this way, climbing can be an incredible teacher - mirroring not only ourselves, but the relationships we put in front of it. If you feel inclined, listen and learn all that you can from the experience internally and through a growth of intimacy in your relationships with your partners both romantic and platonic. I don’t think anyone will be disappointed in what they find.
My thoughts on this extends beyond just climbing couples. I don’t know if it’s even advice, but more of a reframe. Climbing is an intense experience that I think we have a tendency to downplay as we move through our individual relationships with fear. This type of intensity heightens or rather, has the ability to heighten every relationship it comes in contact with. Climbing partnerships are inherently intimate in that way. At risk of being overly dramatic, I offer the obvious and often overlooked; at its extremes - climbing is a life and death thing that we flirt with every time we leave the ground. To look too deeply into this truth can be debilitating and trigger fear, but to overlook or understate this truth and its importance is naive and a huge missed opportunity. The intensity of this experience in a partnership lends itself to an incredible deepening of the relationship if you choose. Lean into it, be vulnerable, and choose to be seen in this wild thing that we’re doing with one another. In this way, climbing can be an incredible teacher - mirroring not only ourselves, but the relationships we put in front of it. If you feel inclined, listen and learn all that you can from the experience internally and through a growth of intimacy in your relationships with your partners both romantic and platonic. I don’t think anyone will be disappointed in what they find.
Marisa OlGrady-Kessner (IG: @groundingsource) on "Smithereens" at Sinks Canyon, Wyoming.
You speak to the idea that climbing can lend a natural pathway to being more vulnerable. What does being vulnerable look like to you?
At its root, I think being vulnerable is the willingness to be seen fully for where you are at. We spend so much time protecting the parts of ourselves that we feel won’t be accepted or understood by others while at the same time not giving them the information or context to understand where we are currently and so we are often misunderstood.
I think this happens because of toxic pieces of culture, as well as human elements that comes to play. I think we all deep down have a fear of being rejected because of something that we feel is inadequate, so we protect those pieces of ourselves. Often the act of climbing — and especially climbing at our edge wherever that may be for each of us - gives us the embodiment of those feelings of fear. Sometimes when I climb at that edge, pieces of myself that I try to hide come up and flow through me - be it self judgement for my performance, frustration for lack of training, fear of letting go, and the list goes on. Those fears can then compound on each other to not be about climbing at all - fear of not being good enough at that moment can bubble over into not being a good enough photographer or musician or husband. You name it.
The embodied fear opens a pathway to all of those things. The funny thing is that the body doesn’t know the difference. It’s just experiencing stress which is then triggering the brain to spin out. Once you’re there, you’re there, and if you leave that space not talking about all that that came up it can fuck up your whole day.
I think something that’s wonderful about looking at climbing beyond the act of climbing - it has all the pieces of self-discovery and emotional growth from the onset. We just take things too routinely as a culture and don’t think about what we are actually doing when we’re climbing.
Internally, I don’t think you can run from your vulnerabilities and emotions. We just do a good job of trying to hide them from view. On the wall, you can’t hide when you’re afraid or conversely joyful and stoked. It’s there for your partner to see - and for everyone else who may be at the crag.
With vulnerability in a relationship, showing someone your vulnerabilities, those stinking guts we don’t like about ourselves, is terrifying. Is it scarier than being runout above a 0.1? For some, maybe. For others, maybe not. For all though, regardless of the intensity, this fear stems from the same place inside.You have to have an immense trust in another person to show them the things you hide. The same way you have to have immense trust in a belayer. On the wall you trust that they won’t let you die - and in relationship you trust that they will understand and not reject you.
Being afraid and then safely caught by your belayer increases trust in the relationship but also intensifies the understanding and importance of giving a good attentive belay to someone else. Similarly, being able to be seen by your partner for where you are at emotionally - even if it isn’t where you want to be or what you want to be seen - and then to have that space held with love, understanding, and support is hugely important. It increases your own empathy and develops the capacity to help hold that space for someone else. Though we fear it, vulnerability quite literally strengthens our bonds and makes us interact in a safer way. We are more likely to get into a physically dangerous situation with someone when vulnerability with each other is not present.
