Ending 2024 with the Best Of-s

It seems that each year about this time, most media sources provide us with a review of the best of-s that serve as highlights from the previous year.  Since this is a photography blog, I would like to share a single photo that I feel is my best of 2024.

My process for doing this was to review those photos that I chose to frame and print this past year.  Like most photographers, I print only a very small percentage of my photos. 

The photo chosen for this week was taken on a subzero day this past January 2024.  January in northern Illinois is an austere period characterized by bleak landscapes which are bathed in grays and whites.  However, the warm sky colors in the background seemed to speak the promise of better days to come.   Better days to come is my wish for you in 2025.

 Our Anticipation is Ending

 

The days of "It's Beginning to look a lot like Christmas." are rapidly drawing to a close. We stand at the the threshold of Christmas Eve ready or not.  I am pleased to have chosen this project and I suspect that it may continue into the next Christmas season. The photos that I have taken had the effect of allowing me to reduce holiday stress and wasted motion which permitted me to look at Christmas through my own eyes and not through the eyes of others who are leading the rush to tell us what Christmas should look like.

According to the Christian tradition of Advent (the days leading up to Christmas) is a period of anticipation.  Anticipation is much more than simply waiting.  Within the last week. I have waited in long lines of shoppers, waited for the dentist's drill to prepare me for a crown, and waited to celebrate with loved ones and family members.  My time of anticipation was filled with boredom, dread, and excitement and joy.  By itself, anticipation does not capture the spirit of the holiday.  Elements of longing, mystery, and bonding blend with our anticipation to provide the seasoning for our individual Christmas experience.  Because we are all anticipating something different for the holiday, is the reason Christmas is capable of producing such varied of responses. 

I found that many of the photos I  took were taken with my cell  phone because Christmas seems  to appear in little frames  spontaneously. "You better watch out" couldn't be better  advice for capturing the photos for this project.  There are so many more sides of Christmas that I didn't explore. 

Like cropping a photo, there is only so much you can fit into a frame before it becomes a meaningless blur.  I am grateful that my project allowed me to examine those individual puzzle pieces of our Christmas preparations that when they all come together they give a sense of completeness and contentment.  

Merry Christmas!

  

 

 Accepting the Cookies

If you browse the web, you are very familiar with the term cookies.  The cookies are those little bots webmasters place in our browser to make our website experience friendly.  Mainly, they want us to find what we are seeking and many more things they would like us to buy or read.  Some cookies also can be used for pernicious purposes.

Since it's less than ten days until Christmas I wish to consider the traditional cookies from my childhood days.  The kind of cookie that didn't track me, but the kind that attracted me with their tantalizing taste and smell.  Perhaps, some of the current computer terminology was lifted from those simpler times because I believe my mom could track me when I pilfered the cookies she left to cool on the countertop.  

My photo for the week came to me from my good friend Tom, a fellow grumpy old photographer, a weekly coffee buddy, and a proud first time grandpa.  When I saw this photo, I asked for his permssion to use it in this holiday series that I have named, "Its Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas".  (For more on what this photo series is about, check out last week's blog.)  

When I saw this photo, I clearly saw a love story in it -- a love that will transcend this batch of Christmas cookies and the small bits of raw dough consumed in their making.  I liked the way that grandma and grandson are nearly embraced with her face so near his face as if she were sharing a secret.  Her hands are important supporting details within this love story. Grandma's older hands, dusted with flour, placed atop of her grandchild's small hands to teach the nuances of rolling cookie dough while likely limiting the amount of raw sugar dough he consumed.  Mothers and grandmothers possess this common magical charm in their ability to multi-task in such ways.

The Christmas season is a time where we can experience many different kinds of joy.  There is joy in attending a Christmas parade, a holiday light display or a symphony performance where our senses are ignited and explode into a shout of joy that screams wow.  This kind of joy requires a minimum personal investment.

There are also quiet joyful  moments that culminate in a softer wow that warms the heart and inspires both gratitude and contentment. These personal moments usually require a personal investment and can often appear spontaneously.  Best of all, these are the moments we carry for weeks afterward and often for the rest of our lives.  

In these days when "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas", my wish for you is that you experience both kinds of joy.  Make time to accept and cherish those cookies which leave you feeling like Christmas throughout the year.

 

 

 Farmall of Us To You...

As Christmas approaches, I am making it a point to photograph scenes that make me think about the preparations we make to celebrate the holiday.  It's a bit of street photography blended with a Hallmark flavor.  

