“Nothing could be sadder, than a glass of wine, all alone.” — Solomon Burke, Cry To Me
Beg to differ honey, but i’ll miss your music…
Solomon Burke, Cry To Me
Cry To Me
Tag: photography
Factoid of 10
so . . . i was tagged. more, i was asked to write a blog with 10 random things, facts, goals, or habits about mys(elf).
this longish little labor of love is dedicated to Virtual Angel and Laura, (thanks for waiting pretty ladies) though i will break the trend by NOT tagging anyone directly for obligatory response and instead invite anyone to tell me one random thing, fact or goal about themselves here as an optional comment.
i will start big and descriptive and then i will try to scale down to some simple trivia.
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1 i am a nature nut. I have a profound respect for all things furry, things with leaves, scales, fins, feather and especially wings. And not just the pretty things like moths and butterflies, but birds and even bats. I have picked up butterflies dashed by car radiators flapping at the roadside. i’ve hand fed a dazed hummingbird after thudding pitifully into a window and was amazed to have it fly directly out of my hand. i have carefully pulled a baby mouse from a glue trap. Out of sheer interest, i took great pride in planting and cultivating a small but beautiful garden and i raised giant silkmoths (Saturniidae) for a year. i have photo documented nearly all of the above in great detail.
This all adds up to the fact that i wish i were a National Geographic level photographer (though i did finish in the 3rd annual Smithsonian contest in the category of Altered Images for a photo of a red tree.) my photos have also been featured in a Maryland Department of Natural Resources Calendar and on a species sign at the Calgary Zoo (for a HUGE bat called a Malayan Flying Fox.)
To remind me of the fragility of the natural worlds (humans included) i keep a little wooden box on my bookshelf. Some would consider it a bug sarcophagus but it has several wings, some full bodies of, and some single panels of glittering, scaly, colorful butterflies, moths and a fully intact dragonfly. I’m not a pinner and framer or a freezer or a killer. None of this Silence of The Lambs nonsense . . . i would just find these and collect them in the field as is. Creepy to you maybe, but delicate treasures to me.
2 i move slow on Sundays. Meditatively so. Or more at, sometimes, i don’t like getting up in the morning. Correction. i do NOT get up in the morning, i typically rise in the early afternoon. Morning for me is 10am to 11am. 9am is really pushing it. Anything prior to that and i am either sleeping, or some kind soul is cooking up a mean breakfast in the kitchen that has roused me and my hunger. Or – i wake voracious and i am found making a tall stack of pancakes, towering like fluffy beige clouds or a big mess of cheesy scrambled eggs. My Sunday ritual is this . . . Rise late. Drink tea. Eat breakfast for lunch. Stay comfortable. Snuggle with Joe. Read or write of fill my mind and heart with music and art. I am not religious (unless you count nature) but i understand why people go to church, why they don’t want to work, why they choose forced respite on Sunday. as midnight approaches on a Saturday, bringing to close a full day, a full week lived and loved, greeted and embraced, photographed and written about, drunk down and eaten full, documented, cherished and learned from, i see the world as my church and the amazing places, people and things in it, all beautiful, meaningful and deserving of reverence in their own godlike ways. So i need time to digest my universe. And i refuse to work on Sundays. For at least the past 10 years . . . ultimately, i try to live my life as if it were a string of neverending Sundays: i eat when i am hungry, i sleep when i am tired, i work when i need the money, i rest when my mind or my body calls for it.
3 i am guilty of magical thinking. This is because i believe i lead a charmed life. Truly. In a world of random bullshit and utter chaos, i find myself wildly lucky. this works for me in a positive way not a paranoiac way. Many, many positive things, people and opportunities have filled my life. The places i’ve traveled to and seen, the wine i’ve consumed, the food i’ve eaten, the music i’ve absorbed, the people i’ve met, the true friends and the necessary lovers over the years and now, the perfect husband i now cherish. Where does the magic come in? i believe these things have been delivered to me from sheer wishing, from dreams, from asking the universe out right, from applying my mind and my will to them and invariably, from making the good decisions that put me in the places where the magic indeed happens. Oh yeah – and i think faerie folklore has a good bit of truth and i don’t care what you think that means. The boon of art and writing inspired is plenty. i look for signs in everything from placement in time and numbers on coins, to colors worn for effect, from license plates to billboards, from overheard conversations to the small, pinched flower mouths of children. Myths are made daily. i live like that . . .
