Facing Our Misteaks!

I chose two photos taken late last week during a short photo walk, which upon their review, prompted me to think about mistakes. With digital files, mistakes are easier to manage. The way most of us deal with them is by simply pressing the delete key. The file is gone, and as the saying goes, it is out of sight and out of mind, and we feel we got away with something. However, film photography is not so forgiving in our efforts to correct or even to dispose of the printed image and negative. (Currently, I am shooting a roll of color film through my old Minolta 101, so my way of thinking about how I take photos and how I respond to the "clinkers" has been challenged.) When I think about culling a processed film print, I always feel a tinge of guilt and shame as I tear it in half and place it in the wastebasket. Perhaps this is because film mistakes make us physically confront the photo and make a purposeful effort to remove it. (I have never accidentally deleted a film print.) I think my guilt escalates with each wasted film print, because film carries a financial penalty when it is wasted, and the opportunity to capture a well considered composition feels squandered.  

Both photos featured this week are mistakes. They are both digital files, thankfully, and not film captures. The top photo failed me because I made the mistake of not knowing what I wanted in a final print. My failure lies in being indecisive about my treatment of the water when I viewed the scene. What attracted me was the way the fall leaves moved across the water. My failure was not settling how I wanted to treat the water. I am not a fan of the milky-smooth treatment of water overused by some landscape photographers. However, I didn't exactly want the look of wildly splashing water, which I felt would be inconsistent with the tranquillity within the overall scene. So I compromised and selected a shutter speed of 1/30th, which was a compromise that failed to deliver. I was caught between maintaining the integrity of the scene and my bias about how water "should be" photographed. My indecision led me to frustration and a poor result.

The second photo was also a mistake, but a mistake of a different sort. While walking to position my camera, I encountered a cyclist who drove by while I was carrying my camera swinging on its wrist strap. This was not an intentional photo, but there is something about it that appealed to me, unlike the first photo. It captured several photos of this accidental cyclist, and this is the one that appealed to me, as it shows a blur of the fall colors and showed enough of the cyclist to suggest energy and movement. Little did I know that the display screen on my camera is touch-sensitive and has the capacity to activate the shutter from the screen, bypassing the top shutter button. 

Photography is 90% plus intentional, and it is important to have an intention in mind at the time the shutter is pushed. The lesson experienced this week is that lucky mistakes are also a factor in some photos. I suppose that fate occasionally intervenes just to keep us engaged and humble. My dad frequently repeated the old adage, "Even a blind squirrel finds a nut sometimes." This week I was reminded of that during my photography walk.

  

 Revisiting Homecoming

This past weekend was homecoming weekend at our local high school. It's a big weekend for the students and community alike with a football game under lights on Friday and a homecoming dance on Saturday evening. Homecoming dances are no longer the simple events of years past when a guy invited his date and bought her a corsage consisting of a single large mum wrapped in ribbons sporting your school colors. They were ordered during the lunch hour the week before homecoming, ensuring that each girl would get a fresh mum just like the one worn by every girl who would be attending the homecoming dance. Dance attire was casual, which translates to today's "business casual," which is very unlike the cocktail dresses and color-matched tuxes or suits featured at today's dances. None of this is a criticism of the changes that have occurred over the years. I am certain that the memories made this week will be just as good as the ones from many years ago.

As I make this observation, I can't help but notice how easily the older homecoming traditions blend with the newer ones to give homecoming a fresh look and spirit each season. In our small community, one of those traditions is painting the windows of the downtown businesses. I photographed some of those windows for this week's blog. As I photographed them, I remembered taking my children downtown for a Saturday morning for a donut treat and walking the streets with them admiring the artwork. That unexpected memory is truly treasured.

Today those windows will be washed by the students immediately after the weekend celebrations, making them look ordinary once again. (I think one of the reasons window painting has remained a part of the homecoming tradition is that the students take responsibility for both decorating and the cleanup, and in doing so, they preserve the tradition for another year.) While the windows and high school life will return to normal, the memories created by celebrating this event will remain for a lifetime.

“Home is what you make, not what you find."

― Christie Valentine Powell,  

Peeking into Fall

 

This was a week of firsts and lasts. Midweek we waved goodbye to the last official day of summer and experienced the first days of fall. At the area high school, golf season was ending along with cross country. Apple orchards are open, and coffee shops and grocery stores are hawking pumpkin spice in every conceivable product except laundry detergent, which is the only pumpkin spice product I would consider buying. Because the countryside about me is still digesting the six inches of rain that fell on it during the previous week, it remains in summer mode for the most part.   