I am enjoying the experience because it is similar to peeking at your Chrismas presents before December 25th. Like gifts from childhood days, they are hidden among ordinary everyday scenes and sometimes in strange settings.  I am looking for the traditional Christmas stuff, but I am seeking to sample all the joys, colors, moments of quiet contemplation, confusion, and irony which are all part of Christmas.  In the Christmas carole "Joy To The World"  the phrase "prepare Him room" appears and I never gave it much thought since the Christmas star and the visit of the wise men bearing gifts seemed to present a more intriguing picture. However, "preparing Him room" is my way of finding peace by resisting the rush and distractions of the season and seeking to find joy in the present not giving way to the glitz of parties, shopping and getting. 

The photo that I chose this week was found in the countryside near me.  This rusted 1947 Farmall tractor was sitting out beside a farm house while it was being decorated with Christmas lights by the farmer and his daughter.  They were experiencing the joy of creating something beautiful with someone dear.  Their task was special because it honored the Christmas tradition while strengthening their loving relationship.   Only at Christmastime can those ordinary pieces be reimagined and embellished "to prepare room" for the spirit of Christmas to return.

Scenes From a Parade

One small photographic project which I hope to complete this Christmas season is to do a set of photos with the theme, "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas".  The photos will try to capture the common routines and experiences associated with the preparations people make to celebrate Christmas.

This past weekend I photographed the Parks Lighted Christmas Parade as part of a community service activity for our local photography club.  The photo club rents space in the village hall for our meetings, and in return, we like to extend a courtesy to them for housing us.  

Collecting photos from this Christmas parade seemed to coincide with the plans for my project.  Plus, the experience had the potential to inject some Christmas spirit into a guy who can get a bit cynical regarding many of the Christmas "traditions" our society promotes.

Before photographing the parade, I photographed a nearby family who had set a fire pit and some camp chairs on their front lawn to warm themselves in anticipation of the parade.  I asked to take their photo and they welcomed me by offering some hot cider.  The kids were playing and eating toasted marshmallows while the adults visited with one another laughing and simply enjoying each other.  It was my favorite photo and experience of this night. Their attitude seemed to reflect the true spirit of the Thanksgiving and Christmas seasons. 

Soon I began photographing the floats sponsored by the scouts, civic groups, local politicians, and various retail businesses.  Then came every police, fire, and maintenance vehicle the village owns.  If a string of lights could be affixed to it, it qualified as parade worthy.  

Midway through the parade an unadorned sewer services truck appeared as if it were a harbinger to all those who are hosting large Thanksgiving dinners.  It's foreboding presence reminded me of the scene from the movie "Christmas Vacation" when crazy Uncle Eddie and all his family suddenly arrive in a rusty RV during the celebritory lighting of the Griswold's family home. 

Like frames in a movie, the ever passing parade continued featuring dancing snowmen, reindeers, and elves tossing handfuls of candy to the children. Then the high school marching band strutted by playing a holiday medley which put to rest all those thoughts of potential sewage problems during the Thanksgiving feast.  

As normalcy was returning, out of the darkness appeared the coroner's van featuring a huge lighted wreath and bow adorning its front and holiday lights twinkling along its sides.  Perhaps its placement in the parade was intended to signal the parade was ending soon and the big guy in the sleigh (not the big guy carrying the sycthe) would soon appear.  I could only imagine what may have happened if the coroner was needed immediately to make a death confirmation.

As we approach Thanksgiving and the Christmas season, the scenes from this parade present a picture of the joy, bewilderment, and saddness that accompanies the holidays.  My favorite holiday is Thanksgiving for its emphasis on gratitude and simplicity.  I wonder if we enjoy Christmas more because Thanksgiving transforms our hearts and minds to focus on what we have rather than on what we will get?  It's only when we can recognize our own abundance that we can respond with grace and generosity toward others.  Happy Thanksgiving!

         

Remembering Our Veterans

Since today, November 11th, is Veteran's Day, I selected my favorite US Flag photo to honor our veterans. This flag is displayed on the side of a large, repurposed industrial building that stands along the banks of the Rock River.  The flag is a five ton metal sculpture painted with vibrant reds, whites, and blues and is composed of various mechanical parts and hand tools which were artfully assembled and welded together.  The parts and tools were scavenged from the building on which it hangs, a former paper company.  I included the parked cars in the photo to give the viewer a concept of how large this flag (18x36 ft) is compared to its surroundings.

