18-JAN-2008
Duality #36
I was reminded of scissors the first time I saw this Aloe Vera plant in my friends' San Diego neighborhood last March. So why didn't it occur to me until tonight (Thursday) to photograph scissors so I could create a duality? Minds are such funny things. They only make connections in their own sweet time. Especially creative connections. I guess there's no rushing the process.
Speaking of creativity, how do the non-photographic folks in your life respond to your absorption/obsession with photography? Do they get it at all? What I mean is, do they appreciate your artistic eye, your originality, your creativity? Or are they apathetic, jealous, dismissive or even downright negative about the subject? When you're out together and you see something you want to photograph, how do they react when you whip out your camera? Are there groans, as in, "Oh no, here s/he goes again!", or do they patiently wait while you do your thing? Afterwards, are they interested in seeing your photos either online or in print? Can you discuss photography together or is it a verboten subject?
For some PBasers this community is the only place where they can fully express their feelings about their craft. For here we know we are among persons who DO get it, who encourage us in our growth, who share our enthusiasm, who love discussing all things photographic. Others may refer to PBase as a "virtual" community but we know differently. The friendships we make here are every bit as real as those with people we can see, hear and touch. Ask anyone who has attended a PBase meetup. They know. Many of the friends we make here will be with us for life. How fortunate we are to have found PBase, and through PBase, to have found one another.
17-JAN-2008
Thursday's Totally Informal Transglobal Challenge for January 17, 2008 - "The Eyes Have It"
How and what do we see through our eyes? If you're like me, you look through different lenses depending on the subject, whether or not you plan to photograph it, what emotional associations it sets up in you, the ambient lighting, whether you're alone or with others, if you're feeling rushed or at ease. Yet our eyes can be open and our minds closed. If that's the case it doesn't matter how hard we look, we will never see the nuanced meanings behind what is sitting right in front of us. But if we are open to life in all its facets, we will see INTO things in ways that others might not.
In this portrait, Leslie is seeing the world through seven different lenses. She chose each of the lenses herself, so together they reflect how she was seeing on this one particular day. I wish I'd thought to ask her why she'd chosen each one. I know she was looking for variety in color and design since she knew I wanted to photograph her with ALL of them on her face at one time. She knew the challenge to which I was responding and thought it was great fun to be part of it. But why seven? Why not six or eight?
According to a
Numerology web site, the number seven connotes: "philosopher, sage, wisdom seeker, reserved, inventor, stoic, contemplative, aloof, deep-thinker, introspective, spiritual, faith, esoteric, exotic, unusual, hidden, seeking perfection, ethereal, other worldly, enigma." I don't know Leslie well but I intuit that she is all of these things and more.
I doubt if our TITC moderators Lee and Bev imagined that those who responded to their challenge for this week would delve quite so deeply into its mysteries, but that's the nature of inspiration. You send something out into the Universe never knowing what it will trigger in others. To see what this Thursday's challenge triggered in lots of other PBasers,
CLICK HERE.
16-JAN-2008
Duality #35
Best viewed in Original size
In my last two dualities I've matched an old photo with a new one taken specifically for that purpose. Both of the old photos--the horse and the flying gull--are among the many that sit forgotten in my archives. I'm sure each of us has untold numbers of photos we have never shown, photos that moved out of our consciousness as soon as we'd backed them up and deleted them from our computer. But even if I hadn't thought for months about this photo of gulls, as soon as I saw it I recalled exactly when and where it was taken.
It was the first Sunday in March 2007 and I was visiting my sister and her husband in Burbank, California. That morning they'd asked me what I wanted to do and when I heard Ventura Beach was an option, I hopped on it. I'd arrived in Los Angeles by train on Friday and was staying with Emily and Gorsha for a long weekend before going down to visit friends in San Diego. I remember there were clouds overhead and significant winds, enough that we were wearing jackets. But, even so, there were lots of people on the beach enjoying this early spring day. I took this particular photo as we walk/scooted out to the end of the long wharf that juts out into the ocean. Having recently left ice and snow in Michigan, I was in a state of awe over the mild temperatures, beautiful palm trees, Pacific Ocean and breathtaking beauty of southern California. This gull was like my spirits that day, flying on winds of delight.