At its root, I think being vulnerable is the willingness to be seen fully for where you are at. We spend so much time protecting the parts of ourselves that we feel won’t be accepted or understood by others while at the same time not giving them the information or context to understand where we are currently and so we are often misunderstood.
I think this happens because of toxic pieces of culture, as well as human elements that comes to play. I think we all deep down have a fear of being rejected because of something that we feel is inadequate, so we protect those pieces of ourselves. Often the act of climbing — and especially climbing at our edge wherever that may be for each of us - gives us the embodiment of those feelings of fear. Sometimes when I climb at that edge, pieces of myself that I try to hide come up and flow through me - be it self judgement for my performance, frustration for lack of training, fear of letting go, and the list goes on. Those fears can then compound on each other to not be about climbing at all - fear of not being good enough at that moment can bubble over into not being a good enough photographer or musician or husband. You name it.
The embodied fear opens a pathway to all of those things. The funny thing is that the body doesn’t know the difference. It’s just experiencing stress which is then triggering the brain to spin out. Once you’re there, you’re there, and if you leave that space not talking about all that that came up it can fuck up your whole day.
I think something that’s wonderful about looking at climbing beyond the act of climbing - it has all the pieces of self-discovery and emotional growth from the onset. We just take things too routinely as a culture and don’t think about what we are actually doing when we’re climbing.
Internally, I don’t think you can run from your vulnerabilities and emotions. We just do a good job of trying to hide them from view. On the wall, you can’t hide when you’re afraid or conversely joyful and stoked. It’s there for your partner to see - and for everyone else who may be at the crag.
With vulnerability in a relationship, showing someone your vulnerabilities, those stinking guts we don’t like about ourselves, is terrifying. Is it scarier than being runout above a 0.1? For some, maybe. For others, maybe not. For all though, regardless of the intensity, this fear stems from the same place inside.You have to have an immense trust in another person to show them the things you hide. The same way you have to have immense trust in a belayer. On the wall you trust that they won’t let you die - and in relationship you trust that they will understand and not reject you.
Being afraid and then safely caught by your belayer increases trust in the relationship but also intensifies the understanding and importance of giving a good attentive belay to someone else. Similarly, being able to be seen by your partner for where you are at emotionally - even if it isn’t where you want to be or what you want to be seen - and then to have that space held with love, understanding, and support is hugely important. It increases your own empathy and develops the capacity to help hold that space for someone else. Though we fear it, vulnerability quite literally strengthens our bonds and makes us interact in a safer way. We are more likely to get into a physically dangerous situation with someone when vulnerability with each other is not present.
How does climbing play a role in deepening your relationship with your wife Marisa?
Much of that I describe in the above responses. Marisa and I both worked in therapy for a long time and one of its results is a developed skill and tolerance to processing through emotional experiences with people and each other. Climbing has been the central catalyst for us to connect on all of the pieces of ourselves we wanted to hide from each other - pain, doubt, guilt, trauma. It has been the doorway to our deepest healing and connection as well as our deepest fights and frustrations. Just as better climbing partners are denoted by good communication, our communication has enabled us to move through it all.
Much of that I describe in the above responses. Marisa and I both worked in therapy for a long time and one of its results is a developed skill and tolerance to processing through emotional experiences with people and each other. Climbing has been the central catalyst for us to connect on all of the pieces of ourselves we wanted to hide from each other - pain, doubt, guilt, trauma. It has been the doorway to our deepest healing and connection as well as our deepest fights and frustrations. Just as better climbing partners are denoted by good communication, our communication has enabled us to move through it all.
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In one of your Instagram posts you talk about being a 4th generation American with Asian ancestry and Loving Day, which celebrates love between mixed-race couples. Would you like to share some thoughts on this?