One of the reasons this flag appeals to me is its composition and symbolic statement.  It is distinctly middle class/blue collar in its presentation and construction.  The strength of America is in the welding of these many dissimilar parts to create a common message for future generations and to serve as a reminder to us that the freedom we enjoy today was paid for by those who came before us many who were different from us. We stand gratefully on the shoulders of the veterans and others who walked through darkness.  

Having just concluded one of the ugliest and most divisive elections ever, we need to open our minds to the message of this flag and rediscover together how to artfully and thoughtfully assemble the many dissimilar parts once more. 

 

 "Operator, Can You Help 
   Me Place This Call?"

  If you remember life before cell phones, the sight of a payphone will likely evoke a response and you may even hear the plaintive voice of Jim Croce croon the opening line of "Operator" which was selected as the title for this week's blog.  This relic from the past was encountered while entering a diner this past weekend.  The sight of it aroused my consciousness in the same way as if a glass of ice water was thrown into my face. 

It stirred forgotten memories and emotions surrounding events long forgotten during my high school and college days.  A flood of similar memories flashed back to those who were dining with me that morning.  As we shared our favorite payphone memories, my high school and college aged granddaughters listened with a mix of astonishment and amusement.  They were not phased by this relic and our lively  breakfast conversation reinforced their viewpoint that their parents and grandparents are as ancient as they thought.

I took the photo with my cell phone and converted it to black and white as the wall colors were garish.  For me, memories seem to be best presented in black and white although their substance is really rather gray and faded courtesy of the passing years. The stark contrast of the blacks and whites seemed to capture the shock that this ghost from the past stirred within me when it appeared so unexpectedly.  The window light and shadows organically created an asymmetrical vignette which seemed to add to the distorted feeling of seeing the past and the present collide within this small diner entry.  

The primary function of a payphone is to communicate with someone. Payphones and cameras share that common purpose.  Both primarily initiate one way communication but hold limited value for receiving incoming messages.  (unless you were a bookie)  Upon leaving the diner, I thought about removing the receiver and letting it just dangle before taking a second photo.  I didn't do that because the change would have failed to describe my feelings upon seeing this old payphone and also altered my message to the viewer. To paraphrase the closing line from Croce's 1970s hit single, " but it just wasn't real, and that's not the way it feels." 

 

 Fall's Closing Ceremony

Like a radiant bride walking down the aisle, some moments need no fanfare.  They suddenly appear and I stand in silent awe knowing that I'm grateful to be a part of something that is too big to explain --- so I just enjoy the scene.

 The Objects We Find 

This past week while out with my five year grandson, he found quarter in the parking lot as we were entering the grocery store.  Since he is still in preschool, he didn't know if it was a quarter, dime, or a nickel and had little knowledge of its value as currency.  Currency was of little value to him since he was with grandpa today.  He knew it was shiny, and he was lucky enough to find it and best of all, it was his to keep.  In other words, he liked it for the excitement of finding something on his own and he was beginning to learn about the special joy of finding lost treasures.  

I think that feeling of delight we experience when finding something unexpectedly matures as we grow older.  Perhaps, we even unconsciously cultivate it.   Let's face it guys, how many of us biked through our neighborhood the day before garbage collection seeking what useful cast offs could be imaginatively repurposed.  As adults, how many times have we stopped at an estate sale just to see what might be found there?   Maybe finding a lost item is akin to experiencing a personal act of Providence.  

Sometimes we experience that same feeling when we find a forgotten treasure from our earlier years such as a forgotten toy or simple gift given to us long ago by a close friend or a relative no longer part of our lives.  That item once lost in our memory was found again and now holds new meaning and has even greater value for us.

My photo for the week was taken at Nygren Wetlands while I was photographing egrets.  The experience of finding this feather sliding easily across the water seemed to be like to stumbling upon a lost object.  A difference here is that I did not physically possess the object, but I knew that keeping the feather would have diminished my experience since the feather was in its perfect location drifting along on the smooth surface of the blue water on a sunny October day.  To touch it or try to retrieve it would destroy the mystical quality of my discovery by altering its context and purpose.  

For this lucky photographer, the photo reminded me of how sweet it is to find something lost and how that simple object provides excitement and joy even without possessing it.  Some finds need to be kept, some need to be set aside only to be cherished again, and some need to be left alone.  For me, my image offered a glimpse of how solace and freedom appear naturally standing apart from the many distractions which compete for my attention.  Since photography is truly a one way means of communication, I would be curious to hear if this image speaks to you.

