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.  

 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.

Shooting in Squares -- Part 2

For the past three weeks, I have photographed using a square format, as did many photographers who shot 6x6 film cameras. My purpose in doing the experiment was to see how it impacted the way I see and take photos. During these weeks, I attempted to shoot a variety of genres. While I didn't shoot as many photos in each

genre, I did find some more difficult than others. Landscape photography was the most challenging. For me, composing a photo without a long side felt very limiting. The use of foreground is important in square landscape photography, but I found it difficult to create a foreground while featuring the subject.

I found street photography and architectural photography the easiest genres for shooting squares. My reason for this is that I found it more comfortable to place my subject in various places within the square and still have a decent composition. For street photography, less attention is necessary for the frame edges, which is a personal hang-up.

One of my favorite images while shooting squares was the abstract to the right. It was shot on impulse without much thought other than I liked the way it fit into the square frame. It was shot in the dusty, curved rear glass of my car's tailgate. It is a reflection. When I reviewed my photos, I noticed the distortion and flattened, grainy appearance of the image, which was likely caused by all the dust on the tinted window. I felt that the colors and distortion added a Salvador Dalí look. It didn't hurt that surprise photographic finds are some of the photos we like the most. They are the equivalent of finding a twenty-dollar bill while walking into the coffee shop.

Shooting squares was both fun and informative. It prompted me to look for photos from a different perspective. I forced myself to shoot in squares by changing my viewfinder to a square format rather than cropping to 1:1 in post. This experiment exposed my personal quirks about needing to control the edges of my photos more than I should, and it also spoke to me about becoming a slave to the rule of thirds. Squares also taught me that I do not need to be chained to shooting in a 4:3 ratio as if I were placing all my photos in a publication. 

Whenever you try something new, you expect to make mistakes, and that is a good attitude to have approaching all photography because it is meant to be both forgiving and fun. Whoever said that you have to take photos like you keep score when playing golf? Some of the best times in photography happen when you unintentionally veer off the fairway and discover that there is an exciting path missed by those who only remain concerned about staying on the fairway where everyone is supposed to play.

Shooting in Squares—Part 1

 

Our Grumpy Old Photographers Group, who gather for coffee each Friday, decided that Trump had world events well under control, so for this week, we would neglect to provide any solutions. Instead, we talked about Vivian Maier's photography, including how she went about her craft and how her culture for street photography was much different than ours today. Our discussion led us to an experiment of sorts in order to see how Vivian saw the world through her camera. To us, one of the simplest ways to do this was to start creating our compositions in squares, like she did with her two-and-a-quarter-square film negatives.

The two photos I decided to share this week are the beginning of that experiment. The top photo is a model of the Titanic, which was put on display at the local art center. The model was beautifully constructed with fine details showing its deck chairs still in perfect alignment. It was displayed in a four- to five-foot glass case, and that is the reason you see the top edges of that case in my photo. I thought about cloning them out of the picture but couldn't develop a compelling argument for doing it or not doing it. Therefore, I left the display case edges as photographed. Because I chose to shoot a low camera angle as if from the iceberg, I had my background blown out by the bank of windows, giving the appearance of a white blanketing fog. My intent was to provide a minimalist look to suggest isolation. Upon further review, I think an even lower camera angle may have offered more symmetry within the frame.

By taking this photo, I learned that symmetry is more important than balanced elements are when shooting squares. I also learned how programmed I am in seeing compositions as the rule of thirds subconsciously.

Both photos this week were taken with an Olympus OMD em5, a 15-year-old Micro Four Thirds camera. This is important because I had only one lens with me when I came upon the old tow truck. That lens was a 45 mm lens, which is the equivalent of a 90 mm lens on a full-frame camera. I found it hard to fit the subject in the square frame without shooting from some distance. This is not the way that I shoot normally, and the result and my approach were different. I was not able to get some of the detail shots composed the way that I saw them in my mind. For me, this cost some loss of intimacy with the subject. Consequently, I am going to use a wider-angle zoom and revisit this scene to get the photos I couldn't take during that first visit.