4 i prefer to eat with my hands. I can even been seen eating a salad like this. Sure – i’ve worked in fine dining for the better part of 16 years and i know how to set a proper table. Even so, i use my right hand like a little claw or a prong, gathering three fingers and a thumb into a quadrant, leaving the pinkie out. i like gently tearing off hunks of cake or gathering a bundle of French fries and bringing the whole of it to pursed lips. i often taste sauces on plates with my fingers first before going in. it doesn’t matter how fancy or how low country the food is, though i will often employ the proper tool at the proper time, i still prefer the direct tactile sensation of bringing food to my mouth with my hands. and as for beverages, i’ll drink wine out of anything, including a bowl.
5 i’ve tried my hand at every artistic arena minus sports. i’ve attacked and completed most ventures with moderate success and still continue to grow in the ones i’ve decided to hold onto. No one told me i couldn’t or explained that i might fail so i tried everything to see what i was good at with joyful abandon. i play acoustic guitar and a smattering of piano, i even tried flute and saxophone. i sing mostly as i discovered it was my best instrument and used it to front a band. i’ve been recorded. i’ve sketched, painted and sculpted. i took jazz for a few months and performed in precisely one dance recital in a hideous pink and black polka-dotted bodysuit with crinoline skirt when i was 15. i still write quite a bit and have been published in small collections that i have entered and/or was editor-in-chief for and won minor educational scholarship contests for writing when i began my college career. Then there’s the photography bit too . . . as previously mentioned.
6 secretly – or maybe not so secretly, i want to sift through my writing and author a book. Poetic prose, nothing too confessional, something probably more at short-story/essay-type of writing. If there were a way to amalgamize the astute natural observation of Annie Dillard, the humor of David Sedaris, Douglas Adams or Christopher Moore, and the delightfully dense prose of Tom Robbins, fluid and delivered in equal parts, then this is the book i want to write. i mean – aren’t we all very busy writing the Great American Novel?
7 Socks. i love them. Especially knee-highs. The longer, more silly, more sexy, more striped, more full of cats and flowers and polka-dots and eyeballs and stars, the better.
8 Being naked. This is my preferred state. And i don’t say that to be provocative. i like senseless nudity. Like, i prefer to be naked cleaning the tub and bathroom tiles (so i can shower after!) or fresh out of the shower composing email naked in front of the computer with a towel on my head. i like doing the dishes naked or dusting the bookshelves on a chair naked or my favorite, stripping down in front of the washer and loading the clothes into the basin naked. Also combine this with 7 and you get naked plus socks – another common state of mine. Because i dress according to mood and function, it takes me awhile to decide what i’m wearing for the day so if i don’t have to go anywhere on the immediate, i’ll just wander the house naked until i get inspired.
9 Oregon. This is where i want to live. I want to see mountains and water, to hike to camp, to breathe and eat healthy and sleep soundly to the rain. All of this with my husband Joe, in a home with a fireplace and a wall stuffed with books (or a proper library), with a couple (or few cats) and a big porch to watch the birds from, a backyard without a fence to hold back the garden of flowers, herbs, vegetables and lavender, a few comfortable chairs, a bright window to look out while i write and read, and a nicely stocked kitchen and pantry with plenty of cupboard space for us to feed ourselves and entertain the people we adore. There is a plan in place for this eventual utopian move . . .
And last for 10 i give you . . ..
10 My Top 10 List of Tiny Zen
- the top of my cat’s head (where smooches go)
- Mango flesh – if you want to learn to kiss, eat one, with both hands
- the smell of onions frying in butter
- the crisp of autumn experienced through an open window
- blood orange hot tea
- an afternoon nap in a cool, dark place
- lavender – in any form, mixture, balm or concoction
- a sexy, luscious, viscous red wine
- Jasmine Rice steaming
- cold champagne in a hot bath
and the invitation is now yours, should you choose . . .