PS   When I first took this photo I knew it had a quality about it that I liked but couldn't quite articulate.  I searched the web exploring the concept of what makes us repond to images.  I discovered a website and a blog by a creative and analytical photographer named Ming Thein.  Below, I will list his website and a reference to parts one and two of his article entitled "Photography and Psychology:   How We View Images"

https://blog.mingthein.com  

https://blog.mingthein.com/2013/10/29/photography-and-psychology-1/

https://blog.mingthein.com/2013/10/31/photography-and-psychology-2/

 

 

 I Saw the Light

Aurora Borealis October 2024

Can you recall a that time in your childhood when you saw Santa at the department store or in your dimly lit living room on Christmas Eve?  It was magical.  You wanted to believe your eyes but could you really trust what you believed you saw?  

That feeling was akin to my first experience seeing the aurora borealis through the viewfinder of my camera this week.  Sure, I have stepped out on the porch looking to see the lights when reporters claimed they were visible here in northern Illinois.  I have also driven through very dark rural areas hoping to see if I could spot them but -- zippo!  When the local weather person said that the lights could be best viewed at 3:30 am or some such ridiculous hour, I decided that it was more fitting with my lifestyle to admire Ed's photos.

My friend Ed invited me to go out at 9:00 PM (which was a reasonable hour) to a local park near the foot bridge overlooking a small lake to photograph the aurora borealis.  Since he has produced many great photos recently, I had every reason to believe that he could help me see this phenomena for the first time, and he delivered on his claim.  Always nice when a plan works.

Life reinforces the idea that if you see it, then you can believe it.  The converse being if you can't see it,  you probably shouldn't believe it or should rationalize that you are not seeing it because you are in the wrong  place or seaching at the wrong time.  As we stood on that bridge in utter darkness, I looked up and I saw nothing.  When Ed got his camera set on the tripod, the colors of red, magenta, and green splashed across his display screen. For me, this was my "Yes, Virginia, there really is a Santa Claus" moment.  Not only were those brilliant skies appearing in his camera, I saw those same magical colors fill my viewfinder also.

What I took away from this experience was:  

• It is good to have trusted friends who push you out of your comfort zone.
• It is important to take that second look with the eyes and also with your mind.
• Sometimes new experiences reunite old friends -- I was reunited with my 11-16 Tokina Lens.
• Know your gear because it is really dark outside.
• The excitement of learning something new never grows old and it gives birth to new ideas.                                   

Some of the photos we take are remembered because the moment was perfect, the subject was cherished, or all the technical aspects united to create a brilliant image.  Then there are those photos that are memorable not for their photographic excellence but because they were a first in serving as an important milestone on your photographic journey.  For me, this is the photo where I peered into a dark night sky -- but for the first time, I saw the light. 

 Make Waves!

Of all the photos that I have taken on and above the waters at the Nygren Wetlands, this photo would likely be one of the least memorable.  Just this week, I have taken beautiful images of water reflections at sunset, blue herons hunting gracefully over the still waters, I even took a photo of an American Bittern that I was lucky enough to catch out in the open near the water's edge.  In a photo contest, any of these images would have been rated more highly than the one I chose to discuss today.    
 
This image was chosen because I have discovered that photography generally consists of images that are engaging/exciting, novel, or visually stimulating for both the viewer and photographer. When creating those kinds of images, the photographer chooses to be the voice of the image by influencing its message in the way that it is captured and processed.  Then there are the times when the image whispers a personal message and the photographer needs to just observe and ponder.  For me, this is such an image.  
 
The photo captures a brief moment when a small frog decided to cross the water's placid surface leaving no trace of his being there but for that brief moment -- a moment I, alone, was priviledged to witness.  Some gentle ripples and a few bubbles on the water were the only fleeting evidence of his being there, and he isn't even visible within the scene which he created. At a future time, perhaps this small frog may rest on a colorful lilly pad to pose for another photographer who will give him his thirty seconds of fame.

Perhaps, I am thinking of this because it is close to the time of year when my father passed away, or perhaps, by some ironic circumstance, these older eyes come to see life with greater acuity than could be seen with younger eyes.  Metaphorically speaking, I believe we each gravitate to our own place in the pond where we come to realize that this is the very place we were meant to be after all these years.  Dad used to say that "some people cross our lives leaving a path for us to follow, while others simply leave the mark of a heel."  Everybody leaves a behind a legacy-- ripples .