My initial impression of shooting squares is that the frame fills so easily, but that gives some concern for how to exclude some scene elements without making the corners of the frame feel uncontrolled and messy. I am not feeling that my eyes are going through the frame in the same way as when I compose in a 4:3 ratio. I think using leading lines in square-format landscape photography would be challenging. During the coming week, I am hoping to do some architectural photos because I think the square would lend itself well to that type of photography. I will also attempt some close-up and landscape photos to see what challenges they might present. 

I am thankful for the opportunity to get out of my comfort zone and to have my square-shooting, grumpy, old friends share their experiences with me during the next week. It's great to have photo buddies to help me learn. Photography, at its best, should never be a solely individual experience. This experiment should make for an interesting part two blog.

 

 

Bigger Than Life & Beyond Reason

If you have passed through or vacationed in Wisconsin, you have no doubt seen one of these giant statues or balloons in front of a business. I am not sure they are exclusive to the Wisconsin commercial life, but I have concluded they are an accepted part of the cheddar culture. My image was taken in Wisconsin, where it is prominently displayed in front of a fireworks outlet. Its fierce visage likely is attributed to finding few skyscrapers to climb.

These commercial giants, along with their miniature, more populous cousins, the common lawn statue, confirm that there is something in our psyches that embraces these things. To examine that concept, I spoke to several neighbors about the reasons they chose to display a statue within their landscape. One neighbor told me that he placed a concrete deer near the edge of his property to mark the property line. I'm not sure the real deer that occasionally pass through our neighborhood feel the same about property lines. Another neighbor told me that the regal-looking concrete dog guarding the entry to his house served as a reminder of his love for a special setter. Out of sheer whimsy, most people who are inclined to purchase lawn statues will first buy a garden gnome. I like to think that garden gnomes are like a gateway drug for the lawn statue collectors. Gnomes are easily hidden among garden foliage and are hardly noticed by the neighbors, but suddenly the gnome is joined by a fearsome gargoyle near the mailbox.

I think whimsy is the main reason people purchase a lawn ornament. I can't believe that this is a rational decision developed in the same manner as buying a new sofa. For that reason, these giant figures greeting us at restaurants, grand openings, and even fireworks stands appeal to the whimsy within us and compel us to stop for a second look. Putting a little whimsy in your photography is not a bad idea either.

 Discovering the Extraordinary                     Within the Ordinary

A fellow photographer friend, Ed Johnson, took this photo during an iron man competition this past weekend. Not often do you see a tandem bike in such a competition, but leave it to Ed to find the unusual. Even his approach to shooting the competition was unusual. Most of us seek to photograph the spirited competition among the leaders within the event. Ed's strategy for photographing the competition was to concentrate on the contestants who were staging at the middle and proceeding toward the rear. His strategy makes sense if you believe that we sometimes bring or assign a story to our photos by the way we capture them.

Ed's curiosity concerning the tandem bike entry into the iron man prompted him to share this photo with a regional newspaper. From this news contact, he learned that the athlete in the rear seat is blind. He is supplying the power to the pedals while his friend steers the bike. During the river swim portion and throughout the run, he was tethered to his friend. In total, this pair covered more than seventy-one miles this day. They didn't win any trophies, but they finished the competition. This photo was possible because Ed made a conscious decision to photograph those who wouldn't be photographed and cheered at the finish line. It was his way to shine a light on those who compete but never find the public spotlight.  

This ordinary photo holds value for its extraordinary story from at least two perspectives. From the perspective of the blind athlete, he entered this contest knowing he would not win any trophy, but he would gain great satisfaction from finishing. What kind of courage does it take to enter a contest knowing that winning is not likely, participation is demanding, but standing on the sidelines is not an option?

From the friend's perspective, he had the advantage of sight. He, too, had to be an elite athlete to do an ironman event. In fact, he had to be at least as good and likely a better athlete than his friend. His participation as a friend was an act of pure selflessness—a rare commodity these days.   

Some of the photos we take are not stellar by photographic standards, but they hold extraordinary worth because they help us learn a beautiful story. Sometimes that story comes serendipitously, as if it had a plan of its own for us to follow. I have said many times that the people we meet through photography are one of the greatest joys of the hobby, and the stories we learn from them motivates us to see life through the viewfinder more clearly and to embrace our photography with greater passion.

Life is a journey, not a competition.

 Simon and Garfunkel are wrong!