The photo I selected this week was taken this afternoon while enjoying a Friday fish fry at the local pub. The vines clinging to the old fence surrounding the outside beer cooler had noticed that fall was in the air, and they responded by bringing out their fall colors. The deep maroon colors and wrinkled textures were wearing the light well and spoke of the larger fall displays to come.

I feel compelled to reluctantly make a confession. As I grow older, I have come to say that I hate winter. That's not completely true because as each  season closes, I grieve their passing while simultaneously opening my heart to the special joys and rhythms of the next season—even though more of my winter's joys come by looking outdoors while enjoying the comfort of a soft flannel shirt and the taste of rich, dark hot chocolate.

Chasing Shadows

The Puppet Master

My photo friend Ed and I have been chasing shadows for the past two weeks. We are doing so to keep us shooting and falling into photo ruts. The first week, Mother Nature provided a week full of muggy, cloudy days and overcast skies, which made our shadow chase difficult. During the second week, we had our chances but failed to find any unique shapes that really captivated our interests. So when you can't find what you want in the present, you dip into the past for inspiration. Therefore, I am sharing two photos from my archives.

I really like shadow photos because there is a sense of justice in allowing the shadow to assume the starring role in the photo as opposed to the supporting role shadows play in most photography. The top photo was one that I captured while out photographing other subjects. I wasn't looking for shadows; this one simply appeared out of nowhere. My first impression was that it carried a sinister aura, making it evident that I had come face-to-face with "The Puppet Master." While our eyes go to the light when we look at photos, our imagination is set in motion by the appearance of shadows. Shadows add so much mystery and dimension to photographs.  

The Touchdown

Not all shadows are sinister. My second shadow photo casts a more upbeat feel. Being that this weekend is the first official weekend of the NFL season, I couldn't help but notice its similarity to the signal used for a "touchdown." Both photos were shot in hard midday light, which created their sharp edges. Exposing for the highlights provided darker shadows, yielding a high-contrast look in both images.  

So while common advice calls for us to walk on the sunny side of the street, be on the lookout for shadows, which can set your imagination free.

Making the Ordinary Important 

My photo for this week was taken in a neighborhood that many would describe as dilapidated. The majority of the homes surrounding this one are in some stage of decline. The owners have given up on their properties by boarding up windows instead of repairing them, leaving trash in their yard, or by neglecting necessary and simple repairs to their homes. My guess would be that many of the occupants are renters as opposed to owners, and neither the owner nor the resident feels responsible or compelled to make any improvements, no matter how simple or essential they are. It is within this context that this image is important to me.  

A fair number of photos which I take bring a story to me.  This house may have a sentimental appeal because as a boy, I lived in such neighborhoods. My parents rented, but kept their property clean inside and out.  Dad had some gardening skills and mom never failed to decorate doors and windows for the seasons in simple and inexpensive ways.  It wasn't our dream home but it was a home where hope and gratitude grew.   A short quote from photographer Elliot Erwitt describes this feeling consisely: 

"To me, photography is an art of observation. It's about finding something interesting in an ordinary place... I've found it has 
little to do with the things you see and everything to do 
with the way you see them."

What I see in this photo is a hint of rebellion that is universally felt as an undercurrent in our society. People feel powerless, insignificant, and disconnected in a variety of small ways each day that affect their mindset. Consequently, they respond by withdrawl and cynicism.  In this home, I see a resident refuses to be powerless and has subtly planted the seeds of a personal revolution. While the door may be rusty and the sidewalk heaving, the flowers and greenery push back against the rest of the neighborhood's message of neglect and decline. Yes, it is a small act within his/her grasp that sends a message of hope and beauty to all who pass by this house daily. In the verbage of the 1960s revolutionary times, this is a true example of "flower power."

School Daze

School doors finally opened this week, ending the frenzy of last-minute vacations and the thrill of getting new school supplies, sturdy backpacks, and stylish clothing. Having worked in schools most of my life, I am probably more sensitive to this time of year than others. The cyclical nature of entering a new school year brings me comfort and hope in the same way that the Midwest corn harvest brings structure and solace to life. I have always felt that our lives should be more like the school calendar. We should yearly experience a new beginning where we can have a fresh start surrounded by a new crop of classmates who will soon become familiar friends. Some would claim that the adult version of this experience is New Year's, but I would disagree. New Years is similar to the start of school in that greater than normal amounts of alcohol are consumed by partygoers and by frazzled mothers, but New Years Day leads to January 2nd, when we return to the same old workplace and the same old routines punctuated by Christmas bills replacing cheerful holiday greetings. The start of a new school year changes the rhythms and routines of our lives. For children, the start of the new school year is truly a blank slate ushering forth the beginning of a new life within a new community.