In a generation of selfies, it's a gift to find people who will  encourage and shine a light helping others find their way.  Through photography, I have met a lot of wonderful people.  I have also experienced nature in ways which sustain my belief in miracles, and if you listen very carefully, you may even hear a message from a frog.  

Summer Mourning Begins

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8        

For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven ...

Although summer officially ended on September 21st and kids have been back at school for nearly one month, summer is now truly over. We all knew this time would come. We could see the signs, Friday high school football resumed, the apple orchards opened, spice and pumpkin seasoning reappeared in the coffee shops and restaurant menus.  However, we ignored the message behind these signs and continued to stash bit of summer away during the weekends by grabbing a frosty treat with family and friends at the Dari Ripple.  The warm summer like weather helped cajole us into believing that we could hold back of piece of summer all year but as Ecclesiastes says "a time to keep and a time to let go".

This past Sunday, September 29th, the Dari Ripple closed its windows for the 2024 season.  Outside the business, a string of mourners formed to pay their respects by savoring a blue moon snowcone or a banana split for one final time. Gone, for now, are the carefree evenings when we sat at the picnic tables and simply talked and laughed.  We disregarded cares for tomorrow and stowed away our cell phones to protect them from the sweet, sticky, streams of melting goodness, and for a few moments at the end of a warm summer carefree day, we became kids again.  

My photo, taken at evening September 29th, is a final nod to all the ice cream stands across the midwest that are closing for the season.

                                                                                                          

Revelations from a Praying Mantis

There were few opportunities to get outdoors and enjoy photography this week due to the weather.  Being that it is mid to late September, one would expect pumpkin spice, sweatshirt type of weather.  Not so, we got our first rain since August on September 22nd and the temperatures have sat at the lower 90s.  Given these circumstances, I chose to remain at home enjoying the air conditioning.

When I did go out to gather the mail,  I was suprised by a four to five inch long praying mantis scaling the wall of my home.  While I enjoy photographing all kinds of wildlife, I have taken very few photos of insects, and to have such an unusual visitor come to me was quite an honor.   Since I don't see a praying mantis often I was curious to learn more about them.  Immediately, I discovered that I have been misspelling their name which is "praying" and not "preying".  While preying is what they really do as one of the world's most prolific insect killers,  I doubt whether they have any ethical feelings about their behavior that would cause them to pray.  In fact, their method of disposing of their prey is to bite their heads and suck out their brains.  ( I can recall sitting through long meetings where the speaker, a decendant of the mantid genus, sucked out the brains of the participants as they were held captive.)  

They hold their front legs in a folded position which makes them appear to be praying.  Those front legs are armed with spines that are used to grasp their prey securely while they use their camouflage and slow movements to spring suddenly upon their prey.  Of the 1500 mantids worldwide, only 20 are found in the US and of those 20, only three are found here in the upper midwest.  This guy is a Chinese Mantis which was likely introduced to the US in the late 1800s to help control garden insects.

It's nice to know that I could gain such revelations from a prehistoric, religious looking creature scaling the walls of my home on a sorching fall day.

 Fade Away Fast, Please!

Nature Reclaiming the Garden Hotel

First of all, please pardon my whining this week. I chose a photo of the deteriorating Garden Hotel this week because it seemed to communicate with my underlying feelings. This photo is not even one of my favorite photos taken this week.  I pass by this place frequently and each time I do it taunts me by saying "You're tired of seeing me aren't you?"  

Right know I am experiencing an undercurrent of that message with my photography.  I am tired of seeing the images that I am creating.  I haven't lost my interest in photography, but I seem to be at that train depot waiting for new inspiration to arrive.  I am carrying my baggage with me in the form of  projects I still want to complete but haven't due to a number of excuses --  not reasons.  In the meanwhile, I am making myself busy with what I think are semi engaging images that keep me practicing my photography in order to be ready when the grand, inspiring idea comes along.  A published writer of novels tells me that she writes every day for one hour even through those uninspired periods.  Dieters, athletes, students, musicians, and photographers go through these plateau periods perhaps to gain footing for the next stage while holding on to hope the next stage will appear at just the right time.  Even the act of writing that last sentence felt a bit therapeutic.

The Garden Hotel which itself  has become an overgrown garden of mold, weeds and rubble like my image filing system.  Demolition of the building is scheduled to begin this month and is to be completed by December this year.  My eyes will be glad to see it gone and just empty space remaining.  I will enjoy seeing snow rest on the ground where it sat all these years  For me, the vacant land will present itself as a fresh canvas inviting new ideas.  