"Everything looks worse in black and white." Not so! Black and white has a simple charm that color cannot convey. Some photographers claim black-and-white photos convey mystery. For me, the mystery of black and white photography is how black and white seems so simple and conveys such complex thoughts and emotions in a way that would get absorbed by color. Black and white has a way of stripping away all the clutter to bring the eye directly to what is important for the viewer. 

I have taken two black and white photos this week that are two distinct products.  For this vintage car, I chose to create a high-contrast image because of its age and also because it has been restored to a like-new finish with a few modern touches.  The actual color of the car was a deep green, which would have competed with other greens in the rather simple background. 

The other photo displays an empty farmhouse that was surrounded by old, dying trees with broken limbs. The darker trees framed the farmhouse, leading the viewer's eyes to the abandoned two-story home. This photo was all about the different textures in the trees and the battered siding on the house, making this photo less contrasty in selected areas and more prickly in others. The softer gray tones on the farmhouse bring the feeling of abandonment and a haunting message.

Many of us would agree with this quote attributed to Walt Whitman about the feel of black-and-white photos. 

"What I like about black-and-white photographs is that they're more like reading the book than seeing the movie."

 

Graduation Traditions & Transitions 

American Graffiti is one of my favorite movies because it captured the feeling of standing on a precipice filled with excitement while facing great uncertainty. Whenever I attend a graduation ceremony, that feeling is rekindled as I watch the students parade in, cross the stage, and parade outdoors once more. Graduation is an act of looking backward and looking forward simultaneously.

I delayed writing this blog due to a storm of sports team finals and a sequence of end-of-the-school-year activities, including two graduations. Over the past two weekends, I have attended high school graduation ceremonies for two of my grandkids. Both of them are graduating from larger high schools, necessitating travel to larger public arenas that could accommodate the crowds. After watching both ceremonies, I have three thoughts I would like to share. One thought spotlights the graduates' expressions at those moments that they were awarded their diplomas. My second thought concerns the content of speeches delivered at the ceremony, and the final thought is about the relevance of traditional graduation ceremonies.

As a photographer, I tend to study the range of students' expressions at graduation. Watching them walk across the stage prompted me to recall some of that emotion, which I experienced many years ago. The majority of students were sufficiently humbled as their full middle name was blasted out over the PA system, causing them to seek no further notoriety and meekly accept their diploma as a final act of compliance with high school rules. Unfortunately for some students, high school was a living social hell and their graduation was viewed as an escape portal -- slip away unnoticed and hope emotional healing may follow.  Others felt the moment more keenly and expressed it in a variety of ways. Upon receiving their diploma, some students made the sign of the cross, perhaps in an act of gratitude for divine intervention in their completion of high school. Free at last! Other students danced a quick jig or pumped their diplomas in the air as an act of spontaneous joy, while others descended the stage to hug a favorite teacher lining the rows. Of course, there is always that one "special" student who seizes his moment in front of an audience. Evidently the pressure of the moment was too great when a young man confused his high school graduation with Seinfeld's Festivus celebration by displaying a feat of strength. I admired his agility when he performed a flawless back flip in his cap and gown immediately after exiting the stage.

Graduation ceremonies would not be complete without the speeches. The most traditional speeches are delivered by the valedictorian and the salutatorian, the most academically gifted students. Their speeches thank teachers and parents who helped them excel in their studies, and they also attempt to highlight some universal truth or extol the ethic of diligent work or self-reliance. It's only natural that their speech follows that pattern since these good habits and values have served them well during their high school years. It's the "what comes next" and knowing what to do when no one provides them with next week's assignment that is problematic. This is not a criticism, but it is an observation revealing that these stellar scholars are equally unseasoned in life as their lesser-achieving classmates. If you are fortunate, the graduation ceremony will feature student speeches and performances rather than the dry, obligatory speeches by the adults who use the stage to highlight their esteemed positions. Those adults often forget that graduation ceremonies are about student transitions, celebrating their endings and fresh beginnings. 