Smithsonian Sunday
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Yeah, it will be ok
Do nothing today
Give yourself a break
Let your imagination run away
~Sunday by Sia
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Cinnamon rolls are baking somewhere downstairs and the smell has roused me from sleep. the windows in my room are open, it’s 67 degrees, the birds are singing, Odin is sitting on my desk watching them flit by as i type this, and the sun pierces everything in my room, lighting up the coronas around the sunflowers in a vase nodding behind me. Anemone ‘De Caen’ are beginning to bloom as the purple crocus fade down and the yellow daffodils stand up. My Apeldoorn Elite Tulips are starting to shoot buds our from their curled, green rabbit ear leaves. i know all of this because i just wandered out in my cat pajamas, barefooted to see what is coming up out there in my garden. now i’m just waiting for that last frost to seriously be done and i’ll put the seeds in. sometimes it snows in April you know . . .
i move slow on Sundays, meditatively so. i am just now contemplating a shower after daylight savings time forced me to look like i woke up uber-late this morning at 11. there are so many silly little tasks to do . . . but first, i think i will go eat some breakfast and drink some tea and then come back to work on a few things. ALL of them involve my computer and various applications for managing money and photography, which is an interesting theme lately.
i am thrilled to announce, (if i haven’t already told some of you) that i placed in Smithsonian Magazine’s 3rd Annual photo contest with my forest is painted RED. 7,500 photographs were submitted from around the world and 10 Finalists in each of the five categories were chosen: Americana, The Natural World, People, Altered Images, Travel and you can now view those photographs HERE. i am prominently featured in the Altered Images Category.
The Grand Prize Winner and the five Category Winners will be revealed in the August 2006 issue of Smithsonian so if i win in my category, i will go to print in the magazine and win $500 plus some other non-cash prizes. i don’t think i’ll win it, but check out what The Grand Prize is . . . no matter what happens, it’s good press as well as a great opportunity for me to be seen and all under the guise of an institution i truly respect. The Smithsonian Institution is “America’s national educational facility with 18 museums, 9 research centers and 120 affiliates around the world.” It was a gift from James Smithson, a British scientist who willed his estate “to the United States of America, to found at Washington, under the name of the Smithsonian Institution, an establishment for the increase and diffusion of knowledge . . .” i encourage you to read the history.
These last few weeks have been crazy busy with work and little bits of photography. i went to a seminar hosted by Blue Pixel and Nature’s Best Photography which featured Daniel J. Cox, a well-renowned nature photographer featured in National Geographic.
He covered:
- the issues involved in nature photography, from trip planning to capture to workflow, travel to distribution
- tips for entering and winning nature photo contests
- the importance of conservation and photojournalism
- the differences between JPEG and Raw workflows and how to manage color and exposure in each one
- how to make effective and accessible archives of your valuable digital negatives
His discussion began pretty pedantically really covering some of the more pedestrian aspects of photography (depth of field, focus, shutter speeds, light metering) that i assumed most would know there. But, his talk on natural conservation and his own photography, lifestyle and travel experiences were wonderful. Some of his knowledge of media types, storage, software, color management and technology were a little behind the curve, but he produces incredible work.
Saturday morning, i shot a very last minute wedding on The Black-Eyed Susan, a paddlewheel riverboat “custom designed for social, corporate, and private entertainment” docked in Baltimore’s Inner Harbor. i was only available for the ceremony and a few formal shots. having NEVER met the bride or groom or wedding party, it made for quite a challenge. i don’t typically do these thrown together things . . . i have a contract and a must-have photo checklist. i typically meet with the couple and the person paying for the photography to get a feel for what they want and what kind of people they are. i like to be prepared and comfortable in my surroundings. this was NOT the case for this event. in fact i found myself crawling over life preserver boxes and behind people, playing “crouching tiger hidden photographer” to get some decent shots.
it’s a real trick to NOT be obnoxious and all over the wedding party when the “stage” for the ceremony is as small as it was, and forget about room to take pictures of the processional and recessional people always forget they are being photographed and walk WAY TOO FAST! i haven’t had the time or the desire to go through the photos yet, but i am hoping i produced something of merit and charm, all things considered. All i know is the whole wedding party lined up on the back of the boat and waved to me on shore as i shot some final photos of them floating off into the harbor. But i wasn’t done . . . then i drove 45 minutes back to Annapolis and went to work at the restaurant and waited tables; a private party of 17 plus a few extra seatings and all in a second floor dining room. So up and down the damn stairs all nite with heavy trays of food and dishes. By the time Sunday arrived, you can now understand why i take them so slowly.
