Where Does the Border Begin?

Yellow Legs in Black and White

I have been thinking about  the use of borders placed upon an image during post processing.  For most of my photographs, I choose not to use one.  I think that for landscapes, street scenes, portraits, candid photos, wildlife, etc., borders add little to the presentation.  However, every now and then I see a photo where a border brings a feeling of completion to the photo.  What bothers me is that I don't seem to have a particular rule or reason to add a border.

Using this week's photo as an example, the reason that I placed it within a border was to make it stand out from the white background on this page.  This decision had nothing to due with the photo itself but everything to do with where I was intending to display it. "To border or not to border" is a question that doesn't seem to offer any guidelines similar to the way that the rule of thirds or use of leading lines offer to assist in creating a composition.  

Speaking of composition, I have been experimenting a bit by placing subjects in different areas of my compositions disregarding the rule of thirds guideline.  My thought is that sometimes it occasionally works by creating tension for the viewer by drawing their eye through the photo to an unfamiliar place.  There is a hint of that strategy in this week's photo where I intentionally left a greater amount of negative space at the top by using a severe portrait style crop referencing the traditional Eastern Asian scripts that are to be read vertically.  

As further research,  I plan to see if this placement of objects within a frame concept has an application aside from photography.  To do so, I will be placing our tupperware lids away from their corresponding containers just to get feedback from my wife.  Perhaps, it will lead to eating fewer leftovers!

 Warp Speed

My blog is a bit of a turkey this week.  Easter plans and preparations and a handful of delightful interuptions hindered a more thoughtful commentary.  Never the less, who said that photography shouldn't be fun?

My photo this week was taken about two weeks ago at a local state park.  I had gone there to photograph some loons that others had reported to be passing through the area.  I longed for that loon shot where they are serenely gliding across the water's smooth surface.  No loons for me that day.  However, before exiting the park, I pulled to the side of the road to take a call.  This turkey scurried by me along the roadway like he was heading for a five alarm fire.

His scurrying by me caused me to believe he was having a day similar to those I have had this week -- rushed and a blur of activity.  Sometimes you roll with the cosmic forces, and so I assisted this old bird in post processing by adding a little extra speed blur.  I wish Photoshop would create an app that would allow me to introduce this concept into those days when I feel like I need to move at warp speed.  

Hope you all have a nice Easter and  your day was blessed by bunnies and not turkeys!

 Where You Sits is How You See It!

Nygren Wetland Pelicans Spring 25 

During my college days, I had a philosophy professor use the expression, "Where you sits is how you sees it!"  He used it on the opening days of class when speaking about the gray areas in assigning student grades, but it was very appropriate for the content of the course where we were introduced to different philosphers from different eras and studied their world views.  It has been a statement that resonated with me after all the years reminding me about my relationships with people and their ideas.

What initially motivated me to write this blog was my participation in a 52 weeks photo project where I committed to creating one photo per week responding to some loosely interpreted subject or concept.  I think the idea of such projects is a good one because it makes you practice your photography each week and depending on the theme for the week, it can push you outside of your comfort zone. The downside for me was that it made me feel like I was in competition with others or even with myself to produce something better and more creative each week.  I discovered that when I focused on trying to produce a beautiful image (product) to share, it came at my expense in experiencing photography as a personal expression.  In other words, I was looking for a specific thing to photograph and ignored my own feelings and thoughts as the scene unfolded before me.  I lost the wonder within the moment by not being fully available to the present.

The photo for this week is my interpretation of a drab spring scene at the wetlands this past Wednesday.  The photo is not intended to be an actual record of the day, but what I experienced, felt, and remembered about the moment.  The texture I added in post processing flattened and subdued colors of spring which were trying to emerge from winter's chilly grasp.  A pod of pelicans flashing through the frame added light and vitality to an image that otherwise would have been another windy and dreary, early spring day.  

PS:  (For those of you who remain strict adherents to the product side of photography, you have likely noted that there are an even number of pelicans {8} which breaks the ridgid rule of odd numbers specifying the proper amount of birds, racoons, or possums allowed within a photograph.  God, forbid that there would have been five or nine birds within this frame -- that would have just ruined my day.)  "Where you sits is how you see it!"