My final thought concerning graduation is an invitation to consider with me a need for an alternative graduation that may be offered as an option against the traditional ceremony. For some, the concept of a traditional graduation ceremony remains a meaningful way to celebrate the transition between high school and life as a fully independent adult. However, would it be reasonable to offer two graduation ceremonies among which students would have the opportunity to choose? The traditional graduation ceremony, as currently practiced, should be an option if for no other reason than its traditions run deep in families and communities. There are many valid reasons to commend it. However, our culture and lives have changed, as have the students graduating from our high schools. What would happen if our students (soon to be fellow adult community members and neighbors) were offered a greater voice in the conduct of their graduation ceremonies? Recognizing that schools have obligations to civil law and responsibilities to their own community, is it possible that a steering committee composed of students, interested faculty members, and even a respected community member design an alternative graduation ceremony? I would hope that the student voices would be heard and that they would be considered equal partners in this design.

While graduation traditions may bind us together, they can also feel as confining as a prison cell. What may a graduation alternative ceremony look like?  

The valedictorian and salutatorian still may lay claim to their roles within the traditional ceremony. Their scholarship is worthy of recognition. The alternative graduation may elect to feature respected fellow classmates who exhibited good character and acceptable academic performance. Those students selected for speaking roles may not be those students who excelled at answering questions posed in the classroom or on exams. The students selected to speak at the ceremony may be those students who were good at asking questions and being open to others. They may be skilled at overcoming their mistakes and embarrassments and can inspire their classmates to find courage when facing difficult tasks at school or outside of school issues. Students may wish to substitute Pomp and Circumstance with music more meaningful to them but still pertinent to graduation themes. Instead of a speaker, students may produce a video that was developed to chronicle their high school experience and share what they have learned collectively about themselves and through working together. As for the caps and gowns, they may be retained as a nod to tradition, but if they were omitted, would it be a great loss? (I have yet to find a suitable occasion to wear my cape and sober black mortarboard cap). High school is very real, as is routine everyday adult life. Can we make a more compelling story for our students and community about that transition?

A tradition without intelligence is not worth having." – T.S. Eliot 

Disclaimer: I just returned from my grandchild's eighth grade graduation. Nothing discussed above should ever apply to middle school students who experience each day as a variety show!

 No Longer Saving Soles

For the past ten days I have been searching my digital archives for the original copies of these photos.  I have been unsuccessful in locating the hard drive that contains them, so I had to download smaller copies from my Flickr site.

When you look closely at these photos you will note they have some uncorrected barrell distortion which doesn't bother me much.  I chose to shoot the interior with an 11-16mm zoom because the shop was narrow and deep.   This zoom has been useful in architectural photos and landscape photography.  I like the way it stretches the edges of the sky making them look dramatic.  The lens is a good response for tight places where choosing a different location is difficult.

I am fond of the top photo for a number of reasons.  It holds a special memory reaching back to my youth.  As a young adult, I had my shoes re-soled here making them look magically new again and avoiding the discomfort of breaking in new shoes.  The smell of leather dyes, polish, and freshly cut leather perfumed the interior upon entry.  The shop was family owned for decades and finally closed its doors due to a culture that values disposal over renewal.

Another reason this photo resonates with me is its warm tones which give it a feeling of intimacy as one feels when returning to a familiar place.  The stained and cracked walls added authenticity. The shoe stitching machines were somewhat vintage when the shop opened, but they continue to suggest a manufacturing industry that once drove this community for decades and still remains part of the community's character.

In the days leading to the closing, I asked the owner about the sign that hung above the buffers for all those years.  He said that it was a gift from a local convent from the nuns for generous service.  It seemed  a perfect sentiment from the givers and served as a poetic mission statement for the owners. 

 

Future Photographer

taken with an Olympus OMD em5 and a 24mm Nikon ais lens

I called this photo "Little Shooter" for obvious reasons. What attracted me was the pose the child was striking to use a cell phone to grab a shot of a little league game. She has probably witnessed the adults in her life taking photos of her or other children from this lower eye-level position. The fact that her photo will be of the peeling painted backboards is inconsequential. In this moment she is strictly enjoying the act of taking a photograph.  

Enjoying the experience of taking photos is the better half of photography. Taking the photo you want is a motivator, but the simple act of taking a photo is pleasurable at some level of our being. We all feel good when the shutter goes "click" and we hold possibilities and memories in our hands.