As for the rest of this Sunday . . . i took myself out to breakfast, did some shopping, bought a pair of gauchos and a skirt, took myself out for thai flavored dinner plus a beer. i got a fair amount of reading done at both meals with excerpts from Girl With Curious Hair by David Foster Wallace and Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami. All the while amazed at how friendly and warm people are when the weather is pleasant, even the animals are in a good mood. i walked along past a group of men outside a local pub having some beers and hot wings and i turned to smile and wiggle my fingers, waving down at one of their dogs, a gorgeous white-faced Staffordshire Bull Terrier who in turn sat up, nudged me and licked my fingers gingerly as i walked past.
People seem to lose their damn minds when it’s sunny. on Main Street, a young man was sitting on the sill, legs dangling out his second story window singing to no one in particular and in fact, was making up songs for the passerby. later on West St., i was talking casually to my friend Paul when a truck drove past and a blonde-haired girl squawked into a CB radio as if campaigning, somehow broadcasting “HEY PAUL!” from the passenger seat. Paul responded by stopping mid-sentence, skipping out to the middle of the street, throwing his arms into the air with ROCK ON horns poised on each hand, yelling “WOOOO-HOOO!”
something about a sunny day, a Sunday and all its simple pleasures; sleeping in, familiar faces on walkabout, good food, good news, a good read, pretty things purchased, a nice stroll down streets lined with gardens newly in bloom, phonecalls and messages from dear friends, freshly washed bed linen to lay your head down later.
i understand why people go to church, why they don’t want to work, why they choose forced respite on Saturday or Sunday. as midnight approaches, bringing to close a full day lived and loved, greeted and embraced, photographed and written about, documented, cherished and learned from, i see the world as my church and the amazing places, people and things in it, all beautiful, meaningful and deserving of reverence in their own godlike ways.
muse(ic) and lighting
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Lucky me
i guessed the kind of man
that you would turn out to be
Now i wish that i’d been
wrong and then
i could remember
to breathe
And all along the Watchtower
the night horses and
the black mares
ready themselves for the outcome
for the strange times
upon us
But what you didn’t count on
was another Mother of
a Mother Revolution
but what you didn’t count on
was another Mother of
a Mother Revolution
you could’ve had me
you could’ve had me
you could’ve had me
Right there beside you . . .
Mother Revolution ~ Tori Amos
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amazing how everything you listen to informs you of your heart’s current state. at this very moment as i type this . . . Train In Vain by The Clash just came on the radio and is talking about:
Say you stand by your man
Tell me something I don’t understand
You said you love me and that’s a fact
Then you left me, said you felt trapped
Well some things you can explain away
But my heartache’s in me till this day
Did you stand by me
No, not at all
Did you stand by me
No way . . .
damn it’s exhausting when you can’t escape your own brain and even the radio won’t give you a fucking break.
but my friends have been great at keeping me distracted what with dinner invites and tea and wine and film and concerts and new music.
In local news . . . Sarah Jessica Parker and Matthew McConaughey filmed a movie on Maryland Avenue here in Annapolis a few days ago! It’s going to be called Failure to Launch. They went to a little local pet boutique that the film crew made look like a bookstore then on to Harry Browne’s for an outdoor café lunch scene. What’s really cool is my photos are on display just across the street at Alchemy Tea Trading Co! Who knows – maybe they saw me . . .
i went to a concert at the 9:30 club on Friday nite to see Ray Lamontagne, a very heartfelt show acoustically akin to say a Ben Harper meets Bob Dylan. folk-soul flavoured. he was opened by a pretty aussie called Sarah Blasko, who will make her tv debut on the series finalé of Six Feet Under next Sunday. She was very Björk blended with some Harriet Wheeler of The Sundays and a little Beth Gibbons of Portishead thrown in. it was a lovely show.