As a background for our readers: On June 12, 1967 the U.S. Supreme Court struck down laws that prohibited interracial marriage. Mildred Loving was a black woman married to a white man Richard Loving. They were both arrested – while she was pregnant – for an “illegal marriage.” They avoided jail by agreeing to leave the state of Virginia and not return for 25 years. The couple moved to Washington D.C. and wrote to the U.S. Attorney General John F. Kennedy and the American Civil Liberties Union to help them. The case went to the Supreme Court, and resulted in striking down all anti-miscegenation laws existing in 16 states. Absolutely. First and foremost it hurt deeply to realize that Utah, the state I live in, had these laws struck down in as close of a date as 1963. Like so many other laws and practices of this kind, it is far too close to the present day for my heart. These types of laws also speak of larger cultural beliefs and patterns that are less visible than laws on paper. In that last few years there have been a pattern of events that prompted a deep shame and sadness in me. I was awakened to the immense amounts of privileged armor that I’ve worn in my life - and continue to wear. This is the stuff that’s hard but necessary to admit to do and be better. To understand some of the intersectional spaces I occupy, I am a 4th generation American with more than half of my ethnic make up being Asian (½ Okinawan, ¼ Japanese) but I was born in and grew up in Honolulu, Hawaii, where the majority of people look like I do. Mixed ethnicity is very common in Hawaii. Add to that having a great deal of financial opportunity while growing up and you get someone who is going out into the world and moving through it as the "majority" - even though they look different on the outside and is now likely seen as a minority. I grew up learning about these laws but never actually applied them emotionally. I never really thought about how they might have affected me or my family. |
Featured photographer Charlie Olgrady-Kessner. Photo Credit: Sav Cummins
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All of this has made me look at how my privileged access to the outdoors has shielded me from moments where I could have been more present for others and been a better ally. It made me look at the silence I’ve practiced in moments when I’ve experienced discrimination on the streets or in conversation - a fraction of a fraction of what others go through daily. I had the armor to just let it go and not be vocal. It spurs the wondering of whether my silence has then made others in the majority, who I do have rapport with, further believe that “this type of stuff is overhyped and doesn’t happen here." It prompted an understanding that I can do more to listen, as well as be more vocal, to do my part to change the spaces we live in.
As horrific as 2020 has been, one of the things it has brought to light is the extent of racism that still exists in this nation. We cannot heal an infection that cannot be seen or is not openly acknowledged.
As horrific as 2020 has been, one of the things it has brought to light is the extent of racism that still exists in this nation. We cannot heal an infection that cannot be seen or is not openly acknowledged.
What is your experience as an American with Asian ancestry here in the U.S.?
Like I tried to unpack in the previous question, my experience is unique because I’ve let so much shit go over the years. That being said I think the biggest things I encounter explicitly and more frequently are when I’m working professionally in town as a property photographer for real estate or construction. I often have people come up while I’m working - granted in neighborhoods where 80-90% is new construction - and ask me what I’m doing there.
Drones prompt a lot of questions and I often have to show them or at least offer to show them my FAA license to make them back down. Now sure, I also wonder what it would look like if I was a cleaner cut white guy - it’s probably worth noting that I also have long dreadlocks, though when working I always have them up in a bun - and drove a brand new car instead of an older minivan. Would they act the same way? The frequency of the questions I get leads me to believe I'd be treated differently if I were white. I’ve only had one person be downright abrasive towards me, but the interactions always start off tense before they cool off.
More implicitly, I also get people who hastily close their garage doors or go out of their way to make sure I see that they are locking their houses when I’m shooting outside. This is a fraction of a fraction of what what Black people in America and other people of color experience daily and yet, it still creates a definite edge of caution I experience when taking on different jobs and am out by myself in town.
Other things I get both when shooting photos or when I’m performing music locally, are the standard questions of “Where am I from?” and then when I tell them St. George, they look confused and ask the questions about my ethnicity that they really intended to ask. As a pet peeve of mine, if the follow up line of questioning leads to me saying I grew up in Hawaii, or better yet if they ask me if I’m from Hawaii. It’s almost always followed with an, “Oh, I knew it. You look Hawaiian.” Fucking facepalm. I get it, like I said, growing up in Hawaii, a lot of people look like me. But growing up in the islands doesn’t mean I am Hawaiian.
This touches on a larger issue personal to me (and lots of others from Hawaii) that is sometimes hard to unpack. To have [native] Hawaiian blood and ancestry is sacred. To claim it when you don’t have it is a never-ever-do type of thing. I totally understand that most people don’t know these cultural rules and therefore couldn’t get this. But when it’s in the moment and forced upon you by a random person, it’s kind of a mind-fuck that you just have to breathe through. I’ve gotten better at this part and stopping to correct people.