 Walking Together

This past week has been true to the old saying about March-- "In like a lamb out like a lion",  The winds have been roaring and the temperatures have felt colder due to the damp and rainy conditions.  I remained inside and began sorting through old digital files when I came upon this one, an old favorite.

It is a favorite photo because it shares a very simple story in symbolic way.  This unposed photo was taken within the hallway at a local elementary school nearly twelve years ago.  Ethically, I feel comfortable posting it because the children are not identifiable.  Furthermore, I was invited to take photos within the building that day understanding the guidelines surrounding my task.

What struck me as I was taking the photo was it was so characteristic of younger elementary kids behavior when they placed within an environment that feels a bit too big for them.  When I looked at the digital print, I noted how the various elements within the photo spoke to the message that it's good to travel with others .  I liked the dreamy reflections on the floor behind them, and the light from the opaque glass blocks ahead of them.  The children walked confidently together through hallways surrounded by their own work displayed side by side with the work of their classmates.   

Being around young children for most of my career, I have noticed how natural it is for youngsters to want to hold hands as they walk together.  As we grow older, we either forget how good it is to walk with others or we are influenced to walk alone to assert ourselves as individuals. I find it ironic that American culture, which proudly promotes a me first perspective, is experiencing an "epidemic of loneliness*" as proclaimed by the surgeon general in 2023.   It's not until much later in life that I see older folks, in their golden years, walking together and holding on to one another once more.       

 *What is Causing Our Epidemic of Loneliness and How Can We Fix It?                      Elizabeth M. Ross 

  https://www.gse.harvard.edu/ideas/usable-knowledge/24/10/what-causing-our-epidemic-loneliness-and-how-can-we-fix-it

 Why We Photograph

Tom enjoying a laugh at the Nygren Wetlands

News of the death of a close friend came like a gut punch. It sucked the air out of my lungs causing me to simply pause and contemplate the gift of life as well as the gifts some people bring into our lives.  Tom and several other fellow photographers met every Friday morning for coffee and conversation.  We became known as the Grumpy Old Photographers simply because those three words described us.  The grumpy part described some members of the group more than others but we all carry a bit of grit.  Our love for photography initially drew us together but it was the bond of friendship and respect that kept us meeting together weekly over all these years. Through our photography we shared more than pictures; we shared pieces of ourselves that we would never think to publicly display.  We could be direct in our criticism of each others photography and that of others using unvarnished words. We could comfortably share polar opposite personal views on politics and social change. Because of this relationship, today, none of us are the same photographers or people who met all those years ago.

Most publications about photography focus on the places we photograph, what we photograph, what tools we use to photograph and why those tools are the best tools or not.  Much attention is also given to how we process our photos and how AI is revealing new pathways to create images that are akin to photography.  However, little attention is given to the obvious question that any curious four year old child would likely ask,  "Mister, Why are you doing that?"  

There are many reasons we make photographs.  We sometimes photograph to document.  Only one of our group comes from a photojournalist background but we all document our own special events, landmark family moments and quiet solitary moments we can savor later in our own minds.  We use photography to share ourselves with strangers in much the same manner as people in primative cultures wear uniquely crafted ceremonial masks while participating in common rituals.  Our "photography" masks help us blend in with others while still concealing parts of us.   For some people the process of making photographs together as within a group photo shoot helps us form bonds with others and learn from them while we practice and grow our craft.   My life has been enriched by many people met through photography, Tom being one of them. Finally, some of us photograph as a solitary, cathartic experience to center us during those times when our life gets chaotic or stressful.  In those instances,  photography filters out all life's distractions just as a good photographic composition will enhance what is truly important within the frame. Then other times, we simply like to hear the camera go click.

My phone always identified Tom's incoming calls by playing the opening lines from the Stills and Young hit, Long May You Run. 

