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But, back to the tintype. It is fitting that Robb chose to portray his working cowboy subjects in the eminently affordable medium that peaked in popularity after the Civil War -- during the ascendancy of Anglo ranching and cowboying in North America. One could argue that photographing contemporary workers in such an unrefined, archaic medium overly romanticizes them. I know that the subjects don‘t feel that way. Robb‘s vision simply anchors them in the traditions that they respect and cherish.* * *
In different decades Robb and I have traveled some of the same trails and visited some of the same outfits. Photographically, we have had certain aspects in common. In the early 1980s my approach was thought to be cumbersome, antiquated: 8 x10-inch view camera, huge tripod, a dozen lenses, too few film holders. Plenty of film, but not always a clean, dark place for unloading and reloading. A quarter-century later, along came Kendrick with his penchant for further antiquity and all the burdensome trappings of his modus operandi: 8x10 view camera adapted to 5x7, big tripod, an assortment of period lenses, boatloads of 5x7-inch metal plates. Plus towing a darkroom trailer with counter space, trays, chemicals (some rather toxic), water, safelights, hotplates, storage racks and bins…the beat goes on.* * *
I have watched Robb at work, as he photographed cowboy friends of mine (Warner Glenn and Monk Maxwell). For openers, Robb is friendly, engaging, respectful. Once he has decided upon the portrait location, usually determined by architectural features and the nature of the light, he expedites the setup of the darkroom trailer, tripod, and camera, then preliminarily positions his subjects in a composition. Entering the trailer, he mixes his potions and prepares a sensitized metal plate, then loads it into its holder. Back outside, he refines the composition and focus, makes an educated guess as to exposure time, and informs his subjects of how many seconds he desires them to hold still. With an opaque bag over the lens, Robb loads the plate holder into the camera, pulls the darkslide, removes the bag for the predetermined number of counted seconds, then re-covers the lens.* * *
Cowboys make circles. A man or woman may ride out from headquarters or cow camp to inspect the cattle, to rope and doctor a sick one, or check on the availability of water and forage. The distance and duration of the completed circle is often dependent upon the unforseen. Stray cattle from a neighboring ranch may need to be returned and breached fencing repaired. A pipeline leak in arid country may require some ingenious patchwork. The return ride may be in the dark, on a tired horse.* * *
Here, at the beginning of our overly populous, overly conflicted, heartburn-inducing Twenty-First Century - on the toe of the curve, a photographer might say - Robbs timely images give me comfort and hope. A recent plane flight angled me across western New Mexico, over remote country that I had been horseback in, helping various rancher friends gather cattle. That nothing appeared to have changed made me think of Robb in his rig somewhere between British Columbias Chilcotin River and the Sierra de la Encantada in Coahuila, traversing the cow country of three nations. He proved (perhaps only to himself and to me) that cowboys, old-timers and new recruits alike, may be threatened, but theyre far from vanishing.