The photo of the orchid was taken on Tuesday. When I looked through my galleries in search of a match for the gull, I came upon photos of orchids that I'd taken last February at the florist/greenhouse down the street. To my eye there seemed to be a similar spirit in these two forms, but none of the photos I had was quite right. So I scooted down to the greenhouse in hopes of finding just the right orchid for this duality. They didn't have the species I was looking for, but this flower had the spirit I was after, and that was more important to me than similarities in shape.
I guess I'd have to say that the
process of creating these dualities is what keeps me coming back to it day after day. Yes, the end result pleases me, but nothing compares with the fun of the search and the stimulating aesthetic choices I get to make in putting the two photos together. Today--January 16--is my one month anniversary of starting this series and I now have 35 images in my Dualities gallery (
CLICK HERE to see them). And I'm sure there's more to come...
15-JAN-2008
Duality #34
How do you recognize that you've made a turning on your path? For me, feelings of irritation are often the first sign. Things I accepted without question begin to rub me the wrong way. Sometimes it's the people I've most admired who start pushing my buttons. Generally it's nothing big, just a laundry list of petty irritations. It's not their fault. They haven't changed; I have.
Since I picked up my first sable watercolor brush in January 1975, I've been fortunate to have fine teachers come into my life at just the right time. By now, there has been a l-o-n-g line of such creative mentors. Some were painters, others sculptors. There have been potters and performance artists, dancers and singers, poets and writers, and lately, photoshop experts and photographers. Each one has added something unique to my consciousness and creativity as an artist. Sometimes they give me specific tools, other times their gift is more conceptual. But I never stay with them forever. No, there comes the time when I must move on. But always with gratitude for gifts received.
Being an artist means seeing the world in ways that it's never been seen before. Those who look at your work may not get it. To them you might be just another painter or writer or photographer. Maybe your preferred subject is one that countless others have painted or photographed. It doesn't matter. You know within yourself that your artist's eye is unique, that your camera captures images that would not exist had you not hit the shutter release button at that particular second, that the way you pull elements together for a composite or diptych is yours and yours alone. No one has ever made the choices you're making. Nor will they again.
So when it comes time to leave the comfortable path you've been traveling and strike out on your own, don't apologize to anyone. Those who have companioned you to this point must be left behind. You must follow your own inner guide wherever it leads. Look at it this way: if you don't forge your path, who will?
14-JAN-2008
random acts of kindness
This is the table at which I enjoyed a veggie burger and fries after my unexpected encounter with random acts of kindness.
On Sunday afternoon I'd parked my wheelchair-accessible minivan behind the Coney Island restaurant where I planned to have a late lunch. I'd been careful to leave plenty of room for my ramp to unfold, with extra for me and my scooter to avoid the parking barrier that was coming in at a funny angle. At least I thought I'd left enough room. But, alas, I ended up running my scooter's rear wheels up onto the barrier, causing me and the scooter to land in a jumble on the pavement. I wasn't in a position to be at risk of being hit by a car, but my scooter was on top of me. Within a minute, two women had stopped their car, gotten out and come running to my side, crying, "Are you all right?" Within five minutes there were a dozen men and women of all ages and races surrounding me, each one offering help. Two of them righted my scooter. Two more gathered up my camera & case, wallet, glasses, cell phone and water bottle. As you might imagine, the first thing I'd asked was for someone to please pick up my camera and return it to its case. The camera was my main concern. I wasn't really hurt; I'd just banged my very hard head on the pavement. Actually the only damage was to my eyeglass frames that got knocked askew, but that will be easily fixed.
Before I knew it, a strong young man had his hands under my armpits and was lifting me up off the ground and depositing me in my scooter seat. After the others had left, three women remained. Two of them were the ones who had first come to my aid. They said they weren't going to leave until they saw that I was really OK. We introduced ourselves by name, I thanked them with all my heart, and one gave me a hug before believing my assurances that I was fine. Soon they went back to their cars and I went on to the restaurant.