 Riding on the Edge of a Moment

On  Sunday afternoon, I was on my way to Nygren Wetlands to see what birds may have dropped by for a visit.  Before I could make it there I heard the whine of engines being pushed to the max.  That is when I made a detour to nearby Blackhawk Raceway where the track was hosting sportbike track time.  Watching them blur by seemed like watching a medieval battle with the knights racing to seize the victory while displaying the flowing colors identifying their own unique coat of arms.

During my short time there I came away with several photos that capture the color, speed and intensity of the event.  If you ever wondered what it is like to cling to a rocket made of carbon fiber and aluminum riding on the edges of physics,  just look at the intensity in the eyes of riders.  I had a great time that day proving that it is wonderful to be an opportunistic photographer.  Who could have more fun in just under an hour's time?  Sometimes it is what we do in those stolen minutes that injects energy into life for the week. 

 Fair Time Again

Here in rural Illinois, August is Fair time.  The start of school is just a weekend away and this time of month signals the end of summer although the humid, sunny, days give no clue that fall is coming.  Growing up in the midwest, the county fair is a local celebration for those who live in the rural areas and nearby towns alike.  Fair time brings together the the urbans and rurals and the young and the old alike in a ritual that's been passed down through the generations.

My photos this week were taken at our county fair which I had the priviledge to attend with two of my younger grandkids, who are definitely city kids.  We walked through the cattle barns trying to identify those special cows that provided the chocolate milk.  The kids enjoyed the excitement of being around the farm animals, touching them and feeding some of them.  They talked how fun it would be to own a calf, lamb or rabbit instead of their boring cat while not realizing the daily tasks that come with caring for livestock.  

It is photography's shortcoming that I couldn't capture the smell of frying funnel cakes and the aroma of sizzling sausages and onions on the grill. That would be a feature that would skyrocket sales of any new camera. My photos mostly sample the county fair experience and the excitement found in the livestock and project judging and the blur of neon and motion found in the midway rides. County fair time is special because it unites us by exposing the common roots we all share through agriculture and our yearning for a sense of community and simpler times.

 Looking at My Options

Click to Enlarge

The two photos this week hold significance to me not because they are great quality or have a special meaning to something in my life other than my participation in an online discussion about whether opportunities make life easier or harder today.  I have always been in favor of having many options because more options tends to relieve stress whereas, not seeing or having too few options  increases stress and makes life harder.   While I am  suppporting the "more oppportunities" viewpoint in the discussion,  I am struggling with "too many opportunities" in the task of setting up a new  camera.  Both photos for this week are similar to many I have taken previously.  What makes them special for me is that they are the first wildlife photos that I have taken with my new z8. 

Click to Enlarge

I have spent more time lately trying to figure out setup menus for the shooting banks and studying about the camera focus options than I'd like to say.  I enjoy shooting;  not setting up the camera menus.  The fact that I was able to set the camera to get the photos I wanted ended my week on a high note.  Even as I was taking the photo of the blue heron in flight, I was rehearsing an alternate focus tracking option that would have been better for this shot.  To me, that means that I am now at the place where I can see my opportunities (options) for using the camera less as a source of bewilderment and more as a source of motivation to keep learning and experimenting.

 Imagine

Click to enlarge

This week I stumbled on this old Ford truck while deep in farm country searching for freshly picked sweet corn.  I always carry my old d5100 with me for such occasions as I find it less awkward than using the Subaru's built in back up camera.  This old Ford had character, and I am not speaking of the kind of character who was photo bombing me in the original photo.  What I saw in that old truck was decades of honest hard work during steamy July days and a trustworthy winter ride across unplowed country roads during the cold, dark days of December.

Photographs are taken with the camera but they are born in the mind of the photographer.  In 1968,  Bobby Kennedy became best known for a social comment that I think reflects my feeling as I took this photo and others like it. "Some men see things as the are and ask why?  I dream things that never were and say why not!" The original photo above is the view most people see as they drive by that old Ford -- just another junker within a retirement home for rusting clunkers that no longer have utility.  It's unworthy of a second look.