make it stop, start me up
well … the wedding was lovely, the church was a lighting nitemare and the reception, a dim catastrophe but i was armed with a great flash and truly pleasant people who enjoyed themselves. the candid shots before and after the ceremony and during the reception turned out wonderful. i have about 800 shots i have to sift through to see just what is what. ceremonies are so rapid fire it is difficult to know where to be and what to look for, especially in the processional and recessional and when all the great moments will happen on cue. this church did not allow flash photography during the ceremony for ANYONE, including the professional photographer and no tripods either.
this meant not a lot of wonderful or focused shots in this near concert dark, buttercream mixed jaundice fluorescent and incandescent lighting altar stage. also – i was only allowed to stand between the edge of the pews and a tall column that repeated on either side of the church, and i could not cross the aisle. i had to go around to the back of the church (this wastes time and screws up shots you will miss.) i will learn to use a higher ISO without fear in the next church situation . . . it just all goes too fast and some of the grain will have to be there in place of blurred movement. and if i have to shoot there again – i will have an assistant. and since the rest of the audience used their cameras and flash i will not hesitate to do the same next time. fuck the obviously ignored rules.
maybe they got some good ceremony shots.
but there was a reason my judgment and reflexes were a bit off . . .
i must note, that despite all this love and celebration, i was sick beyond belief. the nite before it was either samonella from (something i rarely and now, will NEVER eat) the evil Wendy’s cheeseburger i gobbled at 1am, or someone who was ill and handling my food. i caught a 24-hour something or another than (pardon the visuals) opened the sluiceways at both ends. i was reduced to a near-incontinent 90 year-old woman, in the bathroom every 20 minutes or so WHILE i was trying to shoot this wedding. i had to do a wardrobe change just before i left the house. i can laugh about it now, but allow me to share a less than graceful moment – i ruined a pair of pants . . . that’s how bad off i was. i was what they call violently ill, but as they say in the military, it was time to “pull up my boot straps” and head in. i had a job to do and i was already paid. turns out this little bug has been making its way around. people at work. the salon i had visited where the bride had her hair done. co-workers and their children, all with the precise symptoms as mine . . . i was so disappointed to have been sick on such an important day but i informed the bride not to concern herself with me, that i would get through it. i lasted until the end, 9:30, and left as everyone else headed to the after-party.
i spent Sunday morning weeping, cramping, in pain, head-achy and dehydrated, eating popsicles, drinking Gatorade and laying in bed. Brooks thought i needed to go to the hospital, but Tylenol PM and the fluids set me right by Monday.
i should like now to give a HUGE thanks and shout out to my girl Marcy – right before they were about to present the bride and groom as a married couple to the onlookers, the batteries on my flash went dead.
i called her and she was right around the corner, 3 minutes away with 4 fresh AAs! it was the only thing i neglected to pack into my photo bag. i will NEVER forget again. On the same tip, i congratulate Marcy on her new Canon EOS 20D as well! now we have twin cameras to truck around town with. She also purchased a fish-eye lens, and a macro ( which she SO generously lent to me) Of course since i shot at nite, my ISO was left to higher speeds when i was out this AM. i could just kick my own ass sometimes . . . my new mantra “i will get used to this camera, i will be at one with my Canon.”
We started this out with some sunset over the Eastport bridge photos last nite, the same time i also took this shot of the kitty in the candlelit window. It was almost 70 degress yesterday, all the snow melted. And i think it was just so it could rain, then get bitter and windy as hell in order to snow this afternoon.
In other, better news about weddings and warmer weather – i am hired to do another one this June. also for a co-worker and new found friend, Megan. This is turning into a regular gig!
i need more practice and more time to shoot portraits.
and then there’s all my lovely bugs and butterflies waiting for the flowers. oh – and my cocoons . . .
. . . Come on Spring
trinity of creativity
:::
HST
7.18.37
2.20.05
“Fiction is based on reality unless you’re a fairy-tale artist . . .
you have to get your knowledge of life from somewhere.