As I took this photo, I thought how frightening this photo may appear to the various camera manufacturers. The child is using a cell phone, mimicking the way that most adults take their photos these days. An adult in her life has given her their cell phone to take this photo, and she will subconsciously remember this moment not holding a Kodak, Nikon, Sony, or other major camera manufacturer's product. Oh, the things we pass on to our children/grandchildren--  a serious thought!

 

 Friday Morning Photo Walk

Each Friday, I meet with friends who are fellow photographers at a downtown coffee shop. Normally we discuss a variety of subjects ranging from photography and photo gear to local events, family, and the price of coffee. In other words, mainly old fart stuff. During the previous week we decided to take a short fifteen-minute photo walk prior to coffee. Our walk was limited to just the area around the cafe, and we were free to choose whatever subject caught our attention. We placed a limit of three images for each of us. Part of the exercise was to become selective in what was photographed and enjoy time photographing with a partner. This was not a competition; rather, it was a search for what we would take to "show and tell" time next Friday. I will be interested to see what compositions each of us found worthy of our attention since this is the first time we have ever done such a photo walk.  

While I enjoyed the experience, I was disappointed to learn that I have developed some sloppy habits that have crept into my photography. One of them is how lazy I have become in composing a photo by not using my feet. Shooting with a prime lens this morning instead of my regular zoom lens made me remember how important it is to move when framing your subject to utilize the best light and best lines. My first photo was of an architectural feature where a tile design was incorporated into the brick exterior of a building. After looking at my photo, I discovered that I should have selected a different section of tile to find a place where the mortar was intact. My second mistake was to take this shot with a 90mm lens that would need a different angle to create perspective or to photograph it at an exactly 90-degree angle to make the mortar lines appear spaced evenly. 

The second photo was of a bust inside the window of a cosmetology school. The bust was resting atop some textbooks and was wearing a dark wig that was partially in curlers. I chose to photograph it mainly because it was weird, without thinking about what message I wanted to share with the viewer. I failed to adjust my exposure correctly to account for the dark background window reflections of the parking lot. Those dark background reflections failed to provide any separation from the dark wig, giving the appearance that the cosmetology students performed a lobotomy instead of the traditional perm. 

The photo that appears in this week's blog is my winner by default. I like it because it displays a rainbow of spring colors that are not overpowered by the reflections from the street. The walk experience is worth repeating for instructive purposes. This short walk around showed me how easy it is to allow bad habits to spoil the opportunity to create an interesting photo, although it was fun to shoot with others since most of the photos that I take are when I am alone.  

Together Again

I'm sharing two photos that I took this week with my first digital camera. That camera was a Fuji FinePix V10 that was introduced in 2006. It boasted a 5MP sensor and a large 3-inch display screen. Reviewers called it quirky but praised it for its high ISO performance. My motivation for purchasing it was that it was priced $300 cheaper than the Nikon entry-level DSLR. Price was a critical element in my decision to move from film to digital. My concern, at the time, was how I would embrace digital after shooting film all those years. The feel of my sturdy metal Nikon FM did not engender confidence as I held the plastics found in the new entry-level digital DSLRs. Would digital stay, or would it go the way of New Coke?

I charged the battery, and the 20-year-old Fuji lit up once again like familiar old face -- together again.  I took it to morning coffee to show a friend what digital looked like in its genesis. While there, I took the photo below. The metal chair backs at the coffee shop had cutouts of coffee cups. Their design piqued my interest, prompting me to photograph one and enhance the cutout portions by applying a dual warming filter to add some vibrancy. The result struck me as looking like a logo for the place. That quirkiness the reviewers expressed in their reviews perhaps referred to the buyers of this camera. 

While driving home, I encountered the dogwalkers walking down a rural road near my home. I was impressed by the number of dogs present and how each walker successfully controlled the eight dogs they were walking that day. They were spread out across the narrow country road and no tangled leashes were noted. Since the little Fugi was in the console of the car, I called upon it to capture a scene as it did some twenty years ago. When I got home and reviewed the photo, I noticed that there were four walkers. The fourth walker is hidden behind the middle walker, bringing the total number of dogs to thirty-two. I was also impressed with how the dog's eyes were fixed on me. I wish it were that simple to photograph groups of humans in the same way. 

