An approaching thunderstorm shook the fragile blossoms in my backyard this evening. More heavy rain and wind is expected tonight so I’m afraid there won’t be many blossoms left in the morning. Too bad there just wasn’t enough time this Spring.
More than a decade ago, Dennis’s parents gave us a glass oil lamp that—amazingly—has survived in our raucous house. It looks and feels quite fragile. In fact, here it is:
I created today’s image with four exposures in one frame, a shutter open for 2.5 seconds, and some slow, deliberate motion.
I had a number of purple photos to choose from today, but I settled on this: a four-shot, multiple-exposure image created with the trees in my backyard, and a lovely, large, purple candle my sister-in-law made for me.
I feel like a cheated a bit with this call. I knew I wanted to go back to the botanical garden today and shoot the wisteria. I wasn’t able to really spend time with it yesterday since I had Danny with me. I went there straight after the grocery store and then when I got home, I made the call. That would mean I had my photo before the call…but really, I had already made the call in my head — I just hadn’t let you know about it yet, Cheryl. ; )
This image is lucky to be here — I almost abandoned the initial idea to go to the botanical garden since I had Danny with me. I turned out to be a lot of fun and Danny had fun too, which was nice since he had the ear tube surgery this morning. (Not that the surgery is very taxing – it takes all of five minutes, really!)
I did have one problem with my gear. It is almost impossible to see what I am creating in the field. I think there may be a problem with the software that creates the “bright” multiple exposures. It seems like it’s not getting the exposure correct and I’m ending up with a photo of near black. In Lightroom, I can recover the image but I have to pull the exposure up by 3 to 4 stops and then correct the white and black points. I don’t mind fiddling with the post-processing, but it’s incredibly frustrating while I’m shooting and I getting absolutely zero feedback on how something I’m trying is working out. It makes the process a bit too random for my tastes. Almost making me want to abandon the technique and so back to straight shooting. (Well, not really!)
I almost abandoned my white umbrella, but I got it out for a few shots tonight. Perhaps I’ll do it more often.
I’ve read — and believe — that if you think you have the virtue of humility, you don’t. A similar maxim seems to apply to art: if you’re certain you’re creating it, there’s a good chance you’re not.
I’ve been reading/ listening to a lot of theology this week (that always gets me in trouble). My take away: I’m attempting to abide in mystery and not lust after certainty.
Every other artist begins with a blank canvas, a piece of paper the photographer begins with the finished product.
— Edward Steichen
Well, not really. Not in this sense. I began with a technical ability — combine nine images into one by overlapping the brightest areas of each frame. I can’t really know the final product because my mind cannot combine those images. It is a random process, pointing the camera (with an ND filter) at the azaleas, the dogwood tree, the grass, the bushes. In a way it reminds me of the Surrealist’s automatic writing.
I’ve started turning my walls into canvases for my art. I tape up pieces of paper, sheets of stickers, and lengths of tape. Then I shoot and shoot and shoot. Setting my camera to multiple exposure, tilting it, moving it, backing off, coming in close: all of it gives me something unique to work with at the end of the day.
I created this with two separate ME/ICM photos. Here’s what my “canvas” looked like:
This is one of those images that I won’t bother trying to explain (other than to say that it’s a composite created with two copies each of four different photos — two of them being multiple exposure ones). I had not planned on going anywhere near this direction, but I surrendered to the process and the outcome and am happy with where the image led me.
In yesterday’s post, Jessica asked an interesting question: “Is it [art] a letting go of control and seeing/believing something from another vantage point?” I’ll let this post be my answer.
If you want to make someone feel emotion, you have to make them let go. Listening to something is an act of surrender.
— Brian Eno
Could you say the same about poetry? Drama? Story? Photography? Art? Is it a letting go of control and seeing/believing something from another vantage point?
I don’t trust my judgement. Experience has taught me that I don’t often judge correctly. Like today. I had a lot to do (like every day the past two weeks) and so I stuck to my list and didn’t finish half of the items. As I began to feel the pressure of time slipping away, I pushed through harder on the list items. Maybe what I should have done was take a break, run outside to feel the gorgeous spring day and grab a few pictures of my neighbors’ pagoda surrounded by blooming cherry and dogwood trees.
That would have been a good call. Instead, I stuck to the list and still didn’t finish it and now I have this pent-up frustration at pushing my favorite things to the lowest priority. It’s always a battle, isn’t it? Against doing what needs to be done, what must be done and what we would like to do. I keep hearing how God uses our affinities but does that come at the cost of our responsibilities? Because in my life, there just isn’t enough time for both.
I chose this image from all the ME/ICM ones I took today, because it reminds me of the work of Mark Rothko and the conversations my son and I have had about Rothko’s paintings. Luke can’t stand them, judging the works to be less than art. I long for the chance to see a Rothko original and spend time with it. The funny thing is that I would have shared Luke’s opinion ten years ago. I’ve learned a great deal since then, though, including the wisdom of not rushing to judgment.