Overall, the things I hate the most are questions of “Where are you from?” Or “What brought you here?” mostly because they imply a frame of belonging or not belonging. I think in 2021, what matters is the following:
In an individual’s experience with a person: Do you deem them a good person whom you want to get to know better?
Yes? Awesome.
Does the other person "speak the same language/are you on the same page" as you to facilitate a conversation?
They do/are? Great, pursue the relationship.
They don’t speak your "language?"
Great. Are you willing to make an effort that might be difficult for you?
Yes, you’re willing?
Great, pursue the relationship without making it easier for you.
No you’re not willing to make the effort?
Great, don’t pursue the relationship.
Like I tried to unpack in the previous question, my experience is unique because I’ve let so much shit go over the years. That being said I think the biggest things I encounter explicitly and more frequently are when I’m working professionally in town as a property photographer for real estate or construction. I often have people come up while I’m working - granted in neighborhoods where 80-90% is new construction - and ask me what I’m doing there.
Drones prompt a lot of questions and I often have to show them or at least offer to show them my FAA license to make them back down. Now sure, I also wonder what it would look like if I was a cleaner cut white guy - it’s probably worth noting that I also have long dreadlocks, though when working I always have them up in a bun - and drove a brand new car instead of an older minivan. Would they act the same way? The frequency of the questions I get leads me to believe I'd be treated differently if I were white. I’ve only had one person be downright abrasive towards me, but the interactions always start off tense before they cool off.
More implicitly, I also get people who hastily close their garage doors or go out of their way to make sure I see that they are locking their houses when I’m shooting outside. This is a fraction of a fraction of what what Black people in America and other people of color experience daily and yet, it still creates a definite edge of caution I experience when taking on different jobs and am out by myself in town.
Other things I get both when shooting photos or when I’m performing music locally, are the standard questions of “Where am I from?” and then when I tell them St. George, they look confused and ask the questions about my ethnicity that they really intended to ask. As a pet peeve of mine, if the follow up line of questioning leads to me saying I grew up in Hawaii, or better yet if they ask me if I’m from Hawaii. It’s almost always followed with an, “Oh, I knew it. You look Hawaiian.” Fucking facepalm. I get it, like I said, growing up in Hawaii, a lot of people look like me. But growing up in the islands doesn’t mean I am Hawaiian.
This touches on a larger issue personal to me (and lots of others from Hawaii) that is sometimes hard to unpack. To have [native] Hawaiian blood and ancestry is sacred. To claim it when you don’t have it is a never-ever-do type of thing. I totally understand that most people don’t know these cultural rules and therefore couldn’t get this. But when it’s in the moment and forced upon you by a random person, it’s kind of a mind-fuck that you just have to breathe through. I’ve gotten better at this part and stopping to correct people.
Overall, the things I hate the most are questions of “Where are you from?” Or “What brought you here?” mostly because they imply a frame of belonging or not belonging. I think in 2021, what matters is the following:
In an individual’s experience with a person: Do you deem them a good person whom you want to get to know better?
Yes? Awesome.
Does the other person "speak the same language/are you on the same page" as you to facilitate a conversation?
They do/are? Great, pursue the relationship.
They don’t speak your "language?"
Great. Are you willing to make an effort that might be difficult for you?
Yes, you’re willing?
Great, pursue the relationship without making it easier for you.
No you’re not willing to make the effort?
Great, don’t pursue the relationship.
Amy Lipschultz (IG: @lady_stoke) on "Movin' On Up "at Sunset Alley, Utah. Photo Credit: Charlie OlGrady-Kessner
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What would you like to see happen here in the U.S. and in our climbing community with respect to People of Color – including in climbing publications? How do we heal?