Whoever said this world was going to hell in a handbasket didn't know what they were talking out. People are kind. So incredibly kind.
13-JAN-2008
"Unicorn" by Egal Bohen
Have you see the Unicorn?
He hides amidst a forest of words
Which make him hard to see
No
Not
Nothing
Is not
Cannot
Ever
Be
But he is there
At the edge of the wood
He sometimes comes to stand
To enlighten a world that does not see
The fabric of his land
See
See there beneath the tree!
See his silver coat
That gleams without the sun!
See his slender spiralled horn
That says we are one!
See with head tossed back
His feet strike sparks from out the ground!
See, with eyes of smouldering fire
Looks he around
This Unicorn
The symbol out of which ideas are born
Some say he is a myth and cannot be
As they pass by they do not even see the tree
But they should never mock his fabled crown
His concept is the path to where
True answers may be found
And should you think this talk is foolish and unsound
I shall not be offended
You are free to keep on looking at the ground
--Egal Bohen
Cornwall, England
I took this photo of one the ice sculptures on the first day of my community's winter festival. Alas, our unseasonably warm weather was already causing many of them to melt.
12-JAN-2008
Billy Childs, jazz pianist/composer
Best viewed in original size.
I took over 50 shots to get this one good one. But even 50 pages wouldn't be enough to describe what I heard tonight (Friday). All I can say is that hearing the Billy Childs Jazz-Chamber Ensemble playing Mr. Childs' original compositions and arrangements was one of the finest musical experiences of my life. And that includes having heard Thelonious Monk almost 50 years ago at The Stables in Washington, DC. Check out
Billy Childs' web site and buy his Grammy Award-winning CD, "Lyric" if you can. I did.
11-JAN-2008
Duality #33
Best viewed in original size.
This afternoon I received an email from a friend who thought we'd had a falling out because she hadn't heard from me in so long. Nothing could have been further from the truth; all that had happened was that I'd gotten so absorbed in my photography that I've thought of nothing else for months now. Does this happen to you? It's been especially true since I started working on this Dualities series. I know I've shared this before, but it keeps getting worse not better. Worse for my friends that is. For me things couldn't be better. I'm in dog heaven, as my southern mom used to say. I am never happier than when I'm fired up with creative passion. It's not that I think this series is god's gift to the world, it's just that I am loving every minute of creating it.
Like today's duality, #33. Last week I took a photo at the market of red onions. All week I've tried to think of a good match for it. I finally saw the match while sitting on the toilet one morning. It seemed to me that the "hair" of the wire woman hanging in my bathroom window related perfectly to the dried roots that stick out from red onions. But the photo I'd taken last week didn't show those roots clearly enough, so yesterday I went back to the market for another try. I also took a couple of close-up portraits of the wire woman. After volunteering all day at school on Thursday, I came home and started the rather time-consuming project of teasing out each strand of "hair" and each root for the selective coloring I wanted. And so Duality #33 was born.
By the way, I called my friend after receiving her email and we had a wonderful phone visit. As soon as her schedule clears, we'll be getting together. Hey, friends are important too!
10-JAN-2008
Thursday's Totally Informal Transglobal Challenge for January 10, 2008 - "A tribute to or in the style of Lee and/or Bev"
Do all children grow up in families where it's assumed that everyone has a special talent? And do all parents expect their friends to see and applaud these "talents" time and time again? My older sister Carolyn was the ballerina in the family so she'd be invited to grande jete across the living room floor, always ending in an arabesque. I was the acrobat so my act included doing the splits and sitting on the floor with my legs hooked behind my neck. The latter was not very attractive, especially when viewed from the front. I was encouraged not to do it in a skirt. My little sister Miss Em was the actress so she would do one of her best impersonations of Marilyn Monroe. But sometimes she'd just lie on the floor on her back. When you're only three and very cute that can be enough of a talent to get applause from a friendly crowd. Those were our official talents, but we had unofficial ones as well. From a young age Miss Em could close one eye completely while the other stayed wide open. When I visited Emily (her adult name) and her husband Gorsha in Burbank, California last March, she was proud to show me she could still do it. So of course I countered with my special trick--touching my tongue to my nose. Again, it may not be attractive but it IS an unusual skill. Carolyn could lift one eyebrow which I tried to do for years with no success. I guess I'm not the supercilious type.