My title for this week's blog emerged from the deep "hillbilly" recesses of my subconscious, bringing to mind the old Buck Owens country classic "Together Again." 

The love I once knew
Is living again
And nothing else matters
We're together again

 

Suddenly, Squill

Each spring a small, vibrant, blue plant emerges abruptly and carpets the ground before the grasses take over a week later. Their appearance each spring is an assuring and magical sight.  It is as if elves were granted power to landscape secret places for only one week. Most spring signs emerge in soft pastels, but the Siberian squill bursts forward with intense color, trumpeting spring's return.

The small flowers stand as testimony that there are recurring patterns in life that remain steadfast even when our daily lives seem much less predictable.  As we approach Easter, the story of resurrection gains prominence, bringing the promise of hope and abundance. For this reason, the true blue squill brings me awe and comfort each year. 

              “Where flowers bloom, so does hope.” — Lady Bird Johnson

Reflecting On Picasso 

The photo featured this week is one that I took last year while on a photo walk.  It isn’t the type of photo I planned to take that morning, nor is it the type of photo I normally create.  It wasn't until I got home and reviewed all the photos taken that morning when I noticed I had been photobombed by Picasso's cubism style.  I would not have even known how to create an example of cubism in photography.  However, there it was on my computer screen making me wonder what is happening in the remote recesses of my mind to make this connection courtesy of Pablo Picasso. 

Picasso was an influential 20th-century Spanish painter and sculptor who lived in France.  Art scholars have grouped his life's work into several periods. His cubism period was from 1909 to 1919 and included works such as: 

Bouteille, Clarinet, Violon, and Journal,  Girl with Madolin, 

Still Life with a Bottle of Rum, among others. http://art-picasso.com/1910.html.   His work was both applauded and reviled.  

This photo appeared to me essentially straight out of the camera, with only some minor color enhancements and minor light balancing for highlights.  What I liked about the photo is the way that the store's interior is blended with the reflections of the street immediately behind me. Its is as if the past, present and future all came together exactly where I was standing.  The rectangular shapes of the interior store lights and the architectural reflections of the street suggest the Picasso's cubic style. I am considering printing it on a metallic paper to enhance its detail and color to create a greater 3D effect. For me, photography has a mysterious way of conjuring up associations that are unknown to my consciousness.  My experience with this photo is one of the reasons I enjoy photography and take pleasure in creating images like this that allow me to break free from what I refer to as "my normalcy."

 Hanging Around With Winter

Just when I can feel Spring on the horizon, a blizzard passes through and emphatically presses the point that Winter still rules.  I believe that each day's weather has an influence on the attitude we bring to that day's events.  When several cloudy and chilly days are strung together, it is hard to remember the warmth that sunshine brings to the soul and the optimism that returns with the smell of fresh earth and the emergence of spring's earliest buds and blossoms.

For this week, my camera wants to point at the monotony and cold textures and tones all about me.  I have to look hard to find the beauty in the soft colors within morning and evening skies and those simple agarian structures that serve as monuments to hope for another planting season  and harvest.

In this photo, the sky is today's message of hope and the silos are a secondary supporting feature.  To make the sky the main feature I warmed it a bit and placed a softening texture over it to bring a moody but sanguine feel. It is my means of moving the viewer's eye toward the most compelling part of the image.

This is rural Illinois in winter.  It is solemn, resolute, and stark, but those qualities highlight the subtle pieces of color and warmth which push their way into my frame as they covertly photo bomb this dreary scene.  "What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.” ― John Steinbeck

How do you like them tomatoes?

On Photo Contests and Exhibits

Over the weekend, I had the privilege of judging a juried photo show at a small regional art center. I was fortunate to judge with two other photographers who were not exactly like me, and our individual differences made our choices more balanced and well considered for the participants and more reflective of the various types of photography within our area. 

We viewed two hundred entries with the understanding that the physical capacity of the gallery was one hundred photos. Each of the judges viewed every photo multiple times individually and finally collectively as we attempted to choose the final ten. Our task was made easier by competent supporting people at the art center who made sure we understood the system, answered all questions, and provided spreadsheets and completed all calculations for our individual scores. They never tried to influence the judging and worked exclusively to support us in the decisions we made. I learned a good deal from the experience that will stick with me as both a person and as a photographer.