You have to know the material you’re writing about before you alter it.”
~ Hunter S. Thompson
“The music business is a cruel and shallow money trench,
a long plastic hallway where thieves and pimps run free,
and good men die like dogs.
There’s also a negative side.”
~ Hunter S. Thompson
“When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.”
~ Hunter S. Thompson
:::
He described himself as “an elderly dope fiend living out in the wilderness,” and Hunter S. Thompson, inventor of gonzo journalism, the journalist of the Me decade with his whacked-out and occasionally self-indulgent prose, brilliant, wicked swizzle stick in the shit martini that is our over-sanitized, focus-group-tested, squelched news, media and political coverage – well, he shot himself in his Aspen home.
Not everyone is built for this world . . . especially those who ride it like a rodeo bull. Poor, brave darlings that they are, bordering on reality and escaping it as often as chemically possible.
i purge my own (un)reason through writing, through exercising my voice(s). it’s one of the few things that keeps me tethered to this life and helps me to dissect and reflect on it all. it’s not history until it’s documented, it’s not understood until it’s reflected in the eyes of others, it’s not any good until it resounds in someone else’s psyche as it expands your own.
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“My problem is my feet are too big and I can’t find the shoes that I want, shoes that are sleek and thin and make a pronounced statement of ‘I have access to important documents’ and ‘I have catering on a 24 hour basis’. I want to communicate these things with a shoe, which is impossible with my size, I can’t find the shoes that fit. And I can’t find shoes that make the statement that ‘I am a temple’, that ‘I am a grotto’, that ‘I am a botanical park of many leaves, flowers and trees which essential oils are derived from as well’, if you’re into that sort of thing. You need to make statements, whether you’re trying to be a cemetery of life, whether you’re trying to be a chaperone-slash- assailant, whether you’re trying to be a security guard-slash-masseuse. There’s different things you need to communicate with your footwear and it’s difficult when the width of your foot is greater than the length. Which in a way is kind of the way life is sometimes. Sometimes life is wider than it is long. And you just can’t fit in anywhere.”
~ Beck
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Music takes up a HUGE portion of my life. i am ever looking for the soundtrack to my existence, or at least a temporary explanation. And then there’s the consideration of mood. i’m looking for what fits.
some of the things i am currently cycling into the sound check, checking out, or waiting to arrive:
- Who’s Got Trouble – Shivaree
- Wikked Lil’ Grrls – Esthero
- Guero – Beck
- Speak For Yourself – Imogen Heap
- A Girl Called Eddy – A Girl Called Eddy
- The Beekeeper – Tori Amos
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“I don’t have any allegiance to an organized religion; I have an allegiance to the gifts that I find for myself in those religions… I’d rather be non-denominational, except for music. I prefer to learn everything through music. If you want divinity, the music in every human being and their love for music is pretty much it. It’s the big indication of their spirituality and their ability to love and make love, or feel pain or joy, and really manifest it, really be real. But I don’t believe in a big guy with a beard on a throne, telling us that we’re bad; I certainly don’t believe in original sin. I believe in the opposite of that: you have an Eden immediately from the time you are born, but as you are conditioned by your caretakers and your surroundings, you may lose that original thing. Your task is to get back to it, to claim responsibility for your own perfection.”
~ Jeff Buckley
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“When i’m posing for a photographer, as with music, it has to be improvisational at a certain point. For it to work you have to allow yourself to dream, to walk into a painting. If you establish an inner dialogue while you’re being photographed it can be a bit more revealing. i might remember a conversation with somebody that takes me to a certain space. i’m not inhabiting a different character – i’m inhabiting myself, although this might be a piece of the self that even i am just meeting for the first time. That’s what i like to see in a photograph. When somebody’s just blankly staring out at you, or seducing the camera in a really obvious way, it just doesn’t have the same resonance.”
~ Tori Amos from Tori Amos: Piece by Piece
::: ::: ::: ::: :::
i don’t know if i will ever be the caliber of Dorthea Lange or Diane Arbus or Annie Liebovitz, but as i am constantly inspired by photographers, male and female, new and historical, and all encompassing a wide world of imagery, i will continue to explore my tools, and document my little red chunk of the world :heart:
::: ::: ::: ::: :::
“Most people go through life dreading they’ll have a traumatic experience. Freaks were born with their trauma. They’ve already passed their test in life. They’re aristocrats.”