I think for the larger evolution of the sport, representation matters. Like so many have fought for in social media, as well as in the professional realm, growing up and being able to see someone who looks like you doing something cool outside automatically creates more of a connection and affects how you define your limits. This type of diversification in media is imperative, as we have been and are becoming an increasingly more diverse nation by the day. The diversification necessary is also not limited to skin color. We need to see it all. If one of the goals of climbing is to push the boundaries of the un-human levels of strength we can achieve, we need to increase awareness so that all types of humans know they have the option to try climbing (and other adventure sports). The more visibility we have of different body types, backgrounds, ethnicities, sexual orientations, genders, and people pursuing climbing at all grades in all media; the more that’s going to become the norm - and the more opportunities we have to push the sport in unique ways, including feats of strength. |
Alyse Dietel (@amilliontinylines) on "Thunder Monster" at The Frying Pan, Colorado. Photo Credit: Charlie OlGrady-Kessner
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It's so important to show images of people climbing and pushing themselves at all grades. In the past, climbing media has focused on the ultra cutting edge, which is cool and super inspirational, but maybe it stops there. I don’t think anything will take away from the awe of watching someone crush the limits of sport climbing grades or climbing the unclimbed in the unclimbable season, but there also room to celebrate regular folks climbing at their limit on mortal grades. Diversifying climbing and representing that diversity, allows us to get back to the main point of climbing for me - climbing is about the gamut of human emotions from joy to vulnerability and pushing your envelope internally. I want to see an increase in more media that tells that story of that everyday stoke.
Everyone deserves to be able to know the wonder of the wild spaces and in order for that to be a reality, they have to be able to imagine themselves in that place. In a way, more than documenting rad shit people are doing, that’s one of the more important role that social media is playing in culture, especially in such a digital world. Sure, the trickle down of more people experiencing the outdoors is immense - the more people who know about the good shit it does destroy some of the goodness, but only from the perspective of those who knew it before. Change is happening whether we like it or not. On the flip side, more people means better protection and management of our public land. The larger threats beyond overcrowded crags are the ever looming climate disasters that are going to wreak havoc in our kids’ and our kids’ kids’ lives. In order for that to change, more people need to realize we have something worth protecting. Maybe that’s a little (likely way) idealistic, but it’s something that I feel is true. If more people that can experience the profound way recreating outdoors can affect them, the more advocates we will have to protect the outdoors through better land management and thoughtful conservation policies.
Bryan Teaters on a first ascent of "Preta" at The Underworld in Utah. Photo Credit: Charlie OlGrady-Kessner.
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You are a photographer, tell us about your history with photography, including climbing photography.
For me, photos have always been about memory. My brain is a pretty chaotic and I’ve learned to navigate it as best I can throughout my life. Photography was one of the first navigational tools I was drawn to when I was a kid. In general, I don’t believe I have a great memory for specific moments of my life. I struggle sometimes to remember what I did last week. On the flip side, I do have a great contextual memory. Photos function as the bookmarked context that allows me to access the experiences and emotions of specific moments of my life at a much later date. As for my climbing-specific photography, I think that’s a very generic tale of a person moving out west with a camera and being inspired by all their rad friends doing awesome shit. My friends over the years have provided me with a seemingly unending source of inspiration. As I became a better climber, I got more excited about different ways to showcase beautiful movement and inspiring formations. What are your thoughts about photographic style? Do you feel like you have one? If so, how would you describe it? And, is photographic style something that is created or naturally emerges? I think that there are a lot of aspects to a “photographic style." Everyone has the capacity to be an artist. The hard part is taking the risk of doing so and putting it out there for others to see. But that doesn’t mean that the person who doesn’t show off their creations has less skill or less of a desired style, they just aren’t at a place where they believe its something that they want to show. |
Ultimately, when we're starting any creative endeavor, I think we naturally see what comes before us and in turn, have a gravitation towards the things that make us feel something. This can be a pattern of perspectives, compositions, use of color theory, an adherence to understood rules, or conversely a deliberate breaking of rules, etc. We see what we like and when we feel safe, we take risks and try to imitate. In climbing photography, this could be the graduation from butt shots to different perspectives of folks from higher vantage points.
I think that a danger artists can face is when they get locked into any particular style or pattern. I’m always trying to look to other inspiring artists and making a solid attempt to change the patterns that I’ve fallen into.
