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.  

 Summer Reruns

I took this photo late Saturday afternoon following a much-welcomed slow rain. As the sky began to clear, I happened upon a familiar scene and took advantage of the soaked and saturated landscape to catch a second view of a familiar location in its summer wardrobe.

This small milkhouse and a non-descript shed are the only remnants of a once working farm. Things change! Maybe that's the reason why some of us enjoy revisiting certain scenes to photograph them a second or third time. I believe that it is a behavior related to adults watching reruns of favorite television shows and small children choosing to have their parents read the same books to them over and over again. Because things change rapidly, we may resist it by clinging to the past as our security blanket.  I'm not sure that is a bad approach to the present but is it realistic?   

I believe that first impressions are important in photos and that those initial impressions are created by little nuances that perhaps lie at a subconscious level in our mind.  We shoot a photo for some reason that tells us we should because it elicits a feeling that we get from the subject. As that photo is post processed and we have more time to live with it, that feeling or reason becomes more transparent to our minds.  

When I photographed (see below) a winter version of this scene, I was physically cold and the blue tones and the bleak surroundings added a measure of loneliness that we all experience during the winter months. I remember thinking about whether to include or exclude the telephone poles and I kept them as part of the scene because they conveyed hope in the form of connecting with others just down the line.  Placing the horizon lower in the frame exposed more of the monotone sky which added to the feeling of desolation.

The summer version surprised me when I came upon it.  The hours of rain earlier that day saturated the the colors and the weathered sides of the building.  My first impression was how the vines, grasses, and wildflowers embraced the building, almost to the point of swallowing it up.  No suggestions of loneliness now. The sky was overcast but now a brighter shade of those same tones within the winter scene.  Giving little thought about the horizon, I subconsciously placed it higher in the frame to showcase the foliage that was nearly covering the little milkhouse.  This unconsidered thought gave the scene a vibrant and energetic feel.  Again, I kept the telephone pole and lines in the frame but they do not play the same role as they did in that first winter visit.

I titled this weeks blog Summer Reruns because in writing it,  I considered the question of whether reruns are a good or bad thing in photography. I enjoy returning to familiar places and sometimes I discover something new but rarely experience that same intense feelings that surfaced during  my original visit. Photography can bring satisfaction in the form of new insights into the ordinary life all about us and a measure of mental playfulness that grows creativity.  However, I feel that revisiting the same scenes and photographing the same content may lead to photographic atrophy and loss of spontaneity.  I'm not sure that there is a formula  that would fit all of us.  What I am sure of is that there is a level of tension that is right for each of us when it comes to living with our photographic past while still venturing into the present.