Click to enlarge

The photo that I saw in my mind that day is the one on the left side of the page.  It shows an everyday blue collar worker still wearing those faded denims and sporting blotches of tanned (rust) wrinkled skin inflicted by storms and long dusty days. If this was a portrait of the farmer who drove this truck I would want to show the blemishes and calluses from an unwavering commitment to daily chores. I added a vintage film look to the photo as a nod to the period when this truck was a working vehicle.  The sky was blurred to emphasize the passage of time and the slow changing pace of life in farming communities where work, heritage and personal identity are wound tightly together.  For me, this image strengthens my belief that where a photo takes you is much more important than where you took the photo.  Which photo takes you to that welcoming place you long to be?  

A man's castle is..., well, his vacation home!

  

Three Inch Thick Doors

This weekend was my wife's 55th class reunion, and I attended as her other. and I enjoyed it greatly.  She graduated from a very small midwestern farm community where everyone knew one another.  I recall overhearing her classmate tell of getting a speeding ticket in high school only to discover his mom and pop found out about it before he ever got home.  (Remember, no cell phones or messaging)  Kids in this community had grown up going to grade school together so the ties among them are strong,  For me, it was an excellent experience since I didn't have to wear a name badge with my senior photo on it.  In fact, I was under no pressure to remember any of them as I am not a part of that segment of their lives.  To see them enjoy sharing their present and reliving their past was great and all I had to do was not get their way.  I didn't take any serious photos of any of them other than the one they requested.  Sometimes you need to put the camera away and just be part of the total experience. 

Handpainted Ceiling Panels

The reunion was held at a castle built in 1927 by the publisher of the Chicago Daily News as a vacation home for his family.  Its original owner, Walter Strong, lived an interesting life during the Al Capone and Prohibition era in Chicago. He was a truly an amazing man who developed a circle of influence well beyond Illinois. A dinner and a tour of the castle was part of the day's activity and the photos displayed this week are among the few that I took.  My only lense available this day was chosen for a group shot and not my wide angle that would have been outrageously fun at this place. (secret passages and hidden panels etc.) None the less, the architectual details from the painted ceiling panels in the rotundra to the rusted, aged armored doors were eyecatching.  While I couldn't get the interior photos I wanted, my curiousity and interest was stimulated enough for a return visit. 

 

"Ain't It Funny How Time Slips Away?"

Can you hear within your mind that wistful refrain sung by "Country Hall of Famer", Willie Nelson?  If you are like me, you can probably hear it in its orginal recorded form complete with the turntable noise accompanying Willy's silky smooth phrasing.  

My reason for thinking about this stems from the melding of three recent events: a random purchase of a 1936 Rockford High School Yearbook, my grandaughter's graduation party, and my wife's 55th class reunion set for this weekend.  With all of our access to social media and technology we now have the ability to instantly share highlights of our kid's sporting events or even last night's dinner with friends.  How is it that something as outdated and cliche as a high school yearbook can continue to hold relevance?   

I think that one reason why yearbooks still hold significance is their permanence.  This is the same reason why printed still photos continue to be loved.  Digital images flowing over the internet do not seem to embrace this same timeless quality.  I think one reason for this is that we are bombarded with digital images as part of our daily life. We live within a current of  unending digital feeds, and it feels refreshing to stop and be assured that this is a moment that we can hold to forever.   A second reason yearbooks remain viable, is that they represent the culmination of an important milestone in our lives while at the same time presenting a timeless liminal quality.  Yearbooks mark both an ending and also a beginning.  

The 1936 RHS Yearbook (the first year where color was used on its pages) held meaning for its original owner as evidenced by the fountain pen inscriptions throughout its pages.  Classmates, long forgotten, by the original owner, pledged to always remember our time together in Economics class, etc.  It also served as an anchor point in defining the passing years as evidenced by the clipped newspaper articles and obituary notices scattered within its pages.  

For me, that old yearbook was a chance to become a time traveler taking glimpses into the lives of high school students from a period before I was born.  I wonder if they ever gave a thought to the beginning of World War 2 that was just a mere three years away and how that single event likely changed their lives forever.  The fact that I can sit and ask such questions is one of the reasons the Class of 1936 became part of the "Greatest Generation" ever.   I'm sure their dreams were grander than the life their future offered them.  They learned what was important about living and how to adjust to changes. Without a doubt, they learned the same post high school life lessons as we did being a part of the Class of 1969. 