We've been through some things together

With trunks of memories still to come

We found things to do in stormy weather

Long may you run

To me, it doesn't matter that this song was written about a young man's memory of his first car.   Like that first jalopy, Tom looked distinctively rugged and lived his life with a character as steadfast as a Buick. Tom proudly wore his laugh lines and often wore a cowboy hat because his head was in Montana with his grandson and those Yellowstone landscapes. Although I can no longer reach out to him, his name will remain yet another name within my cell phone as a memory I wish to hold a little longer.  Long may you run!

 

 Shades of Chagall

This week I participated in a short photo walk through the downtown business district in Rockford.  Ed, my friend and fellow photographer, had agreed to join me in exploring the many newly created murals painted on the sides of these ancient spaces.  

As in many communities, the downtown areas dried up with the invention of shopping malls in the late 60s and early 70s.  One effort to revitalize these old retail spaces has been to paint murals on their exteriors to give them a fresh and friendly look.  The plan succeeded in that regard but murals alone have not succeeded in resurrecting the retail sales this area once enjoyed.  The future will likely reveal a different purpose for these historic structures that were once a part of the city's mainstream retail life.

The photo I selected from that shoot was not a mural but reminded me of a Marc Chagall painting. While the murals are a permanent part of the landscape, this reflection in the window of a trendy haberdashery was a fleeting image within that afternoon's light. Chagall was a painter of murals and many other large works. His work reminds me of a series of compartmentalized scenes existing simultaneously while remaining free of time restrictions. Elements within the scene are identifiable but the connections between them are more opaque. I enjoyed the effect of this photograph blending the old with the new as do the painted murals displayed on the buildings.  I have posted below other photos that were taken that day.  We didn't begin to photograph all the murals but we discovered that there was more to be seen in that area which will require a second look.

Beneath the Bridge over the Rock River

Painted on the Wall of a Garage

 

Living "In Between Times"

This past week has been good for photography because we are in a meterological struggle between winter and spring.  While the calendar says that winter officially holds claim to the season, spring's coup is quietly pressing toward center stage.  The photo selected for this week is not about the seasons nor is it about the steadfast passing of the seasons or about the special times we all observe within each season.  The thoughts stirred by this week's photo rise from the transition itself i.e. those in between times. 

 

During biblical days, wise old King Solomon proclaimed, "For everything there is a season, and a time for every activity under the heavens", referring to a predetermined or natural progression of events within life.  In the musical, Fiddler on the Roof,  Tevye and Golde sing "Sunrise, Sunset" a song in which they reminisce about the swiftly passing of the years as one season following another.  The lyrics are similiar to that familar expression we all use when we exclaim with wonder, "Where have all the years gone?"  We mark events by the days and seasons as though they are mile posts guiding our journey through life, and in doing so, we assign them importance -- but what about all the in between times where most of our living takes place?  

For me, the above photo partially answers that question.  
 

I took this photo at Nygren Wetlands mid week while visiting hoping to find open water and new bird visitors.  Instead, I found ice and some open patches of water that reflected the sky and the surrounding treeline.  Opaque sheets of ice were still covering the greater portion of the water's surface concealing the beautiful water reflections and delaying the return of birds which I hoped to photograph. The sharper edged mid winter ice was transitioning into a smoother edged pearlized version blending in with the scattered open patches of water as if they came to an agreement that they are one in the same.  The open patches spoke to me of patience, and about finding beauty in the present while sustaining hope for things to come.  They encouraged me not to lose the capacity to see the beauty and appreciate the mystery that comes with living wthin the in between times.  

Coming here today wasn't the waste of time that others, like me, initially thought.  As always, the visit provided me with a time to slow down mentally, to listen, and to stand alone in the solitary presence of nature and feel humbled to be a part of its changing ways.  The truth in living may be that life isn't about the "special times" we have learned to anticipate, recall and mark yearly on our calendars.  In reality, the in between times may be the time where our real living takes place. The in between times could be the place that molds us by providing us the foundation to create, experience, and interpret life's special times and celebrations making them seem more joyful and fufilling whenever they come our way.