This week I want to share just a few simple thoughts that may help a fellow photographer as they consider entering a photo into a contest or photo exhibit. I always enjoyed Letterman's humor and his use of top ten lists, so I borrowed his format but will not promise ten items.

Selecting Your Photo

1.  Select a photo that will appeal to a broad audience. Viewers may not read your emotional attachment to your photo, so provide enough context to identify your subject or clarify your message. While you may photograph subjects for your own satisfaction, exhibits require you to photograph for a broad audience

2. Photos that feature the interplay of light and shadow strongly or subtly have a better chance of connecting with the audience (who will be non-photographers and fellow photographers). Your use of shadow and light giving dimension to a flat medium is more important than saturated colors and slider mania in post-processing.

3. Prepare your print well in advance of the submission date so you leave time to make any needed adjustments. Sometimes the photo you see in print has color, brightness, or other issues differing from what you recalled on your home screen. Photo flaws sometimes can be easier seen in printed form rather than digital form.

Selecting a Substrate, Mat and Frame

4.  Your selection of a mat and frame should complement your photo, which is the star of the show. As a judge, the primary focus is the photo, but a poorly cut mat or the placement of the photo within the mat can change how your photo looks to the viewer. If you use a colored mat, select a color that makes your photo stand out for the viewer. 

5.  The frame, be it elaborate or simple, is nothing more than a border for your photo and a structure to hang it on the wall. The physical size of an image can complement or distract from the overall impact of the photo, but bigger and fancier frames alone won't make an average image look better. However, keep the framed image clean from dust and any debris between the glass and print.

6.  I've seen many great photos ruined by poor choice of a substrate. This is a problem that I have witnessed in nearly every show I have attended. I think people fall in love with the novelty of the substrate on which the photo is printed while forgetting the importance of the image. Remember to select a substrate (canvas, glass, metallic paper, etc.) that enhances the photo's best features (details, tones, and colors) of your photo.

At The Exhibition 

Stop, look, and listen!

7.  Stopping and Looking         At the last photo show that I entered as an exhibitor, I took the time to look carefully at each photo and try to put aside my biases to fully see what other photographers found important to exhibit. I look for a photo's overall impact and then try to define those elements that make it so by temporarily putting aside any criticism. I note the different types of photography displayed, finding that its variety is telling for future shows I may enter, and it provides clues to what kinds of photos within the show may seem underrepresented. New subject matter and creative perspectives help me shape my future photography and stimulate risk-taking.

8.  Listen to the Comments      During the show, I may stand discreetly in proximity of my photos and listen for unsolicited and spontaneous comments from viewers to other viewers. This unfiltered feedback is raw and informative. All performers and artists require a mix of detachment and vulnerability if they hope to succeed. It is extremely gratifying to overhear others discuss those same elements/clues you thoughtfully placed within your photo. Likewise, it is good to know when you miss the mark.

Being both a judge and an exhibitor in a photo show is a worthwhile experience. My preference is a show that emphasizes curation over competition. I would never be one to suggest that judges are purely objective no matter how hard they try to be. That is why I appreciated having two other skilled photographers to make decisions with me. Our collective knowledge of photography conventions and photographic experience provided a useful framework to consider each entry. It is also important to understand that every exhibit or contest has a framework in which it is designed. The trick to judging is to produce a show that aligns the exhibit's theoretical structure and the individual artist contributions to meet both the interests of the artist and the sponsoring organization.

 Watercolors of Spring

This week's photo is my attempt to bring a watercolor look to a landscape photo I took last April.  I liked the scene because the light played upon the different layers of grass giving a contoured and peaceful look.  My current goal was to mute the colors in a soft way that watercolors do so well.  With the exception of the blues in the sky, I think I achieved that muted, flat look while retaining enough texture detail just like my favorite landscape painters create in their art.  Another subconscious motivation is that I am trying to push spring forward on a calendar that seems stuck on the drab colors of winter. 

This past Wednesday was Ash Wednesday, the beginning of the Lenten season, a season of sacrifice and hope.  For Lent,  I gave up winter, and my kindergarten grandson gave up spinach. Gotta love that kid!