My photo this week was chosen as a nod to the start of a new school year and new beginnings featuring high hopes and new friendships. I stylized my photo more than I wished for use in my blog to make it seem more generic, as in a back-to-school advertisement. The subjects are personal to me, and I didn't wish to draw attention to them; hence, the border, shading, and textures were applied. Needless to say, this was not a posed shot, and if there was a soundtrack for this moment, you would hear adults shouting in the background that the children should sit properly on the bench as if they were ready to recite their ABCs in an Amish classroom. You can see that the freedom of the laid-back summer days has not left their bodies. However, I couldn't help but notice that even in this uninhibited state, they are closed together in an embrace of one another that wasn't coached. Touching each other during this moment was what came naturally and served a much different purpose than the kind of touching in the backseat of the car during summer vacation. As parents, their embrace is something that we will wish for them to do throughout the different stages of their adult lives—carrying forward a little piece of their childhood, which is silently slipping away.

       Slipping through my fingers all the time, She leaves home in the early morning.                                        Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile

Sometimes I wish I could freeze the picture And save it from the funny tricks of time                                              Slipping through my fingers all the time.

 ABBA - "Slipping Through My Finders"

Why Does This Feel Dishonest?

I'm experiencing a moral dilemma over this image. I created it, but to do so, I wholly enlisted the assistance of AI Designer. When it comes to artistic talent using a paintbrush, pen, or oil colors, I have absolutely no talent!

My recent photo software programs have become increasingly infused with what their sales reps call enhancements. These are enhancements that I didn't request and find increasingly difficult to work around. When I have used them, I feel that my photos no longer have the authenticity nor produce the style of imagery that I was entertaining at the moment they were taken. I find myself returning to previous versions of my software to find my identity in my recent photos. 

I don't think that I am alone in feeling this way. In the Washington Post and Wall Street Journal, I have read articles that suggest that people feel resistance to AI and yet it is being forced upon them. Where I see benefit in change, I accept it, read about it, and experiment with it. AI holds benefits for all of us, but each of us has to discover to what extent and in which area of our life we are willing to welcome AI.

Recently, I read a book about the disciple Peter, as he was one favored by Jesus even though he made so many blunders in the way he boastfully behaved before his peers and in the way he approached living out his faith. The mental images from my reading of that book served as an inspiration for me to create a replica of the scene from that book using only AI. I set about this task by describing the type of image that was forming in my mind. It took me about seven or eight verbally nuanced descriptions to arrive at the unique image I had in mind. I described it as a painterly image on canvas that reflected the characteristics of Renaissance paintings. I took special care to describe details in the image like Jesus looking longingly at Peter while Peter's response was to look away in disappointment and shame. I wanted Jesus's hands bound and the guards watching over the scene in the background.  To help others identify the moment, I requested a rooster to be present.

After many iterations, my mind's image finally appeared before me. I post processed the color tones and minimally edited the image using On One Photo Raw. I felt pride in discovering that I could conjure this AI image on a computer screen which so faithfully reflected the scene in my mind. At this point, I began to feel ownership of the process but not necessarily ownership of the final product.

To expand upon my experiment, I took this image to my friend, Bob, at Image N That Photo, where I have all my photos printed. I asked Bob to print it on canvas to give it the look of an authentic painting. We discussed again the color tones used by Renaissance painters to adjust the tones differently than they appear in this image. The result of this experiment was satisfying for Bob and me. However, I could never feel enough ownership to allow my signature in the lower left corner as my artist friends so rightfully do.

I plan to have the canvas stretched and mounted for display. My intention is to put it on a wall so that I can see it frequently to better understand why I feel as I do toward it. There are times when I take a photo because "something" compels me to do so. If I don't take the photo, the moment and whatever future revelation it may hold will be lost forever. I believe that there are photos we make that bring our past forward, and there are others that flash before us  and distill the present, but there are also some that stir something within that may be hopefully revealed in our future.