So here is my advice regarding yearbooks.  If  you are middle age or older, buy a yearbook even if it is not from your own high school.  As an impartial observer, you will enjoy peeking into high school life once again and reading comments written by others who never dreamed that they would be read by an outsider so many years later.  If you are a high school senior, get a yearbook  just for the heck of it.  In twenty years, you will have matured enough to tolerate having that senior picture on your name badge at the next reunion.  It will also provide an empirical benchmark on how much weight you have gained/lost, hair you have lost or is now growing in unwanted places, or even how dignified you look as an adult especially after shedding those "vintage fashions" and hairstyles.  You may even like your yearbook picture well enough to use it in your obituary notice, as some folks are want to do. 

I will close with a paraphrase of the third stanza where Willie croons "Gotta go now, guess I'll be seeing you around, but remember what I told you, in time you're gonna pay.  Gee, ain't it funny how time slips away."

PS  Still working on that Ventosa technique 3rd try.  Perhaps I can share it next week

Frustration & Fun

First Attempt Result      

 One of my favorite Michael Jordan quotes is,"I can      accept failure. Everyone fails at something. But I can't accept   not trying."

 This week's blog is about failing and trying. The photo to the left is the result of my first failed attempt to produce a Pep Ventosa syle image. The Ventosa technique, when done   properly, yields an impressionistic fine art image. The image is produced by taking several photographs of the same   subject while moving around the subject capturing it   using different angles then artistically blending those photos  in post processing into a single image. This is a very  simplistic description of the process since it can be achieved   by other methods of camera movement. I wanted to use this   process after viewing his work.

                                                  https://www.lumas.com/artist/pep_ventosa/

Second Round Result

The process that I followed was found in a recent article in Digital Photography School. https://digital-photography-school.com/pep-ventosa-inspired-still-life/ It describes how to create a still life using this method. Instead of me moving about the vase, I moved the vase in small increments within the same spot on the table. The article recommended taking at least ten images, but through a combination of errors I took only eight photos stupidly thinking less is more. Though I created each of the eight images using the same exposure parameters and lighting, I balanced settings on each photo individually. I then loaded them into One1 Photo Raw 2023 and created a layer stack eventually aligning and merging the layers to get the effect --- but not the effect I expected. 

For my second attempt, I created a set of thirteen new photos. This time, I adjusted the opacity differently on each image guided by whether I thought that the yellow flower would play a more dominant or less dominant role in the final image. I didn't attempt to use any of the blending processes the author suggested or may have applied to select images. The reason I didn't do this is that I rarely use layers and have limited skill to manage 13 images at the same time. However, the result in round two (above image) was more to my liking, but still lacking in that Pep Ventosa look.

Single Image of 13 Stacked

The image to the left is one of the thirteen images used in my second attempt. Generally, this is the type of photograph I create because I do not enjoy spending more time in post processing. However, I still want to learn to use the Pep Ventosa technique because I find the result exciting and unique. Through this experience, I have come to understand that curiosity and creativity are first cousins--- and they can get you into deep trouble just like real first cousins.

As I plan my third image, I will likely take a total of fifteen images and remove all the greens to concentrate on a single stem and flower. With growing experience using the layers process, I believe that I will not let the details overwhelm me. In the future when I see a photographer who skillfully uses the Ventosa technique, I will remember my failures and hold a greater regard for their work. Perhaps, I will be more cautious about labeling similar photos as "computer art". Essentially, all photographic images are an attempt to communicate with others and although some speak using an unfamiliar language they deserve to be heard too.

  

  

                                                        

 This Too Shall Pass

This is one of a series of four images that I took about a month ago.  As you can see it was an overcast and dreary day with rain falling steadily enough to be an annoyance. I enjoy photographing wildlife under poor conditions because I am often rewarded with some glimpes into their lives that are not frequently photographed.  Just as us, the weather and our environment changes the way we go about our day both mentally and physically.  Getting an unusual shot is worth my inconvenience and builds my understanding of how these creatures endure unpleasant days.

The four photos I selected for printing are of  two Pied Grebes which happened to be at the wetlands that afternoon. Pied Grebes are small birds with a weight of perhaps 10-12 oz. and a wingspan of 20 inches.  They are rather unremarkable in their appearance and actually blended with the grayness of the afternoon.  I photographed them because I liked the look of the rain on their feathers and the raindrops falling about them.  Their small body size compared to the larger gray body of water surrounding them projected a feeling of resignation and grit.  When I photograph animals, it is hard for me not to assign them human emotions and motives.  Doing so guides me in choosing how I want to photograph them.  To me, they were experiencing a hint of loneliness while at the same time being undergirded with a healthy dose of stoicism.  Their actions seemed to tell this damp and grumpy old photogapher that "this too shall pass".