I don’t really know what my style is, though I’ve been complimented on my color grading in the past. Over the years, I just tried to cultivate an energy of not having stress of “missing a shot” in the moment. Sometimes I plan poorly and the perspective on the fixed line isn’t exactly what I wanted. That doesn’t mean that there isn’t a good photograph to be found there, I just means I made a miscalculation in the pursuit of what I thought I wanted. We make lemonade out of that perspective and then return again another day with a little more knowledge. The pursuit of that mentality is the style I’m seeking because it allows me to be present with the shoot so I can enjoy it.
I think that a danger artists can face is when they get locked into any particular style or pattern. I’m always trying to look to other inspiring artists and making a solid attempt to change the patterns that I’ve fallen into.
I don’t really know what my style is, though I’ve been complimented on my color grading in the past. Over the years, I just tried to cultivate an energy of not having stress of “missing a shot” in the moment. Sometimes I plan poorly and the perspective on the fixed line isn’t exactly what I wanted. That doesn’t mean that there isn’t a good photograph to be found there, I just means I made a miscalculation in the pursuit of what I thought I wanted. We make lemonade out of that perspective and then return again another day with a little more knowledge. The pursuit of that mentality is the style I’m seeking because it allows me to be present with the shoot so I can enjoy it.
Heather Larsen (IG: @slacklarsen) on "Corruption" at The Underworld in Utah. Photo Credit: Charlie OlGrady-Kessner
What are your thoughts on photo editing?
I’ve got this little mantra I picked up somewhere about the rights and wrongs of climbing that I feel is applicable here. It goes, “there is no cheating in climbing, there’s just lying” and I often bring it up to myself or others when they are verbally dissatisfied with their performance on a climb or more specifically, their critique of how they finished a climb.
To me this is important because it delineates a distinction between the ways we can climb in the moment, the ways we wished we had climbed, and the judgement that we and others may have when those ways differ. There is nothing inherently wrong with pulling on a draw or a piece of gear or using a hold that isn’t “on”, yet people often jump on that and label it as a “cheat” which couldn’t be farther from the truth. The only thing that exists that is out of bounds for me is being dishonest with yourself and others about the way in which you did something, like pulling on a draw, and then saying that you red-pointed.
This is how I feel about photo editing.
There is no right way to do it because we all have a different idea of what is beautiful and how something should look. In photography, and the editing workflow or process, the barest foundations of the art form is defined by the momentary capturing of light by a human making decisions of how we manipulate a camera. The purpose is to freeze a moment in time to look at later. Your intention in how you took the photo and the decisions you make on how you edit that photograph defines the story you want to tell about that moment.
I think that photo editing and retouching can add a tremendous amount of information and feeling to that story. Connecting this to where we started, I don’t believe there is any “cheating” in climbing or post-processing, just dishonesty. But, and this is a huge but, I do believe that in photo editing, there is a larger space of middle-gray to play around in. On the one end of the spectrum there is the photo out of the camera and on the other end there are techniques of editing photographs to change the reality of what happened in the moment. These changes can be small or large. From taking out some bags at the bottom of a cliff to have a cleaner and less distracting belay all the way to changing a skyline.
When I’m making decisions about larger changes in a photo, three simple questions guide me through how I play with that middle gray space:
Most often, I like the editing process to tell the story of how I saw the image and how I felt in the moment. If I approach the far boundaries of changing the story or enhancing something to beyond reality, then I try to make sure that the content matches the decisions. A great example of this is when I shoot photos at Burning Man or other festivals. This is a space that is already a little tilted beyond reality, so I feel more aligned to take some liberties and bend things in the computer.
I don’t know if this is a process that other photographers use, but I’d assume there’s something along those line they’re following internally. I love looking at other photographer’s work to try and discern some of these things.
I’ve got this little mantra I picked up somewhere about the rights and wrongs of climbing that I feel is applicable here. It goes, “there is no cheating in climbing, there’s just lying” and I often bring it up to myself or others when they are verbally dissatisfied with their performance on a climb or more specifically, their critique of how they finished a climb.