~ Diane Arbus
::: ::: ::: ::: :::
Meanwhile we are all desperately reaching for our trauma, our uniquity, our gift, or own personal freakdom that will allow us to express ourselves fully, to transcend our simplicty, mediocrity, anonymity – to become a vibrant version of ourselves.
And the approach is simple . . . convince yourself you can do it.
There is this trinity of expressive things i love: writing, music, and photography. i told myself i wanted to write; i did it, i was published in minor publications, won a small scholarship and continue to scribble – even my dreams are work for the paper. i told myself i loved music so much i would write it, sing it, play it live. i did. i took the writing, taught myself guitar, recorded several songs with a band on CD, played live and loved it immensely. i still sing and play here and there, but i mostly consume music now. i told myself i really love photography and i want to learn how to do it, learn to see my world differently. i brought joy to friends, family, even strangers who to my wild delight and surprise, actually forked over money for something i captured, and now i am displaying and selling them on the walls at my ‘real’ job. and every day, when i drive, when i walk, when i listen to conversations, when i have tea by myself, when i travel i see the world in little 4×6 boxes that i keep rotating, cropping, expanding.
and i am still learning and convincing myself i can do it.
light & magic, voyage & subconscious
150 years ago, Charles Baudelaire expressed his passionate hatred of photography, for its scientific impression of reality, lacking any and all imagination, its Realism being a ” disgusting insult thrown into the face of all analysts.”
Diplomatically, he later on conceded to award the medium a supporting role, given proper castration;
“If photography is allowed to supplement art in some of its functions, it will soon have supplanted or corrupted it altogether….its true duty..is to be the servant of the sciences and arts – but the very humble servant, like printing or shorthand, which have neither created nor supplemented literature….”
In a discussion on photography, i recently read “in its purest form, photography is not creative, it’s reflective, it’s a perspective on what already exists. The artist creates, the photographer reveals.”
In essence, the photographer may not be a proper artist, not a true creator, but by taking in what conditions will produce, such as the angle of the photo, the lighting, the shadows, the weather, the composition of the image – having this understanding can be potentially both creative AND perceptive. The reproduction of something seen is not neutral — a selection is being made by the photographer and in this sense, aims to bring us something we may not have seen because of locale, or to recontextualize everyday objects and situations.
The photographer captures the image with a camera by way of lenses, film or digital media, shutter speed, aperture, additional lighting etc. That is the craft of photography. The photographer also sees things in the everyday world from a perspective and context that some people never notice. Therein lies the art of photography. Your own natural instincts often produce more in your photography than strict adherence to all of the rules and sometimes, you almost seem to conjure an image you didn’t intend, and it’s wonderful. That is the magic of photography and mostly, the reason i do it.
Yes yes yes. Craft. Magic. But ART? The word “art” comes from the Latin ars, which, loosely translated, means “arrangement” or “to arrange” The word “photography” comes from the Greek words phos (“light”), and graphis (“stylus”, “paintbrush”) or together meaning “drawing with light” or “representation by means of lines”, “drawing”. Indeed photography as art reveals it to be an arrangement of light intended to represent what is seen by means of lines.
Alfred Stieglitz, a U.S born photographer, married to Georgia O’Keefe, spent his career making photography an acceptable art form that could be considered alongside painting and sculpture.
i love all forms of photography and i appreciate ALL ways in which it is achieved from pinholes to digital SLRs and analog film. i am not a purist of, for or in anything. i simply don’t want to discount anyone’s ability or expression, nor do i want to insult them by claiming the tools or methods they choose are not acceptable or credible. And while, unlike Alfred, i don’t intend to spend my credit doing so – i am doing what most people do with their cameras whether it be snapshots of vacation places and family or some other more visionary, skilled pursuit: i am documenting life. My version of the human experience.
And speaking of a vacation with family . . .