Since this Thursday's Totally Informal Transglobal Challenge for January 10, 2008 is: "A tribute to or in the style of Lee and/or Bev," the moderators of TITC, I thought it was the perfect time to show off my special talent. If you check out the photos that were given as examples of their work, I think you'll agree that I'm in sync with these wonderfully quirky, incredibly inspired photographers/moderators! These are the links:
To see how others respond to this very cool Thursday challenge,
CLICK HERE.
09-JAN-2008
Duality #32
Each of us has one or two special butterfly moments to remember. Mine was back in the early 1990s. Ed and I used to housesit our friend Nan's cottage in the Michigan countryside. Her land had a pond, woods with at least three "fairy rings", and a wildflower-covered meadow in which Nan used to mow paths for walking. Back in those days I was able-bodied, so walk I did, either by myself or with our dog Timmy. At the edge of Nan's property was a large field, green with clover. It was a favorite grazing place for the deer so I had to be careful that Timmy didn't get excited and chase them.
One hot July afternoon I left Timmy back at the cottage with Ed and set off by myself. I walked through Nan's woods and across the clover field into the forest on the other side. This was a favorite place of mine, one where I felt at one with nature. I would sit on an old rotted log and listen to the sounds around me: birds tittering, breezes swaying the branches overhead, occasionally the slithering sounds of a snake making its way across the forest floor. But this day I heard a distinctive rustling that seemed to be coming from the log on which I was sitting. At first I thought it was my imagination, but when it persisted I dropped my head and peered closely into the depths of the log. That was when I saw the light grey outline of a cocoon. And emerging from that cocoon was a butterfly with its wet wings plastered to its side. For the next ten minutes I watched it dry those wings by gently fluttering them in the air. Then, as if touched by magic, this beautiful butterfly stretched its wings fully open and flew away. And I was the earthbound caterpillar left behind.
08-JAN-2008
Bringing order out of chaos
As I mentioned during my year-end assessment, one of the gifts of 2007 was my friend Pat Kolon helping me bring order to the house Ed and I have lived in since 1971. Two string-savers in one family does not make for a minimalist approach to cabinets, closets and drawers. But since I hired Pat to come every Monday, things are looking much better. Not only is less becoming more, but my surplus can now be used by folks who need it. Today's task was the kitchen cabinets that house everyday glasses, mugs, vases, bowls and plates. Not only did I want to weed out what we no longer need, but to find easy-to-reach places for the things I use every day. Being a mobility scooter-rider means I can only reach so far. Yes, I can stand up, but any kind of serious stretching is not safe. And Pat, being the wonderful housekeeper that she is, wanted to wash all the items and scrub down the shelves. This was in addition to packing up my giveaways so she could take them to the Latino Family Service. What a job!
As Pat was working, it occurred to me that this process of bringing order out of chaos could be a metaphor for those times when each of us is called to examine the deep dark recesses of our hearts and minds. Those times when we must decide what no longer serves us, what others might be able to use, and how best to organize that which we choose to keep. This might refer to our ways of doing things, our attitudes about our past and present lives, any grudges we might be holding, how we relate to others, and, most importantly, how we relate to our Selves. It can be an unsettling, even painful, process, one with which we might need help. Like I've been needing Pat's help every Monday for months. And, as with my kitchen cabinets, closets and drawers, we are never really done. To keep our lives in order, every so often we must go through this process again. We can only hope that each time we will have less to deal with. But more than that, each time we hope that we'll be able to travel lighter than before.