To me this is important because it delineates a distinction between the ways we can climb in the moment, the ways we wished we had climbed, and the judgement that we and others may have when those ways differ. There is nothing inherently wrong with pulling on a draw or a piece of gear or using a hold that isn’t “on”, yet people often jump on that and label it as a “cheat” which couldn’t be farther from the truth. The only thing that exists that is out of bounds for me is being dishonest with yourself and others about the way in which you did something, like pulling on a draw, and then saying that you red-pointed.
This is how I feel about photo editing.
There is no right way to do it because we all have a different idea of what is beautiful and how something should look. In photography, and the editing workflow or process, the barest foundations of the art form is defined by the momentary capturing of light by a human making decisions of how we manipulate a camera. The purpose is to freeze a moment in time to look at later. Your intention in how you took the photo and the decisions you make on how you edit that photograph defines the story you want to tell about that moment.
I think that photo editing and retouching can add a tremendous amount of information and feeling to that story. Connecting this to where we started, I don’t believe there is any “cheating” in climbing or post-processing, just dishonesty. But, and this is a huge but, I do believe that in photo editing, there is a larger space of middle-gray to play around in. On the one end of the spectrum there is the photo out of the camera and on the other end there are techniques of editing photographs to change the reality of what happened in the moment. These changes can be small or large. From taking out some bags at the bottom of a cliff to have a cleaner and less distracting belay all the way to changing a skyline.
When I’m making decisions about larger changes in a photo, three simple questions guide me through how I play with that middle gray space:
- What is the purpose of this photo?
- What is my intention behind this change?
- Will this fundamentally change the story of this moment for better or worse?
Most often, I like the editing process to tell the story of how I saw the image and how I felt in the moment. If I approach the far boundaries of changing the story or enhancing something to beyond reality, then I try to make sure that the content matches the decisions. A great example of this is when I shoot photos at Burning Man or other festivals. This is a space that is already a little tilted beyond reality, so I feel more aligned to take some liberties and bend things in the computer.
I don’t know if this is a process that other photographers use, but I’d assume there’s something along those line they’re following internally. I love looking at other photographer’s work to try and discern some of these things.
Jake Wahinehookae (IG: @climberjake) on his first ascent of "We're Not Camping" a massive 50’ roof problem in Mammoth Cave, Utah. Photo Credit: Charlie OlGrady-Kessner
Where does photography fit in your life? Is it a source of income? If not, what do you do to pay the bills?
Earlier I talked about working in therapy for a number of years, but I’ve also had a photo business on the side since 2014. The consistency in counseling work offered me a space where I could grow professionally and take risks, which meant the whole world to me and eventually allowed me to reach a marking-post of sorts, which was to leave the therapeutic world and create art professionally full time. I left the 9-to-5 in 2019 and I hopefully won’t need to return anytime soon (fingers crossed). My media business now (Charles Kessner Media LLC) covers a diversity of work from creating commercial video and photo for small businesses, to reinventing and adding value to their client-facing marketing assets, to running photo education courses with different guiding companies in the area. I also have been in the local music circuit playing a few times a month to make the ends all meet - this has obviously been much more difficult since the onset of Covid, but I’m still booking a few shows here and there. At the end of the day, I’m just so stoked that I’m able to make my income through creating anything. The creative space is where I feel most alive and happy.
Earlier I talked about working in therapy for a number of years, but I’ve also had a photo business on the side since 2014. The consistency in counseling work offered me a space where I could grow professionally and take risks, which meant the whole world to me and eventually allowed me to reach a marking-post of sorts, which was to leave the therapeutic world and create art professionally full time. I left the 9-to-5 in 2019 and I hopefully won’t need to return anytime soon (fingers crossed). My media business now (Charles Kessner Media LLC) covers a diversity of work from creating commercial video and photo for small businesses, to reinventing and adding value to their client-facing marketing assets, to running photo education courses with different guiding companies in the area. I also have been in the local music circuit playing a few times a month to make the ends all meet - this has obviously been much more difficult since the onset of Covid, but I’m still booking a few shows here and there. At the end of the day, I’m just so stoked that I’m able to make my income through creating anything. The creative space is where I feel most alive and happy.
Karen DeBonis(IG: @boulderbread) on "Harsh Rhetoric" at Kelly's Rock, Utah. Photo Credit: Charlie OlGrady-Kessner
What are your goals and visions for this coming year and beyond?