If you recall my first trip to the British Virgin Islands, i embark on my return visit on the 5th of this month and will be gone until the 14th. I am looking forward to relaxation, to loosening the stiff, burning muscles in this back and neck of mine that heat pads and muscle relaxers barely take the edge off of, and of course – i plan to bring back plenty of art – uhhhhh . . . photography.
i just can’t get used to the idea . . .
let. me. clear. my. throat.
you know – i am not one to meow meow meow
and my even having to preface it now, you can fully
expect a little hissing, but more, i implore you:
tragic darling dears, get out of your beds,
off your couches, your haunches, your
hands and knees and for fuck’s sake PLEASE
point the camera out the bathroom, the window,
outdoors, out of self-respect, his, hers, mine
the worried cat and dog and yours
take into consideration that we’ve no need
to bear witness to your public bleeding
i have seen every configuration of stocking
stunt-cocking, macro of labial fold
(god DAMN that shit gets OLD . . .)
and your face pulled down into mask of despair
mascara, wings, and blood everywhere
and more tits than i could ever use.
Now, mind you, i like my dark days too,
and these things can be done in 32 flavors
and then some, but it won’t make me come
find you in your self-absorbed hip-o-drome
it’s just more i have to scroll past –
to find actual, breathing, human
photographs.
i believe you – you are real and so are
the rest of the enhanced blanched
oversaturated things you possibly feel
but i’d like to see more of your real life
pooled at your feet, than a pair of your
panties, your bathtub, the Xs & Os the
utter lack of prose and pause and thought
given to the extended forearm-as-tripod
still in the shot and those webcam eyes
so tenderly wrought.
i am not asking you to find/define your depths
i am not trying to damage your emotional
intelligence – i see the dress pattern you
are after, but i’m afraid you’ve dropped a stitch.
i will allow you the feline quality of female
i will ask you, however, to remove your ears
and that silly tail. There is NO pair of
breasts or handcuffs or shoes that will fix
what your expression
and vision
and your camera
will never do
in ultra-uncandid
clicks.
i am
I am
a monstrous and lithe energy
just barely contained
in this luminous soft-candy shell.
right handed and dual-brained
hard on the heart
and easy on the eyes.
I am
always hungry
often cold
but a lover of sleep
which soothes both.
I am
moving towards daydreams
that are intensely private
but talk too much in my writing
and laugh too loudly
and give me away.
I am
singing my own song
painting my own image
writing my own story
photographing my own vision
and the whole of the work
fills my entire body with its art
and resonates with purpose in my mind.
I am
sometimes cruel
particularly judgemental
and that is my protection.
still – i am
capable of profound love
and understanding and gentility
and that is my gift.
I am
the ace at seeing good
or at least morbid humor
in the worst possible things.
I am
not afraid of much
except losing someone slowly.
I am
terribly sarcastic
unwilling to accept “no”
impossibly stubborn
frustrated by time
and this means
I can do anything
once i learn how to carve the hours out
and forgive myself and others
for the occasional loss of ambition.
I am
constantly improving
by ups and downs
and always looking
for a new way to love
everyone i know
and especially
those i don’t,
because, through love
i am.
~ Andrea E. Janda
almost done, and then . . .
finals are almost wrapped up
and then, presents receive
the same treatment.
my friend at work completed a real estate course
and wants me to take her picture for her business card.
another co-worker wants a family portrait or 2 done
he has new twin sons, a lovely wife and a charming Irish accent.
plus a filthy sense of humor like mine.
then there’s my girlfriend’s wedding in June . . .
humans – this is a new domain for me.
should be an expanding adventure.
This year has been an exhausting one,
It was time i stopped buying silly and worthless “things”
stopped talking about it and and simply took the time out to travel.
January 7th, i am going to AZ for a week to visit Zoey
and stomp around some deserts
and then in April (26th) through May 4th
she’ll be back this way.
Brooks (my man) and i chartered a boat,
he got his license and it will be me, him,
his brother Jesse, our friends Dave&Amy
and Zoey going to the British Virgin Islands.
Tortola – Chocolate Island.
I cannot WAIT to take pictures.
i am looking forward to quite a bit.
and you will probably see me
in fits and starts
and starbursts.