I have a ton of trips and project-ideas for 2021, but we’ll see how the new 2021 Covid life allows some of those trips and projects to be seen through.
Number one in my social life is to be a better ally and a person who speaks up more about the injustices I see and go through.
This year I’m working on a strategy to up my fine art print business which has been running on the back burner for years. I also have a wild goal of creating an entire collective of creators that gift our art for donations/contributions to change what we want to see in the world. Last year, after the murder of George Floyd, I started a trial of this after I saw a fellow artist gifting prints for direct donations to causes and organizations working to dismantle systemic racism. I put it out there and had a suggested minimum donation amount and the way it worked was, if you wanted a print, you would find an organization that you believed fit the bill, and sent it to me for approval. If I agreed (which I did for almost all of them), you gave a certain dollar amount as your payment and then sent me a receipt and a screen shot of the photo from my instagram feed you wanted. I then printed and shipped directly to you.
I liked this system a lot because it didn’t have me collecting anyone’s money. My art just got to be a catalyst for someone to send some dollars to something they believed in. Through this effort, 41 people donated $4957 to organizations on the ground. This got me so pumped and opened my eyes to the possibilities of how this could scale. This is still something that I want to pursue but am stuck at where to go next. if anyone is interested in chatting about this with me let me know!
I have a ton of trips and project-ideas for 2021, but we’ll see how the new 2021 Covid life allows some of those trips and projects to be seen through.
Number one in my social life is to be a better ally and a person who speaks up more about the injustices I see and go through.
This year I’m working on a strategy to up my fine art print business which has been running on the back burner for years. I also have a wild goal of creating an entire collective of creators that gift our art for donations/contributions to change what we want to see in the world. Last year, after the murder of George Floyd, I started a trial of this after I saw a fellow artist gifting prints for direct donations to causes and organizations working to dismantle systemic racism. I put it out there and had a suggested minimum donation amount and the way it worked was, if you wanted a print, you would find an organization that you believed fit the bill, and sent it to me for approval. If I agreed (which I did for almost all of them), you gave a certain dollar amount as your payment and then sent me a receipt and a screen shot of the photo from my instagram feed you wanted. I then printed and shipped directly to you.
I liked this system a lot because it didn’t have me collecting anyone’s money. My art just got to be a catalyst for someone to send some dollars to something they believed in. Through this effort, 41 people donated $4957 to organizations on the ground. This got me so pumped and opened my eyes to the possibilities of how this could scale. This is still something that I want to pursue but am stuck at where to go next. if anyone is interested in chatting about this with me let me know!
Any last thoughts you’d like to share with our readers?
I guess, my only parting thoughts are, get outside (safely/socially distanced to your comfort) and treat each other with love and respect. I think I’ve rambled on enough. Thanks for the space to speak some of my mind and if you stayed with me to the end good on ya, I appreciate it.
I guess, my only parting thoughts are, get outside (safely/socially distanced to your comfort) and treat each other with love and respect. I think I’ve rambled on enough. Thanks for the space to speak some of my mind and if you stayed with me to the end good on ya, I appreciate it.
Tiana St.Clair (IG: @st.tianaaa) on "Tabula Rasa" at the Zen Wall in Utah. Photo Credit: Charlie OlGrady-Kessner
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STORYTELLING VIDEO
We're Not Camping First ascentionist Jake Wahinehookae tells the story and shows us the moves of the super long cave-roof boulder problem called We're Not Camping located in Mammoth Cave in southern Utah. Videography and production by Common Climber contributor Charlie OlGrady Kessner. |
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Follow Charlie OlGrady-Kessner
PHOTOGRAPHY INSTAGRAM: @char.kess.photo
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EMAIL: [email protected]
WEBSITES:
Current: www.livethelifeyoulove.zenfolio.com
Future : www.charkessphoto.com
PHOTOGRAPHY INSTAGRAM: @char.kess.photo
MUSIC INSTAGRAM: @char.kess.music
EMAIL: [email protected]
WEBSITES:
Current: www.livethelifeyoulove.zenfolio.com
Future : www.charkessphoto.com